John continued to drive down the main road at a fair pace of 50-60 miles per hour. There were barely any delays on his side of the road. Abandoned old cars and the occasional fallen tree were mostly swept to the road leading out of the city. It reminds him during the week of the outbreak. On the news were piles of cars trying to scrap themselves out of the city, thousands of people desperately trying to live but were still following the mundane rules of the road. Their caution for safety was a factor in their own ultimate demise. He then turned his eyes back to the road and just kept staring into space. His eyes show a weary deadness that tells an unfortunate story. His one hand grabbed tightly onto the steering wheel was calloused and reddened. They were jaded, spent and filled with a life full of unforgettable experiences. The fog ahead started showing more buildings and fewer trees. These were clear signs of a suburb ahead, which also means that Chicago was approaching closer and closer by the mile. 

The suburb looked like most of villages and towns that he passed by. Some of the buildings were barricaded with poorly designed barriers, cars were abandoned and discarded like candy bar wrappers, bits of luggage from the cars were scattered all over the road, with some of the lighter objects dancing a tango in the wind. He looked around for any sign of the creatures but it seems quite quiet. This made John drive with unease. They could be hiding in the buildings, peeking from the windows like little children waiting for Santa Claus. His state of alertness was momentarily interrupted by the fuel gauge on his van blinking. Shit, thought John. He was so sure he had enough. He either underestimated the distance or overestimated the van. Both way, he needs fuel and he needs it fast. He starts to pull up into opening of one of the suburbs. In front of him were a few abandoned suburb houses, arranged in a semi circle. He knows that in most suburbs there is always one person with a second car that they barely use. Hopefully there’ll be fuel in it because he doesn’t want to spend the night here, it’ll be his last. 

He puts the van into neutral, puts the handbrake on and exits the vehicle. There was no point in locking it, considering the fact that most people in this world now have bigger problems than car thieves. He looks around at the houses around him. They were all normal looking, like all the others but there was one house that did not look anything like the ones before. It was a house on his near right. The windows were barricaded heavily but they had deep precision and weren’t five minute jobs. There were spikes set up on the front lawn and top floor windows even had tiny holes big enough to put a rifle of some sort through. This wasn’t some random pussy of a civilian; this was a man with experience and training. Was he a cop? A soldier? A prisoner even? It didn’t really matter. All that mattered was that this place could have gas but it also could have death inside. Some people aren’t always prone to share. He continues to walk slowly up the old path up to the door. He reached the front door, it was barricaded but it looked like it can open. It was now or never. With great tense and caution, John begins to open the door slowly.

“Don’t move!” came a mysterious male voice from behind. All John could feel was the cold metal of a gun barrel poking at the back of his head. He then places his arms up slightly and slowly to represent that he has no weapons in his hands. The oddest thing was, he is now face with possible death but all he can think is how the stranger managed to get behind him with out so much a peep. If he is to die there and then, a curious look at this stranger could give him a little bit of peace in his final hour. With his back towards the man, John waits anxiously for the gunman to reveal himself.