[h1][center][b][color=007236]T[/color][color=ed145b]w[/color][color=f7941d]o[/color][/b][/center][/h1]

Inside the confined space was a small table barely large enough for four people to sit at, so for one man and his dog, it was plenty big. The middle aged man sat playing solitaire while eating what he assumed was a potato, or a deformed carrot. Nothing was labeled correctly or organized but it was decent either way. Especially when it is cooked like a baked potato over an electrical generator. He stopped playing only for a moment to see his dog with his shiny plastic eyes staring him down from across the table. He stopped chewing his food for a moment to speak. "[color=ed1c24]You want some?[/color]" They seemed to lock eyes for what could have seemed like minutes. "[color=ed1c24]Then help find some food next time you leech.[/color]" They locked eyes, the man looked almost heart broken. "[color=ed1c24]Look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that... Just... we'll have something nice tonight. Alright?[/color]" He was quiet for a moment, then he seemed content as he finished his food. He lost the card game again, this deck is missing cards as well. That is now deck 8 of 8 that now has missing cards. Playing with mixed decks is annoying as well as they all have different backs. That didn't matter now though, today was water day, meaning that the man had to leave yet again to see if he had been found.

The man started talking out loud again to the toy dog. "[color=ed1c24]We're low on ammo, we haven't see any infected recently so we should be fine, but we need to be ready for the day we run out.[/color]" He eyed the dog, who was now strapped to the back of a backpack. "[color=ed1c24]Eight, pay attention. We may die and all you can do is wonder off into your own head?[/color]" He turns away from the dog to open a tall cabinet just inside the tightly spaced room revealing a collection of firearms. Most of which have either broken, ran out of ammo, or are just flat out guns that should never have been made. He grabs the pistol first, an older model 1911 pistol, and the box holding the remaining ammo for it. Then followed by the rifle, which is strapped to the backpack next to the dog. Then the sawed off pump action. He was never a great shot, but the stopping power alone was enough to drop something in it's tracks if struck. But for it to be used, Two had to go outside. "[color=ed1c24]Good morning populace of the Bunker. This is your current leader Two. Eight and I will be heading out today to gather water from the water collectors. We may be gone a day or so, bu we will be back. I know it's been a hard few years recently, but we'll figure it out. Just keep holding on.[/color]" He pulled the strap over his body and looked around the empty one room bunker. "[color=ed1c24]We've made it this far...[/color]" He then turns to Eight and grabs the bag, then leaves the safety of his enclosed space.

Outside is barren, the forest that was once full and filled the area is gone. All that remains are the few trees that have struggled to stay standing, and the material that has fallen to the ground. Everything was dead, except those who wondered into the woods. Which as far as Two knows, there hasn't been anyone in the woods other then him for over a year. The houses that border it maybe, but no where near the bunker. So he starts walking, shotgun resting by his side, and the rifle strapped to the backpack and his closest friend watching his blind spot, he feels ready to take on the day.

It took him roughly three hours to walk to the first water collector, and each one is at least forty minutes from each other, some as far as two hours from each other. "[color=ed1c24]Water collectors A, though E were empty or had so little water it may not even make up the trip. We have a lot of water left at the Bunker still, we could just trust that will hold out?[/color]" It didn't take long before talking to the toy dog convinced him it was a bad idea. "[color=ed1c24]I see your point... we'll check F and G then head back. The others are too far to make it today.[/color]" Water collector F had some water, enough to make up for the trip at least. Anything he got at Collector G would have to be enough.

The road to the last water collector was an actual road this time. Another fifty miles or so down the road was an old town, not the one he was raised in, but a town. One he went to when there was enough fuel for the truck to drive about every day. Now, it was slowly falling apart due to lack of maintenance. Every once and a while someone or something would come through on the road, Two was able to tell because something would either have been moved, a light trail may be able to be found, or he would actually see them. On this road, he was out of his safe bubble of a world. But generally the area outside of it was safe, today though, he could see two infected. It looked like at some point they were trying to get into one of the wrecked cars on the side of the road. That was a safe bet to say they had been there a while and that they had no real intentions on leaving. The woods around the road were still dead here, but they were a lot more dense then the area around the Bunker. If he were to start walking around in the woods here he could easily get ambushed. He was armed though, but his gear was large and bulky.

