"You ready to go?" He offers me a mask. I take it and put it on. "Let's go then Simon." I wave goodbye and follow Toby and his daughter out side. As we leave a large group of clays walk toward the building we just left, and a minute later a lot of shouting and screaming erupts from the room the group was in. It was their choice to stay. Better to not dwell on the past. The clays are worse than zombies. Much, Much worse. They are smarter than a lot of people, more agile and better endurance, a pretty damn protective about their children. All it takes is one touch before you have to use a knife to dig every single piece of clay out of your skin; and that is a task filled with hateful pain. I've currently killed the story (and not too happy about it) because I've been gone so long and I won't be able to write well for it... It May make a return