(Jumping right into it, because the blah blah blah is boring. We've already sort-of recapped things. So, if you have questions about the universe here, go watch the show or see the OOC).

Shan sighed, her arms crossed across her stomach. As her fingertips pressed into her sides, they brushed over ribs that protruded a little more than they should, reminding her quickly of where she was, and what she had been through. She opened her tired eyes, staring down at her muddy boots, before raising them to scan the small patch of woods she stood in. It was quiet, and eery, and empty…

Letting out another lengthy sigh, Shan continued down the hill in front of her, to reconvene. The second her feet touched the muddy river bed, a limb cracked, forcing a gasp from her lips as she turned to it, and quickly scrambled to pull the compound bow from her back, an arrow knocked onto its string in less than a second. She pulled it back and turned on the noise...

Matt materialized out of the greenery and shadows of the forest, his rifle cradled lazily. He arched an eyebrow at Shan, smirking slightly.
"This again?"
He asked teasingly, referring to the time she'd nearly shot him, months ago. He strode over to her side, scooping a palmful of water from the stream and washing his face. The water was cool and crystal clear, as well as some of the cleanest he'd ever found in the wilderness. The sprawling forests at the base of Mount Rainier looked like the forest moon of Endor once you got deep enough into them. The land was virtually untouched by man and for this he was infinitely thankful. They'd lived without issue for two weeks here and had seen only four Walkers the entire time. The lack of people and infected had allowed the wildlife to continue thriving and he'd shot a small buck deer a few days after they'd made their camp. It had been the biggest meal they'd had in a while and the jerky he smoked from it had helped stave off the hunger pains until today.

"Once we're over this next hill I think we'll be good."
He said, walking across the stream with Shan.
"I couldn't find any berries in the brush and all, but I've got a good feeling about this next little area. I think we'll have some luck with it."

As they walked, he wrapped an arm around her tiny waist, stroking her side with his rough fingertips. The feel of her ribs was a poignant reminder of their situation. He himself wasn't in great shape. He'd thinned considerably since the apocalypse, especially after their home was burnt (again) and their group killed off (again). He'd retained much of his muscle purely because of the near constant activity of hunting, gathering and surviving. His dark brown hair, once shaved into a tight buzz and kept well within military regulations had grown down the back of his neck and around his ears while his once smooth face had grown out into a scraggly beard. His scavenged plate carrier was blood stained and the camouflage pattern faded, a single hole in the front where he'd been shot once and had since replaced the armor plate itself. His overall appearance was a decent indicator of his emotional status. He was completely exhausted in life, having endured so much loss and having fought so many enemies for so long. His leg and one arm had faded scars from long healed gunshot wounds and he knew without asking a doctor that he'd have a bad back and knees by the time he was middle aged. He would live an exciting, eventful and productive life but a short one that would see his body break down from overexertion quickly. All he could hope for was to delay this penalty until he'd taken care of his loved ones (currently just Shan) and killed a few more Raiders and Walkers. Raiders were his preferred prey. By now, everyone had adapted to the threat of the Walkers, avoiding or fighting through them with relative ease as long as they didn't get surrounded. But other humans were just as dangerous as ever. Desperate, angry, usually a little insane and frequently well armed, they were a serious threat to human life and Matt craved exterminating them with a disturbing fervor. It had given him a real, attainable purpose again, like he'd had in Afghanistan. He had an enemy he could understand, righteously hate, close with and destroy. He wondered in the back of his mind at times, how would the story end? He was a soldier. That was his entire personality and being, not just a vocation he'd once taken up. Most soldiers' lives had one of three endings. They either died young (which was what he realistically expected), they grew old and retired, their lives largely over, youth spent fighting and suffering for various causes that might or might not be worth it or, the lucky ones, grew old and retired into a peaceful and happy life, enjoying the boredom rather than becoming restless. They grew gardens and raised grandchildren. They became the kind old man down the street that neighbors sought advice and aid from who could always be found on his porch or in his garden, smiling contentedly while he went about his daily routine. Such was a life of monotony and predictability, a thing to dread for most, especially in the old world. But for someone who never knew if they'd be alive literally seconds or minutes into the future, knowing what to expect out of life was a comfort, and the calm and silence of retirement was highly preferable to the chaotic wail of battle. Maybe some day he'd be able to relax on the front porch of his permanent home, humanity having outlasted the walking dead and rebuilt. He'd sip tea peacefully while Shan, now old and gray like himself, sat beside him, reading a book and listening to the birds sing. Their grandchildren would gather around his seat, begging to hear of another one of his adventures (always cleaned up and sanitized for their sake) and maybe every now and then he could pick up a rifle and just go shoot tin cans for fun instead of human beings.

Fantasies of such an existence helped to keep him going in this dark world, but he had to shake his head clear, focusing his mind on the task at hand. The ground beneath them, damp and covered with moss and various greenery, began to slope upwards, the trees thinning slightly toward the top of the large hill. Constantly running around and climbing over/up things had granted the two powerful, muscled legs and they reached the top quickly without as much effort as they'd expected. When they crested the hill, Matt slung his rifle over his shoulder and plopped down by a towering fir tree, gazing at the view. Miles away, Mount Rainier reached to the heavens, clouds and a layer of snow clinging to its peak while rolling forests surrounded its base, a truly breathtaking sight.

