User:KiIIer

My eyes flick open, first one and then the other, staring blankly along the cold ground. Memories of sirens echo in my ears for a moment, and fade into strange and distant murmurs.

Unsteadily, and on awkwardly angled limbs, I rose to my feet.

That was seven years ago. Originally I was a convicted murderer in Malton Correctional Facility. My number stayed the same, 2008484, each had it's meaning. The last number indicated the crime, murder. The second to last was how many sentences. The rest was what number prisoner I was in the Facility.

For the seven years of the outbreak, I have been shambling around the city. Today is the first day I remember any of it.