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    EpicVakarian

    Calibration-Master General
    Rosalyn beckoned silently to Oliver, drawing him closer. They were raiding a bakery; they were trying to find some bread to fill their stomachs. However, they hadn't accounted for the thin aisles between the long-cold ovens. As Oliver came alongside her, crouched down like she was, she leaned in closer.
    "Four of them," she whispered. "Two to the left, two to the right. I've got left. Meet in the middle when you're done." Oliver nodded, and they split up. Rosalyn, still crouching down so as not to alert the infected to their presence, headed left, drawing her machete.

    The first infected came into view, thankfully facing away from Rosalyn as she turned a corner. The quiet snarls and groans still sent chills down her spine. She drew closer, and closer, then swiftly stood up and buried her blade in the corpse's throat. There was a quiet gurgle; loud enough to draw the attention of the other infected on the left, but not enough for the infected on the right side to hear. She pressed her body into cover, listening for the slow shuffling of the corpse's feet. As it wandered round the corner, Rosalyn jumped up again and shoved her machete up through its head, from chin to cranium.

    Satisfied, she retreated to the middle, staying quiet until Oliver turned up; at which point, she stood up and spoke normally.

    "Right, lets strip the place down."
    Ten minutes later, both of them had filled their bags with loaves of bread. They headed out of the bakery, walking out of the suburb.

    In an entirely different suburb lay their claimed house, a nice large house with plenty of room, in a cul-de-sac, meaning it was easily defensible. They'd knocked down the two houses on either side to make room for a solid fence, too. Oliver held the key, and he unlocked the gate, letting them both in.

    Rosalyn unpacked her loaves of bread into a cupboard, heading upstairs without a word to read. Oliver didn't take it personally; he knew Rosalyn preferred to be alone. She had a copy of Of Mice and Men that she'd found weeks ago, and had already finished it three times. Throwing her bags and weaponry into the chest at the foot of the bed, she dropped herself down onto the bed and opened the book, continuing her read and waiting for night to fall.
     

    Kaelbu

    Well-Known Member
    Darkness.
    It's always so dark now that the world has ended.

    Annie sat up in her sleeping bag, still feeling as tired as she did when she nodded off.
    She groggily forced herself to stand, knocking over a half-empy vodka bottle and bumping her head on the low ceiling simultaneously.

    What time is it? she briefly wondered, cracking her door to peek outside.
    She'd been camping under a staircase in an abandoned house for weeks, only leaving to scavenge and dump her waste bucket. She knew how disgusting she must look. It was just difficult for her to care. There was no one to clean up for. No one to repulse. No goal to work towards. No real reason to live.
    She wanted so badly to leave the shriveled husk of a world she was in, but the fear of Hell fire kept her from killing herself.

    It was light outside. Apparently morning, but she couldn't be sure. She quit bothering to keep time when the group she travelled west with died off.
    One by one, they fell to the infected until it was only Annie left. Hobbling along with the little sanity she had left, like a car with three wheels.

    Her husband, Roland, died long before.
    When the reality of the infection was just a "news scare", as he'd called it. Just something grim on TV to distract them from their normal every-day lives. A channel to be changed and forgotten.

    The day he died was a sunny day...
    Just like today...

    Annie gritted her teeth and pushed open the door. It was time to scavenge; to scrape by just to live her cursed life a little longer.
    She snatched up her guns and little blood-stained gardening spade. Her eyes lingered on it as she was once again assaulted with memories of "that day".
    Shaking her head, she slammed the door shut behind her and departed from the house, heading for the shops down the street.

    She couldn't remember how long it'd been since she last made a run. A couple days? A whole week? Longer? Her stash was nearly depleted, so it must've been quite a while.

    Rounding a corner, Annie found three infected choking down what appeared to be a dead animal of some kind. At one time, such a sight would've had her dry heaving as she retreated back to safety. Now, however, she welcomed the challenge. Worst-case scenario, she would become painfully wounded and survive to suffer. Best-case, she would die quickly. She had nothing to lose.

    Annie grabbed a nearby brick and threw it at the trio, knocking the smallest one in the head and downing it instantly. The others turned to her, snarling through blood and tendon-laced teeth. She stood straight and still as a statue, clutching her trusty spade in her right hand, inviting their advance.

