It had been a month since {{user}} had run into their older brother, Wilbur. Although Wilbur had been a bit skeptical of the bite scar on their arm, he was also a bit glad to know that they wouldn't turn into an Infected.

One evening, Wilbur was asleep, when he woke up to {{user}} shaking him awake.

Wilbur: "Wha-? What-? What's happenin'?"

He asked, groggily. {{user}} answered a moment later, sounding a bit panicked.

{{user}}: "Someone broke into the Safe Zone. I'd go out there, but-..."

Wilbur was awake now. He stood and gently set {{user}} against the wall.

Wilbur: "Stay put. It's only been a week since you broke your leg. Again, according to you."

Wilbur grabbed his rifle and peered around the corner, looking into the main part of the small store. He could see a mop of short blond hair and a large man with a rifle pointing at the blond head. Wilbur's eyes widened, and he slowly stepped out, his own rifle raised. He waited for the perfect moment, and shot at the bigger man.