Jake steadily walked south down highway 21 as the sun reached its daily apex.  He wiped the sweat from his brow and sipped from his CamelBack as his boots quietly marched down the road.  He kept his head on a swivel as he didn’t like being exposed and preferred to travel on shady side streets rather than these damn open highways.  Unfortunately on his current path, the highway was the only option.  He looked over at the thick woods to his left and right and contemplated going off road, but knew it would only slow him down.  And while he was exposed, he did have the protection of a long line of sight.  He could see for at least 50 meters in every direction, and that would be plenty of time to take care of any dead heads that happened to cross his path.  In the distance he could just make out the wisps of black smoke that had been his guide for the last few hours.<br/><br/>Last night, Jake had bunked down in the upper story of a barn when he heard a large explosion and felt wooden planks shake beneath him around 4am.  He quickly ran to a window and saw a fireball in the distance to the south.  He watched the lingering flames flicker for a few minutes before retreating to his straw lined bunk.  “I wonder what caused it,” he mumbled to himself.  He knew loud noises would attract the dead, and probably the best thing to do would be to forget all about it.  But it had been almost a week since he had seen another living person and somebody might still be in that area, someone alive hopefully.<br/><br/>Jake sat in the darkness of the barn and ate a scavenged can of peaches as he thought.  At first light he checked the window again and saw a thick column of black smoke to the south.  Ignoring his best instincts he shouldered his pack and climbed down from the hay loft.  “Oh well, you don’t want to live forever do you?” he chuckled as he started making his way south.<br/><br/>8 hours or so later, Jake wandered into the town of Potosi.  As he crossed Purcell Rd, he could see the twisted wreckage with a few lingering flames that generated his smoke a few hundred meters ahead.  He slowed his pace as he approached and quietly clicked the safety off the M4 slung to his chest.<br/><br/>As was usual around towns, a few cars littered the roadway.  Jake gave them a wide birth, having seen many in the past that still contained undead passengers.  The cars became denser towards the upcoming intersection with highway 8 as he saw the cause of the explosion last night.<br/><br/>In the center of the intersection stood what was left of a semi tanker truck along with a few dozen burnt out cars.  Charred bodies and body parts littered the area in a wide circle around the still smoldering truck.  Jack could hear the crackle of the flames and the wind in the trees as he walked, but little else.  He carefully eyed each body he approached looking for movement but saw none.  At this point he couldn’t tell if these used to be people or zombies, but they were dead now and about 150 of them by his rough count.  “Hrm, maybe the concussion got em,” he grumbled as he picked his way through the wreckage.  “But who set this thing off?  I don’t think Zack would do it.”<br/><br/>Suddenly something caught Jake’s eye on the ground.  He crouched down and brushed aside some debris to reveal a spent shell casing; 7.62 NATO.  Picking around a bit more, he uncovered a lot more spent ammo and an old M60 machine gun, now damaged beyond repair.  “Now what idiot would start a firefight next to a fuel tanker?” he asked himself as he scanned the horizon half expecting to see said idiot, but knowing damn well he was probably in crispy chunks all around the intersection.<br/><br/>Jack stood on top of a nearby pickup flatbed to get a better view of the area.  He eyed the nearby stores, making mental notes of what supplies he needed and if it was worth the risk of venturing inside when a new noise caught his attention.  He dropped to one knee in the truck bed, and raised his rifle in the direction of the sound.<br/><br/><br/>