2039 {Zombie Apocalypse}

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Original poster
{Setting Reminder}
A year and a half after the "Great Fall of Humanity", survivors originally looking for answers are now just looking to survive. What started as a political split between the Democratic and Republican parties due to China deciding to demand the funds owed, ended in a WWIII catastrophe as China and America went to war, many counties following suit to back their friends in trade. With the hysteria of a split America, and a war on our own land, a mass case of the flu seemed to be the least of America's problems. How the virus began, or what caused it is completely unknown. Maybe a weaponized virus gone wrong from Japan, maybe created in America and gotten into the wrong hands. Whatever it was, it seemed to be playing god. Starting off with fever, then vomiting, dehydration, blindness, confusion, muscle spams, violence, and lastly a craving for flesh. Unable to feel pain, be reasoned with, or die without a blow to the brain, the sick are very rightfully known as the undead. And as summer in South Carolina begins, it smells of just that, the dead. The, hot, sticky, summer air is filled with the scent of poor hygiene and rotting limbs. Though the zombies seem to be slowing as the population decreases, it almost seems as if it is the calm before the storm.

{Area Reminder}
The small town of Arcadia in South Carolina is now desolate except for the County highschool for troubled teens which has been cleared by a teacher, janitor, and student from the area and been guarded right about from the beginning. (1) Two miles from the school is a gas station and convince store, most of whats good has been taken, but not all. (2)
A run down also looted restaurant called "Hart's Pizza" is the Arcadia Gas & Goods neighbor (3 can't really be seen but it's next to 2), across from that is the Arcadia post-office (5) and a tiny town hall (4). Between the school and the village runs Penelope river (6), a large Class B polluted river that runs down through the city for four miles into Little Miss Lake (7), both named after the daughter of the first mayor. The only thing that makes this little town worth noting in history books. It also allows some very nice cabins and lake houses around that lake, which are full of once fairly wealthy and successful people. (9) There is also a small neighborhood of close-by houses for a hippie community that used to have a lot of farming and live stock. Also under (9).

{Rules Reminder}
Standard Iwaku Rules, of course.
Please post on a regular basis, once or more times per day, at the very least once every other.
Up to two characters per person!
This isn't a smut, please fade to black and continue in messages if things go past PG-13.
No sex with Zombies.

Alright, now that every things here for you so you don't have to switch back and forth between the OOC and IC to have the information, let's have fun!~
Xavier Baz

He had been walking for over several hours now. The warm summer sun beat down on Xavier, causing him to sweat. The drifter had been forced to take off his long hooded coat and carry it in his pack. All he had on now was a black top, covered by his Kevlar vest, leather vambraces, worn black jeans, and his combat boots. A tactical mask covered his face, it kept dust and harmful particles from the dead at bay.

The road of the highway he traveled was riddled with deserted cars and corpses of long past. The stench of rotting meat filled the air, only worsened by the hot, sticky, summer heat. Xavier walked a mile more until he came up on a sign, Welcome to Arcadia. He waited a moment before he started moving again. He was one more town closer to where he needed to be.

There was no one in sight as he entered the small town. Off in the distance, he spotted what looked like a gas station. He decided it was worth checking for supplies, as he was running low on lighter fluid and rations. As he got closer, he saw that it had already been looted quite heavily. The windows were smashed, and two of the three oil pumps that once stood there, were now missing. Xavier hesitated to go into the hellhole, but curiosity got the best of him. He drew his knife into his left hand before making his way cautiously for the front entrance.

Richard had been lounging in the gas station since daybreak. It'd been his turn to patrol the town, and he'd ended his shift in Arcadia Gas and Goods. Rising from a pile of moldy newspapers which he'd used as a bed, he prepared to head back to where the two others were camping and give them the all clear. At least, he was about to.

He heard the rustle of heavy boots on dusty pavement, and opening the blinds by an inch he peeked through the window. Approaching the gas station was a figure, face hidden by some sort of gas mask. The man was kitted with combat gear; kevlar, vambraces, boots. Not one to be messed with. And not one to be ignored.

Stashing his valuables underneath his newspaper bed, he neared the door. Picking up a can, he rolled it out the door until it bounced off the remaining oil pump, making a soft clang.

Richard whistled.
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Xavier Baz

Hearing a the clanging of metal on metal and a sharp whistle, Xavier drew his gun from his holster on his thigh. In the best case scenario, he would not have to use it, and in the worst, he would be out two or three bullets. As the drifter peered through the shattered window pane of the gas station he saw a figure. "I mean no harm," Xavier shouted in a calm voice to the man inside the building. "I am looking for supplies, I have things to trade, if not, I'll leave you be." Xavier lowered the gun slightly as a sign of non-hostility, the knife was sheathed also. He hoped the man was unarmed and not a danger to him.

