~"I try to focus so hard on surviving... sometimes I forget to actually live"~

Seven days ago...

It had all gone to hell in a matter of mere minutes, walkers closing in from all angles which forced them to fall back inside the safety of an abandoned house. Mark had slammed his body weight against the front door after everyone piled inside before looking over to Karl, "Windows! get to the damn windows!" he shouted before firing off shots into the walkers that had managed to get their arms stuck in the door, preventing him from closing it all the way. Emily and Robert moved with Karl as quickly as they could to the windows and began to fire rifles and handguns into the crowd outside to hold them back, bodies of the undead falling to be replaced by another after another, seeming to have no end as the herd closed in around them. "They just keep coming!" yelled Karl as he reloaded his rifle. Leah stood motionless behind them all as she began to panic, unsure what to do or who to help. It wasn't until Dianna grabbed her from behind that Leah realized just how much trouble they were in, the doors bursting open as two walkers grabbed and pulled Mark back through the doorway. Leah watched in horror, raising her hands to her mouth as he cried out in fear before the crowd of walkers began to tear and bite at his flesh, the sounds of his screams combining with the growls of the undead to create a symphony of horror that shook Leah to her core. Emily and Karl fell back from the windows as they saw and heard it happen, Emily screaming "NO!" in anguish as they both started shooting into the crowd that were now passing through the door, forcing them all to pull back towards the staircase. Karl had to physically pull Emily away from the front entrance as she angrily tried to stand her ground against the invading herd, though no one could really blame here, she was his sister after all.

Without end they continued to come after them, more shots casting flashes of light up and down the hallways of the upper floor before Karl was consumed after having tripped on a folded rug while walking backwards. Robert closed his eyes for a second as it happened, ignoring the screams of his friend as he spoke "Everyone move, now!" he shouted before grabbing Emily, giving her a hard shove towards the room at the end of the hallway, Dianna following after her while guiding Leah with her hand tightly on her shoulder. Robert slammed the door behind them once he was through, bracing it with his body before the three remaining adults began shouting to each other about what they were going to do, the walkers banging on the other side of the door moments latter. Robert eventually cast a look to Leah before looking back to the others with a slightly saddened expression, "We've got to get her out..." he said with a resigned tone, shaking his head slightly. They all looked at her before looking back to each other, slowly coming to an agreement as Emily and Dianna looked to Robert, "What can we do?" asked Dianna eventually as she hit the same conclusion. Robert motioned for them to take the door before he quickly moved allowing them to brace the door in his place. He knelt down in front of Leah quickly, placing both his hands on her shoulders as he began to tell her something important which caused her to cry a little as she began to protest, shaking her head which caused Robert to embrace her a little for a moment, wiping away under her eyes a little before he placed a hand on her cheek, talking to her clearly and intently to make sure she understood what he was telling her. He then took her towards the window, taking a look outside and down before turning to her, lifting her up as he set her on the edge of the window. He placed his hand on her shoulder gently this time, "Get out of the city if you can, get to the countryside it's the safest place for you... I'm so sorry Leah" he said sadly with an expression of regret before gripping her wrist with his hand, slowly lowering her out of the window. Leah tried to stop him but couldn't, his strength easily overpowering hers as he lowered her as far as he could, looking down at her with a sad smile, "Stay safe Leah, please, for the love of god, make it to the countryside" he said before the sounds of the door bursting open could be heard followed by screams and a few last shots. Robert gave her a soft smile before letting her go. The last thing Leah saw before she was swallowed by the bushes bellow, was Robert's saddened smile before he was pulled back from the window.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

One week latter...

Mark got out of his 1976 Dodge Charger, and scanned the area around, strangely enough the car's beastly engine haven't lured any walker yet. Funny thing though, to call it 'his' car, but he was convinced it was the minute he started the car back in Denver. Because In a world like this, it doesn't matter what the paper says, if you are riding a car-- it is yours. That is just how the world works now.

Mark had left Denver after giving up on sitting around and waiting for his wife to show up, she was either dead, which he needed to accept and move on. Or. The Dreadful possibility. The possibility that she would still be alive. Mark couldn't just move on yet, so he thought that if she was alive she'd head over to her sister in Utah. Mark found the Charger just outside the limits of Denver, it was filled with fuel, enough to get him halfway to Utah. On the way he'd run into some survivors that were desperate for some food, he exchanged some of his crackers for a bit of fuel enough to get him here. Salt Lake City. Or at least on the outskirts of the city. The car totally ran out of fuel, he had to continue on foot.

