Shan smirked uncomfortably as she was introduced to the strange man in front of her. It was a gesture, much like a wave, without seeming any more awkward than it had to be. As Matt spoke for her, she sighed reaching down to grip the revolver in its holster tightly. Her hand shook against the worn wood of the grip, and she sniffled, nodding to herself. This wasn't going to be easy, and she wasn't the best shot, but still yet, she was their only hope at food.

She drew the weapon slowly, opening the cylinder with a shaky hand. She could barely hold the gun still enough to keep it from rattling against itself, as she reached into her pocket and pulled out three .357 shells. She slowly rattled each shell into a chamber, pressing the cylinder closed when she was finished, and then wiped the sweat from her forehead.

Shan stopped to think about what they were doing this for. What if they found the group? What if the group was sick, or hungry? What if…

There were too many what ifs. There was too much that could go right, if only they had some supplies. In fact, she halfway wanted to blow the head off of Matt's companion…if not only for security. Gritting her teeth, she shook the thought from her head, and walked forward down the trail. Once in a small clearing, she could see the people quite clearly. They didn't look much better than she did, pretty thin and tired looking. They were bad.

"They're bad…", she thought to herself, almost whispering it aloud to build morale. She slowly raised the revolver, placing the bead shakily along the temple of one of the men, just as a truck pulled up. Shan couldn't help but grit her teeth in frustration and throw her hands up a bit, gun and all. Matt said nothing about extras. He said nothing about what to do about these new people. Listening closely, she made out what they were saying, at least enough to decide that the new ones were Matt's problem. Taking a single deep breath, she glanced to the truck, and the new man, and then back to her target, where she pulled the trigger.

"Stay right there…and lay that down. I won't ask twice…", the older man asked, before a shot rang out, piercing the silent air of the forest.

The older man crumpled immediately, screaming out in pain as the bullet pierced through his collarbone, and out the lower side of his shoulder blade. Shan's face flushed, immediately terrified of what she had done.

As the man screamed, she lowered herself to the ground, a sickening feeling washing over her. Every sound he made crushed her soul. His other two partners quickly turned in circles, attempting to find where the gunshot had come from, and the man continued screaming. Shan gritted her teeth, holding the top rail of her revolver against her forehead in thought, before she took a deep breath and took aim again.

"Fuck! Ah…I'm dyin'. What the hell, man!", the older man yelled, before Shan pulled the trigger, and his brains splattered his female companion as she bent down to cover the wound. She gave a scream of both disgust and fear, as her the remaining male searched Shan out, firing several shots in her direction. He turned violently to the new face in front of him, the barrel of his rifle close to his nose, "These your people?! YOU PLAYIN' GAMES WITH US?!"

Shan hit the ground, gasping loudly as a bullet smashed the bark off a tree, inches from her face. She managed to catch her breath, and crawled back up the side of the hill, to a large tree, where she sat and waited for backup.

---

Travis approached the backside of a small cabin, every piece of him believing that the place had been completely destroyed by people coming in and out for supplies. Surely these idiots had gotten the same idea he had. Surely more people were either here, or had been here. Limping around the side of the building, he approached a water pump, and almost broke down in tears. A bright smile covered his chiseled facial features, and he quickly covered the nozzle with his mouth, turning the valve on full blast. A blast of ice cold well water rushed into his mouth, and down the front of his shirt, relieving his dry lips and tongue with wetness.

"Oh my god. Thank you. Thank…you…", he gave to no one, running his growing hair under the faucet as a gunshot rocked his entire body, "What the fuck?!"

He fell into the mud at the sound of a terrified and pained scream, backing himself up against the water pipe, as he scrambled for his handgun. Another shot rang out, and he took the safety off his pistol, scanning the entire set of woods. After a moment of confusion, and after checking himself for bullet holes, he stood from the ground, took one last drink of water, and began walking toward the sound of chaos.