A promise of non-hostility. If he kept that promise, it'd be the first time anyone ever did. But trade was a good surprise. Much better than being threatened, extorted or outright robbed. Still wary of the drifter, Richard peeked half his head out the door. The drifter had lowered his gun just a bit, and the knife he'd held was sheathed now. Reciprocating, Richard showed both his hands, body still behind the door. Though calloused and bandage-wrapped, they were weapon-free.

"Now what's this about a trade?" Richard asked, his voice hushed. The dead might hear. Richard pointed to the man's gun as well. "I hope that's empty, and all you use it for is to intimidate people. Firing a gun here would be a bad idea."

Richard's eyes flashed back to his stash hidden beneath his newspapers. If this drifter really wanted to trade, let it happen. Lord knows they need some fresh supplies.
Kaylin's fingers ran lightly over the heavily rusted exit door. Each bump was sharp with the metal rot, and left copper streaks across her fair skin. She spent most of her time in the exploratory wing, where the gymnasium, art room, library, and music room were located. That was all they had for living area, the rest of the school was mainly empty, locked and barricaded with shelves of useless chairs furniture so that nothing would ever get in, but by now it was possible something had gotten through maybe the first hallway. It would take a long time to push through the school with brute force. Not to mention some of the trip wires made with cheap yarn and trap doors with boards and brick piled overhead, that once pushed open would have an avalanche of hard stone ruthlessly toppling over those who passed. Behind the Exit door was the way to the playground. It had been set up with a large fence of extra metal plating for the roof on one side, and when they ran out of that broken chairs and desks. Some large, sharpened pieces of wood had also been placed around, more as a fear tactic from the beginning. This fence had been up a full year though, and would need to be repaired soon. Unless they wanted to lose the privilege to go outside, other than the roof. Which... Kaylin couldn't do.

Turning back around she looked into the dark gym. It was empty, the basketball hoops still hanging. Piles of junk on the sides, sharpened sticks, tools of the janitors, the gym and the janitors closet were connected as it was as if it were an extension of his room. In the middle of the gym was a make-shift lantern out of a cut can. It was very sharp and dangerous but it did it's job. There was a huge supply of emergency candles when things went down, but everything was starting to run out. From the gym was a small hallway that went to the locker rooms, and a backdoor to the art room. Another hallway was connected to the adjacent wall, which went to the music room on the left, then library straight ahead, and connecting to another small hallway on the right that connected to the main art room and closed doors before entering the main hallway to the building. The middle of the school was the cafeteria, and in there was emergency supplies and a connection to the roof in case a hoard came through. From there everything was closed, locked, sealed almost air tight.

Walking to the middle of the gym, even her quiet footsteps echoed. She didn't like being alone much, but he should be back soon. Carefully, she picked up the lantern and watched as it cast it's strange shadows among the floor. Her room was the art room. It was large, concrete, and carefully boarded up. She had painted the walls out of boredom, and hung up pictures of what was once her family and friends. A ripped up yearbook glued to the wall. It was kind of funny that a reading teacher would pick an art room over a library. But most paper had been used as firestarter or insulation, and only her very favorites could be saved. A little bit of panic settled over her as she realized she had finished most of her daily chores and he still had not come back. If he didn't come back soon enough she would have to go out alone, looking for him. It was only fair to him. She wasn't quite sure where her student was either. Running her tongue over her cracked lips she sighed and paced. They were having canned corn today too. She thought he'd like the canned corn, it was sweet. Plus it was going to go bad in a few days and had to be eaten. She could share it between herself and the girl, but it was hard to save out a third portion size when you were always hungry. She knew he must be safe, as he had been late coming home before. Hopefully he stumbled upon something interesting and useful.
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Adeline Smith

"Not there.." A soft voice muttered, the southern accent very apparent. Blue eyes flickered around what could be seen, binoculars helping to make everything clear and close. A short cackle fell from the girls lips, feeling like she was alone. But that wasn't it, Adeline had seen others around every so often, she was just getting bored. The female was by some rather nice Cabins, somewhat far from the heart of the town, but she could still see little things every so often. Her search for others didn't last long, Addy finally allowing the binoculars to fall from her hands. She sat on top of one of the nice Cabins in which she could her home now, since it was abandoned. Noone would tell her no anyways, not like she'd give a damn. Although a sense of authority now wouldn't matter, she wished she had a companion of sorts. It didn't have to be a person, it could always be an animal for all she cared. She's been alone for so long, that she's sure she's going to lose more of her mind than she already had.