Closing the door slowly as to not make any more noise, Mark grabbed his Wrench from the back seat, the window was open, and he tugged it in his side. He reached for his pocket and opened the small plastic bottle. "Empty, I was carrying a damn empty bottle". He'd forgot he ran out of drinking water, he threw away the bottle in rage and let out a spit. It was a bit cold so he could manage his thirst for a few more hours. Mark shook his head and regained his calmness, he looked behind him-- The highway he came from, and ahead of him-- a sign that said "Welcome to Salt Lake City". There was a strong smell of rotting flesh. Another dead city.

Mark walked past the sign, he thought to grab some water before doing anything else.

Jason had been searching for his brother, Alex ever since the outbreak began. When it happened, Jason and his father had come across Alex's school only to find it empty, save a few clues that a veteran like Jason's father could identify that showed that the military had been present. They lingered onto the hope that Alex could be alive as they headed from their Colorado home town of Glenwood Springs to Denver, the capital of Colorado. They spent a few weeks on the road, scrounging supplies from buildings they came across, until one day, they came across a small group of college students on the way out of Denver. The four of them told Jason and his father that Denver was far too dangerous, and had been ever since the outbreak began. These students had already lost two of their friends while trying to escape Denver, but they ended up reassuring them that Alex could've most likely been taken to Utah, since it's been known that Denver had been very hectic since very early in the apocalypse. And so, Jason and his father decided to join them.

Fast forward a few months later, and Jason had been reduced to walking down the stretch of highway towards Salt Lake City with his friend Robert, with nothing but half a bottle of water and a can of dog food between them. It was now the end of fall, and the two young men had been on the road for two days by this point. Things came to this because Andreas allowed the group to become too big, so naturally, it was much easier for someone to hide a bite from the rest of the group. When they turned in the middle of the night, Jason and Robert; who happened to be on watch at the time were the only ones who were able to grab their weapons and run, but not without trying their best to save the rest of the group before the screaming attracted more of the undead horde outside of camp. Jason's father was not able to see this happen, as he had been taken by the horde much earlier.

At this point the two men were utterly exhausted, after walking for the past two days with minimal supplies and only taking a few hours of uncomfortable sleep in cars each night. Once again, night began to fall, but this time, they found a diner on the side of the highway. Of course, they chose this as their camp for the night. Stupidly, they went to sleep without taking watch. They agreed to search for supplies in the morning.

They were woken up in the middle of the night by a flashlight glaring in their faces. "Who the fuck are you??" a loud booming voice exploded behind the blinding light.
Both men were visibly rattled, and they sat up holding their hands in front of their faces. "I won't ask you aga-"
"Yeah, we heard you!"
The light concentrated on Jason, the one who made the remark.
"You interruptin' me boy?
The man intimidated the guys with his tough, backwoods slur, and his impatient yelling. Robert saw that this was his chance and he slowly reached for his pistol.

Unfortunately, the man noticed this, and immediately pointed the light at Robert. An incredibly loud bang filled the room, and Robert promptly had a hole in his throat and was bleeding out, seizing up as he did so. Jason only had a few seconds to react as the man reloaded his gun (which was originally thought to be a mere flashlight). He grabbed his axe and swung wildly at the man's leg, bringing him to his knees. Jason then proceeded to get up as quickly as he could and swung into the back of the man's head, ending him. He took a moment to process what had just happened as he watched his friend slowly die. He didn't have long though, as he heard shouting coming from outside, and so he ran into the kitchen after grabbing his gun and axe, away from the sound of the man's potentially violent friends. As he passed through the kitchen, he noticed a rucksack that appeared to be full, standing on the floor, next to the back door. He grabbed it on the way out, without even looking through it as the situation was kind of urgent at the moment. He climbed over the chain link fence behind the diner after throwing over his axe and rucksack, and ran off into the forest, hoping they would not be able to follow him. He felt terrible for having to leave Robert behind, but he knew there was absolutely nothing he could do.

Although things were so shitty, Jason encountered a stroke of luck in the rucksack he had straight up stolen from the diner, as it had two canteens filled with water, and a week's supply of food; maybe two if he rationed it. He stayed in a cabin that he discovered for a few nights, praying that the people he killed and stole from would not find him. After staying there, he decided it was time to hit the road again, this time on his own.

He made his way back to the highway, and noticed a 1976 Dodge Charger slow down near a sign that said "Welcome to Salt Lake City". He decided to stop and go prone, so that he could see what would happen next. He was glad that there were very few shamblers walking around, because otherwise, this would've been a bad decision. Jason watched as the man pulled something out from the back of the car, and then open up what looked like a bottle, only to throw it away angrily. The man then began to walk past the sign, toward the city. Jason sighed to himself, since that also where he was going. He was not too fond of the idea of meeting strangers after all that had happened within the last week.