"We'll have a nice view at least, even if the place does suck for game."
Matt said quietly, hesitant to disturb the peaceful silence. Not far away, a bird chirped softly to its mate, a rare sound in more populated areas where the walkers had frightened away all the animals. Glancing down at Shan's revolver on her hip, he was reminded of something he'd been meaning to do. He took the revolver from her holster and swung open the cylinder, surprised that it was totally empty. He'd forgotten about this problem and felt bad for his irresponsibility. He dug through his backpack and lifted out the ridiculous Desert Eagle handgun he'd taken from Jackson, the raider boss. He ejected the magazine, emptied it into his palm and then loaded the .357 magnum cartridges into Shan's revolver, handing it back to her along with the extra rounds from the magazine.
"We don't have the time or space to be too worried about sentimentality nowadays."
He lamented, removing the beautiful Luger pistol he'd taken from a Neo Nazi gang leader long ago, the first fight he'd helped his group win. He repeated the process, dropping the loose rounds into his shirt pocket and placing the pistol down with the Eagle. Finally, he withdrew the scratched up Beretta M9 Jamie had given him. This gun had belonged to Desmond, a charismatic Lawyer and the leader of his first group and had been passed on to Jamie, a fellow soldier and a trusted friend who'd followed along with the second group. Both men were dead now (to the best of his knowledge, he'd never see Desmond's corpse) and on his deathbed Jamie had given Matt the pistol, knowing his appreciation for sentimental value as well as quality firearms. It had served its purpose well but now only took up space and weight in his pack. He handed the weapon to Shan, this one would not be left with the other two.
"I'm going to leave these two guns here, under this tree. You should carry the Beretta. We have more ammo for it."
He explained, sealing the Desert Eagle and the Luger in a couple plastic bags along with a few packets of desiccant he'd taken from food containers. In this wet environment, that wouldn't protect them for very long, but it would keep them from being totally rusted out by the next day. Once they were sealed properly, he slid the bag between the exposed roots of a tree and pushed some brush over it, taking a rock from the soil and placing it gingerly between two roots as a marker.

Once done, he returned to Shan's side and continued gazing at the mountain, trying to clear his head of the memories he'd brought up, once and for all. He needed to forget previous losses and distractions, not forever, but until they were a little safer. More secure. Eventually he'd return and dig up the two trophies while Jamie/Desmond's keepsake would be placed in a case somewhere. But that wouldn't be for some time. For now, his only focus had to be their safety. They needed a group...

Nero was silent as he looked out upon the open landscape of the green forest, in front of him he could see the beautiful evergreens misted in a plentiful snow and the large field that was cloaked in the red beauty not much unlike the sunset on a clear night. It was very true that Nero had never noticed such things before in his younger years, in fact only ten years ago he had been on the fast track and living a life that compared to now was a life of pure luxury. Great job that payed tons of money, a nice house and a car that made the other people in his neighborhood jealous. He did not know if it was because age had finally caught up with him, or that for over a year he had lived in a seemingly hopeless situation but the land before him was a beautiful site, it was untouched by the decay that had ravaged the world, and it reminded him if nothing else that there was still beauty in the world. However much the world was cloaked with the death and the stench of the Walkers, there were still moments when you could forget the pain and the turmoil and just appreciate something instead of having to destroy it. Sitting down on a stump Nero took his pack off and set it on the ground, the once new pack was now worn and much of the black was mottled with dirt and blood. Nero could feel his body heaving from the rest, he could feel the pain already creeping in his nerves, another sign that his age had caught up with him.

Nero as a younger men worked out constantly and kept a healthy and fit body, now though even though he still did sit ups and push and even occasional pulled ups, his body felt weaker by the day. It could be the lack of food, supplies had been hard to come by day in and day out and some days he went with out. However he was no stranger to not eating even before this, the endless nights of looking at intelligence reports had deprived him of eating most times. When it came down to it this world was not for an old man anymore, when it first started perhaps he felt different, then again he never expected this to last as long as it did and it was wearing on him now. The people coming and going in his life so quickly, watching them die and be eaten, the scenes were like nightmares while he was awake, and he could not deny that he missed them. He missed human contact much more now then he did a year ago, he had not crossed another human for almost five months now not even a looter, just the constant Walkers. It was hard to say this didn't drain him even more of hope that he was not the only one left alive now. Nero pushed his sunglasses up over his head as he rubbed his eye's and then reached over opening his pack, pulling out a half eaten bag of trail mix he opened it and took out a handful and started to eat it. In reality he hated trail mix now, he had eaten so much of it over the past year he just wanted to throw this bag and the other into a fire pit and rejoice.

But that was just a desire, he knew that the only thing between starvation and actually having something to eat was the remains of his supplies in this pack, and unfortunately this was part of his food. The sudden sound of light snow crunching was what put Nero into defensive mode, almost like a second sense he pulled one of his Beretta's from its holster as he turned in his spot getting to his feet to face the noise. A short distance away a Walker was ambling towards Nero, the first he had seen since traveling into the forest surrounding Mt.Rainier. Upon closer inspection Nero could see the tattered uniform that once upon a time belonged to a Ranger who quite possibly worked in the National park. Nero slowly lowered his gun and placed it back in his holster, then was no real point in wasting a bullet here, one Walker was hardly anything to be afraid of anymore. Reaching beside his waist Nero clicked the snap that was holding his machete and removed it from the black nylon sheath, walking a couple steps Nero walked into the site of the Walker, locking onto him the ex park ranger changed direction and started coming at him in a sort of huffy jog. Nero raised the machete silently, when the Walker came within range he went forward and brought the blade down directly in the center of the top of its head. Almost instantly the Walkers glassy eyes stopped moving, removing the machete the walker fell down dead to the snowy landscape.

Nero replaced the machete in its sheath clicking the clasp over it, turning his back on the body he replaced the trail mix in his bag and zipped it closed hoisting it over his shoulders, clasping it in the front he continued walking his feet crunching in the snow. Nero had no desire to look at the body of the Walker anymore then he had too, the fact that it had once been a person did not bother him as much as the fact that he had become accustomed to killing them without even the slightest of regret. Some would agree that Walkers were curable and that by killing them you were robbing them of their chance to be human again, Nero did not believe such non-sense of course because if it was him or the Walker there would be no hesitation in the least. However he had come across people, kids and grown alike keeping their dead family members locked away like animals feeding them animals believing that one day they could be brought back. It was as good of thing to hope for as any he supposed, but the fact was that some could not accept the fact that once you become a Walker the person you were is gone, and all that is left is a creature that feels no pain, and never relents in finding fresh meat to consume for a hunger that makes so sense. Nero had witnessed one Walker that had its entire stomach blown out of its body, and that same Walker devoured an animal still even though its stomach was non existent.