Rolling her eyes, she knew that she would most likely be alone for a while, so she shouldn't get her hopes up do thinking of cute little animals and whatnot. Adeline stood up and stretched, earning a small relieved 'pop' from her back. Giggling, the girl easily jumped off the cabin, landing on a stack of mattresses that she had stolen from the other little Cabins surrounding her own. Landing on her back, the springs caused her to bounce back up, and down a couple of times before she lie still. It didn't take long before she pulls herself off the mattresses and to stand. "God, I'm hungry. And I'm running a bit low.." Well that certainly sucked, that meant she had to venture into town and go scavenging. The only possible thing that would be fun, was finding a nice little pitiful place to burn for later. She grew up in the town, and hated it, so she planned on burning whatever she could before finally deciding to leave- Which she was sure wouldn't be too long from now. Addy hated the town as much as she hated everyone in it.

Dusting off her trench coat, the young female began to make her way from the Cabins and slowly to the town. She made sure she was quiet, and had her weapons and everything else stashed safely under her coat and in her pockets. Small branches broke under her feat, scaring a bird every now and then. Of course, since it had become so silent, the crunching sound of her boots meeting the stick seemed like someone playing their music way too loud. The girl cringed every time she stepped on a branch, having not really wanted to bring much attention to herself.
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Lacey woke up to a crashing noise. Instantly alert, she grabbed the pistol under her pillow and looked around the cellar she had turned into her bedroom. She checked the time. 7:00 AM. She got out of bed and squinted through the sun's glare out the small cellar window that offered a view of the street. The sight that greeted her made her growl. It is way too early for this. I am not in the mood, especially not after that dream. Whoever this is better have a damn good reason for waking me up. Rolling up her sleeves, she walked up the stairs to the heavy metal door equipped with six locks that protected the cellar, grabbing her bloody baseball bat on the way and tucking the pistol into the waistband of her pajama pants. That dream brought back bad memories...

Before the Great Fall of Humanity, Lacey was a pacifist. She used to feel woozy at the sight of blood, condemning violence in all its forms. She had led a blessed life. Wealthy, loving parents and a secure, safe future. Then the world sickened and fell, taking everyone she loved and everything she believed in with it.

Lacey glanced at the bat she was holding and then around the cemented cellar of the cabin her and her family vacationed in every summer. The cabin her parents died in. The place where she had to shoot her dad point blank and beat her mom's head in with a baseball bat to save herself from falling victim to the same disease.
Fortunately, or rather not so fortunately, she wasn't the only one to go through such a situation. Other families had also stayed here during the Fall. They had helped her bury the bodies. Too bad they were too afraid to help when her parents had first gotten sick and attacked her. However, by now most had either went away to follow rumors of still-standing cities or died from disease. Or killed each other. Those few that remained here lived in an uneasy truce.

Another loud sound from outside shook her out of her reverie. Crap I can't get distracted so easily. I am not who I used to be. I can't afford to be. She opened the door, swung the bat over her shoulder, and stepped outside.
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Xavier Baz

Xavier pulled off his to reveal his face. He scanned the surrounding area with his dark brown eyes. "I'm coming in." he announced, loud enough so the man inside the gas station could hear, but not so loud that it was a shout. Holstering his gun, he walked through the front door of the gas station.

The insides were a mess, glass everywhere, everything either looted or too destroyed to be of any use. Baz needed some batteries and rations the most. Food, he knew he had no luck finding, but maybe the stranger could help him with some double A's. Putting his backpack on the counter, the young man pulled out a drawstring bag full of gold jewelry, watches, diamond earrings, and a few wedding bands. "Batteries, I need them. This is what I have to offer. I have an extra fire starting kit if you could also point me towards some shelter tonight. I'll be leaving as soon as I can." Xavier said to the raggedy looking man. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw something under a newspaper. I wonder what that is... the drifter thought.

Richard stared at the jewelry. Worthless. What use would anyone have for jewelry now? Back before the Great Fall, of course this would have value, but you can't eat gold. Gold can't keep you warm. Gold doesn't stop your loved ones from bleeding out. And for batteries no less. Richard had two double-As stashed underneath the newspaper; the rest was at the school, for the flashlights. The only deal he was interested in was for the fire-starting kit. Kaylin burned as many books as she could bear to. If push comes to shove, she might have to burn her favorites.

