
Riley Simmons
"Once more into the fray..."
Riley listened closely to Anthony's response, and pondered his suggestion. He checked the roof for any usable supplies in this indenture. Then the idea hit him. "Brilliant. I'm right on it." he said. He turned the volume on his headset down, and looked to the street below him. Around the back side of the building, there were little infected. He looked back at the dog he had befriended, and pointed at it in a scolding way, as to instruct it to stay put. Surprisingly, the dog complied. He slid off the roof slowly, and to the ground not far below. Metal pipe in hand, he bashed the skull of an infected in front of him. When it fell to the ground, Riley searched it's pocket and found a verizon flip-phone. "There's one..." he said quietly to himself. Looking up, he saw few other infected around though none of them took any interest in Riley. He checked the phone for any bars. None were there. "Christ, this would've worked if there were any towers still up." His tactic was simple. Cut the gas lines of a nearby car, cut the secondary wire and screen wire in the back of a cell phone, place it in the gas, and call it. Sadly, there was no way of calling it. Alternatives raced through his mind, and of course one came. It was also very risky. In the streets, a police cruiser sat crashed onto a poll. It would almost assuredly have a radio in it. But between Riley and the car was a street littered with the infected. He brought the microphone back up to his mouth, and spoke. "I've got it figured. But I'm gon' need some cover."
"...into the last good fight I'll ever know"