State of Decay✔️

Chapter 04: Campsites

The water tower was old and rusty, built into a weathered, wooden platform. Marcus eyed the black, paint-flecked ladder with unease, but began his ascension anyway. Despite his misgivings about the ladder, it held him. Still, he made Ed wait until he'd climbed onto the wooden platform. As he turned around and offered Ed a helping hand, then began climbing the second ladder that would take him to the top of the actual water tower, he was suddenly very, very glad for his exercising habits and healthy lifestyle.

Whatever was going to happen over the next few hours or days or weeks, it would very likely require a great deal of running and jumping and fighting. Marcus went to the gym five days out of the week. After work, he'd stop by for an hour and a half. He ran cardio either on the track or a treadmill, depending on his mood, and then spent half an hour lifting various weights. He was more interested in staying fit and trim than he was building muscle, and as a result, his body was long and lean, his muscles not very big, but still obvious.

Ed, on the other hand...might be a problem.

They came to the top of the water tower and looked around. For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Marcus could still feel the tension of what they had just done, of what they were likely going to have to do over and over again if they wanted to survive, hanging on the air. Usually, it was Ed who made some kind of joke.

"Hey," Ed said suddenly, "you think that guy gave you the gun cause you're black?" he asked.

Marcus stopped surveying the landscape and turned to face him. He stared at Ed for a long moment, then abruptly burst out laughing.

"No, Ed," he said, grinning, "he gave me the gun because I'm still lean and mean and you're heading towards couch potato."

"Hey! I resent that," Ed replied.

Marcus reached out and patted Ed on his stomach. "Your gut doesn't."

"Sure, sure, whatever," Ed grumbled. "Doesn't make sense, anyway. If you're fit, then it's your job to beat on the zombies. I'm the guy should be holding the gun. Shooting a gun requires a lot less effort than beating some dead-head's skull in with a pipe."

"That's what makes guns so scary, Ed. Wonderful in a situation like this, but scary in the real world," Marcus replied. "Now, shut up and let's do our homework."

"Hate homework," Ed muttered.

Marcus felt better. Still shaky, still kind of sick, still very afraid, but he could always count on Ed to break the tension in an unhappy situation. He walked to the edge of the water tower's top and began to survey the land. The first and most unhappy fact that leaped to him was that he could see dozens of figures dotting the landscape. Far and nearby, on the road and in the woods, sunshine and shade, he could see them. None of them looked like survivors, though. They all had that awkward, shambling gait that the zombies possessed.

The environment began to give up its secrets though, as he continued his inspection. He could see a faded brick-walled public restroom tagged with some graffiti, two clusters of tents that represented the occupied campsites, a trio of cabins further on and finally he saw a small, fenced-in industrial style warehouse. But, most importantly of all, in the tiny gravel parking lot of the industrial warehouse, he saw...

"Ed, look, a truck!" Marcus said, pointing.

"Probably broken," Ed replied unhappily after a moment, "dead battery or out of gas or something. Otherwise, why would they leave it here?"

"Hey, doesn't hurt to try," Marcus replied. "Okay, look, see how everything's arranged in a kind of crescent moon shape?"

"Crescent moon?" Ed replied.