"Um, no. I don't want these jewelry. I don't need them." He crossed his arms. "But we do need that kit. We have shelter in the school."

Richard grabbed his backpack and left the building. If the drifter wanted to follow, he'd follow. "Don't bother wasting your bullets on us, bud, we've got nothing left to steal," he said, half jokingly.

The drifter was obviously dangerous, but he seemed more pragmatic than sadistic, and the three of them in school wouldn't provide much benefit if he killed them. He wondered what the other two would think. Nonetheless, he'd best return soon. The last time he came back late, Ms. K threw a fit.
It sure was a hot day, and Nevin Nakamura was beginning to regret wearing his leather jacket when he had left his brother's vacation house. Probably a thing of habit, but right now that habit was making him really hot. He supposed he could drink more water but he really didn't want to waste what he had. Who knew when he'd next find some good ol' bottled water?

As if to solidify his thoughts, after just a few more minutes of walking, Nevin came by a rather polluted looking river. He hm'd a moment before pausing to look at it. "Nice," he muttered, sounding rather sarcastic. "Zombie humans and poor fishing. My day's been ruined." He huffed a little before pushing a few wayward strands away from his face, wiping the sweat from his forehead. Well, at least he was in a town of sorts, and at the moment there didn't seem to be any 'live' flesh eaters around. The stench was bad enough as it were; he didn't want to add any panic sweat to the list of smelly scents.

His stomach rumbled slightly and he could help but laugh dryly, shaking his head. Even with the world looking as if it was decaying, his appetite was still there and as healthy as always. "Wait up, dude," he said, patting his stomach as he continued walking, shielding his eyes so that he could see further up ahead. It was a rather small town, but he knew there had to be at least a grocery store or something around. Well, he hoped. Once he stocked up, maybe then he'd eat. Otherwise, he was waiting until night fell to have a go at his oh so yummy beef jerky sandwich.

He sighed a little. Why was he even in the States? He should've been back home in Canada by now. "Home's where the heart it," he muttered, kicking at a rock that came in his path. He had no one left up North anymore, he'd just been on vacation with his brother and family when everything went crazy. His hand moved up to hold onto the wolf pendant he wore around his neck for a few seconds. He still couldn't believe they had become those zombies. Well... now they were dead, he'd made sure of that. He knew his brother wouldn't have wanted him and his family to stay as mindless beings.

Lost in his thoughts, he continued walking, passing by what seemed like a post office. He didn't really care enough to stop though.​
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Xavier Baz


Xavier followed the man as he walked out of the gas station. He had no where else to go, so why not. Besides, it was better than finding shelter in a foreign environment. Who know how many maggot-brained meat-eaters there were around. Baz did not want to risk it. Picking up his sack off the counter, he headed out the door, following the raggedy man. Come to think of it, he never even got his name. The drifter caught up to the older man, and they walked in silence for some time. Not being able to take it anymore, Xavier broke the silence. "So... what's your name?" he asked. It had been a while since he'd spoken to another human without having to shoot at them or stab them. Not all drifters were as kind. The world had gone to shit, and with it, so had compassion for others.

Along the way, they passed by a rundown and looted pizza restaurant, a post office, and what was left of the town's small town hall. Xavier noted these things mentally for later. They soon approached a polluted river, the smells of chemicals were strong. The drifter donned his mask once more to prevent any damage to his lungs. He watched the older man hold a piece of cloth to his face as they walked past the river. In the distance beyond the river was a school building. It had some crude defensive systems built around it already. So this is home for the night? Xavier thought. This was not the worst place he's had to hole up in.

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The drifter asked his name. "Nicks. Richard Nicks. The kids here used to call me Mopman. I jokingly told them I'd wipe the floor with their asses if they didn't stop spray-painting the school," Richard replied, reminiscing the time before the Fall, back when there were still kids. How ironic that he really did have to wipe them off the floor.

"What's your name, soldier boy?"

By the time he asked, the two of them were by the river. The drifter put on his mask, Richard put a rag to his face. Thankfully the school was up ahead. When he got there, he didn't use the front door. It'd been a while since the three of them checked the main hallway. The dead might have made their way in. He took the drifter to the back, through the janitorial shed and into the exploratory wing.

He took the masked man into the music room. "Just a precaution," he said, pointing to the man's weapons. "I've got two girls here with me. I'm not letting an armed man into our home." He himself put his cleaver on a table to prove a case. "Just put your stuff anywhere. Just use the instrument rack or something."

