Riots have ended, what now?

As Johnson peered out a section of window that wasn't covered by boards, it was apparent the patrols and the aircraft had stopped. The government gave out orders to stay inside your home, and there was an apparent blackout. There wasn't much food left in his home anymore. It's been weeks, and he has been rationing what he had because there was apparently no way out. Maybe it was time to leave his home behind, and find somewhere else?

Johnson grabbed his AR-15, it was loaded with 5.56x45mm, the carbine performed well if kept in good condition. He put on a backpack, and put whatever essentials he thought were necessary. Rations, water, crowbar and a first aid kit. He had a M1911 in a holster on his thigh, and a survival knife attached to a strap on his backpack. There was one more thing he needed to do before he left... He should've done it a long time ago.

He set his AR-15 on the table, and field stripped it, it wasn't a difficult task and was required to maintain it. He looked for the firing pin, he took a file and began to file it down. He needed to make the weapon fully automatic or else it would remain semi-automatic forever. He needed to not file it down too far or else it'll keep firing even if he releases the trigger. He put it back together, put it on the before useless full-auto setting and held the trigger down, dry-firing. It did work, but would it stop? He let go of the trigger, he heart nearly stopped in worry because he could've ruined his perfectly fine Carbine... It stopped, he had successfully turned an otherwise semi-automatic weapon, fully automatic.

He gripped his AR-15, and went to his door, looking out the peephole to confirm no one was outside. He unlocked his door, and went outside. He locked the door on the outside, so that if he wanted too he can come back to secure home. What dangers would await him in this new world, he peered down the sites of his AR-15 for moment. He then pointed it downwards, and crept down his driveway, so he can look at his surroundings.

Jack gripped onto his pistol tightly, He'd been stalking this house for a few hours. Walking by last night he saw a dim light in side the house, he wasn't going to take any chances, so he stayed hidden in another house in the street. He had nothing, but the gun he carried, the clothes he wore and the backpack he carried around with him. It was not a good life for Jack, his whole world, his companies every thing he knew has crumbled to the ground. Inturn of the Burnside Tower, literately.

Jack, was just drifting off as the sun rose up. He'd been awake for the past Seventy-eight hours. He was running on fumes now. He was just about to drop of when he herd a sound, kinda like someone closing there door. He shot up, what adrenalin he had left pumping threw his veins. He peered over the ledge. He was able to get a good luck at the man. He needed everything he needed to know. He had a Better gun.

Which, of course was bad if the two got into a fight. Pistols vs Automatics, was always a once sided fight, no matter what you did. He saw that the guy looked happy, well abit. Must be happy to leave his nice cosy house or something. He decided to wait till the man, left the area, then he'd try and break in.

As he got to the bottom of the driveway, he had a nice clear view of the street that his house happened to be on. Cars laid rusting in the street, or destroyed by the bombing runs. Smog filled some parts of the city due to the incineration of the bodies. This was not how he wanted to live, in some disease ridden city and no contact on the outside. Maybe if he could just find a radio, he could contact others on the outside and see if it's just as bad.

He needed to get some supplies, and increase his stockpile if he wanted to survive in the long run. He looked to his left to see his neighbor's house, he needed to get under something quick before another air patrol came by.

(OOC: Describe what it looks like/if there are zombs)

Jack, felt like just getting up, taking aim, then taking his chances. But, every sane braincell he had told him, that was a bad idea. He needed sleep so much now, that'd if he didn't get some, he'd probably tire himself to death. Which, would be counter-productive. Continuing to observe, he saw the man leave his driveway, he then looked around. Probably, just looking for the infected. They could really wreck up someone's shit.

Moving around trying to get a better angel on the place, he ended up tripping. Which inturn meant he fell of his ledge, his gun went flying, discharging as it landed on the other side of the bedroom. "Fuck!" he said, checking him self over for any bullet wounds. He frantically got up,had a quick look for his gun, grabbed it. Then made a run for the exit. He needed to go, now. The guy knowing someone was there was there, least of his worries, infected where likely on there way now.

