"My name is Private Saint Claire Shores talking at you through this little screen and little camera and this little mic-thing from the CDC in Atlanta, Georgia." Shores spoke as crisp and clear as she could after two shots of Jagermeister that afternoon. "If you are listening to this in your vehicle or just cruising the radio channels at home, you probably can't see me… I'm actually quite positive you cannot…."

This was her usual ritual every afternoon towards sundown, broadcasting her voice over whatever airwaves are left in the region. Most stations shut down completely before they evacuated the city while some left their lights on; maybe in hope of some buzzed girl with a microphone has a plan for whoever is still out there in the region.

Instead they got St. Claire, who after 63 days in the basement of the Center of Disease Control became a little fancy free with her words, knowing that no one was probably listening.

After a few mintues of St. Claire saying the same things she does every early evening she sits for a few moments in silence and turns the broadcast off and camera on. She's been told she's camera shy by Dr. Jenner by the lack of 'blogging' he insists she does at least once a day. The times that she does to it, it's usually on a drunken rant about the United States government, the National Guard or the 'SOBs that left me here'. Once or twice she's done it sober with much thought put into her words and what she's wanted to say.

This is one of those times.

"St. Claire here, again, with no valid progress on this situation at all. Dr. Jenner is constantly at work, if he's not at work he's avoiding me. He knows that clock is running out but won't acknowledge it. That's probably part of the reason he's being a ghost towards me. Not that I don't mind, I'm actually kind of happy he's stopped chasing me around and is now focusing on this… issue we're faced with. It just worries me that he's wandered from reality all together."

Claire took the computer monitor and pulled it closer to her. Now it was like as if she was talking into a mirror rather then recording herself for reference. "Unlike my friend Jenner, I have not lost the faith and I am not going to die in this inferno with him. One day, sometime soon, I'm going to break out of here if it's the last thing I do."

Then she switched the computer off and walked away in her bare feet and blue sweatpants. This was not her usual attire. She was once used to wearing camouflage pants, green t-shirts and black boots. No, she was not a strict single mother with twenty kids or a redneck gym teacher. None of that weekend warrior stuff either. She was a military personnel of some kind, most likely just a private due to her young age.

Now she was, or at least used to be, a real life human being that was paid to be a qualified test subject for the CDC just before this epidemic broke out. It was just a PRAC study that she was going to do so she could get money to start her life over. She ended up being a strong heart that didn't lose all hope and stood her ground when everybody fled. Something told her that she's been through something similar or else worse then this.

Something like Hell.