Cam's POV:
it's been days since we came across this place, the cellar within, and the person in that. i look calmly over at the door. it appeared they were planning on keeping their word, but you never can tell. so i kept a cautious eye. in no way was i going to just trust this person. this is bullshit.
the days continued on. we didn't have to go out and scavenge as much, so we did a lot of exploring around the massive house. we now know something about this family who once lived here, and the person in the cellar.
within bookshelves scattered about the house, you can find books on almost fucking anything. i found a medical book, by a i mean about 7000. same with strategy books, and surprisingly enough, poetry. we found them in the room we presumed to be the person's downstairs, but we didn't ask. mostly because that'd be breaking a rule. but we did pretty much know that it could only be two out of the three kids and just some basic facts we found on papers and things lying around. we also knew that she is well, a she.
so it's probably best that she's in the cellar right now, considering mason would be all over her. he's a little hormonal cunt, so you have to be careful with him.
once more, i hear soft notes rise through the floorboards and through the door. she plays music just about everyday around the same time, and not to mention for hours. it's calming though. none of us had heard music in a long time.
i stand up and walk over to the pen and notepad by the door. i scratch up a quick note, and slip it under the door. i knock twice, as specified in a note a few days ago from her. she knocks twice too, when she leaves notes for us. then, i wait patiently.
Your POV:
my music is so loud today that i almost don't hear the knocks on the door. i hurry up the stairs, and see the note sat on the landing. i run back down and grab a pen, before hurrying up the stairs again. i pick it up and read.
"hello, it's cameron. what music are you listening to?"
i sigh, and think for a moment before writing a response on the same paper.
"a bit personal, isn't it?"
i slide it under the door, and wait. i assume he is still there, considering he's the one who sent the note, so no need to knock.
the same paper slides back under.
"how so? i happen to disagree."
i roll my eyes slightly, and write a note back.
"the type of music a person listens to can tell you a lot about them."
i slide the note back under the door, and hear a chuckle arise from the outside. a new paper slides under the door this time.
"yeah, whatever. i still disagree. i used to listen to just rap music, and i'm not a gang member. most likely because those don't really exist anymore."
i giggle a bit, but then bite my tongue. i begin to write back when a scream arises in the house. i hear shuffling, and more yelling. i sprint down the stairs, and grab a pistol. i load it, and sprint back up the stairs. i open the door slightly, peering into the living room of my house. there, i see about 6 zombies walking about. but one collapses after the sound of a gun shot. without opening the door and revealing myself too much, i manage to shoot two of them. but when the rest of them fall and the yells of many people calm, i slam the door shut and lock all of the locks all over again.
i run over to my notepad, and right down quickly,
"is everyone okay?? do you need anything?" and i send it under the door. i knock twice, and really loud. once more i hear shuffling. a smooth voice sounds through the door,
"we are okay. are you?" i sigh.
"yes." i say back quietly. i know they could hear me though, because the murmuring appeared. i quickly sprint down the stairs after hearing another voice ring through the door. an american, radio voice.
"thank you."
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this one is especially short, very sorry. the next one will be longer i promise.
