The ground was warm under his body, the grass brittle and dry against the exposed flesh of his arms.  From above the sun beat down relentlessly as the sweat formed upon his brow.  Dry air of summer did nothing to quell the heat of the summer sun from above.  But the heat of summer was the last thing on Michael Sullivan’s mind as he laid stretched out upon his stomach looking over the town below.<br/><br/>He was stretched out upon the wooded hill top on the outskirts of the town.  At first, Michael wasn’t sure at all what to make of the small little town laid out before him.  It was quiet, both down in the town and up in the hill.  He couldn’t see anything moving down below, not even the slightest trace of the infected within the streets.  There was nothing going on down in the streets, looking more and more as if it were a ghost town.  Streets were emptied.  Some buildings were boarded up, others smashed in and looted already.  The houses beyond the town seemed even more empty and desolate in the haze of the summer sun.<br/><br/>Michael Sullivan didn’t feel right about the town at all.  Seeing the quiet town left him uneasy at first.  There were more than a million different things running through his mind, so many things that could go wrong.  It was all about survival, making the right choices that separated the living and the infected.  Far too many people made the stupid choices, only to become just like the infected so hungry for flesh.  It was all about survival.<br/><br/>Surviving was exactly what Michael had felt like he was doing for almost all his life.  Whether on his own, on the streets, or behind bars, Michael had been a survivor.  Prison was a blessing in disguise.  It had taken away so much of his life.  And yet, it kept him safe, shielded him from the outbreak going on outside.  But now he was free, and he had no intention at all dying so quickly after tasting freedom for the first time in years.<br/><br/>A rumble of his stomach reminded Michael of just why he was there.  The need for food.  The highways were bare, picked clean by the few survivors still left.  He didn’t dare venture into the major cities.  Even he had heard the stories of the cities becoming nothing more than hives for the diseased.  For as far as he could see, the town looked quiet, deserted, dead.  It didn’t feel right at all deep down in the pit of his stomach, but there was no denying the thought in the back of his mind of food and supplies within the town to sustain himself.<br/><br/>“Get busy livin, or get busy dyin…” He said aloud to himself quietly, giving the town one last look over, from the houses, to the town and the lake just beyond the town.<br/><br/>It took him fifteen minutes to get down the hill and into his car.  The stereo had been silent, turned completely off as he approached the town inside the beat up Civic he found.  It was just outside the town that he killed the engine, parking it across the side of the road.<br/><br/>With the car parked along the main road, Michael paused as he stared down the town before him.  He couldn't help but to nervously tap his fingers against the steering wheel before turning his glance over to his sister in the seat before him.  Sister.  It still felt odd to him to know he actually had a sister.  For too long it had been him, and only him, on his own.  He never expected he had actual family out there until the letter arrived in prison.  They had kept up with each other as best as they could with the situation he found himself in, but with out that glass partition, it seemed a little awkward to be around her in the flesh.<br/><br/>"Keep your eye down the road." He said as he slowly began to climb out of the car.  "I'll wave you down if it's safe.  If not...  Well...  You know what to do..."<br/><br/>His hand gripped the handle of the bat from the back of the car tightly as he began the slow, cautious walk down the main street, his eyes peeled as he glanced around, looking for any thing from food, the infected, even signs of actual life.