Two nights ago, Salt Lake City

Travis and the last remaining member of "The Tour" which was the name the media gave the group of bank robbers as they toured across the states, robbing banks and jewelry stores left and right. And awhile back what was to be their last heist turned into survival, the other two bought it long ago. Leaving Travis and one of the others running through the streets from a horde of those things. Their footsteps echoed loudly through the night and his partner was falling behind. "Toss me the backpack." He shouted back his partner in crime obliged him and threw him the back pack that had their supplies in it, Travis quickly slung it on his back and turned a corner down a walled alleyway.

His 'friend' still lagged behind, but they had enough distance from the horde to climb safely. Travis went first he scaled the wall and straddled it, his friend tried to climb but was too exhausted. The horde was closer now, Travis could smell them and make them out in the darkness so he offered a hand which his accomplice took and started to pull him up. "Those extra rations you stole aren't worth it now are they." He said, the other guy opened his mouth to say something but Travis interrupted. "Don't try to bullshit me he." He said anger creeping into his voice, he pulled his friend up a little bit more but instead of pulling him up all the way he reached into his friends jacket pocket, and pulled out the glock he carried. Then he let go and let the man fall back into the alleyway. "There might be no honor among theives, but you don't steal from one either." With that said he slipped off the wall into the safer side, the screams of his former accomplice echoing into the night.

Two days later

Travis awoke to the sounds of hands beating against the car he was sleeping in. There was perhaps 3 or 4 of those things trying to get in so he put the car in neutral, and just let it roll down hill when he was safely away he opened the car door and rolled out. He did a little bow for his undead audience and simply walked off. And headed west towards the city center.

Graham crouched among the underbrush, holding his rifle tightly in his hands as he stalked the deer that had hopped and leaped into the grazing it now feasted in. He raised the scope of the rifle to his eye and took a long, deep breath in. He had to choose where he wanted to hit. A headshot would be ideal, but the deer was at an awkward angle and a misfire could result in it getting away and Graham having to make do with the little rations he had in his backpack. He moved his sights down to the deer's back legs. If he hit it just right he could make it go through the back left and then travel through into the front right, it was a hard shot, but one that would surely pay off if it was done correctly. He squeezed the trigger, the bullet flew into the deer's leg before it could even react. Graham was lucky, it went straight through the back left and into the front right, sending the deer toppling to the ground.

He would have to be quick about getting the meat, a gunshot would surely attract those flesh eating monsters that had caused this whole situation. He moved over to the deer which was writhing about on the floor and making noise. He quickly unsheathed his bowie knife and silenced it with a quick stab to the heart. A deer's anatomy was strangely similar to a man's in some places, Graham learned this through his many years hunting the poor bastards for sport. Now he hunted them to keep himself alive. He quickly made short work of whatever meat he could get off the dear, and took some of the fur too. He wrapped the meat in the fur and carefully placed it in his bag so if the meat did slip out it wouldn't contaminate his other food or get blood all over the insides of the bag,

He rose from his crouched position and wiped some of the blood from his knife and hands on his trouser leg. He slowly and cautiously made his way through the forest. He had camped there last night and was lucky to not encounter any walkers or bandits looking for a quick meal or kill. He'd killed men during this whole apocalypse, an action he'd sadly gotten used to. Time seemed to pass more slowly in the forest, he'd felt like he'd been there for days, there were no discernible landmarks and practically all the trees looked the same. Occasionally he'd find a remnant of times past, a name or two scratched into a tree or a swing hanging solely from a sturdy branch. It made him depressed to think about what might have happened to the people who carved their name lovingly into the tree or the children that played on the swing so he just moved on as quickly as he could whenever he saw something like that.

After a time spent walking he encountered a hopeful, yet distressing sight. A city. There would be supplies and possibly allies there, but there would undoubtedly be walkers and possibly bandits waiting for Graham to wander into a situation he wouldn't be able to save himself from. He saw a sign on the edge of the town, he raised his rifle's scope to his eye and read. "Salt Lake City" he'd never really heard of the place, only a few overheard conversations from people at restaurants or cafes could be recalled. He saw an old muscle car drive up. He let out a small 'heh'. He had a friend who had a car almost exactly like that, always overcompensating as Graham recalled. The small moment of jovial remembrance was wiped clean after he saw the stranger exiting the vehicle. He saw someone approaching the stranger stop and go prone. He watched the two, the first stranger decided to leave the car as did the second.

