Slip out the window and move on

Your Status: Unknown (Possibly Infected)

Your Equipment: Button-down shirt, Jeans, Flip-flops, Intertwined Backpacks

Your Inventory: Pistol (6/13), Sheath Knife, Firecrackers (34), Bottled Water (5), Canned food (3), Pocketknife, Flashlight

You silently sheathe your knife, then pull your pack on. Stepping into your flip-flops, you climb onto the bed and unlatch the window, before awaiting a gust of wind or flash of lightning to make your move.

Mother Nature obliges you moments later, another gust of wind howling by, more lightning flickering in the sky. You take advantage of the noise of the wind and crackle of thunder to slide the window open, before squeezing through it feet-first. Your pack hangs against the window for a second, your legs kicking as you dangle from it, before it pops free and you hit the ground with a small clap. Ice-cold rain immediately drenches you, soaking your clothes, hardening your nipples to little nubs that tent the material of your shirt.

Raising your pistol, you aim it towards the right side of the trailer, and back away. You stumble over your flip-flops a few times, but manage to stay on your feet. As you do so, you hear the door slam into the side of the trailer, ripped open by another gust of wind. You turn away, aiming to slip away into the darkness before who- or whatever it is sees you. The sounds of the raging storm mask the sound of your flip-flops slapping against your feet and the asphalt, and you duck behind a car just before another flash of lightning illuminates the back of the trailer.

You can see a face highlighted in the window. It appears female, though the face seems slightly off. Whoever it is, they're likely Infected. As the light fades, you turn again, and head off down the highway.

You put a mile between you and the trailer, before pausing again. The storm hasn't abated, and you shiver uncontrollably in the cold wind. You need to find some sort of shelter, and soon, before you die of exposure.