@manwithamic liked this for a starter !
Miserable conditions were the least of Alvin Murphy’s worries when those things were lurking just beyond the poorly-fortified walls. They tell you to be hopeful, to keep your head up, as if that was actually going to help any of them make it ‘till tomorrow. No one wants to talk about how the camp just outside of what used to be Scranton, New York could be overrun in a mere instant. Murphy’s long past feeling anxious or bitter about it - if any of those things wanted to come in and take them out, he hardly cared anymore.
Murphy’s lost count of the days he’s been alone since being separated from the group. Since being separated from Lucy, with no indication of whether she was alive or dead or something entirely worse.
As the late morning sunshine peers through the cracked windows, he’s taken to eating a bag of rationed peanuts on the floor just outside the old gymnasium that serves as the basis for the camp, eyeing the younger man whom Murphy hadn’t seen until today. Heaving a sigh, Murphy wrinkles his brow, figuring he might as well ask where he came from.
“You new?” He briefly considers offering him a peanut, and decides against it. Food’s running low as it is, and as far as he’s concerned, it’s survival of the fittest. Or, rather, the luckiest. Either or.
“I didn’t think they were still letting people in. Shows how much they tell us.” He shrugs. “I wouldn’t get too comfortable if I was you. Walls are as strong as plastic bags against an actual horde. You’ll hear all about that soon enough.”