A few minutes after the two strangers had made their way into the city and Graham was down at the old muscle car. He had picked up the empty water bottle the stranger had thrown away and put it in one of the side compartments of his backpack. If he found clean water an empty water bottle would always be useful. He checked in and around the car ,but there was nothing but a few crisp crumbs and penny change left to salvage. Graham decided to leave it for whatever poor sap thought crisp crumbs would make a good meal. He was sorry to leave the car without siphoning any fuel from it, but alas he had no jerry can to carry it about in and even then it would be too much weight to bother with. He turned to the city entrance and slowly, but surely made his way in, holding his rifle at his waist in case of attackers.

"The World's gone...everything is gone....now the world is a new home for flesh living zombies, or in other words, walkers. Why live in this crazy world? Is there any actual living humans out there?" A red hair girl facing the front camera, recording herself, she grabbed the small camera now recording it with the back cam, seeing that she was in the woods. "I am here all alone... I have been traveling and haven't seen not one human alive out there..." the girl said facing the front camera to her face now. "It seems, I am the only survivor.... hopefully, I will find other's out there. ....". sigh "hopefully..." she turned off the camera, seeing that she didn't have enough batteries, she had to get more batteries. If there was some kind of market around.

Rachel looked around the woods continuing to walk, she had a handgun in her left hand just in case some nasty walker attacked her, she tried being the most quiet person because with just a step on a crusty hard leave, it can make atleast one walker go to her direction and she did not want that..! As she was walking, ahead she did notice a market, but did it have batteries? "Hm." without thinking she made her way towards the market, looking around not seeing any sign of walkers. As soon as she got into the door, she opened it slowly but a sound was heard as the door opened. "Ooooh, door, shut up please shut up." Rachel said to herself walking silently into the closet, coughing a bit because of the dust and the shit was empty like hell. No food or anything, but she did see one box of batteries....and her luck? It wasn't the batteries that she wanted. "Fucking stupid fucking fucking fucking fuck..!" Rachel threw the batteries on the ground standing up, turning around and seeing a walker tackle her to the ground. "Ah!" she yelled grabbing her handgun but it slid away from her on the ground. "For the love o-..!"

Rachel grabbed her pocket knife and stabbed the head, killing it. She pushed his body away from her as she layed on the ground looking at the cieling breathing heavily. "Rachel. You seriously need to be quiet..." looking around on the ground, she stood up walking to find her handgun, and as soon as she kneeled down to grab it from the ground two zombies appeared behind her. "You guys leave me alone! JUST ONE DAY , LEAVE ME ALONE." she yelled pointing at them with her index finger as she turned around and ran out of the market. "Where the fuck do I go now?"

An hour later walking around with no type of cars or anything, seriously there was nothing around her, she was in a highway and spotted a 1976 Dodge Charge slowing down near a sign. "Welcome to Salt Lake City..?" Rachel read under her breath raising an eyebrow, but what she was most surprised it was that there were survivors? So she wasn't the only one?! Rachel jumped up and down excitedly, celebrating by herself quietly. "Yes, Yes, Yes! More people. I am so excited. But wait.....wait...what if they are evil or something? Nah, they can't be evil. Eventhough..that guy surely does look evil...why throw a bottle like that away?" Rachel's personality wasn't the best into meeting new people BUT she has been alone for months now and hasn't seen not one living human in today's stupid world.

Quietly, ofcourse she tried to be quiet she walked towards them, well the first one that she walked too was the guy who threw the bottle and the one who walked past the sign, smart move right? Of-course she jogged to get closer to him. "Uhhhh. Hello there." A small smile formed on her face but inside she was nervous like hell, what if he just... points a gun and kill her?! He did seem like an angered problem person.

The hardest part of sleeping nowadays is the nightmares, that is if you can get to sleep with the constant, never-ending moaning and growling outside.
Michael had just woken up from a nightmare for the second time today. It was always the same one every time. The one where everything seems normal, before all of this.
He goes to his parents house for a visit, only they aren't home, the entire house is empty apart from his little sister sitting in a bare living room on the floor with a blank expression. There is no sound apart from a mysterious unseen clock loudly ticking away. Supposedly unaware of the evidently bizarre aberration of the house Michael sits down beside her and begins staring into nothing alongside her as if in a trance.

Time passes, whether it was minutes, hours or days he doesn't know. Eventually his sister stands up and walks up stairs into her bedroom, closing the door. Michael doesn't appear to notice until he hears a deafening bang and a scream echoing from the very same room. He runs up those seemingly endless stairs, with a hatchet for some reason in his hand, and into her room, the floorboards creaking with every step. Opening the door he sees his sister lying on the floor, somehow already decayed and rotten, a single maggot crawling in and around her bloodshot eye. Crouching over her with their faces buried into her flesh were their parents. The entire room stunk of blood and rotten meat, he gagged and would have vomited if not for the fact he hadn't eaten in days. Michael froze as his undead parents turned their stiff and decomposed necks towards him. He doesn't resist when they grab him and plunge their teeth into his neck and shoulder. The last thing he always sees before he wakes up is his sister's fingers twitching.

