"I'm Chayse."

"I'm Chayse." you quietly say, taking one of the soup cans and a spoon and beginning to eat. The other men acknowledge what you've said, but don't seem particularly interested in continuing conversation.
"Well.. uh.. Chayse.. me 'n' Gaz have been doing our research; these creatures are dead. Anyone who dies becomes one, 'less their brain is scrambled. You don't have to die, though.. their bite is infectious. I know it's all a bit overwhelming" he says, noticing your baffled expression. "But the epidemic's been happenin' a good thirty-six hours now. London's fucked. Manchester's fucked. Now bloody Leeds is fucked. We're best off staying here, in the country. It's safer here."
You nod in response, understanding the logic but a little too uncomfortable to word a proper conversation. "We've been planning some defences and we'll turn the van into our bedroom. We've plenty o' petrol so if we need to move, we can." he continues whilst turning on a small handheld radio.
"Jack, are ye' there, Jack?" he says into the radio. He gets no response. "For fuck sake, Jack." Dean says, throwing the radio aside. There isn't much to do around the camp other than sit and chat. The infection is peaking, so it's too dangerous to return to any cities. Occasionally you see a helicopter or a fighter jet pass in the skies, presumably headed to a major city to try and keep the outbreak under control.