Matt cursed under his breath as the newcomers pulled up. They hadn't planned for this... What if these people were decent human beings just like them? In the end it was irrelevant however. In a fight, you played for your team and you killed anything that tried to hurt you. There was no other option. He shouldered his rifle and placed the tip of the front sight over the younger man's chest, waiting for the signal. The pistol shot thundered out across the trees and Matt watched the old man drop to the ground. He saw a familiar looking chunk of pink, dotted with white, splatter onto the ground a few inches from where the man fell. When people got shot, they didn't just bleed. The .357 Magnum round had shredded a chunk of manburger from his collar, peppering it with splinters of collarbone. It was stomach churning but nothing he hadn't seen before. His finger tightened around the trigger slowly, milliseconds away from releasing the hammer when the younger man stepped in front of the newcomer, aiming his rifle at him.

Most shooters would have taken the obvious solution. Wait until he moved or let someone else shoot him. But Matt knew better. He'd practiced this many times. He dropped low to the ground, aiming upwards at the back of the man's head. He squeezed off a round, faster than he'd meant to. The bullet moved at an upward angle in such a way that it would soar over the non-combatant's head when it exited his target's body. And exit it did. The 5.56mm bullet tumbled violently through the man's right shoulder blade, shattering bone and tearing flesh as it flew outwards, the mangled chunk of lead flying past the non-combatant harmlessly and totally disabling the gunman's right arm.

He adjusted his aim as the man started to crumple, preparing to finish the job...

Claire's eyes widened as the old mans collar bone was shattered and the shot resonated throughout the area. Chris wouldn't have fired that shot would he? He wouldn't just randomly fire like that. That meant that there was someone out there other than Chris, and they did not appear to be friendly. Everything just seemed to go in slow motion to her though, but at the same time she couldn't seem to move herself, as a second shot was fired and the old man was finished off. How could someone just shoot these people like this? Would she be next? Then the younger man turned on her new friend and pointed a gun at him. Claire saw blood fly around Jack and thought that he had been shot and was starting to shake until the other man fell in pain.

The way these people had turned on them so fast. Was it possible they were the bad people in this fight? What should she do? She saw the other girl crying about her other companion being spilled all over her, and almost in a daze she had started to raise the gun towards the back of the girls head, but her hands were shaking terribly. Why hadn't Chris shot yet? What was going on? He wouldn't just leave her out alone like this! Why the hell was the world like this now!? Her mind was racing and in a daze she pulled the trigger and the bullet flew through the kneeling girls spine or next to it, she couldn't tell. At this point Claire was in a complete daze, barely conscious of her own movements, and her mind just freaking out. She couldn't tell with all the blood already around the girl, but if the bullet had continued its path it would've ripped through her stomach.

Tears were running down her face at this point her mind so disturbed by everything. She just wanted her brother back, just leave all this and run again. She wanted peace and comfort, not all this bloodshed. Couldn't people see that humanity was going extinct? They should preserving life, not taking it away!

---

Chris heard the first shot and was ready to fire, it hadn't been their side that fired, and it was one of the random groups people that fell. Someone else had to have been out there. He looked around trying to spot the shooter, but nothing jumped out to him. He had to protect Claire and make sure she survived this. She was in the thick of it this time, and he wasn't sure she could take it. Physically she was ready for combat, but mentally...He would definitely need to talk with her after this was over. He started to aim at the girl next tot he man who had been shot when he hear a twig snap behind him. He spun on the spot and met something hard to his head. Of course he wasn't aware of that, he instantly blacked out. He though he was dead too, due to the fact that a second shot resonated right as he lost consciousness. Whoever had done this left Chris's gun where it had fallen next to the tree and had begun to drag him off to who knew where.

Chris's body was dumped at the feet of another man, his limp figure unconscious and sporting a fresh red bump on the side of his head but otherwise entirely fine.

"Was he alone?" The man knelt low to the ground to inspect their catch. His hands were covered in tip less cotton gloves, the skin poking out the end rough and calloused.. and dirty. He stroked his finger against the man's cheek and then quickly wrapped his fingers around his mouth locking his face in a strong grasp and twisting his head left and right as he looked him over.

Another shot rang out in the night followed by more screaming.

"No... but there are too many for us to capture on our own. He was the only one by himself."

The man dropped Chris's head and lifted one of his arms, squeezing down where the muscles bulged against his clothing. With each press he could feel the bicep push back, feel it harden under pressure. It was the same for the other arm as well. It seemed this man had been taking good care of his body since the world had fallen apart. Men like this were rare finds. There was strength to be had here, a survivors will almost. The two had brought him a good catch indeed and he'd sell for a high price.

