(no subject)
Jess stops at the door to the club. She hears voices, and they're not loud angry overtly-trying-to-kill-each-other voices, either.
She wonders if any of the owners of the voices might happen to have a functioning shower, or at least a bowl of clean water and a sponge, because while she was relatively used to being dirty by now she still really hated it.
It was worth a shot, she figured. Unless they killed her, which they might. But she'd never been to Chicago and she really didn't want to spend another night sleeping on the roof of a four-story building to be out of the reach of zombies, so it was a risk she was willing to take.
Quietly she opened the door, slipped inside, and looked around.
She wonders if any of the owners of the voices might happen to have a functioning shower, or at least a bowl of clean water and a sponge, because while she was relatively used to being dirty by now she still really hated it.
It was worth a shot, she figured. Unless they killed her, which they might. But she'd never been to Chicago and she really didn't want to spend another night sleeping on the roof of a four-story building to be out of the reach of zombies, so it was a risk she was willing to take.
Quietly she opened the door, slipped inside, and looked around.