"Oh, that's just disgusting."
Roland Kerst's foot sank up to his ankle in the muck. All he had wanted was a shortcut, but hey, this was Post-Apocalyptic Florida. Shortcuts here were much longer than expected.
The traveling Ghoul was on a journey down the East Coast again, traveling down to the likely still irradiated Gulf of Mexico. On the way, however, he remembered a rather important landmark he'd want to visit.
"Go to Cape Canaveral," he muttered, ridiculing himself as he pulled himself out of the mud, "It'll be a great time, I said." He was traveling through one of the outskirt cities of the Space Center, one whose name he just couldn't remember. He wasn't even in the actual swamplands, no, he was walking down a street and accidentally stepped in a hole. Back when the Great War cleansed the Earth, the entirety of Florida's climate got extreme to the point that everywhere was a swamp. He was amazed people still lived down here.
"Just another day's walk," he muttered again, "That's all I need." Looking around, he found a mostly intact building, a post office, where it seemed clear to spend the night.
"Might as well," he said, shrugging off the burden on his shoulders as he went to the ruin.