The year is 2017. The world finally seemed to be stabilizing. There was a terribly harsh winter in 2016 that finally broke. U.S. forces had fully pulled out of Iraq and Afghanistan only to deploy to Syria. Tensions between both Iran and North Korea had dissolved for the most part.

There was a long spell of relative peace and economic prosperity over most parts of the world. Then, the Rising happened on Valentine's Day 2017 (there are several other terms for this day that are used). All over the world and without warning, the same reports started coming in. Headlines read "The Dead are Rising!" Or "Zombies? Outbreak or Hoax?" At first, it happened slowly as governments, with the help of media outlets, downplayed the whole thing. Things started very, very slowly, but it seemed like when the floodgates opened, there was no stopping the force coming out.

Within weeks a handful of smaller countries were overrun. When there was no use denying it, governments tried to initiate quarantine procedures. To make things worse, Pakistan launched a nuclear strike on India. Only moments after that, Iran sent a nuclear device that ended up landing but not detonating for some unknown reason. Israel then attacked Lebanon in full force while dozens of other minor conflicts erupted all over the world.

All of these because the world was looking for someone to blame for the Rising.

It took less than 5 weeks before even the strongest, most secure governments fell, absolved, or simply went silent. This was called The Apocalypse, The End, or Day Zero, and it coincided with the day that the last two governments had any activity, those being Poland and New Zealand.

The RP takes place November 3rd, 2017.

That is about 9 months since The Rising and Day Zero. The story takes place in Missouri, and while it's not a particularly cold or harsh winter there, it is winter nonetheless, and it's cold. Much snow hasn't fallen however, but in almost every area in the state, there are several inches on the ground.

Somewhere in the state of Missouri.

Jon woke up rather suddenly, as was the norm with him, and he spent a few moments silently just listening to get his sense acclimated to what was going on.

Nothing.

And that was good. Jon didn’t sleep much, and when he did, he generally woke up immediately worried that something had happened. He moved slightly and watched his breath appear in front of him before being fully stolen away by the cold. Yes, it was winter, it was cold, and there was snow, but truth be told, Jon preferred the winter over the oppressive heat. The bottom line was that at some point, you were stuck with the heat and unless you had an A/C unit, which few survivors tended to have these days, you were just stuck. You can bundle up in the cold, dress up, start a fire, or get out of the cold sometimes. The heat just stayed right there with you, even if you were naked. And then, you still had to CARRY everything that you couldn’t wear.

Fuck the heat.

Fuck all of this.

He looked around, seeing that most of the people were still asleep. He could barely hear the watch walking off in the distance. The fact that they were barely audible was nice, but that was another thing about the snow. The downside, it left tracks.

He shook his head as he looked around, spotting most of the group as they slept. Truth be told, most of the group wasn’t worth their weight in piss. A handful have already been lost since they left the CDC center, and while some cried and some loathed or harbored resentment, Jon simply didn’t care. People died every day before all of this.

Just another day at the office.

Truth be told, Jon would be better off by himself, or maybe with one or two of these people, but Jon wasn’t in a rush to leave for his own reasons. He could later, tomorrow, or next week. There was no rush to part ways.

As he sat up and got ready for the day, he realized how sore and stiff his shoulder was. It was healing, but it was annoyingly taking longer than usual. As Jon finished getting his things together and doing basic function checks to his weapons, he looked around and decided to let the people sleep for a few more minutes while walking over to whoever was on watch.

December 18th 2015.

The man sat at his desk inside the CIA South Regional Office in Oklahoma City, going over the diagnostics of a test server that they'd be shipping off to Europe. It was a typical boring day, starting with going through emails, prioritizing them and then scheduling the day and rest of the week, knowing the emails tomorrow would change the majority of the schedule anyway. Thus was the life of Jon Erikson, a Computer Maintenance Tech for the CIA. Although the title sounded mundane, there was a lot to what Jon did and on top of that, he was amazing at his job. He would build, install, set up, and then integrate servers all over the world, servers that needed to be isolated from the public, safe from the highest levels of intrusion and be networked to the upper levels of the US governments, along with that of other nations on occasion.

A lot of money was spent on Jon because he was aggressive with his job, opting to go well beyond the normal CIA book of "how to train a tech" and get involved in things like cyber security, hacking and staying up to date on what was going on in the cyber world at all times. Initially, the higher ups didn't want take the time, or spend the money, training him. That was until Jon went home and in 8 hours, hacked into a CIA database and collected all of the personal data on the director of operations himself. He sent his boss an email asking, "how much would terrorists be willing to pay for this on e-bay?"

As soon as the investigation was over and Jon was released from a maximum security facility, and his house was tore apart and searched...and his entire life combed through by agents... he was given a lot more flexibility in his schedule.

Some days were simply answering emails and trouble shooting remotely, and on those days he DID feel like a glorified comp tech, but they were also a bit of a relief from the every day stresses. And to be honest, Jon didn't like dealing with people. He preferred to do things along and would rather work remotely so he just didn't have to deal with people and their daily crap.

He looked outside and threw on a spring jacket, getting ready to head to lunch when the PING sound of an incoming email could be heard. The title was "SERVER - OCONUS" and Jon immediately groaned. He opened and read the email and his response was a somewhat loud, and annoyed "mother fucker." A few other people in the office looked at him for a moment, but one of the guys in the office who Jon actually talked to, Frank Davis, came up over to him and clapped him on the back, asking "what's the good news?"

Jon threw his hand towards the screen, indicating to the email. "They're sending me to Turkey. Tomorrow. Un-fucking-believable."

Frank simply laughed at that and again gave him another clap on the back. "Oh man. Happy Christmas man. I guess that's why you get paid the big bucks, huh Mr I-Build-All-The-Top-Secret-Computer?"

He stared at the screen, shaking his head for a moment longer then sighed before turning to look at Frank. "Well. Looks like you're going to take me out and buy me lunch, since I'm going to be leaving early to pack my shit."

"Man we're CIA, didn't they teach you to keep your go back packed at all times?"

"Yeah, remember I had to go to Mexico a last week? My shit isn't even clean yet. And you're such a tool, those go bags are for when shit hits the fan. That's my stealth, ninja shit. Not my Fixing-Server attire."

