[center] Michael, Elijah and Lee[/center]

The slight stench of decayed, rotting bodies was the same, no matter where you went. New York, Florida, Louisiana...it was all the same. Congealed blood, the tangy coppery scent mixing with the smell of horse shit and vomit. He had become used to it...he would never come to recognize it as a familiar and nostalgic smell, but at least he stopped gagging whenever they came upon hordes of dead, ripped apart bodies. It was common now - a sight and scent that you would just glance over, shake your head in either disgust or pity, and continue on your less-than-merry way. Being in a truck with two other men made it slightly less horrifying, at least. The large, bloodstained silver Dodge Ram crunched over the body parts and liquid-soaked gravel of the crumbling and silent road, moving at a slow, cautious speed, the truck's engine having been muffled with a smaller, rustier pipe that had been fitted on the truck as soon as the realization that sound caused death was realized. 

A man was in the driver's seat of the truck, sharp, focused, and weary blue eyes constantly surveying the road in front of them as he whipped the truck around a corner and pressed the stick shift down, lowering the truck into a slower, quieter gear. The man was about as clean as you could get in such a fucked up world - not absolute grimy, but his pants were rough, and his dark green jacket had obviously seen better days, stained dark brown from mud in some places. His hands, calloused and scarred from the constant stress of pulling back a sturdy recurve bow, was gripping the truck's stirring wheel tightly, even as he made to push up the stick shift once more. Michael knew exactly where he was going, despite the numerous twitches and turns. His two companions, Elijah and Lee, were planning on snooping around the residential areas of this city, to see what they could find, while Michael himself planned on heading over to the supermarket and seeing what he could scrounge up there. While the small group hadn't garnered any injuries that could spell life-threatening, antiseptics and medicine, even adrenaline, was something that was needed in this hell-torn world. Lee was a surgeon - that increased their survival chances by a shit ton.

"Are ya'll sure that you want to be dropped off by yourself?" Michael spoke up, not taking his eyes off of the road as he carefully drove over the skull of a crippled zombie. 
"We can handle ourselves, Mike" spoke, Elijah, inspecting his rifle as he did every day. "Me n' Lee known each other since New Orleans, we're a good team, so long as his hip don't break" He grinned, pleased with his jab at Lee's age.
"Eli, I'm only about ten years older than you." Retorted Lee as he stepped off the truck, swinging his backpack round.  "At least I didn't get my knee shattered by some bitch ass white boy" He continued, only to receive the noise of Elijah letting out a low laugh before following him off of the truck. He grabbed a walkie talkie that had been sliding around in the back of the truck he spoke to Michael through it.
"You should go scout out the town, radio us if you get into trouble or vice versa" He said, gripping his rifle in a combat ready position. He made a motion with his hand to signal letting Lee move into the pharmacy first. "Ladies first." He grinned.
 "That's just weak, Eli. Weak." he muttered, shaking his head as he casually walked his way into the pharmacy, with a small pen torch in hand. "I thought you were raised better than that." He turned on the torch with a subtle click and scanned his surroundings to find nothing but empty shelves. He tightened his grip on the metallic hatchet that he was fond of using. As he did so, Elijah was also searching through the shelves until he finally caught eyes on something he had never expected to see in a long time. A small pink packet of hubba bubba lying behind the remains of various discarded medical supplies.
 "Oh shit son." He said before picking it up and inspecting it. "I've not had gum in ages, bro" His moment of joy was interrupting by the noise of commotion coming from a sideroom in the store. He looked to Lee with a face of concern, pushing the butt of his rifle against his shoulder as he signalled to him to move to the backroom. He stayed quiet, taking slow, deliberate steps as he moved closer to the room. Finally, he turned to Lee and nodded before he booted the door open and pointed his rifle at the shirtless man standing over the wounded, but equally shirtless woman. A confused look spread across his face before two words escaped his lips.
 [b]"The fuck?!"[/b]
Seeing the heavily injured woman laying there bleeding, Lee charged quickly over to her as Elijah held her assailant at gunpoint.
"Lee, the fuck are you doing" Shouted Elijah, still aiming his gun at, Chase. "We don't know these people, why are you helping them?!"
"Hush now, boy. I ain't having someone bleed out at my feet after they've just been stabbed." Lee extended out his hand out towards Elijah without looking at him and asked urgently. "Elijah, pass me your trenchcoat, quickly now... If she's still concious she'll need it." His words fell on deaf ears though as Elijah just gave him a confused look and asked.
"Are you serious?! Are you actually being serious right now, Lee we have no reason to trust these people, for all we know this could be a trap!" He spat, getting closer and closer to shooting Chase square in the chest. Lee glared at him intensely. "I'm completely serious; if that girl dies because of your stubbornness then that'll be on your head. Can you handle that? Look me in the eyes and tell me that." he sighed before continuing. "Listen, if that bastard makes a move, then you go ahead and shoot him, I'll concern myself with her. Now come on. Trenchcoat." he asked again. Elijah shot a look of anger back at, Lee but acknowledged the situation and removed his trenchcoat, always keeping his rifle trained on, Chase as he did. He tossed the trenchcoat over, but kept quiet.