Gabriel Black
SURVIVOR
Posts: 7
Age: 31 yrs
Weapons: Sniper Rifle
Semi-Auto Pistol
Bowie Knife
Supplies: Airport Ctrl Tower
3 changes clothes
3 cases canned food
2 boxes other food
3 bags medicine
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Post by Gabriel Black on Sept 18, 2013 0:30:57 GMT
Another sleepless night happened upon the Marine in his perch atop the air traffic control tower of the airport in the South Carolina city. He'd never slept much before the supposed apocalypse, but the insomnia had only gotten worse in recent years especially after watching so many friends and colleagues be torn apart by legions of the undead. It had been the stuff of nightmares and it had taken him a great deal of time for it to finally sink it that he wasn't dreaming and was living in the end of days. Then again, if it wasn't the end of days, he felt it was pretty damn close to it. Ever since a month into the Dead Times, he'd been on his own finding it impossible to regroup with surviving members of the military given that he and his small unit had been spread out away from major military checkpoints in order to assertain damage and recover survivors. Needless to say, no survivors were to be had and those that they did come across had been bitten, were driven insane with stress, or simply had given up the will to live and were attempting suicide.
It was during the first bit that Gabriel found that it wasn't the bite that brought the dead back but simply the act of dying having watched people slit their wrists, get shot in the chest, hang themselves, or die from blood loss only to return as a walker ready to rip into the flesh of the living. He'd done some terrible things after that to people who'd been bitten, but he eventually grew numb to it figuring he was doing them a favor by not allowing them to turn. He's shot his own combat buddy in the head to prevent his turn and he kept the dog tags of all the members of his unit as a reminder what he was still fighting for and what his fate would be if he stopped pressing forward.
The former Staff Sergeant sat up on the makeshift bed he'd made from seat cushions in the terminal lounge and a thin sleeping back which didn't do much to ward off the cold weather encroaching on the country. Still, he had plenty of food and supplies which he felt would allow him to survive for at least another week - two if he stretched it. In truth, he didn't like being in a single location for too long as it was only a matter of time before the dead figured out how to get around the barricaded door to the tower and devoured him in his sleep; that was, of course, going on the theory he would sleep. The man stood and moved to one of the large windows and looked through outside with only the light of the moon above to let him see the walkers shambling about below and the wrecks of planes that didn't make it into the air or came down shortly after takeoff.
He lit a cigarette and took a long, slow drag, exhaling just as slow and rested against the non-working radar panel in front of the glass. "Join the Marines, watch your team die, and be forced to live like a beggar until you get yours... American dream gone bad, Gabe...."
WEARING! Click TAGS! Open NOTES! none INSPIRATION! The Killers CREDITS! Template Byarro @ Caution! LYRICS! Mr Brightside by The Killers
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