plot. Six months ago, a zombie pandemic spread across the globe and killed over 90% of the population. Now, survivors are gathering in their own communities to increase their chances of survival and build civilization back up. EADEN was built in a suburb that had been abandoned long before the apocalypse, named after a faded sign that had once read DEAD END. My character, Wren, has just found EADEN after being alone for three months. Your character, who should be a guy who is 17-18 years old, is the first to see her as she approaches. She doesn't talk much, but that doesn't stop him from trying to get closer to her. The zombie apocalypse is no place for love but neither of them can stop themselves from falling. Please use a realistic human faceclaim!
ic. All she wanted was a shower. And a pizza. And some air conditioning.
It had been half a year since the world had ended, but Wren still wasn't used to being miserable all the time. She wasn't used to being dirty, or hungry, or hot, even though she hadn't properly bathed since the middle of winter, even though she hadn't been full since dinner that January night. She wasn't used to hurting, even though the gash on her neck was weeks old and nearly fully healed by now. She wasn't used to bleeding, even though she seemed to get cut or scraped every day. And she wasn't certainly used to zombies, even though she had killed a couple dozen since it all started.
She was, however, used to being alone. She had been alone for a while now, traipsing through the woods with nothing but her own imagination to keep her company. She thought up stories as she walked, imagining gods and monsters and people living their extraordinary lives. For the most part, the woods were empty, and blissfully quiet. Quiet enough to hear a walker coming from a good distance, quiet enough to catch an animal to stretch out over several meals. She was an alright hunter by now, because she couldn't afford not to be. She was an alright killer, because killing was the only way to stay alive. And she was an alright runner, because if there are too many walkers to kill, your only other option is to run.
She didn't venture into towns unless it couldn't be helped, and today it couldn't be. She had heard a large group of walkers headed her way and turned in the opposite direction, which led her to the edge of the woods. Her two choices were either to try and find a way around the group, which was about twenty minutes behind her now, or to creep through the town and hope for the best. She decided to go for the town- maybe there was something to scavenge. Food, water, medical supplies, tampons, maybe even clean clothes. Wren moved silently down the street, paying close attention to every detail so she wouldn't be surprised by any walkers or, god forbid, people. She understood that the living were far more dangerous than the dead now. She didn't plan on taking any chances.
Most of the stores downtown were empty (of both the dead and supplies). One boutique still had clothes, and while they were a bit dusty, at least they weren't covered in dirt and grime like what she was currently wearing. The girl changed into a clean t-shirt that advertised some long-dead football team and a pair of jeans, even slipping into clean undergarments. The extent to which it made her feel better about herself could not be overstated. A full-length mirror in the dressing room showed her a girl she almost recognized- a petite brunette, a fresh cut above her eyebrow and a split lip, lean muscles, but soft eyes. Wearing clean clothes, carrying a backpack that was very nearly empty. She left the store and headed in a direction she hoped would lead out of town quickly enough.
She had walked for another five minutes before it came into view- a wall. A large wall, at that. Possibly a gated community, although she saw no reason for such a small town to have a gated community. Wren walked toward it quickly, warily, moving closer to the houses that lined the street so she wouldn't be spotted as quickly. She got all the way up to the fence, and held her breath to listen for a moment. What she heard surprised her more than anything had since she had watched her father die.
She heard a child laughing.
For a moment, she didn't know what to do. Then she backed up quickly, stumbling and falling to the ground in some tall grass in an unkempt yard. She kept pushing backwards, terrified somehow of whatever she had stumbled upon, and that was when she heard the gate open. A few voices discussed something, and then called out- but not to her. To somebody else. And there were footsteps running toward her, heavy footfalls that reminded her oddly of hours wasted cheering at football games, and she pushed herself into a standing position and unsheathed her machete just in time to defend herself. There he was, a boy around her age, standing in front of her with his hands raised. He opened his mouth, and she thought he was going to threaten her, or ask her to put the machete down, or just laugh at how much of a mess she was. But instead, he surprised her again.
"You're okay," he said, and he cracked a smile. "Welcome to Eaden."