The bag turned out to be one of Jagred’s best find that entire week. Food had always been a luxury since the whole walking corpses deal, snack even more so. Frankly, he was sure he remembered the taste of a granola bar correctly. After hastily stuffing the entire box into his backpack, he continued searching through the bag, crossbow forgotten on the floor. A can of dog food turned up, along with several bullets for what he could only assume a very big pistol. Jagred had never been much of a gun nut, never felt the need to be. With his financial state before the outbreak, he wouldn’t been able to afford a pair of shoes, let alone a weapon. However, he took the bullets anyway, as well as the dog food. Desperate time called for desperate measures, and besides, he wasn’t exactly picky about his food. 

 The wet, crunching sound of a skull being bashed in jerked him back into reality. Immediately, he reached for the crossbow, before turning toward where the noise had come from. No one was there, but he was sure he heard something. Again, the dead didn’t use weapons, so there must be another survivor around. Jagred narrowed his eyes, then decided to move toward the noise, steps light and bow ready. Sometimes, it was the living you had to look out for.