"Yeah, because when shit hits the fan, they're going to call the CIA South and say 'quick, we need some of your deadliest techs to come and save the day!' Happens all the time Jon. We're all actually a bunch of super spies, ready to go take down super villains at a moment's notice."

Jon shoved Frank, timing it perfectly so that he was pushed into and almost knocked over the big water jug on its dispenser. "Don't kill my dreams, asshole. I'm going to be the first person in this office with a confirmed kill."

"Yeah, confirmed to kill a bunch of time," Frank shot back as the two entered the elevator, heading towards lunch.

Late October. Missouri. (Approximately a week before the RP starts)

Jon trudged on through the snow, the taste of blood and smoke still in his mouth. He looked back as the group followed him, noting that the group members were in various states of disarray. In the course of 2 hours, they had been overrun at the CDC compound, forced to flee, watched the majority of the group be overwhelmed and die. They boarded a helicopter that ended up crashing due to having almost no fuel, and again a handful of people did not make it. Those that did were some degree of injured and many were in shock.

Occasionally, Jon looked back and asked people if they were ok, or mentioned that they were doing well, but for the most part, the group seemed to have little interest in talking, and rightfully so. At least they had been given time to get as properly geared as they could based on the supplies that were available to them, that was one of the few pluses.

Pluses were hard to come by it seemed.

It was cold, and while it was not snowing, there was just over an inch of snow on the ground. It wasn’t bitterly freezing though, that was good. As soon as they got far enough away, Jon would make camp and try to get a fire going, but his first objective was to get as much distance between him and the crash as was humanly possible. He could still easily spot the smoke, and their footprints could be seen by a blind man in the snow. Personally, he wished for some of the whiteness to come down and cover their tracks, but that was not to be.

He looked back and saw that most of the survivors were either staring ahead with glazed expressions, not really mentally in the moment, or starting at the ground, simply walking mindlessly. He looked back just in time to see one of the security guards stumble and fall in the snow. Mentally, Jon grimaced and shook his head even while moving to help the woman up to her feet.

As he helped her up and she opened her mouth to say something, Jon’s head SNAPPED to the side as he heard a loud crunch of snow and a slight crack of a small branch.

He looked ahead and saw a group of three men about 30 yards away, having just walked out of the forested area directly in front of them. Immediately he assessed the situation and knew it wasn’t good. Most of the people just saw three men standing in front of them, and some would notice that one had a shotgun in hand, the other had an assault rifle at the ready, and the third had his hand on his belt, near his hip. They stood casually and looked at the ragged group of survivors.

Jon though, he was more. He saw the eyes on them not looking at them in a good way, not looking to help anyone or see if Jon’s group was aggressive. The group seemed to already know they were vulnerable and looked at the survivors as a pack of wolves observes a group of deer. The group moved slowly, but surely and in silence. This group knew what they were doing.

As the new trio came towards Jon and the group, they also began to spread out slightly while the one in the middle spoke up. “Hey all. You, you all ok?” He looked from Jon to the man with the shotgun and nodded slightly.

“We’re not in good shape,” Jon said quickly. He made sure to keep his voice low and slightly scared. He quickly stepped away from the woman as she got her feet under her. Immediately Jon saw it. The moment the man heard the vulnerability in Jon’s voice, and the words of them being vulnerable, the man’s chin came up and a barely visible smirk crept its way to his lips. He also sniffed loudly, two times, in a deliberate manner.

That was all that Jon needed.

Jon cocked his head and looked over the leader’s shoulder, squinting his eye to look back into the forest. Jon saw the man in the center and the man with his hand on his hip turn around to look at what got Jon’s attention while the third man didn’t seem to notice.

The biggest threat was the man with his shotgun at the ready, because he was not looking behind. Jon whipped out his pistol and before the woman he’d helped up realized what was happening, even as she was watching Jon, and put two rounds in the shotgun wielder. One round caught him in the groin, the other in the neck and as Jon turned his head, he could see the blood spraying from the man’s neck.

The next threat was the man with the assault rifle as he had his hand already on his firearm. Jon fired off three rounds by the time most people turned their heads at the initial couple of shots. One hit the man at the bottom of his rib cage, the second in the sternum, while the third, blew out the man’s face as the round ripped through his lower jaw.

The last man looked towards his two partners while reaching for his gun. Jon had noticed immediately, prior to moving into action, that he had on thick fingered winter gloves. That, coupled with the fact that he didn’t even have his hand on the weapon is why Jon left this one for left. He opened his mouth to say something to Jon as Jon fired 2 rounds again, one finding it’s home in the man’s heart and the other just below the neck.

The entire event played itself out in just a matter of 2.5 seconds. Jon looked back behind him for a moment, making sure everyone was alright even though he knew they were as the other group hadn’t gotten off a shot. While some of the views were silent shock, some looked at him with a sense of confusion until Harris broke the silence.

“You ju--...you...just killed them. You...”

Jon just turned away and went to look at the bodies. They’d have to move soon, as if the group had others, they’d be attracted to the gunshots...

Late October. Missouri. (Approximately a week before the RP starts)

Austin kept his left hand firmly planted in his pocket. It wasn't freezing, but it was certainly cool enough that the cut on his forehead stung like a motherfucker. A bruise in his left side was a bit of a bitch too, probably some bruising along his ribs. He'd had worse, he'd get over it. His right hand remained at his side, twitching every few minutes with anticipation. The air out here felt tense, like every moment since this ragtag group of nerds and prior servicemen walked through the woods. Boggs stayed close to the rear, watching from the back, making sure nobody straggled behind. Everybody had the crash fresh in their minds; he hadn't flown a model quite like that before, but it wasn't much different from what he was experienced in. It was likely he'd never get to use that skill again, but at least it saved this many people. There were just too many of them and the broken fuel gauge didn't help - they barely had take off before the systems began to fail. Thankfully they'd been able to walk away before it attracted too much attention.

