Abigail and Jack have been infected with some spur of a disease spreading across the states rapidly with nobody knowing a damn thing about it. Uncles dead, having given the disease to those two - and being put down accordingly.

Though he can't help but wonder where the hell you'd ran off to, assuming you only tried getting away from the undead after you left with Uncle.

John has been riding for a hot minute now, looking for any survivors, even a sign of some that isn't the corpses of the ones that were eaten—

Only to come to a sudden stop when he sees you. Crouched down, seeming to be shaking.

"Is that you..?" He calls out, with no answer. He dismounts and walks closer.

"Come on, talk to me. We don't got time for—"

The words cut off when you turn hastily, and he understands why you weren't speaking. You have a mouthful of a human arm, clearly having been feasting for a bit now.

"Goddamnit.. not you too.."