"Bill... we did good right?"

Bill rose to his feet. He stood almost six feet tall with a mass of blonde dirty hair on his head adding another inch or so.. Although his face was hidden behind a scarf that'd been pulled up to his nose, there was a visible scar running across his forehead, a deep gash that started where his hairline came to and end and stopped just shy of his right brow. It was a defining feature that drew attention and instilled fear in some... the two men in front of him for example. They understood the man he was and the difference between that and the way he portrayed himself to others in public. He was cruel and they were hard pressed to disappoint.

"Ya did good." He pulled the scarf down to his chin and flashed them both a smile. His teeth were yellowed and most chipped beyond repair with one missing entirely. "Strip him, ta him up and throw him in the back... do it quickly 'fore his party realizes what has happened." BIll said as he turned toward their truck. It was a simple vehicle meant for two purposes, protection and most importantly, a means to transport their haul. Hitched to the back was a simple small horse trailer meant for a single mare. It had one door, one barred window and no way of escape and inside... Bill opened the door slowly and peered inside. There before him lay three more men and one woman, all naked down to their drawers. He gave them the same smile he'd given his two subordinates. "Looks like we've found ya all a new friend..." He let a dark chuckle slip from his lips. "Ya'll play nice now..."

Minutes later and a naked and unconscious Chris was tossed into the trailer with the others, the link on his cuffs secured to the chain tethering all five of them together. Another pair of cuffs were added to his ankles with the same setup as his wrists. Finally, he was given a good kick in the ass by one of the men before he jumped out and shut the door, locking it behind him.

"Hey.. what did ah say about messing with ma merchandise..." Bill walked up to the man, a stern expression on his face.

"Sorr-" He was cut off as his head and hair were grasped from behind, the strong grip shoving his head down and closer to Bill's so he could better hear him. He winced from the pain.

"Ya really need to stop doing that 'fore I toss ya in there with 'em... hear me?" His grip tightened and the man let out a small squeak. "No one touches them like that but me.."

"Ya ya... sorry boss." Billy ripped his head back causing him to tumble to the ground. His hand immediately flew to the back of his head as he tried to relieve the pain.

"Get yur ass inside."

"Ya sure thing..." He slowly got to his feet, the other walking past him with a smirk on his face.

"Idiot."

Jack saw the damage that the bullet had done before he even heard it, as one of the strangers' lives was extinguished before his very eyes. He had been in hairy situations before, however, and he instantly brought his shotgun up to firing position. However after the second shot erupted through the forest, it dawned on him that there was a third party involved - one hidden someone on the outskirts of the camp. What have I stumbled into? He wondered, and his peaceful negotiation turned into a firefight that he wasn't part of. He turned to Claire, clearly as shocked as he was about this. However, he was even more surprised to find her own gun raised at the third stranger - a woman, with her back turned. Claire pulled the trigger, and seemed to dispatch the girl with one shot. Jack pushed it out of his mind - he was sure he had to do it - and recalled that Claire only had a couple bullets left in her gun.
"Take cover behind the truck! If anything happens to me," he paused, unsure, before - in a moment of absolute trust - tossing Claire the keys. "Find Chris and get the hell out of here. You understand?"

Jack didn't wait to hear an answer, as one of the strangers, a younger man, pointed his rifle at him. Evidently they thought that Jack and Claire had something to do with this, and now the two had been dragged into the fray. However another shot rang out, and the man fell to the ground in agony. Jack took the opportunity to kick his rifle away from him and towards Claire, then moving forward and dragging the bleeding man behind the truck at gunpoint.
"That's enough!" He yelled over his shoulder, propping the wounded man up against the tire, still aiming the shotgun at his head. "I don't know what the hell is going on, but two people are dead, and I'll be damned if a third one does without an explanation as to why." He waited a second, as the sound of silence greeted him, before continuing. "Do you hear me? Or am I talking to the trees and the corpses?"

