Nathan looked around him. The room was in considerably good shape, considering it hadn't had anyone in it for at least a month. The wallpaper was slightly scraped, but it was nothing new. The bright, yellowish color of the wall hadn't begun to fade yet, which meant it was relatively new. Nathan was slightly confused about this. He doubted that anyone had found the time to paint the room while they were there. But, he put his distracting thoughts to the side. He had one goal: get in, get supplies. Well, getting in had been easy enough. He couldn't see any threat in the building, at least not yet. There weren't any spare weapons. While this might've been discouraging to others, Nathan found it somewhat of a relief. It meant that no one could sneak up on him, or even ambush in a group.

Nathan took notice of the open door to his left. Well, it USED to be a door. Now, it was just a bunch of torn up hinges, rusting and barely attached to the wall. There were no blood stains, which was peculiar. There had obviously been some kind of a physical struggle. The wall next to the opening was dented in slightly, indicating that something had hit it. Hard. Maybe a baseball bat. But, Nathan decided he didn't have time to think about these things. He often got side-tracked, and getting side-tracked while he was next to a clear opening was a bad idea.

He began to walk around the room. Slowly, he made his way in a circle, checking under every object and item that was on the floor. All in all, he found three bullets, a small, broken knife, and a pistol, with only one bullet.

"Damn it." he whispered to himself. "No food here. Or water."

Nathan sighed. He knew that if he couldn't find food for a while, he would have to find water, and soon. He had emptied his bottle the previous morning, and now he couldn't find anything to refill it with. He stuffed the knife into his pocket, and loaded the bullets he had found into the almost-empty pistol. "I swear, this thing is gonna get me killed." he murmured. He knew that pistols weren't exactly the most effective firearm, and the fact that they were loud didn't help things. That was why he prefered his Lee Enfield gun. Sure, it made a lot more noise than a pistol, but it was definitely stronger. It usually only took him one shot. He smiled, slightly. "Well, it's better than nothing, I guess…"

Then, Nathan heard it. The snapping of a small branch, maybe even a twig. The sound would've been barely noticeable if not for all else being silent. Nathan remained still for a moment, his eyes wide in surprise. For one horrible moment, everything was dead quiet. Everything had fallen silent, even the wind had stopped. Nathan could feel it's dead, soul-less, cruel, cold eyes staring at him, hungrily and darkly.

After another moment, Nathan heard fast footsteps. As quickly as he could, Nathan turned around and fired the pistol.

The bullet hit the walker directly between the eyes. Black blood poured from the bullet hole as the corpse collapsed to the floor. It twitched and moaned and hissed, then fell silent. It's eyes, which were pale and gray, closed. Its mouth hung open, saliva and blood dripping from its gruesome, rotting, torn up jaws. Its teeth were rotted out, and yet they seemed somewhat sharp. It's body was a home of filth and decay. The clothes it wore were tattered, ripped and blood stained. It's hair was stringy and oily.

Nathan gagged slightly. It reeked of death. The smell of rotting flesh hung in the air as the wound continued to bleed out.

"Better get goin'." Nathan decided. He fitted the pistol into his belt, and, gripping his gun, finger on the trigger, he stepped cautiously over the downed corpse. Nathan looked up and down the dark hallway. Nothing else seemed to follow the walker. There was no sound of moaning and screeching, no smell of decay and rotting. He breathed a sigh of relief. There was no danger. Slowly and silently, Nathan made his way down the hall, and into the light of a small living room. It had two, large windows, each one next to the front door. The television was plugged in, but only static would ever come up. Nathan, out of fear, had turned the volume down, so that he wouldn't be frightened. That was the only moment he was glad his friends weren't there. They couldn't make fun at him for being phobic. He walked across the television set, which was next to a small table. There was, unfortunately for Nathan, no food to be found anywhere in the house. He had checked the entire house twice, just to be sure. Maybe he was OCD. That would explain a lot.

