A/N This is my first fanfiction, so any critique or opinions would be appreciated. This idea was originally mine, but it has now become a collaboration between me an another writer. That is all for now, I hope you enjoy.

Chapter 1

Kirk was sitting in his battered old lounge chair reading a book; Cell by Stephen King. It had been his favourite book since way before the cordyceps hit. It also became the one constant since the fateful event that occurred twenty years previously. If he ever had to pack up and leave a place, as he so frequently did for the first couple of years, he not only ensured he had food and water as well as something to protect himself with, but he also made sure that he had the book in his backpack. The orange cover was still in a good condition, surprisingly so considering its years of use.

But for the last Ten or so years he hasn't needed to use his backpack to quite the extent as he did before. This was because he had been holed up in a tiny secluded lodge in the middle of the woods. Probably the longest anyone he ever knew has managed to stay in one place without a larger quantity of people high enough to be classed as a small army for protection.

As for the book, it was no longer just his favourite book. It was also the book that he found related to the world the way it was now. After all, both the book and the world are filled with people that are infected and people that are crazy.

Kirk closed the book and stood up, stretching his arms out before walking over to a large set of shelves big enough to almost stretch the length of the room. It was stacked from floor to ceiling and each shelf had books filling it to the brink. Seeing as Kirk lived a life of solitary his large book collection has served as a big part of his life. The drama and events served as his only form of entertainment and the characters his only form of companionship. He took a moment to look over the whole collection, thinking of his life and his connection to these items. Not only did they serve as entertainment and companionship, but they served as mental excercise. He ensured he read every day, at least a couple hours minimum but more if he could. He stood in place with his eyes scanning along the rows until he finally lifted his arm to put Cell back in its place.

Once the book was back on the shelf he walked over to the windows and drew the curtains aside. The curtains had a pattern on them, likely flowers, but thick dust and grime made the pattern barely visible any more. He would have cleaned them but thanks to the condition they were in, they helped to make it look like no one had lived there in years. As he looked outside he saw that it was very close to becoming nightfall. While most people would see this as a huge risk, which it could very well be, he saw it as the best time. Things were quieter at night around where he has spent the last ten years. It meant he could hear just about anything if he listened to his surroundings, as he always did. It also meant he could almost be invisible to his prey of the night. But mostly, he found it peaceful. The calm nature of the forrest and the beauty of the trees, along with the smell of the leaves and grass; it all captivated him and let him feel "Normal". He could see the last of the day's light receeding through the tree line and instantly knew tonight would be a dark one indeed.

He stepped back from the window and let the curtains close once again before he moved over to a large cabinet on the other side of the room, opposite his book shelf, and looked at its contents. He had put it to use as an "armory" of sorts.

On it lay a small backpack, green in colour and with plenty of frayed or torn pieces of fabric. He picked it up and started packing provisions such as water and a single, small pack of food chunks. Finally he added in some animal bait and then lifted it over and along his arms before tightening the straps.

The weapons laid out were all put into categories and placements allowing him to pick which weapons he wanted based on which he found suitable for the situation. Lying down on the flat surface was a bow, mostly wooden but shaped as a recurve bow to assist his aim. He picked up the bow and tested the tension, ensuring it would fire an arrow as best it could. Hanging on the wall was a quiver full of arrows and next to it hung a Semi-automatic rifle followed by a scoped hunting rifle. He removed an arrow from the quiver, notched it and pulled the string back, getting the feel for the weight in combination with the tension. "Perfect" he said to himself and put both the bow and quiver over his head to rest upon his backpack.

He also opened a draw in the cabinet which contained a couple hand guns and a revolver. He picked up one of the two handguns and checked the clip; full except for one bullet. He stashed the gun in a holster and clipped it to his waist, it would only be for if something happened and if he needed something quick to fire with.

With his weapons ready and his pack filled with the necessities he had everything he needed and approached, unlocked and opened the front door, revealing the world beyond. He gazed upon the beautiful greenery beyond his doorway and felt the cool air hit him instantly. He wanted to close his eyes and and relax as it brushed across his skin gently, but knew doing such a thing would make him an open target to anyone or anything nearby.

Finally he stepped out, closed the door and locked it once again.

Before taking the first step to go onwards he declared openly to himself

"Time to go hunting!"