Samuel Bryant
Sam brought the mid-sized cleaver down and removed the chicken's head as he sat outside the small house outside of London. He had come here days after the infection began dropping people like flies, setting up shop and taking refuge from all the maniacs trying to flee the city. It had been a great place as well; way off from normal traveling means, the abandoned house was kind of a pain to find when you were looking for it, much less so when you had no idea it was there. Out in the country as the place was, a few small animals were common find and Sam had gotten luck with a few chickens hanging around nearby. Pecker Head, as he called her, was the last of them. And getting ready for a trip back into London itself, Sam had to choices: let the chicken go, or kill it and bring the meat. He liked the chicken, but he loved having food much more. And after a year living in the area, the pickings had become scarce. He needed to get what he could find in the city before taking off on a trip to wherever he was headed next.
It only took Sam's trained hands a few minutes to finish chopping up the feathered animal and pickle it away in one of his jars, long empty of what it had previously contained. Tucking the jar in his only pack with the rest of the few canned goods he had left, he threw on his jacket and began walking back to the rail lines that could bring him into the city. Sam avoided the roads, too many corpses crowding the cars and surrounding areas...
He hadn't been to the city since his sister had passed away, and for good reason. Sam knew the dangers of hanging around dead bodies soon after they had passed on. All the bacteria and infections they carried were as deadly as a bullet to the face. Not something he thought of as a good time.
The first bout of thunder rolled in over the city soon after Sam arrived. It was slow going as Sam continuously stopped and monitored his surroundings, staying out of sight and off the normal roads in and out of the city. There hadn't been any sign of any other people alive, but Sam had not lived this long just to shun all caution now. With that thought, Sam adjusted the machete sticking over his shoulder to make sure it was was easily accessible. It was one of the many useful objects he had found at the abandoned house outside the city, and aside from his meager cooking utensils, it was one of his only effective weapons in case he did run into someone.
The swift patter of rain began trickling into the city, slowly at first, but quickly picking up in intensity as the storm rolled in. He made sure to top off the three bottles of water he had in his pack, as well as filling the other empty jar he carried with him before getting out of the downpour. Running into one of the only nearby buildings that didn't already looked looted or run down, Sam shook out his jacket and hair. It appeared to be an old mill or unused factory a little distance away from a warehouse or some random storage plot barricaded in by a chain-link fence.
He quickly went to work in scouting around the building to find it, unsurprisingly, unused. Pulling the steel wool he brought along with him, Sam gathered up a few dry materials around the floor and headed up to the second floor to set up his small fire pit. A small, 9V battery lit up the steel wool easily as Sam touched the metal filaments to the old battery. Adding in the dry debris, Sam soon had a decent fire going as he warmed himself. Barricading the fire from the outside with a few cinder blocks, and adding damp card board over the top, his fire was nicely concealed from any prying eyes. As he pulled the chicken from his pack, he used a bit of tin foil to create a makeshift stove and began cooking the delicious meat. As the fat popped and sizzled, Sam's mouth began to water and the area was flooded with the irresistible aroma of Pecker Head.