Description
Name:Geoff Matherson
Age:54
Gender:Male
Occupation:Unemployed
History:
It all started with the Persian Gulf. The desert chewed up an idealistic college graduate with delusions of grandeur and spat him back out. He watched his friends die in a Taliban ambush, torn apart by heavy calibre gunfire. When he came back, he wasn't the same person. He turned to drink, beating his young wife to a pulp every night.
Eventually, she grew a spine and kicked him out at gunpoint, throwing him into the gutter, where he has languished ever since. He fed himself on what he could steal, or what was tossed in his crumpled army cap. He had no real responsibility, until Ghost turned up.
Ghost was a wolf-pup, abandoned in the woods, who wandered into town late one night, mewling and crying for his mother. In a drunken haze, Geoff scooped him up, giving care and attention to the cub (Who he thought was a dog.)
Things had started to pick up for Geoff, before the apocalypse hit. He had a steady job on a construction site, a comfy refrigerator box to sleep in, and a hardy companion in the wolf, who he named Ghost.
Personality: Geoff can be as mad as a box of frogs. Mostly when a gun goes off near him. Like many people with PTSD, he has a specific thing that sets him off. This causes him to go into an uncontrollable panic, that can last for hours. When he is vaguely normal, he can be tough and reliable, but often incredibly selfish.
Weapon: Geoff's personal weapon is a spear, constructed from a six-foot long decorative railing, it's head sharpened into a vicious point. He carries several of these, all from the same fence, in a sack over one shoulder.
History
Past six days;
Day One; Travelled from town centre in the direction of the suburbs, killing zombies with well placed spears. Currently carrying three days worth of supplies on my back and six throwing spears.
Day Two; Running low on paracetamol, trashed a few houses and picked up three pill-bottles. Lost a spear after zombies swarmed the house. Ghost killed three. Spent the day sleeping in a sewer culvert next to Ghost.
Day Three; Running low on everything, except spears. Ghost brought down a deer that wandered into the street. Stripped the hide and meat off its back like daddy taught me. Got enough food for easily a week now. Sleeping in the attic of some 'burb house. Family blew their brains out in the living room. Starting to smell.
Day Four; Load of Walkers wandered in during the night. Had to clear them out. Glad I've got Ghost with me. Killing machine. Lost another spear, Down to four now. Gotta make some more. Deer meat is damn tasty. Found a gas stove in the house, using it sparingly. Heading towards the outskirts now.
Day Five: Down to three spears now, and Ghost got bit. Bandaged it with strips from my shirt. Packs of Walkers are getting bigger now. Holed up on the ground floor of another house. Barred the doors and windows with all the furniture.
Day Six: Out again, and running for my life. Only two spears left. God knows what's in store for me now. Hope I find some survivors.