    At once, the pair charged her, gnashing their teeth like rabid dogs. Annie caught the first in the gut with her spade, scooping a chunk of him out and slowing him down considerably.
    The second clawed the air by her head, very nearly hitting its mark. Annie ducked out of reach before plunging her weapon into its forehead. It fell with a sickening thud, leaving her with only her first target.

    He glared at her with inhuman eyes, clumsily tripping over his own intestines to close the gap between them.
    Annie looked over his pitiable condition, wondering who he was before becoming infected. As he came closer, she ended the one-sided battle with a swift jab through the eye. Whoever he was had been long dead. His soul surely wasn't there anymore. In that regard, Annie envied him.

    Scraping her spade against the edge of the sidewalk to remove the excess gore, she began eyeing the nearby storefronts.
    She made a mental checklist of what to look out for:
    Water.
    Canned goods.
    Dried meats.
    Batteries.
    Rubbing alcohol.
    Drinking alcohol.
    Toilet paper...

    As she brought her hand up to scratch the back of her head, it was met with a matted mess of hair.
    ... Hair brush.

    Approaching a pharmacy, Annie cupped her hands around her eyes and placed them against the window. Everything appeared quiet and still, but she knew appearances could be deceiving.

    Annie opened the door as quietly as she could, slipping in as it shut behind her. She snatched up a grocery bag and began filling it with water bottles.
    In the next aisle, she found a brush and hand mirrors. Feeling almost silly for being so petty, she began working the tangles out of her blond hair. For a moment, she almost felt like her old self; worrying about appearances, shopping in the hair care aisle of a drug store, looking into a mirror at the same face she'd always found staring back at her.
    But it was just for a moment.

    When her hair was sufficiently detangled, Annie moved on to the toiletries.
    She had just picked up a pack of toilet paper when she heard the low growling from the back of the store. She was trespassing.

    Annie immediately crouched down and leaned her head out from behind the aisle. A towering figure stood at the back wall, looking more like a grizzly bear than a human.
    How did I not see that before?

    It's low, throaty breathing seemed to echo off the walls of the store. It was all Annie needed to hear. She would be no match for it.
    It was tempting for her to attack it anyway, but that would count as suicide to her. She had to leave.

    Slowly, carefully, Annie turned her back to it and made her way to the door. She hadn't been particularly worried before, but now that she knew an infected was there, it was like every step she took snapped a twig. Sweat began to bead on her brow.
    Just keep moving, she told herself. Get out of here.

    As her hand met the door's handle, the monster twisted around to face her.
    Crap.

    Annie shoved past the door and sprinted for her life toward her hideout. Only a few seconds later, however, she heard the crash of the glass storefront behind her.
    Her legs couldn't move fast enough as the guttural growls of the behemoth got closer and closer.

    She had no choice but to run straight past her house, but was able to pick up speed as she dropped her loot on the lawn there. She ran at least a mile along the rows of houses, the infected getting farther behind her, but always persisting.
    Annie had never even gone this far away from her stair closet before. Everything was starting to look the same, when suddenly she spotted a house with what looked like a recently-built fence.

    Her mind didn't have time to question what she was seeing. Without hesitating, Annie bolted toward the gate, throwing her fists at it.
    "Help! Is anyone there?!"

    She reluctantly glanced behind her, only to see her stalker barreling toward her.
    With no time to think, she ran around the side of the house in hopes that the fence would end, but it didn't. Once she'd made her way back to the front, her pursuer was still around a corner, giving her precious seconds to think of something else.
    But her mind was drawing a blank.

    "Let me in! Please!" she called instinctively. For all she knew, no one was there, but her judgment had been altered by panic.
    She stared stubbornly at the gate, trying to accept that death may be near. This was the most alive she'd felt in weeks. At least she'd found the energy to put up a fight after all.
     

    Blitzz

    A Friendly Brit
    Oliver peered through the window of the bakery, trying to make out any sign of the infected in the gloom. He moved up alongside Rosalyn, and crouched down next to her. "Four of them," she whispered. "Two to the left, two to the right. I've got left. Meet in the middle when you're done." Oliver nodded, and they split up. Oliver slithered off to the right, trying to spot the infected before they spotted him. He heard the unmistakable sounds of Rosalyn dispatching one infected. Oliver couldn't even see his own targets. As he moved further to lean around the isle, he spotted the first one, and his grip on his hatchet tightened.