As he was inspecting the area around him, he heard a firearm discharge. He immediately turned to where he assumed the gun shot came from. He pretty much dashed forward to an abandoned car as he duck behind it, peering over the side. It was better to take cover than to fire as an initial reaction. He saw who he assumed was a man run out the door, of where he can assume the shot came from.

It appeared the man didn't see him as he ran out the door. Johnson was peering over the edge of the car. Maybe he could avoid an incidence of violence, and save himself trouble and bullets. He looked behind himself for a split second to make sure there wasn't any infected creeping up on him...

(Jack would of ran outside, via the back door. Going threw the front door, could be problematic. For reasons I shouldn't need to state.)

Jack burst threw the house, he didn't want to stay there any longer than he needed to. Leaving via a now a very broken back door. He stopped for a short second to survey his surroundings, there was a large garden infront of him, stretched on for a while, then there more gardens. Pistol in hand. He sprinted to the end of the garden and quickly hopped over the fence. Immediately after, he noticed some thing not very good. An Infected stood mere meters away from him.

Jack's heart began pounding like a drum, he had seen the infected before. But, he'd never killed any, nor had he been so close. The Infected individual slowly turned around, it's deformations clearly visible. They ranged from skin discolouration to giant cysts. it was not a very pretty sight, for any one with a weak stomach. This specific Infected looked like it'd seen it's own fair share of trouble. It's clothing was ripped, like someone had took an knife to it. The other wounds, again shows evidence of a Knife. Clearly, the Knife-holder lost.

Jack slowly raised up his weapon, a HK-45, chambered in 45. ACP, a very capable round. He didn't want to do it too quickly or he'd startle the Infected, which at this distance, would be bad. Jack seemed to be having an 'Staring' contest with the Infected. Probably just to simply distract it, while he raised his weapon for the kill. It was taking everything he had, to simply not be sick at this moment. Finally, he had his weapon in the right angel to take the shot. He didn't stare for a second longer and took the shoot.

Next thing he herd after the large bang his weapon made, then there was the thud of the infected's hopefully dead body hitting the floor made. From what Jack knew of the Infected, was they had a habit of not dieing easily. He'd need more than one round to finish this guy off. He walked over to the body, he could see it was still alive, blood was hushing out of the wound. He knelled down next to it's head, and proceeded to place the barrel on it's head. "Sorry ... friend." he said, pulling the trigger, finishing off the infected, blood splattering everywhere.

Standing up, he knew he had to move, that survivor was likely hot on his tail.

(Just, so your aware, I edited my post.)

As John peered over the corner with the barrel of his AR-15 sticking out along with his eyes, he realized it was indeed an infected. He got into a more stable crouching position as he raised his barrel to aim at the infected. It was a while since he had shot a gun considering he was a gunshop clerk but not a expert marksman and was holed up in his house for days. His sights swayed slightly as he was aiming, he had adrenaline messing with finer actions, like aiming, but the vertical grip helped considerably.

His sights also helped too, considering it was a I.T.L M.A.R.S system that is usually used by the military. He fired at the infected with a single shot, it's neck ruptured but no blood was expelled from the body, it fell to the ground. Seeing zombie movies before this situation happened, he remembered something, double tap, it seemed like a very practical concept. He stood up as he approached the body, he was about 3 Meters away as he took another shot at the head, it was definitely dead now... Well dead, again.....

John entered the house, he had his weapon raised to fire at any would be attacker. He switched to fully-automatic, it could help in close quarters, sometimes volume made up for innacuracy. The living room he entered, was obviously clear, there was a rear door that was open. He peered down the hall way, it was clear and the doors were closed, the only way the person went was the rear door.

Then, he heard a gun shot, similar to the one he heard inside the house, he was a gun clerk and a gun user, he knew what a .45 sounded like considering he owned one. He approached the rear door, slowly to make sure he wasn't caught off guard, he peered to both sides when exiting. He approached the fence where the shot came from, he tried to look through the fence, but there wasn't anything since it was solid wood. John got on top of a boulder to look over the fence that his adversary probably just jumped. He had his rifle aimed the entire time to make sure he wasn't shot himself.

Maybe they could form some sort of team, being alone, wasn't a good idea at all. 2 to 5 man teams usually work the best. Well from what movies Johnson saw it was the best idea.