Zachary drove along the empty road in his father's old, beat up, rustbucket of a car. He'd managed to swipe some measly supplies that consisted of a pack of chips and a couple of bottles of water. They sat in a backpack in the passenger seat. Resting next to the bag was his baseball bat that had some dried blood stuck to it. Zachary had to put down a few of the infected before he could safely get away from his home. He got out of his house after discovering both his parents had succumbed to the disease and knew it was only a matter of time before they reanimated into walkers and came for him. The only thing he had to remember them by was his father's pistol, which lay on the car's dashboard, right infront of Zachary. He'd managed to grab one spare clip of ammunition before the infected started coming for him.

He switched on the radio, hoping for news of some kind of safe zone, but it was to no avail. The only thing that played on all stations was the government announcement that repeated constantly, even though the voice of the announcer was probably long dead. [i]"Please remain indoors. Barricade all entrances to your home. Secure available food, water and, if possible, a firearm. Avoid contact with the infected at all costs."[/i] As the man said 'firearms', Zachary grinned and cast a glance at his own. It made him feel safer knowing it was there although he would have been more happy with some sort of automatic weapon. But in these times, beggars couldn't be choosers. Zachary switched off the radio after the message repeated for the third time.

A lone walker shuffled in a field that Zachary passed. He looked, intrigued at what the infected do when there isn't a meal around. It took too much of his attention though, as he didn't notice the fuel meter tick over into empty. The car slowed down and came to a stop in the middle of nowhere. Zachary couldn't believe it. He tried turning the engine back on but it just grunted, made a loud, grinding noise and died again. He cursed under his breath and knew he had to continue on foot. Zachary gathered up his supplies with his backpack on his shoulder, his baseball bat in his left hand and his pistol in his waistband. He lightly rested his head on the door and swore loudly. That was when he heard the growling noise on his right.

Zachary jumped out of his skin at the noise and tripped over. The walker he'd seen in the field had caught up to him. "Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit," Zachary repeated over and over, fearing that it's his last day. "Not now, please!" He shakily stumbled to his feet and readied his bat, staring at the oncoming opponent. It was missing it's left cheek and it's teeth were visible through it's face. One of it's eyeballs was hanging out of it's socket and resting on it's grey-green, decaying skin. Zachary took a deep breath and swung as hard as he could at the walker. The tip of the bat connected with the thing's cheekbone and it fell onto the car and onto the floor, but it wasn't dead. Not by a long shot. Zachary took his chance though. He grabbed his belongings and ran in the opposite direction to the walker, fearing more might have heard him and would be on their way.