Immediately, he opened the door and stepped out. "Ms. K! We've got company!" He turned to said company. "When you're done, come meet us outside."
Stepping back, she looked at the shelves she had organized. All her belongings fit in a single cabinet which once held art supplies. The rest of the art supplies now were neatly places on the shelves above the teachers desk. In the very corner of the room, a mat from the gym, and the drama department clothes were packed together to create a bed. Everything was clean and orderly now, a nice little home. Or, as much as one could be.She had sprayed perfume from an older cheerleaders gym bag, even. The glow of the lantern flickered, she hoped they would find batteries soon. Airing out the wing was difficult and had to be done when they burned many candles.

What sounded like metal on metal startled her, immediately putting her fingers in her pocket and pressing her back to the cabinet. But it took a second to realize that the noise was a just door, and it echoed about the wing easily. "Richard is back." She whispered, removing her hand from the pocket which her knife held. It was a shame there were no weaponry stores near, because the knife she had wasn't foldable and quite sharp. It always stuck out of her pocket slightly, and it would be not a pleasant surprise to need it and find it gone one day. Fixing her white bandana over her head, she heard him call. "Company?" As in, Zombie company? Or...? Worse company. Bandits wanting to take everything company? With her metal bat in hand she booked it to find Richard, pressing her back along the wall when she was about to be in the gym.

They must not have used the gym entrance, because there was no one. The only other entrance was the music room. Kaylin could feel her face flush and her heartbeat. She hated that, the heartbeat in her ears, because she felt everyone else could surely hear it too. When she got to the music room she peeked in, short brown hair falling out of the bandana and over her pale face. Only a man? Or a boy, it seemed. Her wide green eyes surveyed the two, then the area, scared for nothing. But wasn't she always. She envied Richard's much cooler attitude. "We only have one big can of sweet corn. So we'll have to open a can of green beans again too if we have a guest." Greenbeans were a staple within their diet, because right before the Fall they had ordered too many on accident. They had completely raided the caf and only had a couple cans left, now.
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Claire, currently, was busy on her perch of the school roof. This was her favourite place of the small town she had been in up until the Fall. She had gone to the very school she was sitting atop, for various reasons.
She had her binoculars in her hand, and she was scouting the neighboring regions. She saw a few of the dead stumble about, but they didn't get too far to cause panic. She felt bad for them. Pitied them. They were lost souls, their only motivator being flesh. She didn't mourn them. Not anymore. There was just too much pain if she did. She'd rather just sit there, watching them with little emotion. She was like them, in a sense. She was also a lost soul. One that had forgotten long ago what love felt like. What happiness meant. They were trivial things. Things she would miss if she thought too long about it. So she didn't. But instead, she watched the trees blow as the wind whipped around them. she watched the small, defenseless creatures that had managed to survive scurry up the trees, looking for nuts and berries. She often sat on the roof, and sometimes would throw them things like a corn kernel or a piece of old toast. It was the only remainder of enjoyment she had left, a sliver of hope in her heart that yearned to be like them. She wished she could bound from tree to tree, not a care in the world. But that was crazy talk, as the world they had loved before was gone. And in its' place was the definition of a Living Hell. Constantly struggling to survive, just barely making it.
She shook the thought away and took hold of her knife. It was a brown one, with the metal engraving of T.C.J. The blade was easily six inches and the handle had indentations that fit perfectly in her hand. She often wondered whose initials they were, but then her focus snapped back to the grumbling of her stomach.
She picked up her bag and put it over her shoulders, the weight barely bothersome. She had become accustomed to carrying large things, but that didn't mean she was overly strong. She climbed down the ladder positioned on the side of the roof, and jumped off once she was on the last rung. She walked along the side of the school, past the main door and through the janitorial entrance. She came up behind a man, and slowly placed her knife on the table. She looked past the man at Richard, and tilted her head. "Whose he?" She would ask, crossing her arms and watching the man with the mask. She was medium height, but he certainly towered over her. She wasn't scared, though, or at least she pretended not to be.

