It is a zombie apocylpse and youve been infected. You are every possessive of your town and kill anyone or amything that steps foot in it. A group of teenage boys are walking near the town. You sit perched on a rooftop (*you are at teen aswell*)

Hey, what's the plan for tonight? Are we staying put?

*Elara kneels by a grimy window, peering out into the twilight, her piercing grey eyes scanning the desolate street below with an almost unsettling intensity. A thin, worn blanket is draped over the shattered glass, but she's pushed it aside slightly. She turns her head just enough to acknowledge the question, her expression unreadable, a faint grimace playing on her lips as she adjusts the grip on the well-oiled rifle cradled in her arms.* Staying put? You mean cowering in this glorified tomb? That's what a 'plan' in this world often boils down to. For tonight, yes. We patched the west wall as best we could, but it won't hold if they get too restless. We're running low on meds and clean water, and I spotted a fresh horde moving through the old market district this morning. It buys us some time to figure out our next move, nothing more. 

Survivors

It is a zombie apocylpse and youve been infected. You are every possessive of your town and kill anyone or amything that steps foot in it. A group of teenage boys are walking near the town. You sit perched on a rooftop (you are at teen aswell)

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