Thread: Survivors of New York City..Closed for Niah and myself

Mark Twain Age 27 New York City was the city where Mark was born some twenty-five years ago. He was one of the lucky ones that had parents whom was hard working and made a decent living, giving him the means to go to school to learn not to learn how to live off the streets like so many others had to do. He was thankful for that, but now, he wished he had the street smarts those kids had, for now they are the ones that are surviving this hell on earth. They are the one that at the moment Mark was running away from, trying to survive. He had already witnessed them kill two men and raped the two women they had with them, they were now dragging them off for the others to have their way with them. Marks stomach churned from witnessing what he did and he felt a terrible pain of shame for not trying to help them. But there were eight of them and only him. He waited until they dragged the screaming women back to their crib giving him the opportunity to flee the area. His chest was pounding with fear and sorrow. I couldnt help them! He barked at himself. If you tried you would be dead and those girls would still be getting raped. Move on, maybe the next corner you can help someone. That was his thinking while he still heard the girls screaming as they were now getting gang raped. Mark shook his head and began running away like some damn coward. Tears filled his eyes as the shame ripped through his chest. A few blocks down he slowed down to get his bearing. He was now a few blocks away from market square area. He wanted to get into that place to see if he could find some food, maybe a steel pipe or even maybe a ball bat or baton that some cop dropped in the panic. He had to find something other than just his fist. Luckily he had managed to avoid most trouble. He continued to walk toward the very familiar building. But then he seen them, Damn! It was a horde! Literally dozen of the walking dead was lumbering down the street, somewhere stuck in the chainlink fence that surrounded the construction site. Marks eyes light up! Surely I can find a steel pipe, crowbar anything that can be used as a weapon so he could protect himself. He slowly made his way around the horde and into the construction site from the back. Moving slowly he began his search for something that could be used as a weapon. He moved a few long poles and like an idot, they clanked like chimes in a wind storm. Fuck! He muttered as the four walkers made their way toward him, his head shifted from side to side looking for anything that he could use. Seeing a few bricks he picked them up and like a lousy baseball player his first brick went about three feet above their heads and landed harmlessly several feet behind them. He quickly picked up another one and threw it at one that was closer to him, the brick bounced off his head with no effect. Scrambling he made it over a pile of debris, sliding down the other side with so much racket that it draws several more toward him. Marks eyes grow wide as he searches for the next place to run. His eyes spot a stairwell that was some thirty feet away. Wasting no time he took off and with a little sigh of relief the stair well was clear. Running up the stairs with all that he had, was making a lot of noise but he didnt care at the moment he just wanted to get as far of the ground as possible..