    As quietly as he could, Oliver sneaked up behind the undead, making sure his footing wouldn't alert it, and raised his hatchet up, slashing it down swiftly into the top of the infected's head. The blade slid cleanly through the infected's head, through the skull and into its brain, killing it outright, quickly and quietly. One more to go. He walked, hunched over to the end of the isle. As he turned right, he found himself a yard away, face to face with the second. Without a moment's hesitation he swung his hatchet sideways, catching the infected in the side of the head and cutting horizontally through both eyes. That was it. He could gather now. He made his way back to Rosalyn, who was waiting for him at the front of the store. "Right, lets strip the place down."

    Olly swung his backpack off of his shoulder and unzipped it. He peered down at the coil of rope, first aid pack, extra ammunition. A bottle of water, a can of beans. Still plenty of room. He managed to get three loaves in, but soon he had to grab a sports bag that he had left outside the shop and load more into it. He kept his shotgun in that bag, and now he was using it to carry bread. Ten minutes later, both of them were stocked, and they headed out of the store, and then out of the suburb.

    In an entirely different suburb lay their claimed house, a nice large house with plenty of room, in a cul-de-sac, meaning it was easily defensible. They'd knocked down the two houses on either side to make room for a solid fence, too. It had taken him months to demolish one of the houses by hand, but luckily the other was already damaged enough to come down in a matter of weeks. Oliver held the key, and he unlocked the gate, letting them both in.

    They both headed straight into the kitchen, and unpacked their haul into the cupboards. Just as usual, Rosalyn was gone, up the stairs without saying a word, leaving Oliver alone downstairs. He had a few things to do before he could make dinner. He made his way into the living room and claimed his armchair. It was nice, with a large corner sofa and a plasma screen TV. Even if it didn't work, it looked nice. The walls were white, and the carpet was a light shade of brown. Oliver laid a cloth accross his lap, and put his hatchet atop it. He wiped the blade clean with a rag, and then grabbed the knife-sharpener from the kitchen and went over the blade until it was good and sharp. Satisfied, he put the hatchet on the small coffee table next to the armchair, and went out into the garden. It was spacious, and Oliver had been working tirelessly to plant a garden. Nothing had sprouted yet, but he had a small patch of about 5 square metres sowed with carrots. Using a bottle of rain water he sprinkled over the struggling crop.

    Oliver went twice around the fence, checking for any structural weakness. Satisfied that it would hold for now, he headed back inside. Oliver laid himself out on the sofa, taking his hat off and just resting his eyes. When he awoke, the sun was retreating behind the rooftops. Oliver drew all the curtains, and put the extra locks on the gate. He re-nailed the boards to the doors and windows, and then went to the cupboard. He had a small supply of fuel left to use in a camping stove, so he pulled a tin of beans from the cupboard and began to cook them. He sliced a loaf of bread and got two plates. He topped the bread with beans, and grabbed a fork, taking the meal up to Rosalyn.

    When he opened the door, Rosalyn was laid out on her bed, reading as usual. Of Mice and Men. She had to have finished it by now, surely. "Hey. I brought you some food." Oliver put the meal on the bedside table. Rosalyn was clearly engrossed. She was rarely talkative with a book in her hands. "Make sure you eat it, before the beans get cold." He turned and left, walking accross the landing to the bedroom at the front of the house. It was the only room with no boarded windows; the room from which he kept watch at night. He lit a candle in the far corner of the room, just enough to fight off the shadows inside without being obvious from the outside. A wooden rocking chair faced out of the window, and Oliver assumed his seat for the night.

    For once he stayed awake for the whole night. The rifle he kept next to window hadn't been needed once. It was early in the morning, and he had begun to drift off, when he heard shouting. "Rosalyn. Rosalyn wake up." He called accross the landing, not taking his eyes off of the street.

    "Help! Is anyone there?" Someone was banging on their gate.