Nathan stepped out into the sunlight. It was a cloudless day, the sun beating down on everything on this side of the Earth. The wind was slow and warm, and a few leaves were blown with it. The grass rustled in the breeze, making the field in front of him look like an ocean of pure green water. Beyond the field was a large forest. The tint of the transparent leaves made the ground under the canopy seem to glow with a faint green light. The thinner trees swayed in the wind. The thicker ones remained more stable, but their branches moved back and forth in the breeze.

It was the first beautiful sight Nathan had seen in a long, long time.

He looked to the right. There, right next to the house, there was a short, red, barn. It seemed dull, faded in a way. On the roof of the barn, several crown had made their nest. They squawked as they flew from tree to tree, then back to the roof. Occasionally, they would swoop down and grab something off the ground.

Nathan walked over to the barn door, making sure to check over his shoulder every now and then. When he got to the door, he looked from side to side. He couldn't shake the uneasy feeling that he was being watched. However, he couldn't see anyone or anything. He shrugged and slid the barn door open. It was dark inside, save for a circular window at the upper front of the barn's wall. It was empty, save for the extensive amount of hay that had been piled up.

Nathan came to a horrible realization. The barn smelled like death. That horrid stench hung in the air. And, as he listened closely, he could hear rustling within the hay. At the very end of the first floor of the barn, in a spot where both the long and tall hay piles met, there it was. A walker, trying to struggle it's way out and to Nathan. It had only one eye. The other one was gone, as if it had been stabbed through. A scar ran down it's face, passing through the empty eye socket. It had dull, orange-brown hair, that was thick, coarse and mangy. Its hair hung long over it's face, but not enough to completely cover it. It wore a bloody black t-shirt, and a red sweatshirt, with only one side still in tact. Its eyes darted back and forth, looking hungrily at everything it saw.

Nathan waited for a moment. He wondered how this person had become a walker, how they had died in that hay stack. It must've been painful. The scar had been reopened from the struggle before it's death, and it was oozing black blood. The mouth was full of red and pick teeth, with black gums and a disgusting, slimy tongue. It snapped and bit and spat at the air, trying in vain to get out of its prison. One of its arms was pushing against the hay, in a surprising attempt to pry itself out. The other arm was missing a few fingers, and the bone was showing under the damp and rotting flesh of the elbow. The person had been attacked by someone, that was evident. Walkers couldn't use knives on people's eyes like that. Whoever did it left them, still alive, in the hay. While they were stuck, walkers came in and finished the job.

Nathan drew his Lee-Enfield. He aimed it at the walker's fleshy forehead. Still, it gurgled and hissed, not noticing the gun at the ready. He placed his finger on the trigger, ready to pull and fire at a moment's notice. He took one last look at the struggling walker.

"Sorry, man…" he said. He pulled the trigger. The bullet shot forward and nailed the walker in the brain. Blood blew from the wound, and the walker went limp.

Suddenly, he realized the mistake he made. If this walker was killed by other walkers…

...they were still nearby.

Nathan realized this all too late. As he turned around to take aim, five walkers rushed through the door. They were faster than any that Nathan had ever seen, and they were actually in good shape...aside from being dead.

In panic, Nathan backed himself up into a corner. He wanted to take aim and fire, but his emotions were all mixed. He felt fear, sadness, anger, and desperation. Still, his arm would not let the gun raise. Nathan shut his eyes as one of the walkers lunged toward him.

Nothing happened.

Nathan opened his eyes. In front of him, the walker lay on the ground, with a metal arrow piercing its brain. The other walkers were looking around, obviously confused. Their eyes and heads darted from side to side, trying to find the source of the new silence.

There was a small, whistle-like sound. Another arrow notched itself into a walker's head. Then another. And another. Soon, all five walkers were on the floor, dead as when they were first killed.

Nathan was confused. He didn't know what to think. It certainly wasn't him that had fired the arrows. So who was it? He realized, after being in a daze for a few moments, that he was sitting. Wobbling, he got to his feet and looked around.

There, on top of one of the barn's rafters, stood a figure with a crossbow in their hands.