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Kry
Hero Complex
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12-02-2014, 04:29 AM
Jesse Rhodes;
Amateur survivalist
Jesse has long chestnut colored hair he keeps in a single braid and cobalt blue eyes. He lived with his father, a military man, for most of his life. His mother having left them when he was only 5, Jesse moved around a lot due to his father's work. Always living on military bases though, and going to their military academies. When he turned 18 he dropped out of the school he was currently enrolled in and ran away from home. His father wanted him to have a military life and career. Jesse disagreed.
It was hard at first, but he managed to find a job and an apartment a few states away from where his father was currently stationed. Not long after, the pandemic hit. No one was prepared it seemed, but somehow Jesse survived that initial outbreak. His days in the military academy gave him survival and combat skills of an average level. His intelligence and cleverness combined with that have kept him alive so far. For now at least, while he tries to search for his father.
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The sun was setting, it was evening and that was a dangerous time to be out and about. Although, given the situation, being out and about at all was a dangerous thing. Jesse sighed. He had a small hand gun tucked into the waistband of his jeans, it had a full clip. He'd gotten lucky and passed an ammo shop along the way that was more or less still intact. A small combat knife was sheathed at his left hip, the sheath tied to one of his belt loops with some string. There was strap long over one of his shoulders so it lay across his chest. A canteen hung on the end, positioned against his left side, just above that combat knife.
A pack was on his back, a strap slung across only one shoulder. The other strap was broken. In the pack was food and more ammunition. It wasn't a whole lot, but it was good enough for now. He would make it last, somehow, until he could restock with more. A long machete was sheathed and secured to him with some string, winding through his belt loops. The sheath rested just against his buttocks, and the machete handle was in easy reach of his right hand should he need to reach back and grab it in a hurry.
There was a rifle hanging against his back next to his pack, the strap around the shoulder that didn't currently have a pack strap across it. That rifle though was completely out of ammo. He hadn't been wasteful with it. Every single shot had counted. Well almost. He had only missed three times. He licked his lips, eyes narrowing as he surveyed his surroundings. He was more or less in a downtown district of town. Full of old, rundown buildings that he was pretty sure had looked just as badly before this apocalypse had hit.
There were some warehouses here and there. Most of them looked like old tobacco warehouses. He rolled his shoulders and moved towards one of the large buildings. He went quietly but as quickly as he could. It had been a long while since he'd seen any other survivors, and they hadn't survived long. It had not been long at all since he'd seen the zombies.
He made it to the building just as he heard movement from another alley way, followed by more sounds of movement. They had seen him or smelled him. However they hunted. Jesse grit his teeth and moved quickly, moving to the metal fire escape that was attached to the side of the old building. He jumped, hands reaching and grasping for the metal ladder that dangled teasingly above him.
Fingers scrapped against it for half a moment, it was just out of reach. He glanced behind him, three zombies had rounded the corner into his alley. His heart began to pound in his chest. If he were taller. He whipped his head around this way and that, looking for something to stand on. Those cobalt eyes landed on a metal trashcan laying on it's side. Jesse didn't hesitate, he ran to it and grabbed it. Glad it was empty or it would have been too heavy.
He dragged it back towards that fire escape, making a loud noise that undoubtedly was attracting more zombies. Not that it mattered. Quite a few had already joined the first three anyway. He quickly turned the trash can upside down and climbed on top of it. He grasped the ladder, kicked the metal can away and began to climb. A tight, cold grip closed around his ankle and his heart almost stopped.
His grip tightened on the metal rails of the ladder as he looked down at the zombie that had a hold of him. Jesse grit his teeth and gripped the ladder tighter before he began kicking at the hand that was tugging on him. An open mouth only a short distance from that hand. He kicked as hard as he could, wildly, until that hand lost it's grip on him. Jesse wasted no time in climbing up on the metal landing. He was safe. For the moment, assuming no zombies were on the roof.
Jesse debated going all the way up the fire escape to the roof, but decided against it. He would wait them out right here on this fire escape landing. Out of reach of the zombies below him. Quickly he checked his ankle, no scratches. That was good. For the moment, he was safe, but he still didn't relax. You were never safe enough nowadays, it was better to stay alert and on guard. He doubted he'd get much sleep, if any. Then again it was always like that. He crouched down in the corner of the landing furthest from the ladder he had climbed up on.
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