[b]Travis Hogue - Rural Jonesboro[/b]

Travis couldn’t believe his horrible luck, as he smeared the blood on his hands all over his shirt. He stared, teary eyed at the body in front of him: what was left of the old man, his only family. A tiny sob left his throat as his bloody hand came up to run through his hair, sticking to the fibers like glue and holding them upright.

“What the hell is happening…What’s happening…”, he whispered, turning in a brief circle. He spotted the shotgun the old man kept in the corner, behind the door, for protection. He almost scoffed at the word protection running through his brain. A whole lot of good that did him. Another broken sob threatened to escape as he picked the shotgun up and weighed it in his hand.

This had to stop. It was only going to get worse, but it had to stop. 

A crash against the front door shook him to his core, and although his vision was a little blurred, he turned on the noise and approached the door. From the sounds of the moans, he could tell that it was another sick person. It was another one of them…and they couldn’t be saved. They were vicious…rabid, even. 

Turning the doorknob, he swung the door open, and held the shotgun up with his terribly shaky hands.

“Stay back…”, he murmured, before sobbing. He had never killed anyone, before this day. He had never had the urge to, but it was out of his control, “Please. I don’t want to hurt you…”

It was another neighbor, from a cross the field. She was missing most of her mouth and chin, and what was left of the flesh seemed to be melting down onto her dingy white dress. Wincing, Travis held the barrel close to her chest, which she simply pressed against, pushing him backward.

“I’m so sorry…”, he whispered, before pulling the trigger. The shotgun bit a huge chunk out of the woman’s stomach, but she didn’t stop. It seemed to cause her no pain, which threw Travis back even more. He pulled the pump down with what little strength he had left, and fired another shot into the woman’s stomach, causing her intestines to seep out, and fall into a pile on the floor.

“Shit. Oh god…”, he groaned, pumping the shotgun once more. This time, he aimed at her head, and fired. The woman dropped like a stone and the moaning stopped. Shaking so hard that he could barely stand, Travis leaned against the wall and closed his eyes.

This was beyond sickness. These people…they were dead.

(I will post for Ryland on the next round, since she’s all the way across the city from him)