Dead bodies litter the street and gunfire in the distance indicates that whatever the hell is happening is still happening, but that's not important right now. What's important is putting as much distance between you and the monster as possible. You run across the street into the forest opposite it, the mall being situated on the outskirts of town. Hiding behind a tree, you take a moment for a breather. To keep your spirits up, you start to sing the national anthem, and you quickly check your bag to make sure you haven't lost anything.
Oh.
Oh holy what the fuck.
The book sits in the bag, undamaged. You threw it into the fire, didn't you? No, you can't have. It's here. Well, time to remedy that. You take out the book. How to do this? Gah, no way to light a fire yet, the only Democratic way to purge this Commsnupistic book from the face of the earth. You're certainly not doing something as stupid a putting it in your mouth, it's irretrievably poisoned. You remember the $1000 in your pocket; weren't you meant to be heading for the bank? Somehow that seems like a really stupid idea but... the bank does have a vault and a nigh impenetrable panic room.... probably you should stock up and then get there.
And find a way to burn this fucking book.
Wounded:
Left arm (deep scratch) (bandaged) (healing)
Wearing:
Mask of Sensibility
Even more stained but still sensible pants
Sensible shoes
Inventory:
Wallet ($90)
Wrist Watch (9:20)
Valium (too much)
Scum
Sock ($1000)
Colt 45 (0/0)
Babe Ruthless (PATRIOTIC) (proficient) (bayonet)
Backpack (5 clips - Thompson) (Rations - unAmerican) (book - gibberish)
Water bottle (full)
Wielding - Thompson (both hands) (average) (14/5)
Mental State:
I must've, surely? Well, I guess I didn't... did I? Brrrr.