@manwithamicâ liked this for a starter !
Miserable conditions were the least of Alvin Murphyâs worries when those things were lurking just beyond the poorly-fortified walls. They tell you to be hopeful, to keep your head up, as if that was actually going to help any of them make it âtill tomorrow. No one wants to talk about how the camp just outside of what used to be Scranton, New York could be overrun in a mere instant. Murphyâs long past feeling anxious or bitter about it - if any of those things wanted to come in and take them out, he hardly cared anymore.Â
Murphyâs lost count of the days heâs been alone since being separated from the group. Since being separated from Lucy, with no indication of whether she was alive or dead or something entirely worse.Â
As the late morning sunshine peers through the cracked windows, heâs taken to eating a bag of rationed peanuts on the floor just outside the old gymnasium that serves as the basis for the camp, eyeing the younger man whom Murphy hadnât seen until today. Heaving a sigh, Murphy wrinkles his brow, figuring he might as well ask where he came from.
âYou new?â He briefly considers offering him a peanut, and decides against it. Foodâs running low as it is, and as far as heâs concerned, itâs survival of the fittest. Or, rather, the luckiest. Either or.
âI didnât think they were still letting people in. Shows how much they tell us.â He shrugs. âI wouldnât get too comfortable if I was you. Walls are as strong as plastic bags against an actual horde. Youâll hear all about that soon enough.â
