[center][h1][color=f26522]John Philip Zaremba[/color][/h1][/center]

[hr]

	He woke up in the middle of the night like usual, lots of shuffling going on outside. He couldn't afford a fire tonight because he had been busy the day before covering lots of ground. He had just crossed the border from Virginia the night before and already made it most of the way to D.C. He figured there would be some sort of governmental camps or facilities that he could join up with. His mind was busy thinking of all they things they might have... like chocolate... he would literally kill for some chocolate right about now, if it were a zombie of course. 

	He checked his bandages around his abdomen and poked around the wounds with his fingers a bit. They were healing well... still hurt like a bitch though. He pulled out the last of his gauze and wrapped them around the couple spots that still had some blood and threw his shirt back on followed by his high schools lacrosse teams sweatshirt. He packed everything back up into his duffle bag and zipped it up, crossing the room as he threw it over his shoulders. No sense in sitting still if he couldn't build a fire and cook something.

	Before stepping outside he slid on his helmet and gloves and grabbed his stick, ball still in the net. He twirled it around a few times remembering back to when he carried it around for sport rather than life or death. Only for a half decayed face to pop into the window and remind him of the reality of the world he lives in. He takes another look at the face in the window and decides the back door will work just fine today. He takes a cautious few steps then takes off and settles into his usual ground covering jog, bag bouncing and stick twirling. Its just bright enough out to start seeing shadows. 

	After quite the run he sees smoke in the distance and decides to pick up the pace, it doesn't take long to get to where the fire was, he peaks his head around the campsite seeing if anyone left anything. Sadly nothing was worth while. He figured that the people or person that had the fire must still be close so he decided to keep running, slower and more quietly. It didn't take long to find them, they hadn't gotten very far before meeting another lone survivor, it looked as if they were all getting along with the usual amount of uneasiness but he was too far away to tell, he decided to trail them for a while until he could see their destination, which also came into the picture rather quick. A fortified store just off into the distance. 

	[color=f26522][i]"Now is when I've gotta do something."[/i][/color] He thought to himself.

	He let out a loud whistle that turned them all on their heels instantly. 

	[color=f26522]"Friendly! Friendly! Don't fire, Are you guys accepting members into the posse? I can be useful, Promise. My names John.[/color] He said in a very hurried tone, after all the noise he made just now he surely attracted a few of the dead but he hoped they wouldn't get curious. He stared at the group with one hand up and the other holding his makeshift spear. Waiting for what felt like eternity for one of them to respond.