Stopping the thought and the mental image before he puked, he changed his thought process quickly as this was one of the reasons why he wished he could rid himself of his photographic memory. Nero was no light weight, and he could look at some pretty gross things, but some of things he had seen this year had changed his entire perspective on just how disgusting things could be. An the worst part of it all was that once he saw something he could not forget it, it was like it was imprinted on a piece of cortex never again to be forgotten. Once upon a time this was a blessing given his high paying job depended on his ability to remember and find vital pieces of information for national security, however now it was more of a curse then anything else. It had its moments of course, being able to remember routes in cities and small towns, looking at map as remembering where to go without looking at it every couple minutes, but in terms of it being worth it in the long run he would rather do without. Letting his mind wonder some more Nero then thought about his friends whom he had no idea if they were alive or not, the same people he had meant in Georgia, Clover and Carter. Thinking back to that moment in time he could remember the things he had done in those moments and how they nearly killed each other when they first meant both him and them thinking each other looters or marauders.

But through it all they had become friends with each other, they were not perfect friends but had what some might call a mutual respect for each other, he had traveled with them for about a week or so. However he had lost contact with them after they had come in contact with a large horde of walkers and they were split up in to different directions. Nero had of course searched for them, or at least some sign of them but in the end regrettably and thankfully he found no sign at all, which meant they could still be alive out there. The plan back then had been to travel North, he had hoped that perhaps continuing with that plan he might run across them once more, but days turned to weeks and weeks to month and by then it was more or less a useless gesture to hold on to. Even if they were still alive the chances of finding them again would be impossible either way it went. Besides they probably would not recognize Nero anymore or even remember him, he was not the same man from before anymore, in the long year he had neglected his hair he now had a pepper and salt colored beard on his face and his hair had grown and now was neck length. There was not much need for upkeep anymore, for there was no reason anymore to look nice in this hellish world. He hoped that he could see his friends again, and perhaps that was the only real thing he had to hold on to anymore now, and it kept him moving Northward.

Breaking from his thoughts Nero looked ahead as he saw a brown mass in the distance which was peculiar seeming buildings were not very common things out here in the surrounding woods of Mt. Rainier. Stopping for a moment Nero reached into his jack and pulled out half of a set of binoculars from his inside pocket and put it to his eye. Adjusting it slightly he had a clear view of a brown cabin like building, it was medium sized much like a one room school house, upon further investigation he found a sign that was corroded but still read Station 27 Section 231. Lowering the binocular piece Nero was pretty sure it must be a station used by one of the Rangers from the park, perhaps an aid station for people who traveled this far. It would make sense given the Ranger he had discovered before, perhaps given its location and vicinity it had some supplies he could scavenge, it was at least worth a look. Replacing the binocular piece in his jacket pocket Nero made his way to the Station. Upon closer inspection the Station was pretty untouched on the exception of a couple broken windows, however the front door was cracked open too which did not bode well in any case. Nero made his way to the front of the station and pulled his Beretta from its holster and took a position beside the door, reaching his hand sideways he knocked on the wood of the outside wall and waited silently.

The building remained silent so Nero knocked one more time and waited, however there was no sound of movement of noise inside, slowly turning towards the door Nero nudged it open fully with his foot as it creaked. Raising his gun he entered slowly checking his corners, the station was small, the main room was open with a large fireplace in the center and some raggy dust covered furniture surrounding it on an equally dirty throw rug. Over to the side there was a smaller door which was marked bathroom, Nero approached the door and slowly opened it to reveal a small cubicle of a room, it was empty on the exception of a broken toilet and a small sink. It appeared that it was no an aid station as much as a rest station for passing rangers which meant at best there might be a first aid kit but not much more then that. Replacing his gun in its holster Nero walked back to the door and closed it, there was a lock on the inside of it that appeared useable, perhaps he could find some fire wood near by and rest here for awhile, it was better then being out in the chill. With his plan in mind Nero exited the Ranger station an made his way around the side, there was a stack of firewood cut up in the corner. Taking some of it he cradled it in his arms, it wasn't the Luxor Resort but it was a lot better then most of the nights he spent outside.

"I've lost track of the date. When each day is the same as the last, you just stop caring. I wake up every morning regretting the fact that I'm still here, still alive even as the world has died around me. Every minute I spend fighting for my life, looking for food, avoiding walkers and raiders, keeping myself from going insane. It's worse now that they're gone. Before, our small talk was enough to get us all by. Skylar would sing in her soothing voice, talk to me about the things she used to do. How she had worked so hard to become a nurse only to see everything tossed out the window. David would crack jokes about everything. He'd keep me smiling even when there wasn't anything to smile about. And Carter... well Carter was just Carter. Always the one keeping us in line but keeping us alive. He was never one for long conversations and now that Skylar and David are gone... It's so quiet now. I think that's why I decided to start this diary of shorts. I never did like writing but I have no one else to talk to... no one else except for you. Whoever you are.

Maybe it's best to start with a little history being that this is my fist entry. I couldn't tell you when the world fell apart... I'm not even sure myself. It seems like I've spent an eternity trying to survive. I can tell you where I was when it did. I was born in New York. Now a shell of it's former self I'm sure. I haven't been there in so long. Before the fall though, I lived in a condominium overlooking the Hudson River. A second home from what I remember. I'd spent my mornings with a light "healthy" breakfast meant to keep me in shape and focused for the private tutor that would arrive shortly there after. Lessons were in French for whatever reason. My parents would talk about the need to improve cognitive abilities, brain functions, silly things to get me ahead of everyone else when I started at the private school they'd enrolled me in. It was all very strict, formal... very unnecessary. At the end of the day none of it mattered. The kids at my school didn't care if I spoke another language, they all did the same and they're wallets were just as big as mine, if not bigger. The only difference was the attitude and I guess that's what set me apart. Before long I had a clique... not particularly something I wanted but it never mattered because every day at lunch, the same girls would take their places around me and chat it up. Regardless of what I'd say, it always seemed the conversation would swing to something only relevant to themselves. And that was my life. Home was work and school was about me... but not really me. I spent years watching friends bullshit through their lives thinking they were the dumb ones but if only I'd known what was around the corner for all of us.

