A.J. made his way north up what was left of deserted Market Street, His M16 held against his chest instead of strapped to his back, for  he hasn't been in this part of town for a while. An observant eye would see his are half closed and bloodshot, for he hasn't slept properly for almost a month with the nightmares of his first confrontation with the walking dead plaguing him every time he blinks...<br/><br/>Through experience A.J. knows to walk down  the double yellow line of the road, listening for any noises that may have been the result of an attacker. So far so good, not a noise outside his boots clacking the pavement and the occasional clang of ammo clips in his backpack.<br/><br/>Suddenly, a sound catches A.J.'s ear. Without thinking He spins around with the rifle instantly against his shoulder... But all that is there is an old Humvee that looks as if it's doors have been ripped from the body.<br/><span style="font-style: italic"> "Holy shit they ain't diein'!" "I'm outta ammo!" "A.J., Cover me!" "There's too many of um!" </span>The flashbacks ring though his skull as he looks at the old attack vehicle surronded by brass shell casings and what appears the rotting corpse of a man in a camo uniform; a casualty of friendly fire he presumes and turns to proceed. Again the noise calls out, but this time he hears what it is; radio static! A.J. ran to the old truck, finding that it was indeed the CB radio making noise, broadcasting a voice!<br/><br/>"This is Private Andrew Johanson, Army infantry. Where are you stationed, Over." A.J. calls into the CB radio of the Hummer, hoping that marine was still on the other end.<br/>"Yo Jarhead? you still out there, over?" he called after his first call was not returned