Union Stadium
Blood. Death. Murder. Innocent lives. Gone. The grass in the stadium turned from a bright green to a deep, crimson red. His comrades were gone; dead, or out of the stadium. Communication was down. H.E.R.C. bailed out of this hellhole. The whole world had gone to shit, and Brandon was in the middle of it.
1 Mile West of Union Stadium
Dry grass crunched under his feet as he walked. Images were bolting through his head. His wife, daughter, parents. He could see them now. See them as those things walking in the streets, corrupting and stealing the lives of others. He could even here them, now as he walked. Shit! He could actually here them! He cleared his mind and looked at the road ahead. There it was. A civilian, stomach ripped open, with its ribs showing. He sprinted up to it and put a hand on its shoulder, as to keep it back, then put his Combat Knife through its skull, and out. He then proceeded to loot the body. A lighter, and a pack of cigarettes, unopened. He cut through the plastic wrapping, lit one, and started to smoke. Looking of into the distance, hoping for something, anything, to make this better.