To read more about the Great Florida Outbreak, check out Hargood and the End.
With the rain came hoards of the undead. Marcus ran through the streets, dodging as many as he could, but not all were avoidable. Less than a mile from his house, he was overcome by the crowds. As he waded through, swinging and pushing, he noticed his company was mixed, mostly dead but some still living and running for their lives. Amid the rain and violence, it was hard to distinguish the living from the dead. Marcus grounded who he had to for survival, but he strove to apply nonlethal strikes upon his attackers - just enough to escape.
He jabbed and clubbed, tripped and blocked. One ghoul fell after another, until he finally spotted his house and carport in the distance. Marcus smiled at the sight, and slowed his melee for just a moment. That was enough, though. He was brought back, his smile turning to gritted teeth, as a flash of pain ran down his shoulder. He looked back to see rain running down a rotting face attached to his bloody shoulder. The creature's teeth sank deeper still so that Marcus couldn't shake him. Another came from the front to attack, but was met with the exhaust pipe. The weapon was then turned up this lackey.
By the time the ghoul released itself, Marcus' weapon was drenched in blood, and his shoulder was a mound of butchered meat. The cool rain stung his wound, but it kept him aware as well. He stumbled toward his home, rain striking like needles, wind whipping furiously, the undead charging slothfully from all sides. Marcus could barely see, and his other senses were dwindling swiftly now too. He was tired of adventure, he just wanted to relax, to rest.
At last, he reached his carport and his lawnchair, waiting there for him. As he stepped under the shelter and took a seat, he realized his assailants were calming down. They still saw him, but they merely walked by without acknowledgement. They weren't trying to eat him anymore. He also found himself slightly confused, but also not really caring. Suddenly, as his senses faded out, his mind also became a world of fog and emptiness. It was almost euphoric - this was his last clear thought as he dropped one pipe and lit the other with trembling, rotting hands.
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