Summer break came around, a breath of fresh air before I would start my first year in high school. Not wanting to deal with another few months of pointless lessons to keep my brain from dying during my 'vacation', I decided it was time to take a little break for myself. I hooked up with my one real good friend, Sarah, got some plans together with her and headed over to her place. We were going to spend a week or so together, running around Manhattan and getting into general trouble. Spending money we weren't supposed to spend, kissing boys who's name we'd forget, eating food that would kill us. It was a time of oblivion that I needed and one that I would never get to enjoy. The first couple of days were spent simply with each other, at her house chatting about nonsense and playing video games. The third day... that's when it happened.

The reports are still so vivid in my mind. Impossible to forget. The infection spread a lot quicker then people expected and within the next day, the Island of Manhattan was closed off and I was stranded, my parents stuck helpless on the other side of the Hudson river. The following week was a complete nightmare. Sarah's family decided that I'd stay with them until my parents could get to me. They had the house boarded up and stocked their supplies as well as they could while they waited for the pandemic to blow over. It never did and as soon as our food ran out we finally realized that help wasn't coming. That was when I met the first group of raiders I'd come across. Men with guns in their hands and faces that looked determined but lost. They came up to the house, broke through the front door, demanded everything. When we gave them all we had... they decided they wanted more... Sarah w-"

"Clo."

Clover looked up from the blotted page, her vision now blurred and Carter's face unrecognizable through the tears bubbling in her eyes. She hadn't realized she'd begun to cry and quickly blinked the moisture away, shaking her head to clear the fogginess creeping into her mind.

"Yeah... yeah wha-?" Clover's voice choked a little and she immediately stopped talking.

"Why don't you put that down for a little bit and give me a hand." Carter knew what was going on even if he hadn't said anything. The grey eyes set deep in his hard face rarely missed a thing, even if he didn't say much. He stepped away from the truck, his left leg hobbling behind his right and his head on a swivel as he took in his surroundings for the hundreth time. Tree's lined either side of the road and from where he stood he could barely make out Mount Olympic in the distance peaking out above the line of trees. Dotted along the road were a number of cars, more spaced out here than one would find closer to cities. However with luck they happened upon a small pile up. It looked like the lead car had somehow been turned sideways and was quickly struck by those behind it. What looked to be nothing more than a heap of twisted metal was in fact a fuel gold mine. All these cars would have gasoline in their tanks needed to get them the rest of the way to Olympia from where they were at: 101 just south of the mountain..

Clover climbed out of the back seat, her face still a little red but her composure showing now signs of emotional fatigue. Without a word she walked around to the bed of the truck, pushed the tarp to the side and began digging for the tools they'd need to syphon fuel, doing her best to ignore Skylar's rifle peaking out from under the blue material.

James was decidedly done killing for now, he would get back to it in a couple of days but for now he couldn't afford to hunt down any more bandits. He only had three cans of food left, not enough to partake in his favorite pastime without worrying about starving to death whilst doing so. He would devote the next day or two towards gathering supplies, if he came across any small groups of bandits he would certainly think about taking their lives but only if he was certain he could do so without endangering himself too much. Now wasn't the time to be careless, if he killed too many of them they were bound to send more out looking for him and that would make scavenging far harder than he needed it to be.

He took a look around the room that had been his home for the last couple of days, it had been a good find. The previous occupants had taken it upon themselves to board up the windows, even the ones upstairs and some of the doors still had locks on. It had been quite the moral boost when he had came across it. Sadly James would only be able to stay for another night or two. He had made it a rule to never stay somewhere that wasn't completely secure for more than a few days. The longer he was there the more chance there was of something or someone dangerous coming across him. He had also made sure not to make noise, or at least as little as he possibly could. So far the place had served him well and he hadn't been heard or seen in there by anything or anyone, to his knowledge at least. He wasn't dead, so he assumed it was safe thus far.

The bed was pretty comfy too, though he couldn't remember the last time he had slept with his clothes off. He had to be ready to up and go always, sleeping comfortably was a huge luxury these days, just like pretty much everything that used to be taken for granted. It wasn't just the world that had changed since the end of life as everyone knew it, he had changed a lot too. For example, before he had dedicated his life to teaching the kids of Baltimore, hoping and praying that somehow he would put some of them on a path away from the killing and some of the other horrible things some of his students lived through in the city. Now he was a killer, and as much as he tried to deny it inside he knew he enjoyed it. He had hoped it was simply because they were bandits though. He prayed in his deepest depths that he wouldn't get the same enjoyable rush after killing someone who wasn't the scum of the earth.

He quickly dragged himself out of his thoughts. It wasn't a new thing, he had always thought too much. He could hear his wife’s sweet voice echoing in his mind.

“I think you think too much darling.”

That's what she would say. Every time he stayed up hours too late thinking about how to address the kids at school on something the next day. Every time he ranted about something that bothered him about the city, world, universe or just society in general. He did think too much, but these days his thoughts were pretty much all he had. They were the only constant, the one thing that would never leave him.

“Till death do us part.” He mumbled,

With death now on his mind James looked around the room. It was another rule of his. He had to either take or dispose of everything that would give anyone an inkling that someone had been there recently. There wasn't much laid around, but what was there he cleaned up, even sorting the bed so that it looked like no one had touched it in months. It was time to scavenge, hopefully he would return to his temporary shelter safely. Putting his bag on his back and making sure his rifle was loaded James left the house, closing the front door as tightly as he could and putting a matchstick near the bottom; between the door and the frame. If anyone entered the place he would know when he returned, the matchstick would obviously fall and it would be a dangerous tell tale. One that would make it so he would have to decide whether to either creep away and avoid the danger or creep inside and take down the intruder. Hopefully it wouldn't come to that, but it would always be better to be safe than sorry. Especially now.

Carefully he looked up and down the street. There was no movement, no sound of anything, complete and utter silence. He hated silence, but for now all it meant was that he was currently safe. He could check all the houses on the street, but that would risk making noise or attracting unwanted attention to the street his currant shelter was on. No, he would travel a little while and then scavenge a bit, if he had to he would search the houses tomorrow after he packed up a final time and moved on. Hopefully by then he would have enough supplies to continue doing his part to dwindle the cities bandit population.