Matt pressed himself to the ground, his dull green clothing blending in with the foliage nicely. He waited a long moment after the man had spoken, his ears still ringing from the exchange of gunfire. The fight felt like it had raged a solid half hour, but in reality it had been only seconds since the first shot was fired. The smell of burnt cordite hung in the air, sunlight glistening off the scattered shell casings the group had left around the campsite.
"Hold your fire!"
He yelled, his deep voice thundering out across the little clearing.
"We don't have any quarrel with you, these people are bandits. We just want our supplies back."

Matt ejected the magazine from his rifle as he spoke and dropped it into a thigh pocket on his cargo pants. He ripped a fresh one free from his plate carrier and rocked it into the weapon, peering down through the ACOG scope atop the receiver and trying to see the people's feet behind the truck.

Claire caught the keys. Still dazed. She turned and slid down the truck in shock. Finally the shooting was over and Jack was next to her somewhat with the other man. He was evil though...Why would Jack try and save him. She narrowed her eyes. She heard the other man's voice as he yelled but didn't listen to a word of it. No forget running this time. Jack was her friend. He was risking his life for her, and this man next to him wanted to hurt both of them...He was evil. Claire slowly pulled the hammer back on the revolver while she kept thinking. If the man had a chance he would hurt Chris too...This bandit...and his friends, none of them deserved to live anymore. They threatened the lives of her brother, herself, Jack, and any other innocent people in the world. Claire slowly raised the gun up leveling it right at the bandits head. He has to die. For the sake of all that is good he must die. Why should he have the right to live while innocent people probably died at his hands already? This is retribution for all of those he and his friends had killed...This was the right thing to do. And with that Claire pulled the trigger blowing the bandits brains out.

---

Meanwhile Chris slowly stated to regain consciousness but everything was just so damn blurry. He could have sworn he was dead...So why did his head hurt so much? "Hey the guy is waking up I think!" It was a girls voice, young too. "Won't matter. He'll just end up dead eventually," Said an older man. Was it possible he was actually alive? He felt cold, and there was metal underneath him...was he undressed? When he tried to move some more he felt the chains that bound him. Oh yes...he was definitely alive...but is it possible that death might have been a better solution? What was going to happen to him now? Where were they going? Why? Most importantly where was Claire...?

Shan heard voices, and even more specifically, Matt's voice echoing through the void. It was silent, otherwise, as she assumed everyone else was dead. Whoever he was talking to was a decent person. They were giving him a chance to speak, and they didn't seem to want any issues, as far as she could tell. Taking a long and deep breath, she scooted from behind the tree, getting a better look of the people below her.

A piece of her wanted to head down the hill to find him, but another side of her knew that she would never make it without being spotted. So, she lowered herself to the ground, like many of the exercises they had worked on after her attack in the city. She pressed her stomach flat, her loaded weapon aimed perfectly on the man speaking to Matt.

---

Travis lumbered through the trees, listening to voices and what he could only make out as idle threats, or requests. He slowed at the powerful voice ahead of him, and began tiptoeing as best as he could through the old leaves. He had never been much of a graceful person in the first place, and injured, he was even worse.

Everything was silent, as if the people speaking had disappeared for a second or two, and so Travis decided to go on landmarks…anything to find, and possibly join (or kill) the good side (if such a thing existed anymore). A flash of red caught his attention from above him, and though his eyes immediately darted to the vibrant color, his brain began to complain, and he whispered to himself over and over.

"It's not real. She's dead…Just keep walking…", he whispered, closing his eyes. When he opened them, he glanced back up the hill, and the same wisp of red hair continued to blow in the wind, causing his heart to skip, "No…we're not…"

Suddenly his foot caught something heavy, and his face smashed into the damp forest floor. Groaning, he turned onto his side, glancing back at the obstacle. Expecting a walker, his mouth dropped open, and he narrowed his eyes, making sure he had gotten the facial features right, as a few features had definitely changed with the conditions.

"You're alive…am…am I seeing things again, or are you…What the hell is going on?"

Matt instinctively swung his rifle around towards the interloper, his finger tight around the trigger.
"Travis..."
He whispered as he recognized the dirty, battered face. He didn't lower his rifle though.
"You're alive. Shit, crawl over here and stay quiet."
He urged, sliding further behind a fallen log for cover.
"Let me do the talking, you just stay low and silent."
Matt instructed, peeking over the log. He jumped at the sound of a gunshot, but relaxed once he saw the limp corpse of the remaining bandit slap onto the ground next to the truck, some brain matter and bone chunks spilling out the back of his head.
"I see you guys don't take too kindly to bandits either, now why don't we both step out into the open, with our guns DOWN and talk this over like gentlemen?"
He yelled across the clearing.