He only managed to snag a few things from the supply on the way out, but he felt more protected than the people who had no idea how to use their weapons. A CZ would be a new experience for him, but it wasn't much different than the Beretta he used to wear; same calibre, it might just take some getting used to. One of the security guards from the facility took a stumble farther up in the herd and Boggs rolled his eyes. They were sitting ducks if something happened - the number of 'smart' people definitely trumped the 'experienced' ones, so they all had some extra weight to pull. A guard though? Boy, he hoped she knew how to shoot if she couldn't even walk proper.

He watched his former neighbour, Jon, help her to her feet and furrowed his own brown when the man tensed. He didn't hear the twig snap, but he was a bit down the line from it too. When the trio of men, armed ato the teeth, emerged from the treeline, his hand slowly moved to rest on his pistol's grip. It felt like a long shot from back here, but he could at least help cover if something went awry. Then again, maybe it wouldn't.

He kept one eye tentatively on Jon; the man was little more than a computer tech. They lived next door to one another after Boggs retired. The pilot quirked an eyebrow as the group exchanged words. The feeling that he got from that triad was nothing but danger - a shotgun, sure... but an assault rifle? Something like that wasn't cheap, nor easy to come by. It hadn't been long since they'd all left the CDC, but god a scenario like this never ended well for the merciful. He craned his neck, trying to figure out what it was that Jon was looking at beyond the trees before...

POP! A gunshot rang out, reverberating off the trees and scaring the living piss out of the small crowd. Boggs gripped his pistol and pulled it from its holster, but just as he did, he heard more shots coming from Jon and the men were all as good as dead by the time he was lining one up. Austin ran to the front, watching Jon skeptically, stopping just in time to hear some kid nearby sputter out the obvious. He glanced back.

"No shit, Captain Obvious," He stated bluntly, turning back to look at the bodies. He blinked - that looked like quite a bit of heat... But enough to take out this many people? They must have really been banking on the element of surprise. "You still have a fuckin' head thanks to this guy's timing too."

His pistol remained firmly in his grip, "Shit, Jon... All my years I've not seen many people shoot better than a Ranger or a SEAL... Especially with a pistol. Even for being up close, I'm pretty impressed," He said, shaking his head, "We gotta move though... I doubt they were alone, I'll distribute the guns." With that, he sunk back into the group, holstering his pistol to replace it with the assault rifle, shotgun, and third man's pistol in his hands.

He whistled, assessing a few group members before giving them the weapons. He didn't take them, he preferred his sidearm and wanted as many armed as possible. Of course, somebody who didn't know how to use a gun would be more hurtful than helpful. They each had only the ammo that the 'bandits' had on them, so they'd have to be sparing. A couple of people were brave, or smart, enough to get a hold of a coat that fit, others grumbled about how disgusting it was to loot, especially a freshly bloodied garment. The pilot ignored it and motioned for them to get a move on.

Approximately one week later

Boggs readjusted the rifle in his shoulder. The assault weapon they took from the bandit had become the weapon they equipped the Watch Stander with - whoever it was. It got passed around, everybody took a watch and received a crash course on Holding a Rifle: For Dummies from a few of the military guys. It had been a while since he carried one of these, but it felt absolutely perfect in his hands, just like home. He heard the crunch of boots on the ground and cocked his head to see Jon approaching. He stopped his patrol and did a casual facing movement, "Morning, Jon. Need something?" He asked, his voice low and all-business. He took his job seriously, giving a nod of his head to back, "Walk and Talk."

The pilot resumed his patrol, staying to Jon's outside as they strolled, his eyes cutting through the trees, trying to move over every detail and shadow. Another chilled day, but it would only get worse and these people weren't too well-equipped... They'd have to get their hands on some warmer clothes or start moving South if they wanted to live through the winter. If Jon hadn't noticed it already, he made a note to mention it later; after the event the week before, some people now turned to the quick-shooting mystery man as a de facto leader. On the other hand, some stayed away, feeling it far too threatening that he could take a man's life without hesitating, even though the 'victim' didn't ever actually raise his weapon. Boggs knew - he knew that there was no way in a situation like that... You can't just wait for them every time. Sometimes you have to make that move.

He couldn't help but feel a little bit uneasy about the whole thing, too. Jon was the only one with a gun out at that scene and he managed to kill all three men before anybody else could act. Maybe it was a hunch, luck, or sheer adrenaline fueling him... But Boggs still thought it strange. Then again, people had interests, maybe Jon always loved shooting. He was just a tech at the CIA and Boggs knew nothing about that kind of work - did they even teach the IT guys how to handle themselves? And why would their training be so en pointe?

"The Farwood"- Ninth Moon (Missouri, Month Nine)

Two days- Two days, Will had spent in the shadows just out of sight, out of reach. Watching, waiting, observing these strangers. It had been nearly twelve suns- No, days. Twelve days, since he'd decided to settle down in this forest for the winter. He'd marked his territory- Smears of rotten one blood on the trees, an arrow proudly mounted in the center of the clearing. Any good hunter should have known this spot was taken- Another had bedded here to bear out the cold months.

But then they came. He didn't believe they were violent ones- They didn't argue over stolen things, or treat their woman so brashly, so horribly. But they had arrived in his clearing and settled down while he hunted, and caution held him back from shooing them personally, at least until tonight. Now he was sure of who led this group of men and women- Who to talk to to get his place back. So long as they could be reasoned with.... If not, he was confident they would scatter like all the rest, when arrows fell unseen from the trees.

The 'Jon' one, they looked to him- The majority. Perhaps grudgingly, but he was a strong leader. They listened. Perhaps he would listen too. So, when this 'Jon' awoke, some time before the sky was to be painted by the sun, Will followed him from a distance. He walked as a ghost of the wood, tracks hidden in the barest, shallow snow closest to the welcoming trees- Far enough away to be unheard in his light step and unseen in the dark, following his nose. He'd tried to explain how he did it, once- To others that had not tried to kill him immediately.

It wasn't so easy to put into words as it was to do.

He followed Jon for a ways, until softened voices pierced the muted air of early winter.

"Morning, Jon. Need something?..... Walk and talk."

