Deadman Crawling [m×m]

ONE

He stares at the box before him as he sits on the cover of the toilet seat. His fingers subconsciously trace gentle patterns on the skin of his thigh, fine soft hairs tickling the pads of his fingertips as his gaze switches back and forth.

The skin is no longer angry, no longer red. It's just a bit swollen, just a bit tender. But he's used to that. He's used to the slight pain and irritation that he knows will fade within the next few hours.

So, he isn't worried about the prick or discomfort. He's more worried about what he'll do next.

His rations are running low. Food has dwindled quickly since that day. Since the day many's nightmare became a terrifying reality.

He's been imprisoned in his own home for fear of being attacked and becoming an infected.

But he realizes that he'll have to leave the comfort of his safe haven soon.

There is only one more vial in the box before him. One more vial to keep him stable and one more Maruchan Cup Noodles to keep the hunger at bay.

He comes to the inevitable conclusion that he needs to go outside.

He doesn't want to go outside.

He really doesn't.

But he needs food.

And most importantly, he needs his T supply.

There's a grocery store on the opposite corner of his block. He can get food there, get unperishables.

And as for his shots... he has about two weeks before he needs to use his last vial.

Thing is, his pharmacy, on a good day, is a 45 minute drive.

On foot it'll probably take a week simply because he'll need to lay low, need to be out of sight, need to be careful.

He scrubs his face in slight frustration.

He stands from his perch and walks out the bathroom.

He needs to think.

He needs to think outside the stuffy bathroom, outside.

But most importantly, he needs to stay calm.

He lives in a small apartment complex consisting of four homes. His apartment, his home, being on the second and final floor.

The front entrance is a metal door downstairs which is, thankfully, always locked. And leading up to his apartment are two flights of stairs, narrow and steep.

The only other way is through the fire escape out back from the kitchen door. He has a small balcony that branches into one staircase and one ladder. The ladder going up onto the roof connecting several buildings together, and the stairs going down toward a vertical ladder bolted to the building's wall which leads to the parking lot.

The front door was barricaded with the help of several tenants so the only way out now is through the fire escape.

And thankfully zombies don't know how to go up, don't know how to climb up.  At least thats what he's deduced from observing them from afar.

But his problem isn't whether they can climb up or not, it's whether he can survive going down.  Survive exposing himself to them.

He doesn't have much time, though.

He doesn't have any time to think, to second guess himself.

Eventually, he needs to go out.