Post by Deleted on Feb 2, 2016 1:35:25 GMT -5
"Yale, you son of a bitch, its been years."
Patrick nodded, muttering to himself as he leaned against a tree, watching the empty road in front of himself idly. "Yeah. That's what I'll say. That's what I'll say when that guy shows his face again." He nodded again, sticking his hands in his pockets for an extra bit of warmth. It was cold again. At least in the south the winters weren't as bad as up north. This meant the walkers suffered less too, unfortunately.
He sighed heavily, flicking his aviator shades back down over his eyes. At least they made him feel cool. That was enough for him. He stood there, watching the road for a while longer, then sighed again and pushed off from the tree. He ambled down the highway, kicking a rock in front of himself from time to time. Sometimes he spotted a walker staring at him by the side of the road. He always made sure to shove them headfirst into the dirt before stabbing them in the back of the head with his trusted knife. The less of them there were, the less chance of them stumbling after him and trying to eat him in his sleep. He would have killed for a wingman again.
And on it went. Patrick walked, sometimes stopping to stab walkers, sometimes pausing to check trunks of abandoned cars. Not much was left. North Carolina had been fairly populated, which meant supplies got looted fast. He figured he should have probably joined another group of survivors by now, but putting infected members down always left a bad taste in his mouth.
"Damn civilians. Hell. Guess I'm a civilian now too! Ha!" he chuckled, stopping in the road. More walkers up ahead. The mass of rotting flesh eaters didn't seem to notice him yet. There had to be at least twenty of them.
Now, he was a reckless person, but that didn't mean he was THAT stupid. He strolled off into the woods again, unsure of where he was going anymore. Maybe he should try to hunt something? That might just end with him trying to knife fight a bear or something to death. He shook his head. He'd rather try to live off his last few MREs.
He sat down next to another tree, this one facing a small country road instead. He'd just sit and wait to see what happened. Maybe he'd just get lucky and a rabbit would jump into his lap. Roasted rabbit sounded really good right about now. He took his gun out and checked to make sure it was loaded. He kept it loosely held in one hand, just in case.
Yep. Just wait and see what happens. Hell of a plan.
Patrick nodded, muttering to himself as he leaned against a tree, watching the empty road in front of himself idly. "Yeah. That's what I'll say. That's what I'll say when that guy shows his face again." He nodded again, sticking his hands in his pockets for an extra bit of warmth. It was cold again. At least in the south the winters weren't as bad as up north. This meant the walkers suffered less too, unfortunately.
He sighed heavily, flicking his aviator shades back down over his eyes. At least they made him feel cool. That was enough for him. He stood there, watching the road for a while longer, then sighed again and pushed off from the tree. He ambled down the highway, kicking a rock in front of himself from time to time. Sometimes he spotted a walker staring at him by the side of the road. He always made sure to shove them headfirst into the dirt before stabbing them in the back of the head with his trusted knife. The less of them there were, the less chance of them stumbling after him and trying to eat him in his sleep. He would have killed for a wingman again.
And on it went. Patrick walked, sometimes stopping to stab walkers, sometimes pausing to check trunks of abandoned cars. Not much was left. North Carolina had been fairly populated, which meant supplies got looted fast. He figured he should have probably joined another group of survivors by now, but putting infected members down always left a bad taste in his mouth.
"Damn civilians. Hell. Guess I'm a civilian now too! Ha!" he chuckled, stopping in the road. More walkers up ahead. The mass of rotting flesh eaters didn't seem to notice him yet. There had to be at least twenty of them.
Now, he was a reckless person, but that didn't mean he was THAT stupid. He strolled off into the woods again, unsure of where he was going anymore. Maybe he should try to hunt something? That might just end with him trying to knife fight a bear or something to death. He shook his head. He'd rather try to live off his last few MREs.
He sat down next to another tree, this one facing a small country road instead. He'd just sit and wait to see what happened. Maybe he'd just get lucky and a rabbit would jump into his lap. Roasted rabbit sounded really good right about now. He took his gun out and checked to make sure it was loaded. He kept it loosely held in one hand, just in case.
Yep. Just wait and see what happens. Hell of a plan.