Will cocked his head, straining his ears and his nose. It was just the two- Jon, and one of those that walked the area every night, with his 'guns' and heavy footsteps. How did he ever expect to notice attackers when he crashed through brush like a bear?... Perhaps not a bear. He was smarter than most, at least. But, soon enough, Will turned and shifted away, coming to a halt in the center of the path that this other one- Boggs, he'd heard him called- followed, every hour. He held his bow loosely in one hand, an arrow nocked but not drawn, passively pinned to the center of his bow by a finger. He didn't need to hold it at draw- It only took a heartbeat to get it there. Once the men, the Jon and the Boggs, were within earshot, he spoke up.

"'Jon'. 'Boggs'."

The names were spoken more like titles than birthnames, as if Will weren't quite certain how to address other human beings.

"You're in my clearing."

Jon nodded and smiled slightly toward Boggs as he approached. He took to calling him Wade in his head, having grown up playing baseball and idolizing Wade Boggs from the Boston Red Sox, even though secretly he hated the team as a whole. But, it was hard not to respect a man who was known for playing so many consecutive games for so many years, never missing a game.

He blinked away the thoughts and focused back on Austin and his invitation to walk with him. There was a slight unease between the two since Jon had shot the three men at the edge of the forest they now walked through. The event took place days ago, but there was not much time to talk about that or anything but essential survival since then. In fact, talk was understandably basic and to the point. Changes of watch. Wake up calls. Get moving. That sort of thing. In fact, after the shooting, Jon didn’t even really reply back to Austin about the shooting. When the Veteran mentioned the shooting, Jon simply shrugged and muttered, “I dunno.”

Austin was also observant and probably realized to some degree that there was something more to Jon. Jon decided he’d chalk it up to CIA training, maybe say he lucked out and got into some GRYPHON security training or something of the sort. Or maybe it wouldn’t come up.

Jon was not in the business of not having plans thought out though. He looked at Austin and was about to mention that they needed to wake the other soon when he stopped. Boggs reacted in turn and followed Jon’s gaze. There in the road in front of them stood someone who could be described maybe as a boy in terms of his slight stature, but the fact that he was out there and stood in the road with some sort of intentions made Jon realize if he wasn’t a man, he was a very capable and confident boy.

“Jon. Boggs,” he began with somewhat awkwardly. “You’re in my clearing.” The man knew their names, so immediately Jon knew he’d been following the group. He had no inclination to respond immediately, so he took a second to study the guy. Male, short, light. Had a bow. Based on him following them and not being noticed, Jon assumed he was a woodsman of some sort.

“And?” replied Jon, rather flatly. The tone indicated he was tired, and maybe didn’t care or was annoyed. Jon then slowly brought a hand up and rubbed his temples and the area between his eyebrows and eyes, attempting to massage away some of his annoyance, or at least it appeared so. In truth, his intention was to see how this one reacted. If he took Jon’s move as an attack and fired, he and Austin would likely be able to take him down with some injuries. If he didn’t react it told Jon that he was not immediately hostile, and also showed Jon he had the advantage.

If this man didn’t know Jon was willing, and capable, of killing him outright then Jon had the advantage--if it came to that. Either way, they had the advantage as both he and Boggs were armed and trained. If only one person walked away from this encounter, it would be him.

As they stood there, Jon immediately decided this man was NOT involved with the three men they had killed days back. While he wasn’t sure how long they’ve been followed, the bottom line is that if this man was hostile or hellbent on revenge, he would have attacked silently and not presented himself in the middle of a road.

Jon shifted his feet so that in less than a heartbeat, he’d be able to shift his wait and leap sideways, away from Austin, making the newcomer have to choose between two targets by creating distance…

Late October. Missouri. (Approx a week before the RP starts)

Lucy seemed to be in a near constant state of shock for days now. First the facility began to fall, then it did. She watched people die as they boarded a helicopter. The helicopter crashed, and she woke up to smoke, blood, people screaming...She had to be helped out after having her seatbelt cut by Jon. He had gone in several times and pulled people out of the fire, laying them out near where he had put down Lucy.

Some of them were breathing, some were not.

Since then, they’d been walking, mainly in silence.

Before all of this, Lucy had thought she was strong. She KNEW she didn’t have a rough childhood and never faced much adversity. The training for the government security job was the toughest thing she’d been through in her life. Gymnastics was hard physically and tae kwon do pushed her mentally and physically, but none of those collective experiences even remotely prepared her for this. And a lot of the survivors were in the same spot now.

She didn’t understand how Jon and Austin carried themselves. She knew they were injured, but on top of that, they didn’t seem scared or unsure. It didn’t make sense to her.

She wondered if they were all just going to die. There was the cold. Hunger. And...the zombies. She breathed in deeply to steady herself and instead tripped, stumbling and falling in the snow.

She wanted to cry. She couldn’t help but think that some part of her just wanted to die as she felt a hand wrap around her arm and offer help, slowly pulling. At first, she didn’t move, she just stayed there, but then there was another pull with more insistence. “Get up,” Jon said. It surprised her because even though it was not nice or sympathetic in the words, there was a softness to his voice. Maybe not softness, but a lack of hardness.

Since they had gotten to the roof, Jon and Austin had both been leaders. It seemed if one was leading here, the other was leading there. But Jon, he seemed somewhat mean or harsh at times. He would not ask, he would tell, and expect to be listened to. And she was slightly USED to it from her training through the FBI and CIA, having had instructors for years. But he was different. Or maybe, maybe it was things that were different now.

Regardless, when he spoke those words in that way, it motivated her to stand up. She did, and as she was brushing the snow off and moved to thank him, she heard the words being spoken between Jon and some strangers. She picked up her head to look and the moment she did, she made eye contact with the one man as a bullet ripped through his neck. She wasn’t sure how it played out like it, but it seemed as if the gunshots didn’t register until later, if at all.

All she knew is she watched Jon shoot down 3 men, 3 men who didn’t seem to have done anything.

She didn’t talk to anyone until that night, when Jon was on watch. She happened to be close to Harris that night, and the two talked quietly, first just about how each was doing, and then about Jon and what had happened. At some point, they decided to talk to Austin about it, get his position, but Harris seemed to make a point to her that she wasn’t aware of when he asked her, “if he was willing to shoot those people who were trying to help, just to take their stuff, what is he going to be willing to do when he needs what we have?”

