[h1][center]Resident Evil- A Forest, and No More[/center][/h1]

The journey through the forest went by with relative ease; as expected from an area with comparatively little human life to infect, the woods had few infected to speak of, if any at all. Though the night seemed to drag on, it was moreso due to the complete lack of... Well, action, if anything.

The sounds of gunfire, though, caused the silence to break, and the groans of the infected once more began to become audible.

The source, it seemed, was up ahead; the woods quickly parted to make way for a paved highway. In the center, a van was parked, and a sole injured man with an assault rifle surrounded by a small group of zombies. Numerous corpses lay about, and the zombies attacking soon joined their ranks by his hand. With a sigh, the man slumped down and grimaced, looking at his injury.

Bitten. What rotten luck.

With a sigh, the man placed his assault rifle to the side and looked around, only noticing the four travelers now.

"...Damn. Well, at least I'll have some company before I die..." he lamented before turning to the group and shaking his head. "Hey, you mind if this old man asks you strangers for a favor? There's a pen and some paper stashed away in one of the compartments; mind bringing those here?"

A will, at least, would put his mind at ease before he pulled the trigger on himself. They could have the weapons, for all he cared; hell, with that weird set of gear, they'd probably need it. He was probably dead anyways; what did it matter to him now?