This is fucked. So very, very fucked.<br/><br/>These stories on the news are about zombies. There's no ifs, ands, or buts about it. Nothing else could make any sense! The problem with that is that zombies don't really make any sense anyway! Fuck! Heather's brain was screaming at her to do something, go somewhere, find someone, but her body dared not to leave the seat of her chair. Truth be told, she was probably in one of the safest places right now. It's not quite downtown, no one is screaming out for brains, and she was pretty sure she could outrun the two people in this room if it came down to something bursting out of a closet or something.<br/><br/>The two others seemed to be just as shocked as Heather was, though the man was clearly in a better state about it. Despite being cut and tone as all fuck, it looked like he had a mind to him, too. If they had met maybe three, four minutes ago when the girl was absolutely oblivious to this situation of the undead, she might have been bold enough to chat her way into his motel room.  The green-eyed girl behind the counter looked more bewildered than shocked; as if there were millions of ideas passing in front of her eyes as to what to do. For the looks of things so far, the best idea was to sit still.<br/><br/>Not quite bursting through, but still completely unfair considering the situation, a blonde girl walked into the lobby. She was a cute little thing, even somehow managed to seem smaller than Heather although she knew better than that. The brunette had a special spot reserved in her heart for blondes. She didn't like them very much, seeing how any in of them in high school tended to be dating the boys that she did like. It also doesn't help their case when one of 'them' worked her way into her house, managed to get the both of them drunk, played this wonderful, far-too-long game of teasing, just to nap. Blondes are damned boyfriend stealing teases.<br/><br/>Refraining from zoning out again, Heather shook her head and caught the last bit of the young girl's conversation with the receptionist. A clear ditz. Or maybe just a girl who knows how to play the game. Heather was fond of the game. "<strong>I have the phone here,</strong>" she started, forcing herself to stand up against the better judgment of her terrified limbs. The brunette put the cordless phone onto the counter where she first picked it up.<br/><br/>She wasn't sure what compelled her to do so, but Heather turned back and sat in her chair, but looked toward the group of three by the counter and not at the TV. "<strong>My name's Heather, by the way. I... I guess I just have the feeling we're going to be seeing a lot of each other for the next little while.</strong>" She shrugged, unable to offer the trio any other explanation for any of the questions they were likely going to ask if they asked them. "<strong>Call it a hunch.</strong>"