Origin: Reading, Massachusetts
Formerly: Elementary School Teacher
Skills: Weaponry, Combat, Communications + Diplomacy, First Aid
Jake Casey grew up in Milanville, Pennsylvania with two loving parents and an annoying older sister. His childhood was average.
The start of adolescence saw the reveal of Casey’s anger issues. He used to fight a lot in school, always came home with a black eye or bruised ribs. His mom put him into boxing classes at the local gym in an attempt to smother out his anger. His father started taking him out on his hog hunting trips, where he encouraged him to fire away at his anger. Both were successful, and both became useful at a later date, when combat and weaponry became essential skills needed to survive.
Casey moved to Reading, Massachusetts to attend Salem State University, where he got a teaching degree. It was at college that he met Rachel, a one-night-stand turned into a lifelong commitment. Her parents pressured them to marry once they were told of Rachel’s pregnancy, but Casey wasn’t too bothered by it. It didn’t take very long for him to fall in love with her.
He was only nineteen years old when their son, Noah, was born. Despite her parent’s pleas, Rachel dropped out of college before her third trimester, and spent the remaining years looking after Noah at home and working part-time at a grocery store.
After his degree, Casey started teaching at the local elementary school. He mainly taught second graders. When Noah came of age, he attended the same elementary school, and Casey got to teach his son.
Getting married so young and after such a short little time, they found it easy to argue. A few months before the outbreak of the infection, they were close to reaching a breaking point. Despite it all, the fighting and hushed arguments in the middle of the night, Casey loved Rachel. And he loved Noah. He loved his family more than anything.
Casey was setting up for the next day’s activities in his classroom when the infection hit town. Rachel was working late, so Noah was stuck in after-school-care. Casey was sitting at his desk when one of his favorite students entered the classroom, feet shuffling against the linoleum, half the flesh from her face torn. She attacked Casey—and it was the adrenaline that drove him to fight her back. A seven-year-old girl, moaning and teeth clicking. Casey had to kill her, slammed her head into a desk and watched as the brain matter spilled onto the floor. Shaken, stricken with fear for his son out in the yard, Casey left the building in search for Noah.
It was absolute hell out in the school yard. Little kids chasing teachers. Blood and moans. Screaming. Casey caught sight of his son across the quad, ran towards him, ducking around clickers and flying bullets. He was only a few meters away when he noticed Noah’s face half-sunken, clothes torn and bloody, eyes a scary hue. It was before he could reach him that another teacher struck out with a baseball bat against his son, and he was falling to the ground. His brains, his life, splattered out onto the pavement. Casey couldn’t see, blinded by rage and adrenaline, as he snatched the baseball bat from the teacher’s hand and pummelled him into the same fate as his infected – and now dead – son.
He carried his body, limp and lifeless, back to the house. His wife, Rachel, was huddled in a corner, his rifle clutched to her chest. Her sobs echoed through the house. She struck his cheek, over and over, and he allowed it, the guilt eating at his insides.
Soon after that she was gone. Fled with a bunch of non-infected people in town, leaving Casey to fend for himself. For the first few days, he sat there, rocking back and forth with his mangled son in his arms. Once he started hearing noises, clickers creeping up to his house, his survival instinct finally kicked into gear. He packed up the remaining supplies within the house, grabbed some ammo from the shed and headed off out into the unknown.
He spent months travelling with a variety of people; women, men, children. People from all walks of life. The one constant he had was a group of people he found on the border of Seattle. They spent a lot of time together, over two months, were starting to build up a small camp deep within the forest. Everybody looked to Casey for leadership and advice. His past experiences since Massachusetts allowed his growth. He didn’t like killing people, but he knew it was a necessity. It was the end of the world, after all. He still had full faith in humanity and hope, surrounded by this group of people, until it abruptly ended.
An enemy clan, run by Xavier Maverick, he later discovered, came through and tore them down. Some were slaughtered, others fled. Casey was left alone, left running. For a few weeks he survived on his own, eating squirrel and anything else he could find. He was basically left without supplies or companionship.
It was early morning when he saw the smoke in the air, sounds of gunfire. Fire crackling in the distance. He followed it; found a gated community. He hadn’t experienced such a thing since before the outbreak. Desperate, wondering how much longer he could survive by himself, he called out and was greeted by the citizens of Fall City.
The safe haven he found in Fall City was short-lived. A week he indulged in cooked meals and hot showers; made a few connections with people before the bombs levelled the town and surrounding area. He broke off with a small group of survivors. They found refuge in a warehouse, where Casey was figured as the leader of the clan. A midnight stroll with Lexie Rivera had them stumbling upon a hospital deep past the forest – the newest place in which they found sanctuary.
Face Claim: Jesse Lee Soffer
Availability: Taken by Amanda
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