Steven slowed down, looking around at the small town he was in. The sand storm had died down, and now the sky glowed orange as the sun set. It would have been a nice sight on a normal day. It wasn't now. Then again, this had become a normal thing for Steven, many years ago. He was used to it.
Seeing that there were no undead in the area, Steven stopped his vehicle in the middle of the street, and stepped out, keeping his Shotgun in his hand, ready for any action. He looked at each of the houses, and found one he liked, which had faded color, and destroyed roofs, just like all the others. Getting back into the jeep, he pulled into the cracked, worn out, concrete driveway.
As he got out for a second time, he quickly brought his luggage inside. The house was silent, and the setting sun clearly showed each of the tiny pieces of dust floating in the air. Steven didn't like that.
After Steven turned on a fan he had found, he jumped onto the couch in the family room, and fell asleep. He quickly woke up in the middle of the night, his dreams plagued by his past. He starred around, not wanting to rest any more. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a small phone-like device, and looked at the screen. As usual, the green blip represented the phone. The red blips were all hundreds of miles away. So, Steven felt okay. Not okay enough though.
He reached into one of his packs, pulling out a thick book. Getting a flash light out, still holding the book in his other hand, he stepped into the garage. As he looked at the series of power tools scattered everywhere, he placed the flashlight in his mouth, and grabbed some of the equipment. Going to the wooden table in the middle of the garage, he opened the book, going to a pages on building a large cannon, explosives, and remote controls. Then, he got to work, building the framework for the device, sparks going everywhere, eliminating his dark brown hair, along with his ice only eyes.
After a while, he realized that he didn't have enough metal to finish the framework. Going to the jeep, he started it up, driving to the side of the town. Seeing a large store, he almost cheered, but remembered there was no point. Without a word, he went into the store, holding his flashlight in one hand, his shotgun in the other, and having a large pack on his back.
Hearing a familiar hissing and groaning, be got ready for action, and whistled. Slowly, several figures stumbled towards him, flailing their arms around, their mouths opening and closing, as if they were already eating him. Quickly, he poked them quickly in the foreheads with the knife on his shotgun, making sure they were actually dead.
Satisfied that he was the only one in the store now, he walked through the isles, looking around carefully.
Finally finding the metal plating, he put as much as he could in his pack, walked back to the jeep, unloaded it all in the back, and then went in to get more. This continued until there was no more in the store.
Satisfied, Steven drove back to the house, and continued working. When morning came, he looked at his creation, and gave himself a pat on the back. He had worked hard, and now he had proof of it. Setting everything else down, he lifted the two cannons, and went to the jeep. First attaching something it could rotate on, he made sure the two cannons were secure. Putting in a dozen metal canisters, he pulled a small controller connected to the cannons into the jeep. Pressing a button, a series of flakes went into the air, and Steven clapped his hands. This is good... I'm making a better version tommarow though.
With that, John went back into the house, jumped onto the couch, and closed his eyes. He stayed asleep from then, all the way to the next day. His dreams were plagued by violence and a sad past though. This would never stop.