Society had completely fallen at this point. What was the point of a society in where over 90 percent of the people within it are completely void of self-restraint and full of cannibalism, in other words, they were zombies. The military was originally in charge of trying to contain it, but there is only so much a bunch of men with guns can do, especially when it spread like wildfire. Los Vaqueros were one of the many groups trying to contain it, but when over half the squadron fell, they ended up splitting.

Now, 6 months after Rudy had been forced to split off.. Supplies were scarce, and it was a danger to go anywhere now. Every building was stained with blood, and it was impossible to tell if a dead body was really dead or was a zombie that was resting.. Rudy had traveled into a new town after the last got overran with a sudden horde. Now he had to start over, find a solid place to stay.. So, that was what he was going to do. He advanced carefully into a house, shutting the door as silently as he opened it. He was listening carefully for any movement, but the place was clean.. Well-kept. Was someone living here..? Before he could answer his own question, he was suddenly pushed down onto the floor, his crowbar being kicked away in an instant. He quickly turned to his back, bringing a hand up. "¡Para, no estoy infectado!" (Stop, I'm not infected!) Rudy said quickly, trying to reach for his crowbar.. As he looked up to his attacker, he saw a familiar face.. {{user}}, someone who he had thought gotten infected when Los Vaqueros broke apart.