There had been signs made up with crude writing: “follow me if you want to be free.” There were arrows directing the people, sometimes the signs were silly, simple, or foreboding. In any case, they did lead the people somewhere.
Those who followed the signs would come to what used to be a military base, the walls were crumbling, but they had been reinforced by wood, something that passed as plaster, or just more bricks on top of the old bricks. A few people walked along the walls, a couple had guns, some had bats, the rest were just patrolling.
The main gates would be heavy, pieced together with a variety of boards that had been nailed together. Words on the gate said: “freedom.” When the gates rolled open, the people that were already there stopped, they looked towards the gates to see who it was. There were some tables set up, stations already in place.
This was an area where people could stop over, get their supplies refreshed, then move on. Or, they could stay, if they wanted to. But if they wanted to stay, they would have to convince the longtimers that they were in it for the long-haul.
It has been a year now since the outbreak. People are still working on surviving. In some places, it seems the outbreak has been around longer due to the wasteland appearance.
It is unknown to the survivors. People have theories, but nothing has been confirmed.
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