Lucy had not viewed Jon the same since she started pondering that question.

Austin was just about to open his mouth and ask what happened a few days back with the three men but he couldn't find the words. He shook his head and when he looked forward, somebody had moved out into his patrol route. He was holding a bow and looked like he was in a really uncomfortable position. The veteran furrowed his brow as the boy spoke, "'Jon'. 'Boggs'. ... You're in my clearing."

Austin didn't turn his head as Jon seemed to react to a headache, but the fact that this... kid was holding a bow meant that he at the very least felt the situation might escalate. Giving the boy a quick check, Boggs noted that his stance was poised but didn't appear exactly 'hostile.' Jon responded and the former Warrant Officer gave a sneer, "And you're breathing my air, but you don't see me bitching, do you?" He asked.

Without missing a beat, Austin dropped some of his tense front to seem less aggressive. He could feel Jon's pseudo-relaxation and he too kicked right back into warzone mode. They needed to space out, so he took a very slow, gradual, and hesitant step to the right. He didn't make it an awkward movement as he took a step back simultaneously, as though he was just trying to keep away from the situation. This boy had been following them, so that meant that by now he would know that, at the very least, Austin wasn't a novice. He held a gun with too much deliberation and stood the watch with purpose, unlike most of their other campers.

His grip on the rifle was steady, but he could feel his heart already thump, thump, thumping against his sternum. Why did people have to create such situations? Boggs mentally sighed, hopefully this world wouldn't last too long. He was trying to settle into a better life and start over, even if it was kind of late. Now, this shit? He seriously couldn't get off the front-lines, could he?

He didn't want to overstep his boundary and speak until they could get a little bit more from this guy, but now his mind itched at Jon's situational awareness. Austin didn't have near the kind of training for absolutely minute details, but after last week, he hardly doubted that Jon was completely lost here. He readjusted his grip very slowly, quirking an eyebrow. "You've been watching us... You know we're on the move, why not just wait a day or two and come back - they'll all probably be gone. It's a shit spot, anyway," He noted, "Too open... Accessible. So why not just leave us alone?"

-

November. Missouri Forest.

Will's eyes flickered between Jon and Austin as they both shifted in their own way, the soft sound of him sniffing audible over the distance between them. Quite casually, his free hand fell to the string of his bow- Though he didn't draw it yet, or lift it up towards one of them. A wary motion, and nothing more. Quite clearly, the boy was used to dealing with people that liked to shoot rather than talk- Even if he himself wasn't so keen on doing so.

"Be still. If you are, so am I. And you're wrong- the clearing is the heart. A safe place. Close to the core of the forest. The creatures that wake during winter forage in and around it, there are three running streams nearby, the trees at its border are dense. A natural fortress for one that can listen, can smell. No foliage to block the snowfall- Plenty soon to burrow beneath, as the critters do. A snowy cave to keep you warm, unseen."

Briefly, he glanced upwards, through the near-bare branches to the sky.

"Snowfall comes, soon. Enough. Waiting would make things more difficult than necessary. So I want you gone. Don't trust other people- Rotten ones, predictable. Run, eat, bite, gnash. Put something through the skull, and they die. People are not. The violent ones are smart. And fast. They have metal-spitters like yours that burn and hurt.... Guns- Guns."

After a moment, a sound disturbingly akin to a growl escaped the boy. However long he'd been out in the woods, he was most certainly losing his grip on the more 'human' things, closer to an animal than he was a human. Perhaps it was trauma- Perhaps he couldn't remember life before the rising. But he was definitely unstable.

"You smell like blood, like the violent ones. So you can't stay. People bring the rotten ones, and chaos. Trees don't like it. Creatures don't like it. Will doesn't like it."

Jon shook his head slightly as the boy went on. He seemed feral. Jon took to wondering how long a kid could be out here, isolated, and succumb and revert back to something more primitive. He shook the thoughts away as ultimately, it didn't matter.

"We smell like blood AND smoke. We were in a crash. I don't like being in that, yet here we are. Anyway, I'm not going to get into a pissing contest about the forest and who it does and doesn't belong to. But. I suggest you start moving too. I know you think this forest is yours, but the truth is, you need to start thinking beyond the heart here."

Jon left the comment there, curious if the boy would understand or not. "And what's your name?"

Will gave something akin to a huff, blowing a sharp breath through his nose.

"Crash. The metal bird that burned the trees to the south. I remember- But it makes no difference."

With light, even steps that barely made a sound on the forest floor, Will slipped forward until he was just out of Jon's arm's reach, pulling the arrow from his bowstring and returning it to his quiver as he went. Up close, he barely looked any more than seventeen or eighteen, though the feral glint in his gray eyes was nothing less than offputting, if not downright frightening. He sniffed again, brow furrowing.
"Fresh blood. Not yours. Not his. None of theirs."
His gaze flicked back towards the clearing, apparently implying the others of the group.
"Strangers. And something else- gunpowder? Gunpowder. Stronger on you than the others. You kill. Have killed. Don't trust you."
He cocked his head in a sharp, birdlike motion, staring hard at Jon's face.
"But I am Will. Will is me. It's what the little card said."

At this point, Austin raised an eyebrow, not understanding the talk about a card and he looked over at Jon. He wanted to speak to calm Jon as he seemed visibly agitated, but before he could say anything, Jon spoke up.

"Like I said. Trees, forests, you, us. Me. Lots of things have happened that we don't like. It doesn't change what is. Anyway, I'm not sure if you're going to like this or not, but the explosion brought a shit ton of undead towards us, and we've been limping ahead of the herd. Now, even if they miss this place, which I doubt they will because if we spend too much time sleeping, they're on us within a few hours, either way we're leaving because we have some injuries and need some antibiotics and the such. I don't want to, but the truth is, we need to find a village or some place with a doctor's office."

Jon looked behind him towards where the group was starting to wake up and go about their business. "You can come with us, or you can stay. Either way, we're leaving this place like you want."

Late October. Missouri.

