It had been several years since the outbreak had really gotten kicked off in the world. Most hadn't even realized anything was wrong until the first year was almost over, as most people thought they were coming down with some sort of strain of the flu. Now the survivors only wished that were the case. Nowadays if you weren't hiding from or fighting off the infected, you were doing the same with your fellow man, who seemed just as hell bent in screwing you over as the cannibalistic asshats that now roamed the streets no matter where you went. It was for this reason that the two brothers were currently making their way towards Asheville, where one of them had a secluded cabin in the woods.
When the infection had really started, James Ross had been on leave at the time. His brother David had been traveling into Fayetville to spend some time with his brother when his truck had been put out of commission by some ass with a roll of that tire popping wire that the police often used. The guy didn't look like a cop, but it didn't really matter as he was soon pulling David out of his truck. He had been about to kill him to, were it not for the unfortunate event that was several of the undead things showing up that caused the guy to book it. His truck was usable, but he didn't think he'd get far with nothing but metal wheels. So he had grabbed the pack he'd brought on the assumption that they'd be going camping and hunting, and continued on foot. When he eventually managed to meet up with his brother, he found out just what the hell had been going on in the city, considering he lived in the woods away from all this.
Now the two were making slow progress towards Asheville using the jeep James owned as a pack mule, trying to save as much gas as possible. They had siphoned gas from a few cars, but it seemed like most had already had their gas taken long before they ever got there. Currently in Raleigh, their home town, the two were on edge in the capitol city of North Carolina. Both had seen survivors and infected alike, and both knew the dangers in them. They'd killed before, and while not exactly desensitized towards the action, they were willing to do it again.
Now in downtown Raleigh, James was currently sitting in the shotgun seat of his Jeep, an M16A4 held in his hands as he kept a sharp eye on the streets around them, hoping they could get out of this urban deathtrap as quickly as possible. His brother was driving the car, trying to weave between the various vehicles sitting in the roads, his own rifle propped up next to him in the case that they ended up having to both open fire on someone. Granted, his own rifle, a Winchester Model 70, was basically a civilian equivalent to a sniper rifle and not a fully automatic weapon like what James had, but it could still put down a man, infected or not, with relative ease. He just hoped he wouldn't have to use it.
When the infection had really started, James Ross had been on leave at the time. His brother David had been traveling into Fayetville to spend some time with his brother when his truck had been put out of commission by some ass with a roll of that tire popping wire that the police often used. The guy didn't look like a cop, but it didn't really matter as he was soon pulling David out of his truck. He had been about to kill him to, were it not for the unfortunate event that was several of the undead things showing up that caused the guy to book it. His truck was usable, but he didn't think he'd get far with nothing but metal wheels. So he had grabbed the pack he'd brought on the assumption that they'd be going camping and hunting, and continued on foot. When he eventually managed to meet up with his brother, he found out just what the hell had been going on in the city, considering he lived in the woods away from all this.
Now the two were making slow progress towards Asheville using the jeep James owned as a pack mule, trying to save as much gas as possible. They had siphoned gas from a few cars, but it seemed like most had already had their gas taken long before they ever got there. Currently in Raleigh, their home town, the two were on edge in the capitol city of North Carolina. Both had seen survivors and infected alike, and both knew the dangers in them. They'd killed before, and while not exactly desensitized towards the action, they were willing to do it again.
Now in downtown Raleigh, James was currently sitting in the shotgun seat of his Jeep, an M16A4 held in his hands as he kept a sharp eye on the streets around them, hoping they could get out of this urban deathtrap as quickly as possible. His brother was driving the car, trying to weave between the various vehicles sitting in the roads, his own rifle propped up next to him in the case that they ended up having to both open fire on someone. Granted, his own rifle, a Winchester Model 70, was basically a civilian equivalent to a sniper rifle and not a fully automatic weapon like what James had, but it could still put down a man, infected or not, with relative ease. He just hoped he wouldn't have to use it.
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