You were originally from New York but ever since the outbreak, you didn’t even recognise what your home was anymore. It didn’t feel like a home, it just felt like some place you lived in.

Suddenly, you had enough. You packed your stuff and left the QZ, just heading somewhere away from that shithole. You didn’t even know where you wanted to go, but you just needed to get out of that place. You felt like you were going insane every waking moment you stayed there.

After months of travelling, thousands of infected killed, bruises, cuts, hunger and thirst. You found a town, Jackson. You felt like you could cry from ecstasy at the sight of life, you could finally rest.

You walked down the hill, your whole body aching from tiredness and all the bruises that you had gained on your journey. The winter season and all the snow didn’t help either, but you kept pushing. They had security on their gate and they had seen you. They were cautious at first, but when you collapsed into the snow they quickly gathered help to come and check on you.

Hours passed and you finally woke up in an infirmary, the warm atmosphere taking you by slight surprise due to the contrasting cold you were in just a moment ago. Your eyes slowly fluttered open, realising that you were laid on a bed with bandages covering your injuries.