    "ROS! UP, NOW!"
    Oliver screamed accross for her to wake up. "GET THE GATE!" Oliver grabbed the rifle and looked out onto the street, trying to find the reason why this person needed help. She, for he was certain from the voice that the person was female, ran around the corner, and then came back. That was when Oliver spotted the enormous infected barreling down the road. It was the biggest he'd ever seen for sure, and was moving too fast to head-shot. "Let me in! Please!" Oliver took aim, and the rifle let out a shrill crack as a bullet collided with the beast's shoulder, as clo as he could get to its head, causing it to tumble. Now that it was on the ground he could pick it off. Another round hit it in the head, but didn't penetrate, it simply forced it further down onto the ground. Cursing under his breath, Olly took aim, and squeezed the trigger again. The bullet entered through its eye, killing it at last.
     
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    Skyrimosity

    Well-Known Member
    Rhett was rummaging through all the crevices of a convenience store. He was unlucky he had been caught up in this whole mess while in San Francisco; he had only intended to be in California for one or two years as part of his travel plans. He took up odd jobs out & about to pay for life costs and a few extra things, but life was always about travel for him. Well, he got plenty of travel now. There was always another store to look through, always another Infected to hide from. At any rate, right now he had found another bottle of water.

    The bottle was half-drunk within seconds. Rhett had not been thirsty before finding the water, but he felt an extreme thirst upon picking it up. He thought of that as the major skill he had acquired in the time since it all started; the ability to unconsciously delay the satisfaction of need. Anyway, he had only found a bottle of water in the store and a couple of packs of junk food. He stuffed them into his crowded backpack when he saw his reflection in the shards of broken glass that was once a window.

    He laughed. Here he was, a Southerner in full coveralls and boots, walking around stores near the suburbs of San Francisco in the Apocalypse. He had not laughed since the plops hit the fan, but his laughter was uncontrollable. This inexplicable laughter, naturally, invited an infected to the store. The monster charged at Rhett, but he wasn't too worried. He drew his machete, and as the thing got near, he sliced it with all his might across the throat. The creature went reeling sideways, it's head halfway detached. Rhett needed just a moment longer to finish the job.

    As he walked out of the store, he heard running nearby. He heard the moans of an infected that sounded bigger than any he had ever encountered. His curiosity was piqued. He followed the situation from a safe distance for a while, noticing that a girl was being chased by a large monster. This normally would be of little concern to Rhett, but he felt interested. He continued to follow them until the girl reached a door. She screamed for entry, and before long gunshots were being fired from the building. The infected's knee was taken out, and it fell on the ground. Of course, it would not just stop there.

    Rhett's eyes were taken off of the situation as he heard the sound of footsteps from behind. He could see a few infected, slowly walking forward. He quickly drew his gun, a D101-MR switch-fire rifle. He had it set to single-fire mode. He had found it with a suppressor, luckily, but even with a suppressor any infected within ten yards would easily take notice. He had it fully loaded with fifteen rounds, and opened fire on the small group of infected. As soon as the first one fell, the other four started charging. Rhett, however, was a quick shot, and dispatched one after another until there were no more. He quickly jogged to join the distressed girl and mysterious shooters.

    "Hi, there's no time to explain, but I'm Rhett. I just killed a couple of infected over there, and I'd appreciate it if I could come inside and you didn't kill me please."
     

    Kaelbu

    Well-Known Member
    The sound of gunfire filled the air.
    When the smoke cleared-- so to speak-- it became evident that the giant was slain, along with a group of other infected a little farther away. Annie just stood there in front of the gate, frozen.

    Guns.
    She felt incredibly stupid. All this time she'd survived, with and without help, hardly ever having to use her gun. It was only now that she'd finally needed it that she forgot about it entirely.
    Her eyes trailed over to a man dressed in garb she was all too familiar with. He looked like he was going deer hunting rather than apocalypse surviving.

    "Hi, there's no time to explain," he said. "but I'm Rhett. I just killed a couple of infected over there, and I'd appreciate it if I could come inside and you didn't kill me please."

    Annie stared at him for a few seconds. She hadn't seen another person in so long, she wasn't sure how to react. Instead of sifting through her feelings, however, she pushed them to the back of her mind. She redirected her attention to where the first shots originated: the second story window.

    "P-please?" she called up to the man.
    Other infected would hear the gun shots. While it wasn't the wisest of moves to plead for entry into a stranger's home, it certainly wouldn't be the dumbest thing she'd done that day. It was, however, still early.
     