He had a fair few bullets, enough that he could kill a dozen bandits if he was very careful. He couldn't get in any fire fights, his forty bullets would be gone in a minute if he did, but if he took his time and hunted the bandits the way he had trained himself to he was bound to be able to kill plenty of the bastards. Feeling far too eager to get back to killing James pushed on, heading deeper into the city and hoping to come across a small grocery store and avoid any large amount of the dead. He doubted his luck, he was bound to come across something that was going to piss him off on his little shopping trip. It was too bad, he would just have to deal with it, whatever it was. Hopefully he could deal with it before it dealt with him, but who the hell knew, and more importantly, who the hell cared.

Ryan crouched behind a car, his crowbar gripped tightly in his hand. He heard the slow shuffling footsteps of a walker going around the car at the small amount of noise he had just made. Crap... Alright, swing high, if I miss, try to move the momentum in a circle and make it a downward swing... He pushed off the ground with his left hand, his right wielding the weapon. As he stood and twisted, he could see the eyes and open mouth, and that was the first thing he aimed for. He smirked slightly to himself, having successfully hit his target. He pulled the crowbar from the now fully lifeless head and looked over the body in case they had anything that could help him survive longer.

Though he had been out here for a year, he had never quite matured as if it were actually an apocalyptic event. He had continued to be proud of himself for just surviving, allowing the memories of those he once knew to slip through his fingers. That was why he wanted to go to college anyway, wasn't it? To forget about his previous life? He had wanted to escape it... Now was his chance. Though, as hunger had taken him often since the 'event' he was thin, more so than he thought was healthy. Water wasn't the easiest to find either, but rivers and a little heat to clean the water was all it took to keep himself from dehydrating. He frowned and punched the dead body of what was once trying to kill him, whispering in its direction, "Damn it man... Not even a candy bar? No wonder you were so hungry..."

He sighed, looking around the area from his still crouched position. He didn't see anything nearby, but you could never take chances. He patted the arm of the dead walker before standing up slightly attempting to get a better view of the area. Ahead of the car he had been hiding behind was a small cluster of cars, seemingly in a wreck. There'd be food there, no one would leave their house for a long trip and not bring food... Gotta love other people's mistakes, huh? He walked to the driver side of the car he had just been hiding behind, checking the door to find that it was locked. No way to steal this one then, not without making a lot of noise... He frowned before setting off towards the cars in front of him, being sure to double-check his surroundings every so often in case of a walker or two.

As he got closer he noticed some slight movement, he was sure it was humanoid, maybe even two humanoids, but he wasn't sure what kind of humanoid, living or not, or even if they would be friendly if they were living. He crouched down slightly, trying to get a couple different things out of it. First hope, not be seen, on the accounts that they did see him though, he figured they'd notice the less walker-like stance and leave him be, however if they did feel the need to shoot at him, or attack him, his crouching would make him a harder target, as well as give him an option to escape. He continued to move closer while crouched, hoping to find out more about them before they noticed him, but never being quite sure that they hadn't already seen him.

When you strike a man in the head, depending on what you use, a very distinct sound is played. When you use a metal bat, it's as if the thing sings in your hand, relishing in the impact and rejoicing with you. It's song is quick and high pitched and seems to compliment the sounds of a skull fracturing beneath skin. If you use a wooden plank, the sound is dull and confused. Hit someone hard enough though and the wood will snap, splintering like a firework and the noise masking the now inaudible thud of wood against a stubborn head. Use a crowbar?

All Clover heard were the bones cracking, collapsing on themselves beneath some heavy impact. She could almost envision skin being torn apart and rotted flesh jetting from fresh wounds and flying into the air all around her. It was a sound all too familiar by now. Without even needing to see what exactly happened, she knew someone had just dispatched another of the dead in a particularly gruesome way... and it hadn't been Carter.

She continued walking over to one of the vehicles in the pile up, her eyes darting over to Carter who nodded slowly and remained where he was beside the truck, his left hand disappearing into the bed and remaining there. He casually looked around but didn't see a thing. From where he was standing, the pile up blocked his view of the highway further East. Clover herself, now standing right behind the cars couldn't see anything past the twisted metal. The cars piled up to a height that stood well above her own, cutting her field of view in half. They were both blind on one side of the road. However, they were also now well versed in handling firearms. Carter, having known how to handle them proficiently well before the apocalypse, over saw some extensive training with Clover. She'd managed to drastically improve her pull speed in the last few months so he was confident in her abilities. All they could do now was wait.

Carter figured if their new friend had wanted to kill them, he would have done so from much further away. Instead he'd went through the trouble of getting up close and probably meant little initial harm. So he decided he would wait for the man to appear from the other side of the wreckage with no signs of ill intent toward the new face. If something were to go wrong, Clover who was now hidden behind a car setting up to syphon fuel, could easily trap the man in the threat of a two on one duel. She'd keep to herself till then, her eyes darting around and her hands working with the tools in front of her.

James had long since learned to move quietly, it had become a requirement to surviving. If he had been in a group and moved in a team of three or four he could afford to be a little louder, he could count on the others to watch his flanks. As it were though he was alone and had been for a while, if he didn't learn how to be quiet whilst moving around he would have been dead quite some time ago. The duffel bag on his back made him a little more noisier than he ought to have been, but he had learnt to deal with that and had soon adapted to compensate for it. The rifle was a little cumbersome for sneaking and scavenging, James had occasionally thought about ditching it for a lighter weapon, maybe an SMG or something. Unfortunately he had grown attached to the weapon, it's feel felt right, despite it's size. He had also killed his fair share of bandits using it, which added to it's value in his eyes.

James focused himself, he had reached the store he was looking for. He crouched outside for a minute, listening for any sound. Any sound at all. There was nothing. No footsteps, no shuffling, not even a bird in the sky, nothing but the quiet hiss of the cold wind. Next he moved next to the store windows, letting the rifle hang by it's strap and taking out his blade. He found a weak corner in the glass and dug a piece out as quietly as he could, making himself a peep hole into the store. For thirty silent seconds he stared inside, there was no movement. His precautions from the outside were done. He ejected the clip before almost immediately clicking it back in place, making sure that everything was the way it should be. It wasn't just for safety, it comforted him in a weird way, calmed him. Finally he pulled back the charging handle and released it, readying the weapon and himself.

