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Father David sits forlornly in a barn on the northern border

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Father David sits down on a hay pile in a barn up on the North coast to take a rest and shelter from the Rain and crack open a can of cold spaghetti and can of Mountain Dew.

He pushes the PPT on his radio

*Fellow survivors, I hope this message reaches you well. Im in need of a place to call home. Ive been traveling across the region for days and my body is weary. My Boots are worn and my bones ache.

I have tried to make contact with a group in the far west and managed to find their camp but nobody ever seems to be home and I heard a rumour they are now in hiding so Im not counting on any offer of residence from them now. I found a lonely stranger in the north and we travelled for a while together before we found a small settlement in the former church I resided in during the outbreak in Novo, but again no-one was home.

Is there any groups of people still around with an open door to a former Christian priest that has lost his way. Im no stranger to getting my hands dirty or bloody for the right cause.

Please get in touch. Im losing my already fragile mind*

He puts the radio down, takes a look at his can of cold spaghetti and throws it at the wall in desperation, before going to collect it again as that was a dumb ass thing to do when theres a food shortage.

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