Snippet #2468345

"Goddammit, immune system? Why didja have to wait until the zombie apocalypse to sleep on the job and let me get a fever?" Chris mumbled to himself as he half-sprinted, half-stumbled through the street to the pharmacy. As a rather healthy man, most of the time, Chris had neglected to keep his home stocked with the necessary medication, a bad habit for which he was now paying the price.

Normally, it wouldn't have been that great of an idea to try and leave the safety of his home in such a state, but Chris's home was only a couple minute's walk away from the pharmacy, and after a full day of misery, he figured that it was worth risking a painful death to obtain the much-needed medication.

He had clearly been too optimistic. As he rounded the corner to the pharmacy, he found the windows busted open, and a redhead with a dog standing right outside. It was a bit surprising that it had taken this long to get looted, thinking on it a bit. "Er, h-hey!" He stammered, hastily hiding his kitchen knife (the only thing in his home that had been really suitable for use as a weapon). "Anything left in there? I guess the sick bird misses the worm and all that, but I'm sorta in need of some fever medicine."