Finally he crept into the store, clearing the place by observing every nook and cranny down the barrel of his rifle. Finally satisfied he geared his eyes towards the shelves, looking for anything that he could safely eat. Much to the disappointment of James the place was mostly empty, but he got lucky when it came to the canned food section, the section that really mattered. He had learned a while ago to stop checking the freezers, the only thing that ever seemed to do was make him nauseous. There wasn't much, nothing on the shelves, it had all been scavenged by the desperate in past months. There were a couple of cans on the floor though, probably knocked by the worried and rushed in their desperate clearing of the shelves. Mentally thanking his lucky stars he picked the two cans he could see up off the floor. One was just a can of beans, Heinz, his favourite. The other was a can of ravioli. By this point James had a smile on his face. He had gotten lucky. Now it was time to move out.

Nero sat silently neat the fire place on one of the couches, he had in his time re-arranged the furniture, so that the couch he was sitting on was against the wall away from any windows and was pointing at the now locked door. The old throw rug had been useful as well as make shift cloth to cover the windows so the glow would not be seen easily from outside, the smoke from the chimney would be dragged by the winter wind so you would have to get close to know there was a fire. The room was dim though even with the fire, the flames made shadows which licked the nearby walls and floor, it was almost like being home for a split second. With a long exhale Nero blew out a large puff of white smoke from the cigarette in his hand, one of the very few pleasures he had left in the world. It had been a couple months since he felt safe even in the slightest, and it was nice to relax a little bit even if his paranoia kept him looking towards the door for possible intruders. Letting the smoke fill his nostrils Nero allowed his eye's to close, the image of the locked door with a wooden chair trained under the knob left his visual sight. Before Nero knew it he had dozed off and fell into a pretty deep sleep.

Nero sat at the side of the fire in the woods almost casually across from a younger man of approx. fifteen, the boy was medium size with a little muscle to him, brown long hair and green eye's. Almost silently he ate the meal that Nero had prepared as he seemed quite content. Most would think that the scene looked as if a strange Italian man had kidnapped a younger boy for terrible pleasures, but in reality the young boy across from Nero was in fact his one and only son. This has been the first time they had gone on a camping trip in years and it was hard to say Nero was not enjoying it. The truth of it all was that Nero's work with the Agency often kept him occupied, which in a lot of cases he neglected his son Ciro. While Ciro understood why this had to be, it was hard knowing that with his mother passed on that he was alone for most of the day and Nero cherished the moments he did have with his son.

"So Ciro how is that young lovely girl doing that you told me about? What was her name, Alisha I think it was?"

Ciro looked up from his meal towards Nero with that look he knew too well the look that Nero had just very likely brought up a subject in which he was unaware of something. Ciro however smiled and looked at Nero and spoke in a half American half Italian accent.

"We ended up just being friends Dad, but its okay you know I am glad she chose friendship out of no wanting to talk to me at all"

"Oh I am sorry I wasn't aware of that."

Nero felt that awkward silence between them as they both become silent again, this unfortunately is how life was between him and his son, they were not as close as some fathers and sons out there. But the fact of the matter simply was that they at least tried to have a relationship, and that was better then nothing at all. Nero was about to say something else when he heard something snap a stick in the woods behind Ciro, both of them looked in that direction wondering what had made the noise. Probably just a deer or something, not like they were not common among these woods, but just as a precautionary Nero got up and decided to have a look. Grabbing his hunting rifle Nero checked it and then walked behind Ciro telling him to stay put and keep an eye out. Nero disappeared a small distance into the woods quietly and looked around the area, he did not see anything around or hear anything else.

"DAD!"

Almost instantly Nero's heart was beating rapidly as he turned tail and ran as quickly as he could, upon reaching their small camping site, the entire area was filled with people that were horribly disfigured and bloodied. On the ground Nero saw that Ciro was on the ground with one of them over top of him, Nero charged blindly as he ran up and ripped the person off of Ciro and tossed him bodily away. However Nero realized that the boy on the ground was not Nero was another one of the disfigured people, and then in a flash the boy reared up and bite Nero in the neck.

Nero opened his eye's as he flung from the couch panicked as he drew his gun from its holster and looked around, slowly his current location came back to him as he looked around a little less wildly. Realizing it was nothing more then a dream Nero slowly sat down setting his pistol beside him on the couch, reaching into his inner coat pocket Nero removed a torn picture of his son Ciro and looked at it, a small tear formed in his eye as he sighed deeply and put his hands over his head. Closing his eye's he just sat there and let the tears roll for the first time in a long time.

Shan sighed heavily, her shaky hand relieving the tension on her bow's string. She pulled the arrow from the well waxed string and gave her lover a scowl, which softened the second his eyes left her own. She worried about him, in his current state. Although she knew he wouldn't 'slip' on her, he seemed broken, and part of her wished that they could go back to the school, and try the whole survival thing again. At least he was okay, then…as best as could be expected.

She shook the thoughts from her mind with a small shiver, and followed him across the stream. Once close enough for him to touch her, she began rummaging in her small handbag, where she pulled out a handful of dandelions. She gave a small smirk, until he began rummaging for the guns. It was something she wasn't ready for him to address yet. She wasn't ready to deal with him moving on. Moving on meant he was a little colder, and a little more withdrawn. It meant losing a little more of who he was…

She gave a sad look, putting the dandelions in her pocket long enough to take the gun from his hand. Slowly she stashed it in her bag, careful not to cover it in pollen from her snacks, and then sighed and snapped at him. Waiting for him to look up, she placed one dandelion behind her ear, and then held the rest out, a small energy shot for him…and hopefully a sign of hope amongst the non edible forest.

She snapped one more time, wishing she could get her damn voice back for more than goose like honks and whispers.

"Hey…", she whispered softly, smirking.

---

Travis woke up and nearly screamed, his head darting toward every corner of the tiny car he slept in. His hair had grown out considerably since he lost everything, and still…he had nothing. He hadn't eaten in days, and until the night before, he had nowhere to sleep. The world around this stretch of national forest was wet, and cruel. Without Shan, the woods were dangerous, and full of poisonous plants, waiting for him to kill himself.

