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(A very outdated map of New Orleans, the same one that Tom has currently have in his possession - a book of maps for densely populated cities was never more useful.)
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There was no doubt about it, the idiom "calm before the storm" was true fact.. if you would consider the storm being a zombie outbreak. Tom found himself trapped in a world of his own, one that he never thought would be possible.. one that would inflict fear into him for the rest of his days, his parents had been swarmed.. killed, ripped limb by limb; which caused him to flee, he's now about four and a half football fields away from being into the city deemed 'New Orleans' by the looks on his map, he is currently just on the beginning parts of the New Orleans and Carrollton Railroad; which led away from Jefferson City. He nodded to himself in affirmation before he rolled up the map up as if it were to be placed in a bottle, but instead - he shoved it sideways under his black suspenders.

Tom placed his hands on his hips in a sloppy fashion, before squinting his eyes - looking down the long, almost seemingly endless stretch of track.. which he knew was not the exact case, it had to end somewhere.. but the thought of being isolated, walking on some rusty tracks out in the open, with nothing but trees to his left and right; scared him.. he grasped the brim of his hat, taking it off.. revealing his traditional Amish haircut, or atleast what was left of it.. it having gone shingled and long, but then cut short by Tom when needed with use of a rusty trusty knife that he had learned to admire.

He dangled his hat off to his side, exhaling deeply through his mouth, his cheeks puffed.. his lips in an o-formation, his cheeks went flat.. his breath out-.. he took another one and started to trek onwards down the left side of the tracks.. this wasn't a time of all work and no play, he would occasionally balance upon the rail of the track and go one foot after another as if he was a circus performer.. but his fun was cut off short. What laid ahead of him was a puzzling sight, he had walked about one-hundred yards now with not a sight but the occasional leaf blow by with help of the wind.. but no, this was different.. he now witnessed a man loitering around a substantial amount of incapacitated railway cars, and ontop of one stood a woman who appeared to be armed with a pistol.

Tom took no time to get into cover, he threw himself to the right side of the tracks.. doing a roll until he was hidden within the brush of the woods. Tom clambered to his feet with copious amounts of agility present, slipping his arms out of his rucksack. Tom slung the rucksack infront of where he kneeled, unbuckling a plastic restraint which held a hunters slingshot firmly into place.

He took a firm grasp upon the designated handle of his slingshot in his right hand, his fingers clasped tightly over the handle.. so tight that his knuckles were white. Tom reached into his pocket, his small fingers feeling about before he grasped a cold metallic object, yanking it out of his pocket; this metallic object being a steel ball bearing, which was his ammo of choice for his wrist-rocket. Tom rolled the ball-bearing from his palm down to his fingertips in his left hand where he applied a tight grasp with his thumb and index finger, fumbling it into the pouch of the slingshot. 

Tom pinched off the leather pouch of the slingshot with his fingers so the ball couldn't escape/drop out prematurely before firing, he disregarded his rucksack.. duck-walking upwards out of the woods.. kneeling behind a tree-.. he pulled back on the pad containing the bearing, thus stretching out the rubber cording it was attached too. Tom kept his ears trained onto any speech that might come out of the individuals, his aim with the slingshot was primarily focused upon the man.. a nice aim directed towards his windpipe. He was ready to kill if it meant protecting a woman, the woman in his mind; innocent of all fault in this situation.. Tom kept seated, ready for whatever was about to go down.. holding his breath - he wouldn't miss.. not for nothing.