The Thirty Odd six had more cartridges left then the shotgun had shells. In theory he could try to pick them off with the rifle and hope none are around. But seeing those two was a surprise. If any got too close, he still had the shotgun ready in case. The smart thing to do would be to go back and try again another day. But these collectors were far from the Bunker as it was, and trying to make up for it by going to the other collectors was even more time. If it wasn't for the fact the last few collections yielded little water he would have turned back, if he had a few less rounds he would have turned back. Two got down next to one of the cars and took off his pack, making it much easier to grab the rifle. The scope was cracked but it was still sighted properly last Two had taken the chance to figure that out. [color=f7976a]*CRACK*[/color] The rifle rung out, echoing for what could have been miles. The shot did hit it's target though, not in the head. The infected landed on it's back screaming and squirming as the high caliber rifle cut through it's body. The other one soon found him down the road as Two reloaded the rifle. Every time he was in a situation reloading the rifle he wondered why One decided to get a rifle that held only one shot at a time? But at one point had a semi automatic rifle? Why was that not in the bunker?!

That didn't matter now, what mattered was the fact that by the time the second bullet was loaded the infected was less then twenty yards. Two pulled the trigger before really aiming and the shot missed entirely. By this point infected asshole one was on his feet again. Despite the rifle missing, the twelve gauge was still ready to fire. Two dropped back so he could reach the shotgun. With a simple pump of the gun, the hopes it wouldn't jam, and the pulling of the trigger, hoping the infected that was only a couple yards away would not get to him. [b][color=ed145b]*BOOM*[/color][/b] And the infected was sent back with pieces of it's torso flying in every direction as the pellets from the sawed off barrel hit it. Two pumped the gun and climbed to his feet as the first infected finally caught up to him. The man took aim and fired again, taking a piece of this infected's head clean off, leaving the other bits in pieces from the buckshot. Two grabbed the 1911 from his belt and fires twice into the First infected he shot. He could hear the sounds of more infected reacting to his gunshots. Why were so many out here now?! 

Two grabbed his rifle, and the bag that held his best friend and he ran. He ran as fast as he could as the infected ran behind him. He did the math in his head, the shotgun held five shots at a time, and had an effective range of about ten yards. Maybe less? SO that was three shots left. From the sounds behind him he guessed there had to be at least three behind him. He didn't dare look back, anything that slowed him down now was too risky. One of the water collectors was based on a two story house, if he was able to get there with out dying he could seal himself up in one of the few remaining rooms and hold out until they lost interest. As he ran though it seemed like more and more infected started to follow him.

At the house the front door was long gone, on the second floor Two remembers a door that still had a semi functional door. It seemed once he made it to the stairs of the house his body was done. Trying to take that first step seemed like the hardest step he had ever tried to take. It wasn't until he heard the first step on the door frame from the door he forced his way up, not fast but as fast as his body could carry him. The footsteps behind him were faster, at this point much faster. But unlike before there was only one set of feet behind him.

Two dropped the bag at the top of the stairs just long enough to turn and fire the shotgun point blank at the infected, another torso shot sending it right back down the stairs where another one was waiting to meet it. Though unlike what went off in Two's head, the infected behind him did not drop, simply brushed as they charged up the stairs. But now Two had time to run again. He grabbed the bag and ran to the room, shutting the door behind him. He pushed over the dresser next to the door to buy him time as he thought, so far all he could think was he was outnumbered and low on ammo. The room wasn't much either, looked like an old bedroom with the exception of a whole the size of a minivan in the wall. The bed was gone, and the only furniture bits remaining consisted of the dresser in front of the door and a small shelf near the hole in the wall. 

He sat down next to his bag, feeling like his body was ready to quit on him. The banging on the door was rough, it wouldn't hold long, even with the dresser in the way. He had minutes at best unless something would draw their attention, he could try climbing out from the hole and hope there are no infected and he doesn't get hurt? Or he could hold a stand with what ammo was left? Assuming the cold of the night didn't kill him or that he could actually hold a stand. "[color=ed1c24]Fuck. My. Life.[/color]" He looks over at the toy dog. "[color=ed1c24]Don't give me that look, they won't attack you. You'll be fine. I am like 60% sure that they do not attack dogs.[/color]" At this point, he was just hoping that the infected would lose interest and give him a chance to leave. And if he had to hold a last stand he still had two shells in the shotgun, and the rifle could get a shot off if he didn't care about aiming? Or maybe he could pretend to be a badass and shoot all of them in the head with the colt.45 because it's just like the movies right? 

(Note: I did not have time to write up Hank's part tonight, I will have his up soon depending on work.)