Austin nodded, letting out a sigh as the strange boy yammered on strangely. He looked to the trees, keeping his eyes peeled for movement in case this wackjob wasn't alone. The grip on his rifle didn't loosen in the slightest, but he looked Will over. Finally, as the boy put away his arrow, Jon was able to explain the situation.

"None of us like it, but he's right. This foreset is crawlin' with 'em... We haven't had to get too close yet, but let me tell you, from what I've seen already, I woudln't doubt they're coming from several directions. We need to find us a path of least resistance and get out." The pilot shrugged his shoulders, taking a step in close to Jon and muttering quietly, "Look, I'm gonna go wake up the others, alright? This kid can do what he wants." There was no doubt Will heard it, but Austin had clearly made it so that the message was not toward him.

With that, the vet walked back to their encampment and quietly started to rouse everybody. He shook one person awake and like clockwork they moved on to the next and within only a couple of minutes you had a camp of groggy survivors rubbing their eyes and climbing to their feet. Some were shivering, others were clearly just pissed off, but they knew better than to pick a fight and start shouting. Some asked for just a few more minutes, but the requests were all denied. Austin had only been on watch about two hours - he could function despite the fact that he got less sleep than the others and it was likely he would still operate better than most of them. He'd be carrying the rifle today.

Rodney sat up when Austin moved over to wake him and saw that Lucy was already getting her stuff sorted out while Harris was still rolling around in his sleeping back, muttering and groaning. He was not in pain, he was actually one of the least injured of the group. He was just always complaining about the cold, or hunger or just having to move.

Lucy finished getting her gear together and moved over to Austin, "anything new today, or just another day of walking, keeping ahead of the horde?" She looked over at Harris who, to his credit, was actually moving today instead of having to be dragged out of his bag or threatened with violence as it was the first few days. She felt somewhat bad for him. He was beat up pretty bad, he was going through an entirely world changing experience, and he simply wasn't built for this. She moved over to help Harris while waiting for Boggs to reply.

Western Missouri. November.

Fuad sat away from the fire where a Terry was laying on the floor. The hastily built shelter was exceptional compared to most. They’d found a few large pieces of plywood nearby and dragged them back into the forest. They stacked them, threw some foliage around them, and were very well hidden and also very well insulated. The fire heated the place fairly well and the 2 pieces of wood did a good job at reflecting the heat, so all in all, it was a comfortable enough night.

He yawned stared at the fire blankly. His ears were perked up as on a dark and snowy night like this, you could see almost nothing but hear a good amount. There was enough snow to crunch under foot, but also not enough to cover branches that could be stepped on and snapped. So he stared into the fire in silence, shotgun rested at his knee, pointed at the entrance to the shelter, conveniently, and his thoughts started to drift.

For some people it was dangerous to do so. Many people would drift into their thoughts and lose track of NOW, but Fuad never had that problem, luckily. He could be immersed in his thoughts but was always aware. Always listening. Always looking. It seemed Terry was the opposite. Sometimes, just talking to Fuad was enough to have him lumbering into things, or raising his voice, or walking around a corner into a zombie.

They were an interesting duo, opposites in many ways. Fuad was smaller of stature and young whereas Terry was an older man, and also wide and burley. Fuad was generally cautious and aware. He used patience and was willing to wait and see things out. Terry was angry and headstrong and if he saw a zombie, he more often than not would simply charge forward to smash it.

They both were survivors though, and both were a lot more hesitant around people. People were different. They were savage animals, but with cunning and intelligence. You could walk away from zombies, you could hide from them, trick them.

Humans were the real danger.

He sighed mentally and leaned back. As he looked into the fire, his thoughts went to the night of the bombing. He could hear the jets, see them streaking across the night sky. He could feel the concussive force as he watched. Then, he remembered the night sky lighting up.

He shook his head to clear the thoughts and reached for his toothbrush.

-

Late October. Missouri.

The group started to rise and this included Rodney and Harris. They both silently got their things together and chewed on some bits of food to get themselves going. They finished and looked around at the camp, making eye contact and nodding to one another. Harris walked up and heard Lucy and Boggs talking.

“Another beautiful day huh Harris?” Rodney leaned against a tree and looked at the younger kid. The group was not made up of what would be ideal candidates for surviving on a zombie ridden world, himself included, but the group was holding together well enough--mainly due to Jon and Austin. Those two had experience and training in things that mattered here and the group had that to thank for allowing them to be here today. While Rodney himself was thankful for this, he was also on edge. He, Harris, Lucy and a few others were on edge about Jon, especially after the incident with the three men in the clearing.

Even before that, Jon displayed a harsh willingness to do things that would cause others pause, hesitation, or flat out denial. He left people at the CDC center, he even left people on the roof instead of waiting to help them.

Now Rodney himself understood the actions at the CDC center, at least to a degree. He may have done the same given the information Jon had talked about after, citing that the helicopter could not hold that much weight, they were out of time and fuel, and a few of the people appeared to be bitten. The difference is that Rodney didn’t see any of the remorse or compassion in Jon before, during or after, that most people would exhibit.

Simply put, he seemed to make the decision and not think twice about it or regret it.

Where Rodney was different from the majority of the group was that, he acknowledged that this was both a bad thing, something to be fears and questions but it was also a good thing, and the reason they were all alive. Lucy, and Harris especially could not bring themselves or were just incapable of seeing this. Either that, or they simply let their emotional view of things cloud their perspective.

Rodney would rather be sad and alive than having attempted to do good, and be dead.

“As wonderful as the last,” Harris said back flatly. “But at least it’s a bit warmer.”

“Warmer indeed.” Rodney was just about to say something when one of the group, Daniel, burst through the treeline. “Get up, get up now. We only have about 10 minutes.”

This didn’t make sense. The 2 rear scouts were supposed to stay at a far enough distance so that, if the zombie horde got close, the scouts would still have ample time to retreat, get the group up, and give them plenty of time to successfully move on ahead. Then something else occurred to Rodney. “Where is--“

“Just get up now, everyone, we need to go. They got him. I haven’t seen it before, them move like they did, but they were like...they weren’t walking around so stupidly. We have to go now.”