It crossed his mind, every now and again. The few bullets he had left were saved, just in case he ever got the nerve. She was his only hope in this world, and she was either dead, or as good as dead, with her handicap.

This was his morning, every morning. He thought about what went wrong, and the fact that he was alone. It wasn't that he cared about the people who had died, but she did…

The growls of the dead began to close in on him again, forcing him to open the door next to him and stumble out onto the gravel road. Staring out across the horizon at the mountain peak, towering above the tall trees. With a shaky sigh, he gripped his sore ribs, and began walking down the crunch gravel, backpack hanging off of one shoulder. This could possibly be his last day on this earth...

Matt smiled a little and took the handful of dandelions, his other hand reaching out to stroke Shan's cheek. She looked so beautiful, despite their present conditions. Her little gestures like this had kept him sane for so long and her knowledge of the local flora had kept them decently fed when hunting was scarce. A single word whispered past her lips for the first time in a long time and he broke into a full grin, leaning forward to kiss her cheek.
"Hey lovely."
He whispered back, their noses almost touching.
"You know I love you forever right?"
Matt kissed her tenderly, petting her face while their lips locked together for a long, peaceful moment. Once they separated, he began calmly eating the dandelions, staring off at Mount Rainier with a thoughtful gaze. Lethargically he dug through his backpack and removed a map of Mt. Rainier National Park, their previous homes marked off on the map. He glanced back and forth between it and his compass, chewing on the dandelions like a cow with its cud, totally carefree and distracted though his rifle was easily within reach (like always) .
"There's a place we might check out, it's about three miles east of here. Cougar Rock Campground. There's bound to be a couple Walkers there, but I'm thinking the amount of camping supplies and food and etcetera will be worth it. I think we should hike over there and hide in the trees, watch the place for a little while then sneak in, grab what we can and get back out. We can't keep living under tarps and hammocks. It's gonna' get really cold before too long and we need the right gear for it. We need more food too. We could probably live off of what's out here for a while, but it'll suck if we do."
He explained calmly, pointing out the spots on the map he'd mentioned.
"We can really start to settle down out here if we get some good camping gear. We might even find a group that needs some extra hands."
He kissed her on the top of the head and handed her the map,
"What do you think?"

It had been a long and perilous journey that lasted a year. But Henry and Jayden managed to make it to the state of Washington. Now they were only a few miles away from Seattle. They ran out of gas yesterday so now they were back walking on foot. They were at the side of the road as they pass two smashed cars and some dead people around them. As they continued walking Henry suddenly stops as he lets down the backpack and the AKMS from his back and throws himself down. Jayden sits down as well.

"Oh thank God! Brotha, a little more of that walking and I would've collapsed." Said Jayden as he took a deep breath. Henry opens his backpack, takes the water bottle from it and gives it to Jayden who takes it from Henry's hand, takes a sip, screws back the cap and gives it to Henry who puts it back in the backpack and closes it. "Thanks man! I needed that." Said Jayden.

"Okay! First order of business! We really need to find a car. It dosen't matter if it's a little damaged, as long as it has fuel and it takes us where we want to go it's fine." Said Henry as he was looking around, keeping a close eye on walkers. "What about the one's we just passed!" Asked Jayden who pointed in their direction. "No! Even if they have fuel, they're way too damaged to work. We have to keep walking until we find a car in alot better shape." Said Henry as he stared as Jayden.

"Second order of business. We really need to find some food. We only have 4 cans left. Three with fish and one with pork." Said Henry as he took his vision away from Jayden and continued keeping an eye on the woods from the left and right sides of the road. "Since were talking about things we need then some ammo might be nice. 45 ACP for me, 9mm for you." Said Jayden. "Yeah! Some 7.62x39mm might be nice as well. Until then I say we keep our hands off our firearms. We'll use them only when things get shitty. You stick to your machete, i'll stick to my kukri." Responded Henry.

"Come on! Let's keep walking." Said Henry as he and Jayden got back up and dusted off their butts. "Hopefully we'll find a car soon, and we won't have to walk so much anymore." Continued Henry as he grabbed the backpack and AKMS from the ground and rested them both on his back. Then he and Jayden continued walking forward on the road to Seattle.

Ryan moved as silently as he could towards the wreckage, He could no longer see the forms of the two, they had disappeared behind some of the wreckage, but he was sure they were still there. He patted himself down a little to search for his knife. He found where it was, and nodded, he wanted to be sure he had a back-up plan in case his crowbar was taken from him or something of that sort. He nodded, then glanced from behind the wreckage, seeing only one of the forms, it didn't seem hostile, but he couldn't be sure. He shrugged, figuring he was close enough that the crowbar would be as effective as a gun would, plus he had his knife in case the other one showed back up.

Ryan stood up, moving out from behind the car. "Friendly... What about you... friendly?" He still had his crowbar in his hand, showing as obviously as he could get it so that the man would know he wasn't trying to hide the weapon. He doesn't look like he's about to try to kill me... He tightened the grip on his crowbar slightly, knowing the next couple seconds would be tense, most people weren't willing to believe others the first time they say they're friendly, so this guy would likely be ready to fight at a single sign of aggression. I wonder what's going through his mind... Did they plan this all out already? Did they see me, and the other one move off the road with a gun to kill me while I'm distracted? Guess if they did, then I'll be dead soon enough... can't really regret the decision after that.

"That's close enough..."

Carter held out the wooden stick he'd been using as a cane, pointing it directly at the man's chest as he looked him over. The man looked like he'd been on the move for a few months at the very least. His clothing was worn, his shirt sporting holes and stains and his jeans thoroughly frayed at the bottom. His shoes looked as if they were about to fall apart at the seams. Even the man's expressions was one of weariness... or perhaps it was caution. His face was framed by the muddled strands of his dirty blonde hair making it hard to tell the difference.

"You've a large pair waltzing up to us alone like that..." Carter tilted the stick a little to the man's left pointing the end at Clover who was now standing a handful of feet behind him. She had her pistol trained on the back of his head and was standing far enough away from her target that if he were to try something, she could easily plant a bullet in his skull. "Don't know if you're just confident or extremely stupid."

