<div class="floatright">(https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-1G10lPtszSo/U-iaeTXOudI/AAAAAAAAAjU/VIDCAig_Muk/w259-h194-no/index.jpg)</div><strong>Character:</strong>James Green<br/><strong>Location/Time:</strong>Fisherman's Wharf, early afternoon<br/><strong>Attire:</strong>Running shoes, shorts, jersey, padding, duffelbag with the rest of his belongings.<br/><strong>Tagged:</strong><br/><br/>Last day, his shelter had been overrun. And he had been quite careful about keeping those shamblers from following him there. And it was a really good place too. Then again, he had all his belongings at hand, ready to be grabbed for departure. But he would miss the view over the bay. It was a really good one. James was moving at a relaxed jog through the streets, a smile on his lips, avoiding the shamblers. And just keep running whenever they noticed him. He was faster anyway. He did miss his MP3 player, but that thing was gone for a few days, and it wasn't like his running music could just be found on any other player. But beyond that, all things considered, life was amazing.<br/><br/>And then a horde came into view and he was torn from his musings. Quickly stopping and blindly sidestepping into a nearby alley. His chest was breathing heavy as he glanced around the corner. Good, they had not noticed him. He turned back to check out the alley and saw nothing, but he heard rapid scratching and whining coming from down further down that path.<br/><br/>"Shit." he cursed out loud, dogs were even more trouble than shamblers were.<em>"Shit."</em>he thought as he glanced into the streets again, hoping that the zombies had not heard him curse. Most dogs were fairly cool still around humans. But to them, especially the smaller yapping ones, humans meant food. And they'd make a ruckus drawing the shamblers over.<br/><br/>"Shit." he whispered more soft as he glanced for another escape route.