Almost as soon as I arrived, my new home had been besieged by a faction of bandits, and the group was forced to leave by way of a caravan of cars and trucks. The Doctor, Emily, and Dmitri assigned me an RV along with another new arrival, which I have been driving non-stop for hours. The other guy took over the driving nearly a half an hour ago, but it appears as if we're coming up to civilization (if one could call anything that nowadays) soon. Still, the last place had seemed so secure. Yet.. It fell within minutes. Those raiders, they reminded me of the ones back in New York. Mindless and crazed, and without any sense of morality. Are they even human anymore? It makes me wonder which is worse, them, or the corpses.

Hoping for a better tomorrow,
Desmond Williams

The gunshot rang out next to Jack, temporarily deafening him, but when he came to after a matter of seconds he felt as if it had been him who had been shot. Spinning around to see first the dead bandit, then Claire with her gun raised, he instantly connected two and two. Jack closed his eyes, and ran a hand through his hair. The man was no threat to them. His wound wasn't fatal, and he could have lived. He was a stranger, though, and more than anything Jack was worried about Claire. Again he turned to face her, speaking calmly and steadily as, with the gentle sternness of a parent, he slowly removed the gun from her hand.
"He didn't have to die. To kill is a necessity now, and you should always put your survival over a stranger's. But there is a fine line between humanity and the walking dead," he paused, hoping some of this would sink in. "We don't have the luxury of judging others, only to survive. And his existence did not threaten our survival. I'm not angry, so don't dwell on this.. Just learn from it."

With that, he slid both his shotgun and the pistol out into the open, standing with his hands raised. He motioned for Claire not to stand until he gave the O.K., knowing that she still had her throwing knives ready.
"Now you," he called to the strangers, his mind ready for anything about to be thrown at him, even though he hadn't the faintest idea what that would be.

Matt watched the man from his position of concealment for a moment before setting down his M16 and standing up slowly, hands open in front of him.
"I'm gonna' come a little closer now."
He announced, very slowly drawing his Glock from its holster and setting it down on a stump. He slowly walked up to the stranger, stopping a few feet away, just a little further back than normal conversation distance.
"My friends and I are here to reclaim stolen property. Not all of it's ours, and since you helped us knock off these bandits, we're happy to share some with ya'll."
He glanced briefly at the bullet torn corpses sprawled across the camp around him and bent down to pluck a nice looking Beretta M9 from the young male bandit's waistband. He stared at the familiar handgun for a moment then ejected the magazine, racked the slide and handed it to the stranger grip-first. The smell of the campfire, burnt cordite and recently applied gun oil took him back in time to a much different place with more simple rules for life...

Nangarhar Province, Afghanistan
6 Years Ago

A light wind washed over the jagged mountains that dominated the horizon, bending and bowing the few trees spread across the foothills.
Then 1'st Lieutenant Matt Shelton watched from a afar as the four Taliban fighters tended their campfire, sheltered from the wind and cold by a few outcroppings of rock. One man calmly cleaned and oiled his sidearm, an M9 he'd either stolen from a coalition soldier's corpse, or looted from a supply cache.
"Move in."
The Lieutenant whispered into his headset, his cheek tight against the stock of his M4. He placed the reticle of his scope over the chest of the man with the handgun, waiting for his men to make their move.
"Put down your weapons!"
A guttural voice yelled in Pashto, the source invisible behind a field of boulders next to the little campsite. The insurgents began yelling to each other frantically, one firing off a burst of un-aimed fire with his Kalashnikov and shattering a few small rocks up and down the hill from him. A shot rang out and the man jerked violently, dark red blooming out across the chest of his white garment. He fell backwards, his rifle clattering to the rocks. Matt took careful aim and fired a shot through the pistolman's upper arm, shredding the muscle of his tricep and crippling his arm. The insurgent howled in pain and fell to his knees, dropping the pistol. A quick burst of fire cut down his other two accomplices and the mountains once again became deathly quiet. The insurgent looked around at the seemingly deserted hillside, trying in vain to see the invisible demons that had killed his brothers. Slowly, he raised his hand over his head, his right arm still limp by his side.