Having decided that he had wasted enough daylight brooding over his nightmares Michael began checking whatever supplies he had in his bag. A bottle and three quarters worth of water and a single bag of trail mix. Evidently, he needed to scavenge more, which unfortunately means a trip into the city. Hopefully he wouldn't need to go in too far. Who knows how many walkers could be lurking around, waiting for an easy meal. Grabbing his hatchet and handgun, Michael set out carefully and quietly from his temporary makeshift residence on the western outskirts of Salt Lake City and headed inwards, vigilant in case an audacious walker tried to sneak up on him. As he went further in he noticed the disturbing scent of burning and rotten meat which reminded him of those nightmares. He wrinkled his nose in disgust and put the thoughts away from his mind.

The smell was virtually overpowering but he was almost there, a charming little grocery store by the name of Grossman's Groceries that he had regularly taken food and water from when he needed. Having arrived at the store's entrance, he pulled up the roller shutter and stepped inside, making sure it was closed again before moving on. He gripped the hatchet tighter just in case walkers or bandits somehow found their way inside. At this point in time most of the fruits, vegetables and milk had gone bad and spoilt without refrigerators to keep them fresh, so Michael usually ignored these aisles and skipped straight to the canned goods. "Shit." Michael whispered to himself when he saw that almost everything had been taken since last time he was here, apart from one can of sweetcorn and a can of tomato soup.

Suddenly he heard a thunderous bang on the shutter, immediately he grabbed the two cans and ran for the back entrance of the store. Even if it was a lone roamer just accidently bumping into the shutter, he couldn't take the chance if another saw the first walking into the shutter and mistake it as an attempt to get in. If that happened the second one will beat the shutter in order to get in, then the first walker will see this and join the other one in trying to make their way in, and it will go on and on until every walker in the area is all riled up and hungry. He'd seen it happen before.

The smell of rotten flesh lingered in the air and mingled together with the undeniable scent of fear. Florence Matthews sat upon a rooftop in Salt Lake City, in the crisp air. She was level with the distant snow kissed mountains and she looked over the streets below, littered with the writhing undead. Their growls and snarls were not much different than the howling of coyotes at night or the call of a morning dove. These undead creatures had made themselves a part of nature and Florence was slowing growing used to it.

The travel to Salt Lake City had been treacherous. After getting separated from her husband back in Boise, Idaho, Florence had refused to leave the city until she found him. She found that she didn't particularly care if he was alive or frothing at the mouth and hungering for human flesh. She just wanted to see him with her own two eyes, to lay her conscience to rest. However, the city soon became overrun and Florence had no choice but to leave, abandoning whatever hope she had of seeing her husband one last time.

She initially took off by car. Many people had abandoned theirs in the middle of the road, somehow thinking that taking off by foot would be a better option. Grocery stores were raided, along with convenience stores and hardware stores. Any place that offered survival resources became like a battlefield. Florence grabbed what she could before fleeing the city and taking to the countryside. She had to leave behind most of the guns and ammunition her and her husband had, from their business, but managed to salvage three guns with cooperative ammo. Sleeping in her car and living off of stale granola bars was not particularly what she had in mind but it would have to do. At such a time as this, there was no room to be picky.

In time, food and fuel posed an issue. Food was a relatively easier to find, but fuel was next to impossible. After getting lucky a few times, Florence's luck eventually ran out and she found herself on a lonely road somewhere in Utah, with no gas. She had no choice but to gather up her supplies and continue her trek on foot. She eventually found herself in Salt Lake City. As far as she was concerned, there were little survivors here, amongst the hordes of the undead that roamed the streets. She fought her way to the tallest building in the city, climbing the fire escape until she found herself on the rooftop.

It had been two weeks since that day. Water was whatever the bucket on the roof collected when it rained and food was some canned goods she had managed to pull from the hands of a crazed woman back at the last grocery store she had visited in Idaho. She had come to terms with the fact that she would likely ride out the next good while alone. She didn't quite seem to mind. While she did not mind being in groups and sharing what she had, she found that now a days, people were only out for themselves and wanted what they hand, as well as what you had, and left you helpless. Florence was certain that she could make due on her own for as long as time demanded.

But then she heard voices - not the snarling of the undead but voices of the living. A woman. Florence scuttled to the edge of the roof and peered off into the distance. Despite the hanging fog, she could make out the figure of at least three humans near the outskirts of town. What on earth were they doing. "Jesus," she muttered under her breath. She rarely saw survivors out in the open like that, and when she did, it was only a matter of minutes before their flesh was devoured by the undead.

