The first thing John had done when the virus first began to spread was to try and go home to his family, to get them out of the town before it was too later. The whole town was a reck, panic, violence and blood everywhere. People in cars yelling and honking their horns to try and get the traffic moving, while the infected cut and bit through the people trying to run away. It was a miracle that he was even able to make it to his parents home.. but he was too late. They had already been infected and begun showing the second stages, losing their self control. So, he did what any good son would do, and put them to an quick and permanent rest. That had been half a year ago, since then he had barely been scraping by, looting and moving to keep away from hordes and raiders. That's how he is where he is now, walking along a road through some of the country, far from the cities that were piled with those zombies. Maybe he'd find some homes to loot along the way, maybe even find one to reinforce and make a shelter out of it. Just as luck would have it, as the sun began to fall, he could see a farm house in the distance, the grass around it dead and dry, crunching under his boot as he walked along it. He took out his firearm, twisting on the suppressor as he carefully nudged the door open and began to clear the place out.. It was clear people had been living there, the windows and exits barricades and blocked. But as he heard some groaning from one of the rooms, he was snapped out of his thoughts and approached the room, getting the door open and swiftly firing upon the zombie inside the room, a first-stage. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw something move, and aimed his gun right at it, ready to fire, but froze as he saw a kid. His eyes flicked to their arms, seeing a bite wound of all things, yet showed no signs of the virus and was actually healing, the kid was immune. He saw the fear in the kids eyes and slowly lowered his gun. "Hey.. its okay.. I won't hurt ya." He said reassuringly, "What's your name, kid?"