As one, six American soldiers rose from the brush and rock, their Multicam uniforms and equipment making them almost invisible against such a backdrop.
"Keep your hands where we can see them!"
The same guttural voice as before ordered, again in Pashto. The insurgent obeyed, allowing the soldiers to restrain him and begin treating his wound. Lieutenant Shelton slowly rose from his concealed observation point, hiking over to his men a few minutes later.

"Is he talking?"
He asked of a bearded Staff Sergeant, the second in command of their 30-man platoon.
"Yes sir, singin' like a canary."
The Sergeant replied, hand resting on his carbine. Matt looked at the bullet riddled corpses of the Taliban around him and noted they were all decently outfitted, likely veteran fighters. He plucked the captured man's M9 off the ground and let the magazine fall into his palm, ejecting the chambered round and locking the slide back as he handed it to the Sergeant, grip-first.
"Wear it like an issued sidearm when you go through customs and you'll slide right by."
He whispered with a wink. The Sergeant smirked under his grizzled, lumberjack beard and accepted the pistol, tucking it into his patrol pack beneath a spare uniform...

Washington, USA
Present Day

The breeze changed direction and the smell of the battle was quickly blown off into the distance.
"I'm Matt by the way."
He introduced himself.

Jack breathed a sigh of relief as the stranger complied, stepping out from within the cover of the forest. He was ex-military, that was plain to see by his fatigues, well-worn over the years. He had a familiar air about him, however Jack simply could not place it. Looking over his shoulder at the truck with Claire behind it, he called to her, making sure to keep Matt in his peripherals.
"It's okay, he's alright. Go grab Chris, and tell him to come out unarmed as well."
That being said, he turned his attention back to the soldier, taking two non-threatening steps forward to grip the Beretta in his hand. He was briefly reminded of Desmond's gun, the one he talked about so frequently in his writing, but the memories which were not his again escaped Jack as he, too, introduced himself.
"Jack Marino. And we weren't aware of the whole situation; we merely saw the smoke from the fire and came to investigate," he looked around at the bloody scene before him, and wondered if all of them really needed to die. Still, they were dead, and he didn't dwell on it a moment longer.

Claire slowly stood up leaning against the truck for a moment looking at Matt. Her eyes were just empty for a few moments until she realized Jack mentioned Chris and her eyes lit up again. She quickly ran offto find him. As she ran though everything kept running through her head. She was still just so confused. Why did everything have to be so wrong now? Then Jack scolded her for trying to protect him!? Then there was the fact that she didn't hear a single shot come from Chris's direction.

She eventually found where he was though...The gun Jack had handed him not long ago lay there on the ground infront of her. Then some stuff from his back pack had fallen out too. She slowly fell to her knees tears swarming her eyes as she picked up two of his zippo lighters, and the key to the Ducati back at the front building. "No...No..No no no NO!" She kept saying the word to herself. Chris couldn't be gone! They weren't ever supposed to be seperated! Why now? How could this be? They'd been so careful up until now. No...This was too convienient. They meet Jack and then this happened? Could he have something to do with this? Or maybe that other group? Who could she trust!? She put the lighters in her own back pack and put the Ducati key in her pocket. She then reached for the gun but instead hugged herself and just screamed. "Chris!" She would find him. This couldn't be the end for the two of them being together, she wouldn't allow it to be. And she would kill anyone who got in her way. Screw what was right or wrong. All that mattered was getting Chris back.

Matt raised his hand high enough that his three companions could see from cover,
"Guys, all of you come on out!"
He yelled.
"These guys are gonna' get back up before too long. We better do something about that."
He said to Jack, kneeling by the female bandit's corpse and drawing his bayonet from its sheath. He tried not to look too closely at the woman's pale, lifeless features as he forced the blade under the base of her skull and into her brain. He worked the knife back and forth a few times, thoroughly destroying the lower sections of her slowly reanimating brain. He pulled the knife back out with a sickening noise somewhat like a squish. He wiped the gory mess off on the woman's undershirt and smoothly pulled off her jacket. It was a dull green color, made out of an expensive wind and rain resistant material. Shan could use this.
"As awkward as it may be, nowadays we have to live like coyotes. When we kill, we can't afford to waste anything, even clothing."
He explained to jack as he laid the jacket atop one of the tents. The blood would wash off easily enough.