"Uhhhh. Hello there."
A soft voice had muttered those words just a few steps behind his back, the hair on his neck stood still, his blood froze in his veins. Mark haven't heard a human voice since he left Denver, since his wife. He wouldn't count his encounter with the people he traded his crackers for fuel as quite the human encounter, it was a silent quick encounter. But this one was different, he sensed innocence in the voice, he sensed danger. Mark slowly reached for his wrench, it was tugged in his side, he made sure it was a subtle slow move. He slowly turned his hips around, and his legs followed. His hand on his wrench, ready to grab it out and strike.

There stood a young girl, redheaded, she looked nice. Awfully young. Awfully in trouble, she had some blood on her clothes. Mark grabbed his wrench and pointed it at the girl. He gestured at the blood then asked her, "Bites?" He slowly approached her, she was clean. It probably wasn't her own blood, it was too dry anyway. But mark had to be sure, this wasn't a paranoid behavior. The dead walk the streets, paranoia is just another word for 'careful'. The girl stood still, she then talked, and Mark listened to her. His eyes constantly scanning the perimeter, he can listen and be vigilant as will. Mark then waited for the girl to finish, and told her "I'm Mark. I don't want to hurt you, but I'm not sure I want you sticking around either, for now we will just walk over to the gas station at the end over there. There might be some water."

Mark put his wrench back in his side and kept walking, he kept a slower pace so the girl could catch up. As Mark was scanning the area earlier he noticed someone in the background, he was motionless, Mark chose not to confront him, instead opted to reach the gas station and look for water. The gas station was a 4 minutes of walking away, it was visible from here. Mark turned to the girl and asked her, "I haven't got your name yet."

Jason watched as the man with the car moved towards the city, and was just about to get up and follow him, until he noticed a girl seemingly pop out of nowhere and speak to the man. Judging by the man's reaction, Jason could see that he did not know the girl. He hasn't killed her yet, nor does he seem to have any murderous intent... Perhaps he is friendly after all?

He was about to get up again once the pair moved away from the area on foot, until he noticed ANOTHER man appear, also seemingly out of nowhere. The man was examining the car, possibly scrounging for goods. Jason could see that the man had a scoped rifle of some sort, so he figured that this man might've also possibly been friendly, as he could've easily killed and looted both of the other survivors if he wanted to. He watched as the man picked up a bottle, then move on towards the city.

Jason stood up. He held his axe in a horizontal position with his thumbs, away from his body. He walked towards the stranger, hands outstretched. "Hey!" he called in a normal voice, loud enough for the man to hear, but quiet enough not to bring any unwanted attention. "Don't shoot! I'm friendly!"

Graham turned quickly and ducked while he pulled his rifle to his face as quickly as he could. A young man was facing him, no weapon in hands and it shortly became apparent that he was friendly and posed no threat to Graham so far. Graham rose to most of his full height and quickly maneuvered towards Jason, rifle still up. He stood a few feet from Jason before checking the underbrush that Jason had just hid in and the one on the opposite side of the street. It didn't look to be an ambush and they probably would have tried it with the guy who had gotten out of the car before they would with Graham.

He lowered his rifle so that it was pointed at the floor. The lad seemed friendly enough, a strange sight in times like these.
"Not every day you see a friendly face in a zombie apocalypse" he half joked. He looked down to the axe the man opposite held, he wondered if he could block it with his rifle or use his bowie knife to deflect it in time in case this was actually an ambush. He doubted it though, the ideal time to have struck would have been when Graham lowered his rifle and didn't have enough time to think of an escape plan.

He decided to assume the best of the man and introduced himself.
"The name's, Graham" He held out his left hand for a handshake, a commodity of times gone by that seemed oddly out of place in the current situation.

Sneaking out the back door and into a broad alleyway Michael stumbled upon a single walker, simply standing still, staring up into the sky next to a jaw-less dead body sitting propped up against the wall. Hearing the door shut, the walker turned its head to look at Michael with its lifeless, grey eyes and made its way towards him with the staggering grace of a drunkard. Gripping his hatchet tighter he waited until the walker came into arm's reach and swung it downward right into the top of its scalp. The hatchet went deep, having broke completely through the border of the frontal and the parietal bone and into the brain itself. The walker unexpectedly crumpled immediately to the ground as if it were a bag of sand, surprising Michael as he fell with it.
Letting go of the hatchet he stood up and tried to pull it free from the lurker's head. He was so focused on getting his hatchet back he didn't notice the jaw-less 'dead body' slowly pulling itself up behind him.