"I'm going to need you to drop the crowbar... and the pack." Clover voice was soft but there was a hint of assertiveness in every word.

Ryan stopped, holding his hands up slightly. "No worries, I know, you don't want me up close, especially with a weapon..." He listened to what Carter said, then frowned. "Okay, well, first, I don't really have much in my pack, I just need it to carry things, so I'd rather you didn't take it from me, but I'll put it down... As for the crowbar... Remember, I'm just as worried for my life as you are, at least let me keep it with me, and just keep a distance."

Ryan glanced back at the sound of the slightly quieter voice that had commanded him to drop his stuff. She's not trained when it comes to shooting things... Otherwise she would be aiming at my chest rather than my head... I guess it could be habit from hunting... erm... should I call them people anymore? Animals sounds more correct for the walkers... "You her father?" He said, looking to Carter, wondering about how well they knew each other. If they're friendly, I might have to point out the easier target of the chest for if we stick together and find some thieves... Also not to stand on opposite sides of the target while using a gun...

"... Drop the crowbar." Clover repeated, ignoring his question. "... before I make you drop it." Her voice was now a little more adamant than before.

Carter stood where he was, his arm still inside the bed of the truck and his eyes remaining on Ryan's. He had no plans to speak further until the man complied.

Shan giggled silently, accepting his kiss as if it were the last affection she would ever receive. With his state of mind, half the time, she was afraid that at any moment, she could lose it all. She kept her smile as he pulled away, making sure that he could see she was truly happy, and she began picking at her own tiny handful of weeds. She glanced around as they ate, glancing at the berries and little flowers on all of the plants. The majority of them were either poisonous, or were nutritious in small quantities. They couldn’t risk a misidentification. So, she frowned and picked at a wild muscadine vine.

As Matt moved around, she too did her own searching, picking the sour green grapes from the vine, and stashing them in a tiny fanny pack she had picked up from one of the stores long passed, in a town long since died. She rustled the leaves around, finding more sprouts and green twigs than she had anticipated, which she also stored in the small pack, before her ears became alert to his words.

She turned to him, zipping her snack pack as she stepped over a few broken logs. She had to agree about gathering the camping supplies. A tent and some fuel of some sort were going to be essential, if there were no campers or cabins in the campground. She nodded, letting him know she was following his plan, and then signed.

“I think we should go. There could be a big opportunity, and maybe…”, she stopped and let her hands drop for a second, “…maybe there’s someone…you know…from before…”

Matt forced a smile in reply, her mention of the old group digging up painful memories. He could see how much it had hurt her too, and the weak, shaky sense of hope she clung to was tragic to see. On the one hand he couldn't just crush her hopes and dreams of finding their old friends, but on the other, she couldn't move on if she didn't accept it. He decided inaction was the best action for now and hid his emotions behind a loving smile, taking her into his arms for a quick embrace.
"It's possible. It's a small world, and they were all fighters. But let's not get too hopeful, okay? The most we should expect is some food and a decent tent. If we plan for the worst, we can only be pleasantly surprised."
He said, petting her hair for a minute.

After a moment, they separate and Matt lifting his rifle back into the crook of his arm, setting off towards the campground.

Jack Marino:

Today, Matt and I spent a good few hours reinforcing the outer barricades, beyond the courtyard. Shelton seemed adamant that this first line of defense before the school itself was essential - it kept the enemy out of biting range, and allowed us space and time to pick them off from a distance. Additionally, we have begun constructing watchtowers on this outer wall, and Shelton has written up a schedule for watch duty consisting of his men, and a few other volunteers.

We haven't had any trouble outside the barricade for five days now, apart from the occasional straggler. Overall, things are pretty safe in our corner of the world - I hope they stay that way. Laurel has been through a lot over the course of this year, and though she knows I'll always be there for her, leading the camp is taking it's toll. Thankfully I have Shelton to bear some of the burden, God knows I'm no military man.

Hoping for a better tomorrow,
Desmond Williams

The closing line of the journal entry echoed serenely in the mind of Jack Marino, as he, too, wondered if tomorrow would be better. Hell, we wasn't even sure if he'd be alive tomorrow - but he tried not to let it get him down. The man, Desmond, had ended every single journal entry with the same line. For the former Congressman, it almost sounded like a campaign slogan: "A Better Tomorrow". Yet there was a certain charm to it, a peculiar optimism that must have kept Desmond going until the end - and kept Jack reading from the hundreds of entries contained within the simple-looking black hardcover journal.

The call of a crow outside tore Jack from his thoughts. Sighing, he closed the book and had a look around the spartan accommodations of the Cougar Rock Campground Check-In Building. The structure seemed almost entirely undisturbed from human contact since the start of the crisis, to his pleasant surprise. It looked as if not many people decided to call Cougar Rock their home after things went to shit, which meant better opportunities for Jack during he stay there. Granted, Cougar Rock was just a point of rest. He planned on staying a day or two, then continue along the road southwest to the town of Ashford. However, during his brief scout of the park he realized he just may have a shot at hunting there, and hoped to replenish his food supply before departing.

Outside, rays of warm bright light poured in through the front window, and, apart from the occasional bird call or the rustling of the leaves, the park was eerily quiet. Jack missed the sounds of nature - the omnipresent presence of a forest exuding life around you. Hell, he missed the bustle of a city - even the incessant bickering of congressmen in Washington. He missed it all. But this world, filled with the dead and the desperate, this world was the one he knew now.

Ryan sighed, nodding to himself. Jeez... can't even let me have peace of mind as well? He put the crowbar down on the ground before looking to Carter. "Alright, now can we have a bit more civilized of a conversation?" He raised an eyebrow as he looked at Carter before glancing back to Clover. He lowered his hands slightly, stepping a little away from the pack and crowbar. He crossed his arms and turned slightly so he could look between both of them by just turning his head, and doing so. Alright... murderers would have just shot... that's a good sign for me... Unless they want to get any use they can out of me before killing me... He shrugged off the idea, waiting for one of them to speak, hopefully with some more kindness to the tone.