Who: Jack Harkness
Where: I-95 - Maryland

What: Jack had hot-wired one military cargo-truck and a pair of Hummers for his crew, and any others who had fled with him in order to head north. He was called along with Torchwood to help give some important insight on this virus, one that had spread like none he had never seen before during his long years.

This one was different, different in that those who returned to life were nothing more than empty shells of themselves. It had troubled him, and it was something that they had needed to stop. But Jack's rail of thought is interrupted, as he's forced to slam on the breaks as the headlights shine on a sea of cars that were left there by their previous owners.

It had left Jack with a sick feeling in his stomach, "Shit!" grunted Jack, as the truck and the Humvee grind to a halt along the clogged up interstate somewhere just before Baltimore. He reached over for an axe that he had pried from the hands of a dead firefighter when his revolver ran out of rounds, and he slowly got out of the truck along with a flashlight to see just how bad things really were ahead of them.

Jack held the flashlight up, and he shined it out in front of him as he held the weapon up in the air. "I really hate the idea of having to back track, we're going to burn up a lot of fuel at this rate. And I'd hate to disturb any of the drivers who are taking a nice well needed nap."

It was bitter cold, and a gust of wind rushed through Jack's now dirty great coat. He took in a deep breath, and hefted up the axe up on his shoulder and he made his way towards the parking lot ahead of him. Either he would find some survivors, gas, and even some supplies that would be of some help.

Who: Martha Jones
Where: The School Infirmary

What: It was a nice surprise to find a group of survivors, but she was surprised to see how many of them Tom took in, the man was a saint in her book. Yet with all of those people it meant people were going to need a doctor, sure she had just gotten her job when the outbreak happened and she was called into a meeting with one of the countless think tanks going to the United Nations in New York or the Pentagon in Virginia. 

She lucked out to be picked to go with the group to New York, but that was when things got worse, when they found millions of people wandering the streets. She managed to find another group of survivors at the airport, and they had quickly made their way up north. It was a horrific sight, with dead coming back to life only to devour either the living or the pass on the virus to another unfortunate soul. But she and her group survived, it was not a large group by the time they got to the school. 

How they did it was a stroke of luck and maybe a wee bit of faith, but the one question that nagged Martha was home, back in England. She had worried about her family and friends, and as she took stock of the pitiful school infirmary, she pushed those thoughts to the very back of her mind. "We're gonna need to get more medical supplies if we're gonna open up a proper clinic." She did not expect a top rate hospital, but with all of those people, they were going to need something to mend the injured and treat the ill. She walked over towards a desk, and she started to write down the things needed to stock their makeshift hospital. 

Who: Daryl Dixon
Where: Outside the school
What: After losing his brother in Atlanta and later the camp at the quarrel, Daryl reluctantly followed the rest of the group north after they were told it was safer there. The journey wasn't easy, and they lost a few along the way, and when they got there, there was no magical place, where the government was helping people survive. Instead, they found a school filled with other survivors, and Rick decided that was the best place for them. However, Daryl never did do well around new people.

It's a brisk morning and Daryl finds himself slipping out the front door of the school after eating a small bowl of oatmeal. His crossbow is over is shoulder and he scans the landscape. If they're stay at the school then he wants to earn his keep, and the best way to do that is the hunt. It's obvious they don't have a lot of food, or meat, and there are kids there. Kids need protein to grow, and while the meat he gets won't be hamburger or chicken, it'll hopefully help some.

He starts walking toward the woods, only stopping when he senses something - or something - behind him. Slowly, he turns, his crossbow raised.

"You followin' me?" he asks.

Who: Tom Mason
Where: The School

What: The harshness of the New England winter is starting to take its toll on those who found sanctuary in the old school. It still is a lot better than sleeping in a car or inside of a tent, but still it was cold. The cold also took its toll on those who were with him, and people got sick and people did perish not only to the hoards of walkers but to the elements.

And of course, the winter and the increasing number of zombies as his sons called them, brought in more survivors looking for sanctuary. Tom wasn't about to turn them down, he didn't have that in him. This did put a strain on supplies, but he couldn't leave the group from Atlanta to die.

Tom walks the hallways, and he is looking to meet with the new arrivals and to make them feel at home. He knew there will be some who aren't happy, but he is more than happy to welcome the new survivors to his humble group of nearly two hundred survivors. "We're not here to argue, we're all here to work together right now. We can't afford to be picky when it comes to the potential help coming through our doors."

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