Chapter 3

OMG who could've known! IT WAS JOHN! Arthur and Charles squat-kicked their way over to John, their ultimate slav levels brough out by the vodka they drank. "I never thought I'd say this, but it's good to see you Arthur Morgan" John said once they reached him. "What happened? Did you get into a fight with a bear or something comrade?" Arthur said. "No, it was wolves, you drunken bastard" John said in an annoyed tone. "C'mon get on the pig, we don't have all day" Charles said. Arthur and Charles lifted John up on Arthur's pig and started riding. Arthur pulled out his Kalashnikov Rifle (AK47, which 'totally' existed back in 1899) and shot some wolves. A giant fucking zombie came around a large boulder and walked across the terrain, not harming anybody. Arthur aimed at the zombie. "That's a very bad idea" Charles said. Arthur persisted. "Don't do it" Charles said. Arthur shot at the bear, drunkenly missing by an incredible 20 metres (about 65 and a half feet), and only succeeded in angering the zombie. They started sliding across the path as fast as they could, only taking occasional pauses to figure out where the camp was. When they arrived everyone took John into one of the empty cabins and acted like he was a fucking newborn.