The makeshift bed Beth was on was as comfy as any. She was currently snoring up a storm, mouth open and eyes lazily drooped shut. She snorted every few minutes, and then returned to the terrorizing sound. She was in the basement of one of the wealthy houses, one she had picked purely because the locks were still functional. At this moment in time, the dead that were near the close-knit community of houses, had heard the snoring and had wandered to that house. Beth had been extra careful to scavenge supplies from the garages, and had boarded the windows and nonessential exits. There was barely any food left in the houses, except for a few badly dented cans of something she thought might have been tomato soup. It was food, after all, and she was happy to have a meal that night. She had some cans of food and water, but she had been hesitant of using them up. She could trade them for something useful, after all. But one thing that all the zombie movies and games she would play on her Xbox had taught her one thing; You can't eat bullets.
Well, I mean you can, but it would make for a severely bad stomach ache. Following after that would probably result in death, if that wasn't your intended goal in the first place. Horrible way to die, though. Bullet to the head is oh-so much easier. Not like she hadn't thought about it. Everyone nowadays has thought of it at least once. It's the one thing you can't stop thinking about. It's all around you. The not-so-dead dead ones, the live people who had decided that death was better than living in death, the ones who had turned crazy due to the fall of their loved ones. Due to the fall of everything. But Beth was different. She didn't think about death all that often. She wasn't afraid of death as much as she was afraid of how she died. She would prefer something that was quick but precise. No use prolonging it. Same outcome, anyways. But for now, she was alright. She didn't feel the need to raise her gun upon herself. She didn't feel the need to cry into the hours of the night because of the ones she'd lost. She didn't have to do those things because she had accepted it long before the fall of humanity. Long before the crisis that had sent many to their graves only to awaken hours later.
Death was a part of life. It was before, and it still is now. The only thing that you need to remember is not to dwell on it too much. If you did, you'd just end up driving yourself mad. And a mad person was no good. Not in this world. Not in this life.

The way Beth was sleeping right now, was very unladylike. But she was Beth. If she was talking right now, she would say something like, 'To hell with Ladylike. Even before the fall I didn't give a rats ass about ladylike. Just another person trying to drive people back to society. Open your eyes. There is no society anymore. It's just you and me. Forget about your rules for a little while and just have fun for once.'
She was always a bit of a rebel. She would throw her middle finger up in the air if anyone decided she wasn't doing what they wanted her to do with her life. She would tell them that it was her life, and if she wanted to be bossed around by people who only wanted to boss around others she would've stayed with her ex-boyfriend who, when he had too much of that jumbo juice in him, would scream up and down so that even the neighbors three doors down could hear him. She never really liked him.
Although Beth isn't that rude. She can be sweet and kind. She just really hates when people are hypocritical and mean. You can't have those people in this world. Those people don't survive. What are they gonna' do? Boss the un-dead into submission? Doesn't work like that, dear.
Enough talk about this. Back to the good part.
Beth mumbled a few words as she fell out of her dream, her eyes slowly opening at the metal roof above her. The basement was down pretty deep, which was better for her because the warm earth kept the basement insulated in even the coldest times. She shrugged the makeshift blanket off and came to a sitting position, her feet recoiling as they touched the floor. She brushed her hair down with her hands and slouched against the wall, closing her eyes as if to fall asleep right there. The bed was comfy enough, and to her surprise it was an actual bed. A twin size, to be exact. There was a metal frame that was easy enough to transport to the basement, and she had slept soundly for the first time in days as she found the basement door locked. She opened her eyes again and sighed, pulling herself off the bed and beginning to walk across the floor to the small kitchen. It was basically a few cabinets and a work-space, but it worked for her. She opened the farthest one to the right and pulled out her last brown packet of Instant coffee. She grabbed a stray mug that was sitting on the counter, and poured the black mixture into the cup, along with half a bottle of cold water. She mixed it with a fork and raised it to her lips to sip the substance. It was cold, indeed, but it was still coffee nonetheless. She greedily drank and when she was finished she put the empty cup back on the counter and sorted through her clothes for something to wear. She decided on her leather outfit, as her snoring had probably attracted some of the dead ones, and the black shiny material was pretty much bite-proof. She liked this outfit for two reasons. One, it helped against the bad times when the dead ones came after her, and Two, the combo of her leather suit and leather jacket made her look like a badass. And the world needed another Badass. She quickly got dressed and grabbed her things, which included her backpack and her weapons, and she eagerly strapped her knife holster on atop her clothes. She zipped her jacket up so it protected her neck, and then put on the biker helmet. She made sure she had everything and before she left popped a pill to calm her nerves. She then unlocked the basement door, and sneaked out of the room to look out the front door's window. She counted about seven of the dead ones around the main entrance, and two out the back. She decided to go out the back and circle around front. The door unlocked with a click, which got the dead ones' attention. She waited for them to shamble inside then quickly shoved one of her throwing knives into the first ones' eye socket. A sickening pop was heard, and she pushed the corpse back and onto the other one. It let out a strangled yelp as it fell backwards, and she took no time in killing that one, too. She retrieved her knives and shook the blood off, slipping them back into her holster. She then locked the door and circled around front, but instead of confronting them she ran across the street. That got their attention, and they started to move towards her. She quickly got out Spike and laid on the ground, looking through the scope and popping them off one by one. After most of them were dead, she placed her sniper across her back and managed to kill the last three with her Rambo knife. She then dropped the bodies behind a bush, and made her way down the street. She was going to go looting today, hopefully finding some food or other things she could sell.
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Adeline Smith.

