(My character thinks you are in siberia, so he went there.)
Sam had a Jeep Wrangler Unlimited, which he liked very much compared to a hummer. The fact that a virus could survive in this cold however, Sam had no liking of that.
"What was that weird dream about anyway?" Sam thought aloud."I mean, seriously, I know that if I ever did anything so stupid to Attrianna, she'd find a way to kill me, be it in this life, or from some contingency plan involving brain controlled clones." He chuckled, His brain went into overdrive of stupid stuff when horror awaited around the corner.
"What the hell?" Sam swore.
Blood was staining the window. Something was most definitely becoming road kill along the roadside. Sam slammed on the brakes and pulled out his JAE Gen-2 M1A Rifle, checking through the small snow storm for any hostiles. He found only a grinning face of a Brute, but somehow different. It jumped through the air, slamming its foot into one of the wheels, which popped instantaneously. Sam gasped and started unloading the rounds into its head, praying for a lucky shot. God must've been feeling gracious that day, because the Brute's head blew open in a cloud of gore and bone. Checking the tires, Sam made a quick change, not wanting to spend anymore time than he had to out in the cold.
Pulling out his cellphone once he was in the Jeep, he called Vlad.
. . . . . .
Jaden sat downstairs, watching the ghouls trying to destroy the door. Jadens family had unloaded a few rounds and piled all the heavy stuff they could find up against the door.
Jaden picked up the phone.
"Jaden, this is General Hackert speaking. Your entire regiment is being called up, and you haven't shown up for duty. Care to explain?"
Jaden unconsciously straightened up, "Sir, Me and my family are stuck in our house, the undead have deided that-"
"Say no more son, we'll be sending in a chopper to clear the area. When that's done, you and your family will be escorted to a bunker to briefing. Understood?"
"Sir yes sir!" Jaden said.
Deep thought #1: In the end, everyone dies. No one can outrun time, death itself is always breathing down your neck, just waiting to slip the noose over you. But, in your time of death, what matters is not when or how or even why. What matters is what you do with it. Do you sit down and call it quits, or do you get up, stare your killer and death itself in the face, and laugh copiously, right until the end.