Having finally ripped the hatchet free with a horrible wet sound, Michael turned around to see the jawless walker lurching towards him, gurgling through the torn and bloody hole in its throat. Michael raised the hatchet as quick as he could and tried to hack through its skull only to slice off the majority of the walker's left ear. Unfortunately this did nothing but stop it temporarily as it attempted to rip and tear at him. Instead of raising the hatchet, Michael decided to swing it sideways and hit it just above the temple as the walker finally dropped dead.

Taking a few moments to catch his breath, Michael pulled the hatchet free and ran out from the alleyway. He needed to get back 'home', get something to eat, maybe some sleep and find another place to scavenge from considering the Grocery store was all but ransacked. He headed west on his way back to his place while keeping an eye out for any more roamers or lurkers waiting to take him by surprise.

Florence kept watch from the rooftop. She had yet to see this many survivors on the streets in so long. An itch grew within her - an itch to leave her rooftop safe haven. To join a group and know the likes of companion once again. It had been so long since she had another to talk to, to rely on. During her travels, she refrained from attaching herself to any group, as she simply didn't want the heartache that came with it if they were to get separated or if one of them were to turn. No, Florence didn't need any additional heartache. Nonetheless, she kept watching the survivors.

There was a group of four that appeared to be moving inwards to the city's centre. She felt as if responsible to warn them...where ever it was that they were headed, there would be hordes to meet them. The city's streets were littered with the filthy creatures and anywhere on the ground was like no man's land. Florence just hoped that these new survivors wouldn't be added to the hordes. And a small part of her hoped that they would come close enough for her to possibly call out to them...maybe join them. The rooftop was undeniably safe but she was running out of food. She couldn't stay in Salt Lake City forever.

Jason looked at Graham's hand for a second, confused. He then realized that he had to take his hand and shake it. It felt like an eternity since humanity shattered, and Jason had almost forgotten the customs of the beforetimes. Before the pause became too awkward, Jason moved his axe to his left hand, pointing it downwards, and with his right, he shook Graham's hand.
"Jason" His voice felt gruff, and then he realized that he hadn't spoken since he had been held at gunpoint in the middle of the night by a very dangerous stranger a few nights before. "You also saw that girl just walk up to a stranger without any form of caution, right?"

He adjusted his rucksack, placing the axe in a loop in the left strap before doing so. Suddenly it hit him. What if this guy is with the other survivors? What if he'd recognize the rucksack he was carrying? He mentally shook his head and thought, No, if he was, they'd have already ambushed me by now. Besides, the guy just checked the bushes where I just was. This man is alone, like me.
As an act of goodwill, he took off his rucksack, rummaging through it and pulled out one of his two canteens. He had filled both of them up with water from a nearby creek before coming to the city, and sipped a bit from one of them as he hiked today. He handed the canteen that was still full to the stranger. "I noticed you picked up that guy's bottle. Seems like you don't have one of your own. Take this one. I've got another, it's fine."

In his mind, Jason figured that even if this man was with the dangerous survivors, this act of goodwill would perhaps get to him in some way, and perhaps even spark a moral dilemma within him. That was if he was with the dangerous people, after all...

As soon as she got closer to the guy, she saw him stop and turn to face her, his voice was so deep and it has been long since she heard a guy's voice before, as soon as she saw that wrench pointing at her, she dropped her gun on the ground raising both of her hands up like if she was surrendering to a cop. "Bites...?" Rachel raised an eyebrow as she looked at her clothing, trying to search for bites. "Hold on..." she nodded turning around and pulling up her shirt so she can see if her stomach was bitten. The girl almost searched all of her body to see if she did have any bite marks, but she didn't the blood was just dry and it wasn't hers either. Rachel turned back around at the guy shaking her head slowly. "No, sir... I have no bites..." she said nodding slowly as she grabbed her gun from the ground, putting it on the back of her pants, inbetween her belt and shit. "I'm just a survivor trying to look for other survivor sir..."

"Wait for me...!" she said jogged towards him, but then slowed down seeing that he was also slowing down. "Hello there, Marks! It is nice to meet you. My name is Rachel, but you can call m- well you can call me Rachel....seeing as that is my only name, I never had a nickname before. I don't know why, hm. It can be probably be Rach...or maybe...Rache.... It's the same thing, basically. Anyways.... alright, we can do that. I am rather thirsty to be honest... also, please don't leave me alone again. I just saw some other guy , but I went to you first because you were closest but then I thought you were going to kill me because of how angry you got because of there was no water thing, and then when I saw you with the wrench, I got a little nervous and stuff like that because this is an apocolypse and people would kill other people, right? I mean, that's just me talking, I don't exactly know if that happens. Does it happen?" One reason to why she talks a lot is because of her being extremely nervous, it will eventually go away. Rachel isn't like this, she is more of a bad girl who isn't afraid of anything but seeing a survivor for the first time did made her nervous.