"Let's see what they've collected now."
Matt said, unzipping one of the tents. He paused as he stared inside at the neatly stacked cans and packages of food, fuel and clothing. There was enough to last a dozen people a short time. Or two people a very long time. He glanced at Jack out of the corner of his eye, wondering if the man's thoughts had wandered down the same road as his. To share or hoard? That was the question.

Taking out his pocket knife, Jack silently moved over to the final corpse - the initial casualty of the skirmish - and plunged the blade into his skull. Standing and wiping off the blood on the man's jeans, Jack followed Matt's advice and removed the man's jacket, before turning his attentions back to the soldier. He had found the stash of food inside a tent, and from the look that Matt gave him, Jack could tell that his survival instincts were kicking in.
"Hunting's pretty good around these parts," he spoke up. "I've got a whole buck cut up at my camp - you don't have to worry about me around that food." With a pause, he added. "A coupla cans wouldn't hurt though, if you could spare them.."
A scream from the forest interrupted his conversation, as he recognized Claire's voice. Picking up his gun from the ground in front of him, he took off in the direction of where Chris had been, opposite Matt and the camp. He came upon Claire alone, crying in a small clearing, Chris' gun on the ground in front of her. There wasn't any blood, or signs of a struggle. If he had been taken, it was by surprise. Jack took a second to compose his thoughts, before kneeling down next to the girl.
"Claire.. Chris is alive. I don't know what happened to him, but we will find him. I'll ask the others if they can help, they seem to know these parts. But I'm not going to give up, just like I know you won't, but you need to be strong right now, okay?"

Shan lowered her weapon, breathing a huge sigh of relief as the tension of the two groups was broken. She slowly raised her sore body from the ground, and without much thought, sprinted down the hill, toward the carnage. The only thing on her mind was touching Matt, knowing that he was alright, and making it obvious that she was fine, after being shot at. However, her running came to a halt as a somewhat familiar face stepped up behind Matt with a disgusted look on his face.

"Who's the jacket for? Looks a little small for you, Cap…", Travis murmured to Matt. Shan's breath caught in her throat, and she almost broke into a smile, before sprinting once again to Travis' side.

"Travis?", she whispered, causing Travis' head to snap to her face. He looked as if he was going to faint at first, seeing her alive. She looked like shit, but she was alive and seemingly unharmed. His face broke into a wide smile, and before she could react, a hand was on each of her cheeks, and his lips smashed into hers.

Shocked, Shan didn't move. She only froze, not breathing. When Travis broke away, he wrapped his arms around her tightly, causing her to wince.

"How the fuck are you alive?…Holy shit…I…", he pulled away once more and began kissing all over her face, "Holy shit…"

Shan furrowed her eyebrows, and glanced to Matt with weary eyes. This could be interesting, as Travis knew nothing of the past few months. And she had assumed him dead, whether she wanted to admit it or not...

Claire looked up slowly and then over to Jack. She'd finally lost all of her family. How could they even start to look for Chris though? Why was Jack so willing to help? He would putting himself on the line for this. He'd only met Claire and Chris less than a few hours ago, and now look at them. He couldn't have been part of this...no if he was he would've just grabbed her now, but what about the other group? She rubbed the tears off her face and spoke, her voice still a little shaky. "What if they had something to do with this?" She picked up the gun slowly. She was starting to get used to them, but that didn't mean she liked them.

This thing while she hated to admit it was more effective than her knives. Though her knives had something that this thing never could have. They were silent. Retrievable, unlike bullets. And it didn't take as much to keep them up and running. No risk of jamming, nor any problem concealing them compared to a gun, especially the revolver she was holding. If she was going to use a gun though she wanted something a little longer ranged. With the range they had been fighting lately she realized she didn't care for it one bit. So maybe they could find her some sort of scoped rifle, and hopefully someone could teach her how to use and maintain it. To sight in the scope, account for wind, everything. Though it was obvious that Jack probably didn't have any of that given his past, and lack of such weapon. Maybe that guy Matt? Hm...Only time would tell, and that's only if they didn't take Chris. If they did then this would have to be the end of them after they told her where they took her brother...

