I stare for a moment at "Jack Olsen." Hmph. Guy tries to jump me, maybe planned on killing me, and wants to shake hands now? I don't know. I don't want to kill the kid though. He's what, 16, 17? If he was even alive before...all of this started, then he has no memory of it. Likely wasn't even alive before. I gaze as his bloody cloak, his outstretched hands, and then I gaze him right in the eye.

[b]"I won't leave you hangin, kid, if you answer 3 questions. You answer honestly now, and I won't have to kill ya."[/b] I fold my arms across his chest, and nod towards the stinking, rotting, infected that litter the ground--victims of their own insanity; the Scourge had shut down the parts of the brain that make people who they are. At least that's what the news told us, back when there still was news. I'm no fuckin' scientist so, who knows. 

[b]"First question, kid,"[/b] I say after nodding towards the corpses on the interstate. [b]"How many infected have you killed?[/b] I squint my eyes, staring at Jack, ready to put him down at the slightest hint of dishonesty. I hear footsteps approaching, but I pay them no mind. If they were infected they would be ranting and mumbling, trying to form sentences that could not come together with their shattered minds. The footsteps had to belong to a survivor, and that being the case, if they meant us harm, we'd be dead already. So I keep my gaze locked on Jack, waiting for his answer.