For near five minutes after Boggs left to wake the camp, Will did nothing but stare at Jon. It was clear that his mind was racing, trying to think of some way out, some way to clean his hands of this mess that others had made. But, as the minutes passed- That intense, gray stare practically as sharp as the arrows at his waist- he seemed to settle on a decision. Just moments before Daniel burst into the nearby clearing to alert the others of the group, Will gave an irritated snap of his teeth, just inches from Jon's face. A growl rumbled in his throat, edging his words with begrudging acceptance.

"Don't like this. People are -stupid-. Bring rotten ones and violent ones and can't function! But -you-." He reached up to poke Jon firmly in the chest. He was obviously not threatening the older man anymore- Simply venting frustration. "-You- are smart. Makes you dangerous. Might leave the innocent behind to survive. Will knows this place- Knows of a safe place nearby. One day, if they keep up. No breaks. Will show the pack the way, will help with the hurt ones. But Jon will pay for every life lost on the way- Will doesn't even have to do a thing."

He tapped the side of his head, glaring at Jon.

"The Jon will do it to himself. Maybe then, he could be trusted. People who smell like you are never good people. Never. Guilt will fix you."

Despite making next to zero sense in pretty much everything he said, the kid put out a disturbing amount of confidence in his words- As if he were absolutely certain that every last one of them was the truth.

For the first time in days, weeks--well, months actually, Jon was amused. Well, not amused, interested. He could tell that this kid, Will, he could potentially be an asset. Jon was not a fool though, and realized that he was equally likely to run off into the night at any moment. In those same few moments that Will was thinking whatever he was thinking, Jon too was thinking.

He could hear activity behind him as the group was roused and decided that very soon, they'd have to move. In his mind, they still had an hour or so before they needed to move and stay a fair distance ahead of the horde. That idea was shattered when the sentry burst into the group's clearing and broke the bad news.

He hadn't heard Will even talking until the finger to his chest snapped him back to reality. When the boy finished his feral tirade, Jon stared back at him, his face flat and showing no emotion. "Guilt won't fix a guy like me. And, if I wasn't dangerous and didn't already know people would be lost along the way...Will, none of them would be alive, none would have made it this far."

Jon mulled over the thought of guilt for a moment. Be it his training, his life, his intelligence, or a cominbation of all those and more, guilt was something he understood but did not really feel. It was like teaching a young child that 2 plus 2 equals for. You could ask them what 2 plus 2 was, and they'd say four, but they weren't grasping at what it meant, as simple as it was. Not until later did they understand about two objects being added to another two objects made a group of four objects.

Jon didn't feel guilt, but he did feel need. He knew they needed to move, and move fast. "Figure out where we need to go, I'm gunna help them get ready." Jon turned his back to Will and made his way back towards the group, seeing that Austin had already started to help the group get ready to move.

By the time Jon spoke up to tell Will to find the way, the boy was already moving. He slung his bow over his shoulders with a deft motion, looking up towards the trees. Crouching down, he picked a branch and sprung upwards, rapidly vanishing into the branches- With only the occasional scrape of a shoe on bark or the rustle of leaves to let Jon know he was still climbing. He obviously wasn't abandoning them- Not after the tyrade he'd just gone through. But, he probably sought to scout out a path from higher ground- Or at least judge how far the encroaching horde really was.

Once out of sight and high in the branches, Will shuffled towards the end of a particularly sturdy branch just above the general treeline, leaning out to peer first to the south. He narrowed his eyes, frowning and shaking his head. The foliage made it impossible to count them body by body, but it was clear to see movement, early morning light offering just enough to see the shambling, shifting shapes beneath the trees. There were so many... Horde was definitely the proper word. And all drawn by that damn crash, the smell of blood and fear that these people left behind them. He was about to turn to the North, to find an acceptable path for the less fit of the group, when he caught it out of the corner of his eyes. A much smaller group- No more than five or six, and they moved -fast-. Faster than the average rotten one by far, and with more drive. An animal intelligence. Irritably, Will snapped his teeth and looked North, gaze flicking rapidly from place to place. They had to hurry... He'd seen these ones before- The screeching, clawing, running rotten ones. Like wolves, they hunted in small packs, and they hunted their prey far outside of reason, driven by the primal need to feed. His legs ached just thinking about it... Still, they weren't exactly dexterous. They couldn't climb, couldn't jump very well or far... And with no recent rainfall, the streams would be low in their ravines. If they moved quickly, they could leave behind the sprinting corpses in a steep gorge just a short ways to the east, before turning North for the "Winona" place. A cluster of shelters.... Homes.

With a definitive nod, he dropped down from branch to branch until he landed lightly on the forest floor, running towards the clearing.

Austin smirked and shrugged, I'd be willing to bet it's another day of walking. It's cold, we gotta get packed up, but we can't wait too long until we find a position far from that crash and defensible," the pilot explained to Lucy. The woman was gorgeous, but didn't seem like she was even thirty yet. Hell, she could be his daughter, but that didn't stop him from noticing her good looks. "Let's see if we can't get them ready to move soon - they gotta start learning to mobilize quickly. Thanks for stepping up," He added with a nod, leaving to rouse other groups.

His boots crunched leaves as he moved throughout the camp and starting helping to pack up equipment when one of the scouts burst through the treeline. Austin hit his knee and raised the rifle to face the surprise visitor, staring down the barrel, lining up the sights before realizing it was one of theirs. "Damn, Daniel, you can't come crashing in here like that, you'll get shot, Chris..." He muttered, lowering his weapon as he looked around for the second scout - the answer came out of the sputtering scout before Austin even asked. He turned to look at the camp, keeping his voice down a little bit, but making sure everybody heard it.

"Alright everybody, we gotta get this shit packed up - double time, let's go! We're moving now." He explained, rolling people out of any sleeping bags or rolls that hadn't already gotten up. They might groan or throw a fit, but the situation didn't have time for them to be gently woken up anymore. They missed that chance, welcome to Hell.

Boggs looked to Jon and nodded, watching the portion of the woods Daniel had said they had been chased from. If they came through there, Austin would be able to pop off a few. They were fast now? How was this shit even fair? He gave an irritated sigh and gave a quick glance around the camp every now and then. What a shit show...