"Hey... son... you okay?"

"Leave him for fucks sake..."

"Shut it!"

"You shhh! Remember what happened last time?"

"Hey.... wake up son..."

There next to Chris was a middle aged man. Black hair, surprisly toned body although his skin had been broken through in multiple places. There were numerous bruises and he sported what looked like a fresh black eye. The sullen figure of man was brightened however by the smile he held on his face.

"Glad to see you're not dead."

"What good is that going to do?" The next voice was that of a younger male. He was rested against the wall of the trailer, slumped on his ass with his back pressed into the cold metal wall. He had messy blonde hair and the beginnings of stubble. His eyes were droopy, probably from lack of sleep but the apathy to the others and the hate for everything else was still very visible. Although the others couldn't see it, he was in fact fuming as he had been since he was thrown in with the rest of the group.

"Jesus... it's just good that he's alive okay? The more people... the better our chances of escape right?" The final voice was that of a young woman nearing the end of her teen years. There was this optimism in her words, hope that was absent from the other two and her eyes, even as they darted from person to person frantically held that same hope. It was as if she believed there was the chance for escape and she'd find it no matter what. When she'd failed to find anyone else in agreement with her, she finally settled her eyes on the their newest member. Chris laid there against the door to the trailer, the single window streaming what faded moonlight it could onto his face. The other three could barely make out the small bump forming on the back of his head. "...That looks like it really hurts." She said as she watched him stir.

"Come on son... wake up..."

The final body in the trailer remained silent, haunched over in his own corner as he kept to himself.

Matt paused a moment, glancing between the stash of supplies and Jack.
"Yeah, yeah it's no problem."
He replied, his conscience kicking him for considering squabbling over food like an animal.
He turned on Travis, about to speak, but Shan came bounding down the hill before he could, thereby answering Travis's question.
When Jack ran off to find his companion, Matt hesitated a moment, a bit paranoid about Travis. He too was taken aback when the battered young man embraced Shan and began kissing her. He felt a primal sense of anger and competition immediately, but resisted the urge to sucker punch the young man. Jack might need help. So he retrieved his rifle and sidearm and took off after their new friend.

He found Jack comforting Claire and overhead enough to gather that he was gone, not simply dead.
Without a word, Matt circled the spot of ground like a coyote, studying the little impressions and crushed bits of foliage here and there.
"Whoever it was, they dragged him away, through here."
He said, gesturing to the little drag marks that led further into the woods.
"We might be able to track them."

As Travis backed off, Shan smiled awkwardly, placing both hands on her bony hips.

"You guys made it…did…did things work out like they were supposed to for the most part? Did everyone stay together?", Travis asked, almost begging for her to tell him that everyone was fine, and that they were hidden somewhere. Although he had started off hating the idea of the group, they had become something familiar.

"Well…", she whispered, before sighing and pulling her hands up in front of her, "Things…happened the way they were planned in the beginning. We had a home. We had everything behind walls, like you would hope for. Then…I went looking…"

Travis lowered his head, glancing up at her from under his bangs as she continued.

"…I found your watch on a dead body…and assumed that you would be nearby, but it was just a fluke. There were men in the city who…", she dropped her hands, and then glanced to the direction Matt had run, "He saved me…and he's kept me alive. He's tired, though. I don't know how much further we can go like this. Everyone else is dead…"

Travis closed his eyes tightly at the news, and flexed his sore and battered hands, "I'm here now…"

"You are…", Shan signed, smiling softly, "I can't believe you're alive. I stopped looking, and I'm sorry…I'm so sorry…"

Travis shook his head, walking forward to follow Matt's footsteps, "You shouldn't have looked in the first place. I'm alive, ain't I? I'm here. I'm alive…You're alive. Now…I think I owe him my hands…"

Smiling, Shan followed behind, to join Matt. He slowed as he noticed Matt studying the area, and came to a stop as to not disturb his 'path'.

"How can I help?"