Another long day of surviving. The woods provided some protection but they had their hidden dangers as well. But for Cole, it was "so far so good" until the rations started to run low. That meant a trek into the closest neighborhood, ransacking houses for what little food they still had, and of course dodging the ever hungry undead. He slipped on his leather gloves and checked over his<a class="postlink" href="http://www.hyattgunstore.com/images/P/main-1157.jpg">Taurus .40</a>, reattaching the tactical light but leaving it off. Those things were like fish if they see anything shiny. Cole knew his way through these woods anyways, the trick was listening to those awkward, uneven, lumbering footsteps that would drag across the dirt and foliage.<br/><br/>After holstering the pistol, Cole walked around his makeshift tree house packing his backpack with all the necessaries. He even managed to fold up a small duffle-bag and shove that in there too. He did his best to not make too much noise walking around on those 2x4's but steel-toed boots aren't always made for stealth.<br/><br/>Everything was set and it was time to head out. Cole reached up and grabbed a large knotted rope tied to the thickest branch and let it fall to the floor. They were lacking in the coordination department but the last thing he needed was for the "Stenches" to figure out how to use a ladder. The way Cole had it figured, they would never figure out how to climb the rope since plenty of average humans couldn't even do it.<br/><br/>Cole grabbed hold of the rope and leaned off the edge of the platform. He pulled a flare gun from inside his leather motorcycle jacket and popped one off in the opposite direction of where he was going. A so far successful distraction method when he had to make a ration run. Without wasting anytime Cole began his quick descent. His boots hit the ground and paused a moment to listen. No groans, no moans, and no staggering footsteps; he was in the clear. Cole booked it straight for the edge of the woods. It wasn't a far trek but walking would have taken a half hour at least and he didn't like being out in the dark for too long.<br/><br/>The edge of the woods was approaching so Cole slowed his pace to a more tactical movement, crouching low and focusing his steps, which suddenly came to a halt. Cole listened closer...sure enough, the song of the undead. A body staggered across the lawn of a backyard at the edge of the woods. Its low groans were unmistakable. Cole approached slowly, reaching for one of the throwing knives he had picked up a while back that he had been diligently practicing with. Cole counted; eight paces away, perfect range. He took a deep breath and held it, raised his arm then let fly. A quick whirling sound followed by a solid thud. The Stench fell, a direct hit to the left temple. Cole surveyed the area once more. Seeing no others, he quickly jogged out and stood over the body. It was dead for sure...well "dead-er" than it already was. Cole slammed his heel onto it's head and yanked the knife out. Coagulated blood stuck to its edge so Cole wiped both sides on the Stenches arm, then shoved it into the ground, pulling it out nice and clean then slid it back with the others wrapped around his left leg. The dirt helped to keep his blades nice clean. The less the disease was around him, the better.<br/><br/>Cole stood and looked at the house the yard belonged to. By the looks of the place it looked abandoned a while ago. Cole stepped up on the deck and made his way to the back door. Locked. Not a big deal. Cole knelt down and pulled a lock pick out of his left leg pocket on his black cargo pants and got to work. In no time at all he had the door opened quickly and quietly.<br/><br/>Looking inside he couldn't see much. Seemed the room he was in was empty so he pulled out the gun and switched on the light. After aiming around the room for a bit Cole found a door and made his way over to it, turning the tactical light off in the process. He cracked it open and peered out into a short hallway that led to another open room it seemed. Cole slowly made his way down the hall pistol at the ready. He began to round the corner and saw a body standing near the other end looking out a window. Cole took careful aim when his foot accidently hit the back of a an old jukebox that was partially sticking out from around the next corner. The next second was a blur as Cole found himself diving to the floor ducking a rifle blast that skimmed the jukebox. The shooter just as quickly dove for the cord as Cole did and managed to yank it. Cole landed with his gun aimed at the shooters' head. They both laid there in silence for a brief moment. He listened to their breathing. It was steady, and most importantly, it was human.<br/><br/>"Stenches don't shoot rifles or dive for cords of jukeboxes with flesh wounds." Cole spoke with a slight Irish accent then slowly stood up with his weapon still aimed at the mysterious shooter. He reached his left hand out and flipped on the tactical light, revealing the shooter was female.<br/><br/>"Well Lass, I won't shoot if you won't shoot...again." Cole slowly lowered the weapon, then flipped the light back off.<br/><br/>"Didn't mean to barge into yer' fine establishment 'ere. Just lookin' food is all. I trust you be doing the same then aye?"