dxceitful liked this for a short starter
┃ ┄ ┅ He lies in wait, totally silent, totally still, body tensed up and ready to jump at a moment’s notice. Eyes trail along with the shuffling feet, watching them lag behind each other, hand hovering over his knife, wanting, wishing, praying that their sense of smell was much worse than their sense of hearing or sight.
He’d gotten caught away from his RV as he was coming back from a food run. It stood there, a mere fifty feet in front of him, the bridge between life or death currently being crossed by a horde of walkers and therefore preventing him from getting to safety. It was another hour before he was sure it was safe enough to get up from his spot and jog over to his RV. When he enters however, he is met with a pair of unsettling green eyes and a head of dark hair.
Immediately his hand is on his gun. “How did you get in here?” ─ ━ ♚ │
He absolutely abhorred them. Even now, partially (?) dead, he found their scent disgusting. Then again, that was probably due to the lack of appetizing appeal they had. They could never compare to the smell of a fleshy, kicking and screaming human. The thought itself was enough to activate his salivary glands. With a swipe of sleeve across his mouth, he begins to inspect the surrounding area. If he ignored all the biters with varying levels of decay that surrounded him, he would spot a large vehicle, left largely ignored by the mass of travelling idiots. An RV? Surely he should inspect it for signs of life.
And so he diverges from the group, simply pushing through the dead until he arrives at the front door. He gives the handle a turn and grins at the satisfying click as it gives way. Tentative steps are taken into the vehicle, and immediately his first thought is to check the ignition. While the door was unlocked, the keys were no where to be found. Promising. That could only mean that the keys were with someone; dead or alive, he couldn’t tell yet. The prospect of finding a new group of humans to travel with was exciting. It sure beat being dragged along in a walking dead procession.
Just as he found the supply stash, clearly stocked recently, he hears the snap of a twig and the door open. Only two seconds to compose himself, he retracts to increase the distance between him and the newcomer. Ah, just as he surmised. A healthy sack of pumping arteries and juicy entrails... Bertolt dismisses the thought. The other was cautious enough as it is, and if he didn’t start talking, there’d be a bullet in his head.
“The door.” He shrugs, before realizing that being a smartass probably would get him killed. A second time. “I was running from that horde and I saw the RV. I thought I could hide in it until it passed.” Lying was certainly something that only improved upon his reanimation.