    EpicVakarian

    Calibration-Master General
    Not long before midnight, Oliver entered Rosalyn's room, holding a plate of bread and beans, steaming nicely. While not a meal she would have appreciated in the old world, she found her mouth filling with drool quickly just looking at it.
    "Hey. I brought you some food." He smiled at her, putting the plate down on the bedside table. Rosalyn just nodded in thanks. "Make sure you eat it, before the beans get cold." He turned and left, retreating to his own room to take watch. Rosalyn kept reading for five more minutes before placing the book down and eating the meal Oliver had made her. She would have preferred for the bread to be toasted, but in this world, choices like that were a luxury. It was good though, and Rosalyn finished it off quickly, setting the plate down on the table again and laying down to drift off to sleep.

    Rosalyn was awake early. The sun was shining in the dark way that could only mean it was sunrise. She pushed herself up, leaning against the headboard, rubbing her eyes before immediately opening her book again.
    She didn't get long, though. She heard Oliver call through;

    "Rosalyn." Her ears perked up, and she listened more carefully. She thought she could hear faint shouting beside Oliver's voice, but didn't have time to think about it. "Rosalyn, wake up." Rosalyn swung herself out of bed, sitting on the mattress with her eyes narrowed, worried. She then realised the importance of the fact that there was shouting at all; just as Oliver decided it was important.

    "ROS! UP, NOW! GET THE GATE!" Rosalyn's mind kicked into action; grabbing her rifle, she sprinted downstairs, skipping the last four steps and jarring her ankle slightly, making her trip and fall down. As quickly as she could, she leapt up and charged for the door, throwing it open and rushing for the gate. Oliver had opened fire on the infected chasing the woman who was banging on the gate, so she knew she ought to be ready to fight off all those attracted by the noise.

    Before Rosalyn could even approach the gate, another man had appeared, a similar age to Rosalyn and quite tall; by the look on the woman's face, a complete stranger. The chances were low; two survivors coming across the house in one day? Last she'd heard, there weren't enough survivors in San Fran to even fill out this cul-de-sac. A city of nearly a million inhabitants, brought down to a neighbourhood.

    "Hi, there's no time to explain, but I'm Rhett," the man said matter-of-factly, "I just killed a couple of infected over there, and I'd appreciate it if I could come inside and you didn't kill me, please."
    The woman, who looked a little older than Rosalyn and a similar age to Oliver, sounded rather less composed.
    "P-please?"

    Rosalyn moved forward, unlocking the gate and ushering the two survivors in quickly.
    "Go and sit in the sitting room, I'll get Oliver down to talk to you." She paused as she turned, before turning back and giving as close to a smile as she could; more of a grimace, in reality. "I'm Rosalyn." She then headed upstairs, entering Oliver's room and shutting the door behind her. They both knew what each other were thinking.

    "You'd better come downstairs, so we can decide whether we can trust them." Rosalyn put down her rifle, slipping her pistol into the back of her pants and lifting her top over to cover it up. She was downstairs first, sitting on one of the armchairs, facing across from the two survivors, sat on the sofa. Leaning forward and wrapping her hands together, she closely examined each one. The man was tall, thin, dressed in a very redneck-esque, camouflaged full-body outfit with walking boots. He was certainly the one to watch of the two; he looked more dangerous and less innocent than the woman. She was relatively short, with long blonde hair and dressed in a similar outfit to Rosalyn's own; a green tank top, brown pants and black combat boots. Neither said a word, nor Rosalyn, as Oliver came downstairs to sit in the last armchair and examine the two. Rosalyn simply kept her position, waiting for someone else to make the first move.
     

    Blitzz

    A Friendly Brit
    Oliver breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Rosalyn reach the gate. He sat back in his chair and put his face in his hands for a few seconds, wiping the sweat from his brow. Oliver saw the gate close, but didn't see anyone come in, and heard the front door shut, followed by footsteps on the stairs. He stood as Rosalyn entered, facing her. "You'd better come downstairs, so we can decide whether we can trust them."

    Oliver waited a few seconds after she left before following, checking to make sure his handgun was loaded and on his hip. Brushing his hair back away from his eyes, he followed down the stairs and into the living room. There were two people, sat on the sofa. One was a woman, who looked about the same age as Oliver. She was short, with blonde hair, and had the look of a woman who'd seen far too much, and wouldn't soon forget any of it. She looked nervous. The man, however, seemed to be more composed. He was dressed in camouflage overalls, and his face remained expressionless as Oliver entered. Oliver walked past them to his armchair in the corner, giving both of them a look over as he went past. After a few minutes examining them, he decided to get started. "Ok, you," he pointed to the woman, "stand up." He searched the woman and took any weapons, putting them on the coffee table in the middle of the room. He followed the same procedure with the man, stripping him of all of his weapons. His time in the military had taught him all the places people would try to conceal a weapon or bomb.

