The convenience store was basically empty. Ransacked long ago. Ollie was quickly coming to the realization that sooner than later, they'd have to start moving further and further from the city to actually be able to do any successful looting. As it stood, he genuinely couldn't call anything he'd done up to this point successful; they barely came out with anything anymore and they were living on scraps. But it would only get worse as time went on.
Ollie hated being out here. He hated leaving safehouses, hated leaving Allie behind when he ran the streets and hated, hated killing what used to be people to get what everyone else wanted him to. If he had his way, he'd be doing something more helpful. Something that actually required skill. He had to do it, though, so he did.
He was snapped out of his thought process by the sound of a barking dog nearby.
Barking dogs meant many things in this new "society" they lived in, and none of them were good. Infected canines weren't a good thing, and neither were barking immune-dogs, because it meant that there were infected nearby. Ollie was at attention instantly, his hand on his pistol as he made his way to the door of the store.
He peered outside, only to see a man frantically running the street, looking around in a panic. And about four runners behind him. "Down! Get down!" he hollered to the man as he aimed his pistol. "Behind you!"