Though the silence had been apparent for about half of way through the trail, everything instantly changed. Something moved on the right side of her, and Adeline could smell the scent of rotting flesh on a hot day as clear as day. Reaching into the small pocket on the right side of her trench coat, pulling out a small pocket knife. Her eyes flickered around, as her breath slowed so she wouldn't be noticed. Nothing happened. The scent was still strong, but the presence of something there grew distant. Her guard was hardly up, and whatever was out there was just lucky she didn't pull out her flask and matches. Oh how Addy would watch the forest burn if she could, but it would bring danger on herself if she were to do something as reckless as that. To die as soon as something as crazy as an Apocalypse happening was.. Definitely very lame, and would bring much trouble to whom ever else lived near the forest full of dead bodies, trees, and the metallic/rotting smell. Though, as the girl made her way to the River, the smell was even worse. Dead fish, people, and just how disgusting the water and smell was. Adeline would've puked, but having lost any sense of actual 'Humanity' of sorts long ago allowed her to not get very affected towards certain things like that. She was still human though, and would often gag, but never nothing more.

Thankfully, reaching the town wasn't so hard and hardly took much time. With a sigh of relief, she set her small knife back in her pocket. "Maybe moving to somewhere a little closer to the town would be much safer.. Pfft." The woman laughed softly, shaking her head. Nowhere was safe, everywhere and any wrong mistake could leave to your death. She was ready to die, but she'd rather die in her own special way than giving up to a pack of flesh-eating fuckers. She'd jump off a roof even if she had too, definitely a fun way to die. Although, maybe trying to stay alive would be best. Seeing as, Adeline had absolutely no idea of what happened beyond death. Not like she didn't want to find out, but as a kid, and even now, she's still terrified of what might happen. Oh well. Right now, all that mattered was food. Then the possible destruction of some pitiful house. Smirking, she began to whistle as she passed a few vacant, run down buildings. "We're off to see the Wizard~" Singing quietly, skipping. The sound of her boots hitting the floor made soft thumps, though not loud enough to cause any attraction from something other than the living.


Thump. Her feet bounced on the ground, and from afar it would look almost as if she were a dancing dead person, or an over excited living human being.

People may see her as crazy, which she was, since she didn't care of what happened to her or others. She was too curious, too oblivious to the fact that death could be just around the corner. Adeline's eyes had always held some sort of crazy tint within them, they were a mirror to her own soul, so of course they would.

She didn't have any family, which allowed for her to not have to worry about something that wasn't really necessary. It didn't weaken her like some, only would it make her strong. She hid everything, only to show it once becoming 'Manic'. Which was definitely a dangerous state to be in, in this world no-. Her thoughts were cut off, as she finally found herself a nice looking convenient store that could possibly hold at least something. Giggling happily, the girl skipped into the building and began searching around for food and other little things. Possibly more Whiskey, she definitely needed that. Just barely making it to the first isle she saw, Adeline stopped. She needed to make sure nothing was with her.

Pulling out a little ball from the rack, she threw it down so that it crossed every isle. It was one of those little balls that would light up, and would definitely catch the attention of something- Living, or the dead. Reaching behind, the girl pulled out a Machete from under her Trench coat- Almost like Alice from Resident evil, she awaited any sort of company. A smirk formed onto her lips, hoping- Praying for something to be there. She may have felt a little remorse killing someone whom was once living, or an actual living being, before- At least. Now, she couldn't give a damn. It anything was in her way of surviving for as long as she could, she'd make sure to demolish it.
Nevin would have continued walked if his sharp ears hadn't caught the sound of footsteps. As cautious as ever, he quickly ducked behind the post office, not wanting to be seen. Maybe it would have been best to join forced with someone in these deadly times, pun intended. However, it was an instinct for him to not trust anyone unless he personally knew them to be trustworthy. So, he waited until he could no longer hear the footsteps before coming out of hiding.

Maybe he was being stupid, but Nevin had watched and read enough zombie stories to know that survivors weren't always magnanimous and although an extra person could be a good source of help, that extra person was also a mouth to feed. Besides that, there was always that one dude in the group who was going a little cuckoo and wanted to immediately kill the newcomer. He didn't have the patience for the at the moment.

