It was once a soldier, telling the tale of the mistakes and arrogance of the opening days of the Infection.  Wearing a full body NBC suit, made awkward and heavy for the assortment of useless gear strapped and harnessed to his body.  Likely the man had been Infected early in the outbreak, had received the usual bandage patch job and sent back out.  It's gas mask was still strapped to it's head, pushed askew and certainly caught tight around the throat.<br/><br/>It wandered from an alley not long after Nathan had took to the street, drawn by the explosion but arrived too late to get truely worked up as the others closer by had.  It wandered the street, almost with a sense of direction, of intent, until it was standing in the street outside Nathan's hide out.  And it just stood there for a time, staring sightlessly.  Just what caught it's attention was a mystery, why it tried that door...why even it had any trace of sense enough to try the door.  Whatever the reason, it slowly turned towards the shop door, one thick gloved hand reaching out to turn the nob, to pull it open and wander inside.<br/><br/>Rain cascaded off it's filthy containment suit, and it moved slowly around the first floor, leaving a watery trail across the floor until it finally found it's way up the stairs, past the book case that hadn't been pushed back into place in Nathan's hurry to find other survivors.