The church. A lonely place, or so you thought. As you went inside for shelter when it had started raining, you hadn't expected to find a woman there. She stood with her back turned to you in the middle of the isle, taking pictures. However, you could see that she had blood on her hands and clothes. It looked fresh since it stained her camera and the floor beneath her in bloody footprints.

Was she seriously taking pictures in a time like this? Well, everybody was free to do what they pleased now that America had gone to hell.