En descendant et en sortant de l'échelle, Brian se trouva confronté à la vue la plus particulière. Toute la pièce était couverte de couvertures blanches et de draps, l'éclaboussure occasionnelle de peinture colorée sur les murs, des corps parsemés dans toutes les directions. Dans une pile dans le coin étaient quelques-uns de ces draps blancs, il n'était pas froid la nuit par n'importe quelle partie du mot, mais il pouvait néanmoins les utiliser. Jetant quelques-uns sur son épaule à la fois, il a fait 3 courses les portant au sommet puis retournant pour plus. Quand il est revenu et qu'il n'y avait plus personne à ramasser, il a commencé à déplacer les corps et les draps de côté, enveloppant les cadavres en blanc et les roulant du côté droit.
Une fois qu'il l'a fait, après environ 20 minutes, il s'est dirigé vers la porte lointaine qui a conduit et sur le balcon qui entourait l'immense chambre. Au début, la grande porte ne bougeait pas, alors il lui a donné un coup rapide avec son épaule et il a éclaté libre. Le vent se précipita dans les cheveux de Brian et fit arroser ses yeux, sortant et regardant de l'autre côté du chemin, Brian vit quelqu'un sortir de la porte sur le toit du bâtiment en face, autour d'un étage plus court que le Peachtree. Ils marchaient jusqu'au bord et avaient l'air d'être sur le point de sauter - c'est seulement alors que Brian a vu les marcheurs le suivre.
"Ne fais pas ça! Non, c'est pas vrai! Brian a crié désespérément, sa voix étant arrachée par le vent.
Soulevant son pistolet de son étui, Brian a posé son poignet de la main droite sur son avant-bras gauche et a dirigé soigneusement vers la porte. L'homme là-bas, au moins ils avaient l'air mâle, avait pris son propre fusil aussi. Tirant un coup, il a vu la balle se déchirer à travers un torse infecté et l'a regardé tomber au sol, son deuxième coup a complètement manqué.
Pourquoi ne tire-t-il pas?
Tirant désespérément dans la foule de Brian infecté n'a frappé que quelques-uns, il y en avait trop, il a vu l'homme levant les yeux vers lui, son bras levant vers sa tête, et Brian l'a vu tomber en arrière alors que sa tête se branlait d'un côté. L'infecté s'est échauffé sur le corps, et il a dû regarder ailleurs. Qu'est-ce qu'il y a?

En rentrant dans la pièce, Brian ferma la fenêtre et s'assit sur l'une des chaises chères, jetant ses pieds sur la table. Ce n'était pas comme ça que les gens étaient censés mourir; ce n'était pas comme ça qu'ils étaient censés être. Après un long moment allongé les yeux fermés, avec de telles pensées dans sa tête, Brian s'est levé de la chaise et a commencé à fouiller la pièce pour trouver tout ce qu'il pourrait trouver utile.
Il essayait de se rendre dans le bâtiment opposé, donnant à cet homme des funérailles convenables d'une manière ou d'une autre.
Name: Brian Whisdell
Age: 27
Personality: Prefering to keep things low key Brian hates any kind of bully. He doesnt get overly emotional about much, except seeing others get hurt in which case he will usually drop all sense of logic to try and help. Always approaching zombies with patience and precision Brian has a tendency to take his time, making sure to be as quiet as possible.For example: if there was a building to clear Brian would go in from the roof first, climbing the fire escape to the top and slowly making his way down room by room. This way only he was in danger. He likes to think of himself as a good samaritan - a gentleman.
Occupation: Criminal, Brian was a small time thief who stole from rich families homes and gave the money/valuables to the kids of the orphanage he grew up in. He was in prison when it began, a guard he had come to be friends with set him free.
Equipment: 
Sweats and trainers.   Black trainers, grey sweats. 
Semi-elastic long sleeve shirt.  
Grey hoodie  
Pocket bandolier around left side chest  
Inventory: 
Water proof Sleeping Bag strapped to back-pack.
One small cooking pan, two 1/2litre water bottles, spare clothes and a hatchet.
A Map of the city and a few packets of food (imperishable).
A toothbrush and towel.Crystaline anti-perspirent.
A wallet with a no money in it, only an old picture of himself and friends.
Assortment of various stolen jewelry.
Weapons:
Pistol with 3 extra magazines.

Improvised spear.

Concealed flip knife

Background: Growing up an orphan was hard for Brian. While he made some close friends he was also bullied persistantly at his school which would lead to fights. This went on for years until one day (after he heard that his friend had just been adopted) Brian had had enough and didnt even give the bullies a chance to throw their first insult before he threw his first punch. After knocking one clean out and leaving the other two bruised and bloody Brian was given a weeks detention, which gave him time to 'think' and to heal his own wounds.
Realising the system was against him already, he set out to balance the odds, and began to find other bullies from other schools - teaching them a lesson. Finding that the rich were too rich, Brian would steal from various houses around his area, minor things at first. All through his life he moved from place to place stealing as he went. He fell into a dark circle for a few years, a group of less than kind men, who didnt just steal but killed. Brian has nothing to thank them for except a generally good knowledge of fire arms and blades.
With that behind him Brian had returned to his home, settling down in a hotel room which he kept modest and clean, paying his rent on time so as not to be suspicious; giving what he didn't need to the orphanage he had grown up in. When he was pulling a second job on the first house he had ever hit, (thinking they were still as easy a target as they were) turns out the sneaky shits had installed a fancy security system. After a close escape and an over-roofs chase Brian had no where else to run, so snuck the jewelry he had stolen into the hidden section of his bag and gave himself up.
He had been in prison for around 5 months when it all began, after a few days some of the policeman along with some civilians barricaded themselves into the station. Freddie, a guard he had become friendly with set him free to go and find the group some food and water. When Brian returned the whole place was empty with no sign of a struggle except for a few drops of blooding leading into the jail cells. There he found Freddie, a zombie, feasting on one of the inmates Jake. Taking the gun from the compartment under the main desk, Brian shot Freddie pointblank and then Jake for safety. Quickly taking the flip knife he knew Jake had hidden on him, he escaped just in time, before the zombies the shots had attracted fell upon the station.