Into the cabin to sleep

Status: Uninfected

Your Equipment: Battered sandals, Ragged Panties, Hunting Knife, Zippo

Your Inventory: Canned food (3), Bottled Water (9), Flashlight, Batteries (2), Duct Tape (3'), Twine (30'), Blanket, Tattered Sundresses (2), Ragged Panties (3), Cabin Keys, Ragged Tank-top, Ragged shorts

It's too dark to try and track down small glares in the distance, and so you head into the cabin. The light from your flashlight reveals a macabre scene. Dead Infected and casings from several weapons litter the floor, and the rest of the cabin is an absolute wreck, debris from ruined furniture and various belongings strewn about the floor. There are random bullet holes in the walls where a survivor had shot repeatedly, probably during his or her last stand. Several of the windows are shattered, and hastily boarded up.

A fireplace adorns one wall, and a small kitchenette adorns another. There's a door in the back of the cabin, presumably the bedroom. A solitary chair remains intact, against the wall near the fireplace. A straw broom rests against the back wall, near the far door.

After shutting and barring the front door, you pick your way through the mess, carefully making your way to the small back room. The bedroom is in much better shape, though it's still a mess, too. This room doesn't look ransacked, though, just lived-in. Maybe there's some useful supplies here yet. That can wait for tomorrow, however, as sleep is calling you now. You drop your pack, pulling your blanket from it, then strip down to your panties and curl up in the bed.

You awaken to a cold draft piercing your blanket, and you shiver a bit in the chill of the morning air, despite yourself. It's right after dawn, the sun just cracking the horizon, casting long shadows from the trees. The last of the birds that haven't gone south chirp merrily, and you almost forget about the problems of yesterday. A glance out the window reveals a foggy morning awaits you.

You groan as you sit up, stiff from your walk and combat yesterday, then stretch mightily, the blanket falling from your chest. Your nipples harden into painful nubs in the chilly air, and you actually wince from the pain. Standing, you slide your feet into your sandals again, not bothering with the rest of your clothes. Solitude has its' benefits. The knife comes with you, as you refuse to be without it after the events of the evening prior. Stepping through the doorway, you look about the main room again, and realize you've got a project ahead of you. A Zippo sitting on the kitchenette counter catches your eye, and you grab it, flicking it experimentally. It lights on the first try, and you close it. That makes life a lot easier.

The fireplace then catches your eye. With all this wrecked furniture about, it wouldn't be hard to start a nice fire and take the chill out of the cabin. It wouldn't do for you to survive an Infected, just to die from exposure or sickness.