They were four minutes away from the gas station, and hopefully there could be some water or atleast somethin to drink there! "I see it! should we get our weapons ready just incase a walker pops up?" she asked while grabbing her handgun and getting ready.

In the days which had passed since she'd lost everyone, Leah had made very little progress in leaving Salt Lake City. Every time she tried to leave, the city sucked her right back in, like a strong current drawing her back in every time she tried to swim back to safety. It seemed that the walkers weren't making her progress easier and between the herd's which passed through and around the city and the many other obstacles in her way, it was the best she could do for now to simply remain out of site and out of mind, keeping her head down as best she could till she found an opening. She looked no better than she felt either, like hell had greeted her with open arms as her clothes were covered in dry blood and dirt along with her face which took on a darker tone from having slept in rough conditions on dirty floors. A rough bandage had been wrapped around her left thigh and the loose jeans were torn in places. But she was alive, and that was what really mattered.

'I guess I should find somewhere safe before the sun goes down...' she thought to herself as she looked up into the sky, looking down towards the end of the alley as she followed the wall. Walkers had been a little easier to avoid in this area lately which had allowed her to scavenge for supplies. She'd gotten lucky, having found a can of beans and a can of tuna. She hated tuna, but it was definitely better than being hungry, Mark and Rob had told her that. As she reached the end of the alley she noticed a Walker on the other side of the road, just wondering out from the opposite alleyway. It spotted her in the open and began to limp over towards her, growling and snarling in it's typical manner. Leah took a deep breath before she ran out towards it, slowing down a little before reaching it, kicking it's knee to the side and letting it drop to the floor before stabbing it through the back of the head with her screwdriver. It made a gargling sound as it died before she quickly checked it's pockets, turning up nothing before she quickly made a short dash for the next alleyway, staying in the open for too long was not a good idea in this city.

Travis didn't get far into his walk before he had to backtrack he went through an alleyway he looked at the end of the alleyway saw the walker he unslung his rifle to shoot the damn thing but something happened that he did not expect.

A girl came out of nowhere and took the walker down quick and efficiently.Travis took cover and watched as she checked it's pockets find nothing and run down his alleyway, he waited for her to pass and when she did he popped out behind her and shouted "Stop." His gun at the ready his sights on her. She might just be a little girl but she was a dangerous little girl.

Ignore.

Leah hadn't noticed the man inside the alley, his body concealed behind a dumpster which prevented her from seeing him until it was too late. That and she hadn't been looking nor expecting to see another live person around in the city, especially not alone. People tended to travel in groups these days, which was smart but risky... she'd learned that the hard way. As the man yelled she flinched, her body visibly jerking from the sudden sound which caused her to instinctively pull out her screwdriver, having just killed a walker which was still fresh on her mind. She came to a halt and sharply turned before she immediately made note of the rifle which made the color flush from her face, she tensed and stood like a deer caught in headlights for a moment, unsure what to do as she was so close. "Please don't" she pleaded in a low soft tone. She dropped the screwdriver and held out up her hands, taking a moment before she tried to offer something that might spare her life, of course the reality was he could kill her and take her stuff anyway. "I have food..." she said before slowly taking off her backpack, a girls schoolbag which fitted her size. She placed it down in front of her before taking a step back, she was quite visibly afraid, though she contained it well.

Graham nodded as Jason told him his name. He hadn't hesitated or shown any obvious signs of lying so Graham could probably assume he wasn't lying. But then again, it wouldn't really matter if he stuck a bullet in Graham's head as soon as he turned around. Although it was better than one in the stomach and being forced to bleed out for a few hours only to come back as a walker later on. Graham forced himself to trust him, it was the only way to actually gain allies after all.

He turned to look at the girl Jason had mentioned. She had, in fact, just run up to someone without caution, introduced herself and was now walking with the man who was possibly leading her right into a deathtrap.
"She looks to be a bit naive to me. That and a bit too trusting of strangers, after all he could be leading her right into a bandit shooting ground or something." Graham was surprised to see Jason take off his backpack and offer a canteen of water to him. Now he basically knew he could trust him, anyone willing to give up water was a friend to Grahams.
"Thanks, the bottle I was carrying got split by a walker who got around the back of me without noticing. Lucky I turned when I did or else our meeting might have had a much different start and end" He joked before continuing.
"You heading into the city? I've never been in even before the apocalypse"