As he walked further, Nevin could make out the gas station as well as the pizza store. Well, he had no need for either of those, and he hardly expected the poor buildings to have survived any looting. He sighed a little before stopping once more. Maybe coming into town was a bad idea. It was hot and stinky and there was nothing seemingly here. The only sign of life he'd seen he'd allowed to leave without even checking. Man he felt like a coward. Gotta keep my a** safe, he told himself before he decided to simply head for the woods. At least he'd be safe in the trees. Maybe he'd be lucky and find a squirrel's stash.

He chuckled to himself, shaking his head at his stupid thoughts before heading for the woods.​
Richard made a face. "Alright, but he's getting the green beans. The corn's for us." Richard wasn't too keen on sharing food, but this was a one-time thing and it didn't hurt to feel like a decent human being again.

Claire had just arrived and asked who the drifter was. "I don't know either. Soldier boy, go on ahead and introduce yourself."

Meanwhile, Richard wandered to the back of the room and took his boots off, wriggling his toes. He didn't take his eyes off the stranger as he did so.
... How many years had it been since day one?

The thought shook Johnathan's very being, as he bicycled along the road quietly. Seeing your loved ones get eaten alive tends to change who you are, your perception of time, your will to live. Johnathan was no exception to that rule. As part of the human race, we were all ment to die at some point, thought Johnathan. It was all supposed to be a natural process, you pop out of your mom, you learn how to walk, talk, and play along with the rest of the kids. When you got old enough, you either entered school, or ended up on the streets scavenging like a vulture in a desert full of brick walls. Most vultures ended up suffering, getting sick, dying, and then you got buried off under a small tree with your name mispelled on a trash can's lid.

Once the disease hit, few years ago, the brick walls turned into vultures. They got to suffer just as much as Johnathan had to growing up. Being on the street made it all feel the same. His gaze went upon the deadful trees, eyes peering back at him through the light, or so his mind told him. He sped up somewhat to accompany this, trying to get away from the eyes: but the quicker he went, the louder his mind yelled at him to go faster. It was like the devil whispering in his ears to escape the Angels unless he wanted to be gutted and strung up on a tree for his sins, while the Angel tried to convince him to stop as the Angels would never do such a thing. But it wasn't Angels that turned other men into Angels, it was these newfound ghouls that gave men wings.

Johnathan kept on pushing his bicycle forward, until he suddenly made a screeching halt. He felt the gravel kick back at him, hissing and shouting at him for making such a stop ontop of them. Once he had regained control, he gazed upon what seemed to be a bridge. The funny thing was, that the bridge wasn't supposed to be up here, he was supposed to meet it a few more miles south. But his brain couldn't make much of a drastic calling before he suddenly heard an angel whispering into his ear. He turned to meet the noises, only to be met by the sight of: Water.

He swiftly hopped off his bike, tossing it to the side by the sheer excitement of having met up with water. The sun had licked the contaminated water and it's content for a long time, that was evident by the blackened parts of plastic, or the rot on the corpses floating nearby. But Johnathan had a better idea than to just drink it as it was. He quickly dug into his backpack, taking out a water bottle of some sorts, with a straw attached to the bottom. He began to dig up a good sized hole on the side of the bank, demanding to tap into the water hidden by mother nature. Once he did, he quickly dipped the water bottle's other end into the water that had begun to pool up, and zipped up as much as he could.

Like an angel's kiss, some would say: A few hours without water could drive any man insane from just the sheer thought of getting a sip of water. It felt like Johnathan had begun to make out with the water: even though the taste was tainted by the charcoal hidden within the water bottle, but he could atleast rest easily knowing he wouldn't catch the disease and die off like so many of the people he once knew did.

He sighed in relief, and pulled up the water bottle from the lake. He had to keep on pushing, if the bridge was this close, how wrong could he have been regarding that-

A snap quickly forced Johnathan's attention elsewhere. He stared directly at the face of an agent of death, a ghoul was snapping at him with her teeth showing through her rotten gums. The stench the once female worker gave out reminded him of his first encounter with one: but he chose not to move. He realised that she was strung up on a tree. It was evident since there was a noose tied around her neck, the rope burrowing into her neck. Being no expert at hanging, Johnathan made the simple conclusion that she must've chocked herself to death. No pretty sight at all. He snagged up his backpack, and approached his bicycle, all while she kept on clawing the air.

He grabbed onto his bicycle, and quickly began peddling down the bridge, crossing it over to the other side, the fresh death stained upon his backpack.

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