Russ followed Travis into a familiar home in Trafalgar, Indiana. Russ had grown up here, and he couldn't help to travel back-even though Trafalgar was crawling with brain-dead, clicking infected.
While walking through the garage-a green, junky fog engulfed the two cousins. Russ panicked and pulled out his gas mask, yelling, "Spores!" Travis turned and stared at Russ, "You think that's funny?"
"What?! Get your mask on fool!" Russ said, his voice muffled by his mask. Travis gave him a dirty look, "You don't have to make fun of me, man! You know I fart when I'm scared! I can't help it!
"You don't see that green fog!?" Russ persisted.
"That's ME-Russ!" Travis yelled, "Take off the mask! You're hurting my feelings.
It then clicked for Russ. "Oh." He said quietly. He started to pull the mask off, but gaged on the smell, and slid the mask back on. Travis just stared at him some more. "What!" Russ demanded defensively. Travis shook his head and continued to walk through the garage. Russ noticed a flock of flies already swarming around Travis's arse.
Russ soon noticed his peep holes were steamed up from the foggy air. It soon got soo bad that he couldn't see anything. Russ walked quickly and blindly around the garage. He walked soo fast that he tripped over something and face planted onto the concrete floor, breaking his gas mask. Russ gasped and cried out, "NOOOOO! I'm doomed! Shoot me! Shoot me! Don't-let-me-turn!" He ended his fit with a soft wine.
Russ realized he had tripped over Travis, who looked as if he was about to charge. Russ got up, threw his mask at Travis as he started to sprint towards him, and ran away, flailing his arms and screaming like a little girl-with Travis in pursuit.