<strong>Location/Time:</strong>Fisherman's wharf, Alleyway, early afternoon<br/><strong>Tagged:</strong>Gracie Evans, James Green<br/><br/>Luckily for Gracie, the door wasn't locked and she found herself stepping into the backroom of an old shop, though she couldn't quite tell what kind, just yet. The walls were lined with shelves of organized boxes and the air smelled like years of old cigarette smoke. When the bow-wielding young woman turned to check that Toffee was following, she saw him bark at something going by way too fast to be a zombie. She'd just encountered her first living person in entirely too long and he ran right past her. The dog was just as excited by this news as his human companion would likely be and it was obvious he'd be a handful to wrangle inside at this point.<br/><br/>James was making good time with his dash for safety. He'd made it into the alley before the growing crowd in the street could get close and even the dog he'd just ran past outside of an open shop would be hard pressed to keep up with him. Wait, an open shop! That would have to be safer than his situation just then, and they might have some supplies, too. It wasn't the athlete's only option, of course. There were branching paths that lead either to the impassable docks or a couple of side streets further from the coast. Straight ahead of him and right in the middle of one such exit was a walker that looked like it curled linebackers and ate whatever position James used to play. It wasn't the only way out, by any means, but it meant that slowing down enough to take a hard turn would be necessary.