Coming Home || Jonathan, Self Para/Event Three
Who: Jonathan, alone. What: Panel team, making it back to The Wexley. When: Event Three
Following behind the van to the building they would be ripping the solar panels from, he did the best he could to help the others with the loading. Knowing he was one of the strongest of the group, he'd had no problem in doing so.
As the van finally became loaded to the brim with the panels, Jon began the cleanup of any left behind tools or knives and shoved them into his bag. In doing so, he heard the bangs of the fireworks come to a halt and looked around the streets of New York, spotting a very massive hoard of the undead pushing their way through the now much more slender streets toward his home. Shit. He fumbled around for his bag and guns which he'd taken off to help with the panels, when a face popped into his mind. "Abby." He breathed out her name hopelessly, knowing there was no way for him to make it through the streets in time to beat the herd.
Taking a moment to gather his thoughts, he struck an idea. As he raced down the stairs of the building, he made it to his motorcycle in time to drive himself away from the zombies. This time he wouldn't take the chance to kill any of them until it was absolutely necessary for him to survive, not wanting to be caught in a mess he wouldn't come out of. His engine roared itself to life with the twist of the key in the ignition, and as he popped it into gear, he raced to the front of the herd. Jon knew the walkers would be distracted by the noise of his motorcycle, so he decided to take a chance. He slid his still running motorcycle into the opposite direction of which he would run, distracting many of the flesh eating not-so-much humans behind him.
He took off with lightning speed toward The Wexley, making it to the back of the building before any of the zombies did. Running, he jumped into the air and caught the edge of the first floor balcony railing. Swinging himself over the ledge, he continued to each balcony above him, climbing railing after railing until finally reaching the roof top where he would be able to make it inside and back to his home. Racing down the stairs he could only think of one word to keep himself going from the tearing pain in his shoulder blade, which must have come from the jumping and swinging of balconies. Abigail.