<div style="margin:auto; max-width: 500px; background: #000; border: 1px solid #980202; font-size: 0px;"><br/>
<div style="margin:auto; max-width: 450px; height: 50px; margin-top: 20px;border-top: 15px solid #980202; font-family: abril fatface; font-size: 45px; color: transparent; -webkit-text-stroke: 1px #980202; text-align: center; letter-spacing: 3px;">THOMAS KEPLER</div><div style="margin:auto; max-width: 450px; height: 450px; padding-left: 15px; padding-right: 15px; margin-top: 15px; overflow-y: auto; font-family: times new roman; font-size: 13px; color: #ccc; letter-spacing: 1px; text-align: justify;"><br/>
<div style="margin: auto; margin-left: 20px; height: 160px; width: 160px; float: right; border-radius: 0%; background: url(https://i.pinimg.com/564x/f2/35/ea/f235ea0221ea0c004e80c1720700831a.jpg); background-size: cover; background-position: center center; filter:contrast(100%); filter:grayscale(0%);font-size: 0px;border: 1px double #980202;">image</div><i>West Jefferson, Alabama. </i><br/>
<br/>
Hick-town to be exact, but then again the only difference between West Jefferson and Pell City was that Thomas Kepler's home town rested next to lake Logan Martin while West Jefferson, Alabama rested beside the Black Warrior River, abundant with bass and catfish of monstrous proportions. Still, without a car the hour drive had taken him exactly nineteen hours and forty five minutes to walk. It hadn't been an easy trek. The interstates were nearly impossible to travel completely the whole way in the ragged Ford Ranger he'd found with a half a tank of gas, due to the many cars piled onto the roads - belongings of men, women, and children who had tried and failed to escape the Resurrection hanging out of their opened doors. <br/>
<br/>
So he'd been forced to ditch the car in Leeds, which had been a major pain in his ass. Walkers still crowded the interstates at times, some limping alone and others forming herds of more than fifteen. It had been a while since he'd seen a horde, though. Still, he knew they were out there most likely in Birmingham where the population had been the highest before civilization had taken her dramatic fall. Instead of walking the interstate where the danger was highest, he'd delved off into the backroads, walking through the woods parallel with the main roads that wound through Alabama's backwoods. Finally, he'd made it. His travels had led him over an overpass, where he'd seen the exit sign for West Jefferson. He knew Idris Bellucci, more than he knew anyone. If she were still alive, she'd have made a way to defend herself by then. <br/>
<br/>
Though there was no "if" when it came to Idris Bellucci's survival. He'd seen that woman charge headlong into battle overseas, only to return dragging the bodies of their wounded men. He'd seen her jump from planes without a second of hesitation, seen her face off hand to hand in close quarters with insurgents and very little ammunition left to spare. If she could survive all of that, she'd damn sure survive the Resurrection. Wouldn't she? She had to... For if Thomas Kepler ever stumbled across Idris Bellucci's dead body, he'd put a bullet through his own head and die next to his Lieutenant like a good soldier should. <br/>
<br/>
Hard, ocean blue eyes scanned the trees as he walked down the main road of West Jefferson. He had a Glock G17 stuffed into the back waistband of his military pants, his grey t-shirt damp with sweat from his travels. He was dirty, hungry, tired... The roads were littered with Walkers here and there, though Thomas' hunting knife had dealt with any that had gotten too close. The duffel bag on his shoulder full of clothes, ammunition, and MRE's was starting to become a burden to his back and shoulders, but still he pushed on. <br/>
<br/>
And that's when he saw it, the Walker tied to the tree. Normally, he would have ignored it. After the Resurrection, many survivors had snapped mentally and turned into a sort of monsters themselves. Of course, that side of humanity had always been present, but the Resurrection had only brought the worst of mankind to the surface in some. Though it was the way the Walker was positioned... Clearly dead, thanks to the knife driven into his forehead. Though one of his arms was strung upwards, positioned carefully so that the Walker was quite literally pointing towards something. <br/>
<br/>
A trail, narrow enough to know that a sole human had made it... Idris. She was alive. He knew by the dog tags hanging from the Walker's throat. They were the standard issue dog tags given to Marines, reading Idris' last name, her first and middle initials, labelled USMC with her gas mask size added just in case she were to fall in battle and someone else needed the equipment that she wore on her corpse. But Idris Bellucci truly wasn't dead, was she? The ever persistent woman was alive... and she was trying to make herself found. <br/>
<br/>
"Too fucking stubborn to die, Lieutenant." Thomas Kepler spoke aloud to no one in general. And as he turned to walk through the makeshift trail, one that would surely take him deeper into the woods, he only prayed that it would be her that he found on the other side of wherever he was headed.<br/>
</div><br/>
<div style="margin:auto; max-width: 450px; height: 50px; margin-top: 20px;border-top: 15px solid #980202; font-family: times; font-size: 0px; color: #fffffff; text-align: center; letter-spacing: 3px;">bottom border</div></div><br/><div style="margin:auto;height:15px; max-width:450px; padding: 3px; margin-top: 10px; position: relative; background-color: #fffffff; ;font-size: 0px; border-radius: 5px;color:#000; text-align: center; font-size: 8px; font-family: times; letter-spacing: 3px; opacity: 85%; text-transform: uppercase;">code by promethean</div><br/><div style="text-align: right">Last edited: Today at 12:28 AM​</div>