I let my hands guide me down the road. I moved at a slow pace, taking my time to get past any abandoned cars and other debris that lined the streets. I wasn't sure where I was going yet until I somehow found myself in front of a large store known as Kubela's. A well known hunting and camping outfitter that my dad used to frequent when he went through his mid forties fishing phase.

The store had many things for outdoor survival but it's wide selection of guns, ammunition, and weapons were most appealing to me. Certainly the ideal store to loot if we were to invade Wither Gate. Yet the premise of over taking Wither Gate laid distantly in my mind.

I surveyed the premise with dull recognition. I should have been sweating from the fall Texas heat that toasted the outside of my kevlar suit, but my skin was cool.

Regardless, I entered the store. My feet seemed to have a mind of their own as I neared the entrance to the building with stiff, robotic movements. I still had the AR-15 hanging limply from my shoulders. It's familiar weight felt like the only thing that was grounding me in reality.

I quickly found the hunting section and made slow but diligent work of the remaining guns that I could salvage from the pillaged store. I worked without making a sound, purposefully busying my mind with the task at hand so that my thoughts wouldn't be tempted to drag me into darker waters.

I matched each gun with its correct ammunition, counted the bullets, and even took inventory. I made several trips in and out of the store, carrying the large assortment of fire arms out bit by bit but left behind a handful of guns and ammunition.

It didn't feel right taking everything for myself.

I had little trouble from the infected who seemed numbly aware of my presence. There were only two that I could spot from the parking lot but they didn't attack or approach with haste as they probably couldn't tell whether or not I was one of them or not. They appeared more interested in lingering aimlessly about the clusters of abandoned cars or near the entrances of opposite stores than wasting energy on some strange figure clad in black that smelt like bleach.

Being alone again was a small comfort. While I may not admit it openly, I did enjoy Charles and Eli's company. Having them around not only made me feel less alone but also felt like they gave me a reason to keep living.

To an extent that is.

They were a friendly pair but I wasn't prepared, or even stable enough, for new relationships. It had nothing to do with them, it was me who couldn't open up.

But maybe that wasn't a bad thing.

Being alone was more secure. I had no one to worry about but myself and more than half the time I wasn't all that worried for my wellness anyway.

However, being alone in a world like this wasn't a life worth living.

I knew that very well.

On the last trip into the store, I paused before picking up the last three pistols I had left that included two loaded Remington's and a small Barreta.

I gently picked up the baretta with stiff fingers and leaned my forearms against the counter.

I ran a thumb gingerly across the short barrel.

My finger brushed ever so lightly against the trigger.

It would be so easy.

Without thinking, I pressed the end of the gun against the underside of my jaw. The cold metal seemed to melt into my skin.

Similar to the noose, it felt right.

Taking a deep breath, I shut my eyes and then gradually moved the gun upwards with slow determination. Traveling slowly up my cheek and then stopping at my temple. My hand didn't shake as I held the firearm loosely. My finger was hovering over the trigger.

All it would take was one bullet.

Who would miss me?

My empty thoughts turned to the two human companions I had left behind.

Eli Bennet and Charles Gray.

I barely even knew them to be honest. I'd only met them a couple days ago. They would still have each other anyway. They didn't need me.

No one did.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," An unfamiliar female voice suddenly said.

I was so prepared to pull the trigger that I didn't sense nor hear the approaching figure who was only yards away. I didn't even know how long they'd been standing there.

At first, I thought the voice only came from my imagination. Unwillingly, I cracked an eye open to check whether or not I was completely losing it.

Unfortunately, I found that I wasn't totally delusional and saw that a dark haired, fair skinned woman wearing a bulletproof vest and thick denim jeans stood to my right.

She looked a bit older than Eli but still young.

Her expression was hardly concerned as she looked at me with steady green eyes that were stiff as glass. I stared back with an almost perturbed expression. These interruptions were becoming an often occurrence and I didn't like it.

I glanced down and saw that she had a hand on her waist where a handgun hung idly. I was tempted to turn my gun towards her out of instinct but didn't bother since she didn't appear interested in killing me without reason. She was just on guard and I didn't expect anything less.

I stood up straight, lowering the gun from my head.

I was much taller than the woman. She had a short and stocky build that contrasted against my lean and slender frame. Obviously, she'd been eating well and I pondered if she was a part of the Triad.

Or maybe even a Wither Gate survivor.

I watched her with hollow eyes but she didn't make any movement.

"You from round' here?" I asked hoarsely.

She shook her head. "No," She replied simply, not breaking eye contact.

My eyes narrowed.

If she was lying, she was doing a very good job at it. I'm no mind reader, but her body language betrayed no signs of dishonesty.

Her green eyes finally broke away from mine to look down at the handguns on the counter.

"Those Remingtons?" She asked.

I nodded. "You can have em'," I offered moving slowly from behind the counter. "There's some more guns in the back," I added with a small gesture at the door to the back room.

She dipped her head respectfully before slipping a cylindrical object out from the front pocket of her vest and tossing it to me. I caught the object seamlessly only to find upon closer inspection that it was a red flare stick. It looked to be of high quality, possibly military grade.

My brows rose in surprise.

The flare would be perfect for sparking a flame.

I scoffed grimly.

My gaze returned back to the young woman who had yet to move from her place.

"You should stay away from the southern side of the city," I said with a more casual tone.

The woman's unwavering expression shifted to bemusement.

"Why?"

I placed the flare into my pants pocket before turning to leave. I paused only to make sure the mysterious survivor heard me.

"There's going to be a fire."