Episode 1, Atlantic-Shmantic. Chapter 1 - Sin of our Fathers
John woke up in his tent, letting out a gasp. He just had a nightmare of when he saw his first one. Did anything matter anymore? His friends, family, loved ones, all dead, all infected. Why should he live when others aren't?
He started to weep, and his dog awoke. It tried to comfort him, but to no avail.
"Damnit! Goddammit, why does it have to be this way! Why!"
He picked up his gun. Wiping tears on his shirt, he sat up. "I have to get on a boat, I need to get to Israel...". He rubbed his face with his hands. Washington D.C. was one of the hardest hit, and there MAYBE one militia left there, the Lincolns. He started to pack up his tent.
"Halt! Drop your weapon and put your hands in the air!"
Bandits. He had dealt with their kind before, and he was outnumbered. He was not dumb, he dropped his weapon and put his hands in the air.
"Now, on your knees! We're taking your guns, medicine and some food. Stay put or we'll shoot."
John sighed. It was bound to happen. He was travelling on one of the biggest Bandit Highways in America.
"Thanks, we'll be on our way. Don't try anything and maybe you'll live."
Darkness.
John awoke with a bump on his head and his dog sitting beside him. Luckily they spared the dog. He sighed and got up, retrieving the backup pistol from his shoe. He petted his dog and walked off into the distance.
John was in the wilderness now. He had heard a Convoy of Bandits and ducked off into the woods, and they set up camp where he was. He had to leave, for he would have died otherwise. He picked a berry from a tree, and leaned on it, taking in the nature, petting his dog. Should I stay here? He thought, and thought. He got a knife from his pocket and started cutting off the limbs of the tree, maybe he could make a spear.