    "Thank you for making that easy." The way someone reacted to being searched searched was a good indicator of their person. If they didn't want to be searched, they were likely to be hiding something. "My name is Oliver, and in case she hasn't told you yet this is Rosalyn." He gestured to his friend, who was sitting quietly. "You'll have to excuse her. She's not really a people's person." Oliver walked over and sat back in his chair, whipping the hair from his eyes again, and scratching at his stubble. "Now, before we decide if you're going to be staying here, we have to run through a few questions. So let's start simple. Tell me a little it about yourselves. Did you travel here together?"
     

    Kaelbu

    Well-Known Member
    Annie sat down on the sofa, feeling a bit awkward being around people again. Beneath that discomfort, however, was relief. Being congregated in a fairly normal-looking living room with fairly normal-looking humans made her feel... fairly normal.

    Regaining her composure, Annie sat in silence as everyone took their seats. The young woman, Rosalyn, sat across from her, and after a while was joined by the man Annie had seen in the window; her savior.

    She and Rhett were disarmed and searched, which didn't surprise her. She would want the same reassurance if their roles were reversed. The pair seemed trustworthy enough, but she would have to keep her guard up until she knew for sure they weren't going to eat her kidney in the middle of the night.

    "Thank you for making that easy," the man said. "My name is Oliver, and in case she hasn't told you yet this is Rosalyn. You'll have to excuse her. She's not really a people person."
    With that, he returned to his seat.
    "Now, before we decide if you're going to be staying here, we have to run through a few questions. So let's start simple. Tell me a little it about yourselves. Did you travel here together?"

    "No." Annie told him. "I've been holed up by myself for a few weeks now... I think." She seemed to look through the walls of the house into the distance, trying to remember exactly how long she'd been in San Francisco. Time suddenly mattered again.

    Realizing she'd never given her name, she remembered her manners.
    "I'm Annie..."
    Last names seemed irrelevant.
    With the utmost sincerity, she addressed the room.
    "And thank you."

    She turned to Rhett, ready to hear how well he kept time for himself.
     

    Skyrimosity

    Well-Known Member
    Rhett was glad when the gate was opened. That was an important step in him not getting killed violently, he supposed. He took a seat on the couch as Oliver introduced himself and Rosalyn. It would appear that they were the de facto owners of this house. It was possible of course that they had also owned it before but Rhett didn't really notice anything around which would prove such a claim.

    Oliver searched Rhett and the other girl really quickly and confiscated their weapons. Rhett didn't really like it but figured that if they were going to blow his brains out they would have or if they wanted to let them die then the gates wouldn't have been opened. Besides, being distrusting of everyone could get a little exhausting.

    "Thank you for making that easy,"Oliver said. "My name is Oliver, and in case she hasn't told you yet this is Rosalyn. You'll have to excuse her. She's not really a people person."

    With that, he returned to his seat.

    "Now, before we decide if you're going to be staying here, we have to run through a few questions. So let's start simple. Tell me a little it about yourselves. Did you travel here together?"

    "No." the girl told him. "I've been holed up by myself for a few weeks now... I think. I'm Annie... and thank you."

    She turned to Rhett, so Rhett figured it was his turn to talk.

    "Well, ever since this all started, I've just been a scavenger and a survivor. I was in a rather nearby convenience store that was almost thoroughly cleaned out when I heard this girl... Annie screaming. I also heard the moan of that infected and since it was something I hadn't heard before I was interested. So I followed the commotion but wasn't able to get a shot. That's when I noticed some more infected and could tell they were just reeling to get to Annie. I killed them as quick as I could, not sure if you all saw me or not, and went up to the gate. That's when I met Annie, and that's when I met you all. So no, we did not travel together and this is not part of some sort of master plan."

    Rhett began to wonder if infected were gathering outside or not. It could be possible there were not that many in the area, but you could never be certain of something like that.
     

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