The air fell silent around him save for the rustling of trees swaying in the wind and things getting packed up. "Alright, people let's start moving!" He called out with a certainty; in the distance, he could see the rotten corpses described - they were crashing through bramble and around trees. They were certainly fast - definitely running, but there was still too much in the way to hit them. They weren't too close, but Austin's vision was still doing him some good and time was running short. Gradually, he started walking backward away from the treeline, trying to get everybody moving.

"Jon! Could use you, if you're not too tied up - maybe we can get the fast fuckers killed before they're too much of a threat and then start getting away from the horde that's been following us, eh?" He suggested, looking for his old neighbour and the fastest draw in the group. It definitely wouldn't hurt to have an extra pair of eyes.

Behind Jon, the camp burst into noise and activity. He turned from Will, not really caring at this point what the guy did. There seemed to be bigger fish to fry as Jon caught up parts of the conversations. He heard that they’d lost a man and that they were needing to leave quick. Somehow they’d lost a lot of ground, and that didn’t make sense to Jon.

Unbeknownst to Jon or anyone in the group, what had happened was that the horde was pushed on by the group of four other zombies. These were the rarest form of the risen undead and they were terrifying, so much so that even the undead masses responded to them. While it would not be true to say that the zombies reacted out of fear, it was accurate to say that they avoided them avidly. The “normal” zombies tended to move slow, shamble, react to noises or sights but with not focus. They’d get distracted easily and it wasn’t like they would “remember” they were following a prey once they lose sight of it. It is more that they would simply continue in that direction until some other stimuli enticed them to move in another direction.

But the group of four other zombies stayed behind the horde and that urged the mass of undead forward. The four, the Runners, they had some kind of intelligence but what would suggest an animalistic level. They would actually feed on walkers but only if no fresh flesh was available.

While the Runners moving the horde forward was actually a simple bit of misfortune, as the walkers were just trying to move away from the Runners, it was a bit of bad luck twice over because it sent the horde forward at a faster rate and also exposed to the Runners that humans were near when the guard reacted to his being attacked by screaming in pain.

This is why as Jon came into the camp and the group started to move, zombies could already be seen in the distance and through the trees as they closed in at a slow pace. It was then that Jon heard Austin address him and indicate off to the flank, where Jon noticed the group of several forms making a beeline towards them.

Jon risked raising his voice a little higher now. He was not wanting to draw attention from the horde, but if he needed to open fire soon, then that would be somewhat moot anyway. “Let’s go, now!”

Harris stood there stupidly, not sure what was going on so Jon grabbed his shoulder and half pushed, half threw him in the direction they needed to go. Lucy and Rodney were already moving and looking back to try to see what was going on amidst all the confusion.

Jon looked to Austin and moved his head towards the group, indicating that he should lead them. Jon looked back to the most immediate threat in the form of the Runners. They were either smart or lucky because he could get a good count of them because they were coming through a heavily wooded area.

Initially, Jon could have easily mistaken them for wolves or something in the way that they moved. This was obviously not the case as the main thing he could see through the trees was that they had a human form. And they weren’t human because they just had that feral movement to them. Something wasn’t right. Jon watched them and their path towards the group and moved a few dozen yards before stopping and kneeling in the snow. He shouldered his rifle and waited, making sure to calm himself as the AR-15 pulled into the pocket of his shoulder. A few short moments later, three forms burst from the treeline and into the clearing.

Jon would have loved to watch them and study them, but they were undead and that was all that mattered immediately. They raised questions such as why they moved so fast, why they didn’t travel with others, and how they were different from the others that Jon had met. But, those were things to worry about later. Jon took aim and just as he was about to fire, the three stopped and jerked. Somehow they reacted to him! Maybe it was scent. ‘FUCK’ Jon thought, realizing he was upwind.

He opened fire, raising up as he did and moving directly towards the group aggressively. He would have hit the first one fatally had they not reacted, but instead, he hit 2 of the three. Then they did something Jon never would have expected: they screeched and ran away.

This group recognized a threat and reacted.

Jon then saw a movement off to his right and quickly swung the rifle around, getting off two shots before the form crashed into him violently. He pushed the rifle forward between the form and his own as he crashed to the ground, sliding in the snow from the force before smashing his head into a tree.

He heard a ringing and lost focus but managed to keep the rifle pressed out. He felt fingers digging into his shoulder painfully and felt skin rip and bone cracking. What he did not know is that it was his lucky day as this Runner had only one arm and could not get the full leverage to pull itself close enough to bite. It tried and tried, lashing out with its teeth as Jon screamed in pain and anger. He saw more movement to his left and saw the horde moving towards him.

“Fuck,” Jon said aloud this time as he realized the situation was not in his favor. If he didn’t get this thing off of him fast, or it didn’t kill him, the horde would...

It was barely a second after Jon's curse that a small figure burst from the treeline, sprinting past the retreating group of survivors in a B-line towards Jon. To most of the group, he was fast enough that they most reaction they'd manage was a startled recognition he was there- To those better trained, more might be gathered. Like the fact that he had an arrow nocked to the string of that oversized bow in his hands, or that his sole, pure focus seemed to be on Jon and the undead that had him pinned, completely ignoring the others as he whipped past. A few feet beyond them, he slid to a stop in the dirt, left side facing Jon and undead both as he brought that bow up, drawing back the string and sighting all before he'd even completely stopped.

It took hardly a heartbeat, before a deep, throaty hum came from the bow, arrow sent on its way at speeds suggesting the weight of the bow was rather on the high end. One moment, the runner was gnashing its teeth and snapping for Jon's throat- The next, it jerked hard, sprawling to the side and off of him- A long shafted arrow still quivering in the side of its head, the point having completely cleared its skull, visible on the other side. It was dead... Dead-er, at least. The boy already had another arrow on the string, pulled to half draw and ready to snap off another at any threat. Jon wouldn't need to hear his voice through the ringing in his ears to read the boy's lips as he shouted.

"MOVE!"

Mainly, it was directed at Jon, to get him back on his feet and running- To the rest of the group, he shouted over his shoulder, hoping at least the 'Boggs' person would have the sense to listen to him, and lead the rest.

"To the East! There's a gorge- can lose them there! North after that- Run!"