28 HOURS LATER

[size=+1] I'm amazed this girl has made it on her own through the streets; it's madness out there, open warfare in Mistvale as the residents tear each other apart. Katrina's either good at keeping a low profile, or exceptionally lucky.

Both useful things, given the circumstances.

She begins to sob quietly against my coat jacket and I put an arm around her gently.
"Don't worry, okay? You stick with me and Richard here and we'll all look out for each other." The barman's looking more than a little perplexed as to why this girl's gone to pieces at his offer of a drink; a give him a nod of thanks in an attempt to stop him from worrying. Katrina's been through hell, and even the slightest thing can set her off.

Suddenly things get even crazier; there's hammering on the door and a voice asking to be let in, which Richard rushes off to deal with. Yet as he pulls the door open and starts to speak, the figure he's talking to disappears out of sight. Nervously, I haul myself to my feet and move Katrina behind me, holding the claw hammer at the ready. "Just stay down and be ready to run if you have to, okay?" I tell the girl, trying to keep my voice as level and calm as I can, given the circumstances.

Then something comes hurtling through the doorway, slamming Richard aside like paper in a breeze. It's a man, as far as I can tell, thundering towards us and bellowing all the way.

[size=+3]"WHEEEEERE!"[/size]

In the seconds I have to react before the enraged figure reaches me, I throw myself forwards to ensure there's distance between the oncoming struggle and Katrina, then lash out with a closed fist. The punch hammers into the side of the man's head, leaving my entire arm aching. But I can't stop his momentum; he crashes into me and we land on the floor of the pub in a confused heap.[/size]
 
I find knocked to ground and my head spins as I blink my eyes. What the hell, some guy asking where? Where what? This is just the kind of thing I didn't want to happen. I knew opening those doors again would be trouble. I see Peter put distance between him and the girl. Smart move. He slugs the man in the head, but he might as well have taken a baseball bat to slow a speeding train. They both topple over, and outside there's a noise a crash maybe. I can't tell.

I get to my feet and quickly make it over to the two, I attempt to get the nut case off Peter. I'm not strong enough. " you need to push." I can't tell if he's conscience, the other mans in the way. " look mister, I don't know what your after, but this ain't the way about it." I tell the new guy hoping, since he spoke he can be reasoned with. It might already be too late, he may be driven mad by the reality we live in.
 
She screamed once. Then twice.

Peter had put Katrina behind him in a brave attempt to protect her but when the child saw the charging mass that was Curtis, she knew this soul was lost. She backed away as far as she could; her teddy bear lay forgotten upon the floor as tables and chairs went flying. Amidst the chaos, bottles of alcohol fell from their shelves and shattered upon the floor. Despite the dim lighting, the broken shards catch the light and it reflects upon her eyes.

An idea forms.

She lunges for the nearest glass bottle - Everclear the label reads - grips it by the neck and rushes to Peter. Katrina hears the loud crash outside, but the noise doesn't filter through her panicked brain. She raises her arm and slams the bottle against Curtis' head, breaking the container and spewing the liquid all through his hair and clothes. Katrina throws the remnants aside, screaming,

"PETER, GET OUT!"
 
The shock of the Hit was slowly starting to wear off as She could now feel some of the cuts that she had endured. The struggle that was happening not to far from her stirred her to her feet as she stumbled slightly stepping on one of her shoe laces. Stunned on what to do as she sen the men try and fend of a hostile man. He didn't seem right. No one would be if they intended to attack a small child. She was going to go over and try to find a way to reach the small girl but stopped seeing the wheels in the little ones eyes start turning. She was impressed how such a small thing comprehended what was needed to be done and with such accuracy. She instinctively ran over to the small child, picking her up and putting her over the bar away from the brawl. The smell of blood, sweat and desperation was in the air. She looked over to the small girl and smiled making small hand gestures that she did a good job. It was hard for her to say anything. She had throat cancer not to long back and it had damaged her vocal cords. She could only manage small grunts from time to time. It had been hard coming here finding not that many people knowing signing. But amidst the madness they all were the same. Fighting and surviving. Even small children reaching that gruesome reality.
 
[size=+1] I hit the ground hard, feeling the air getting blasted out of my chest as the man lands on top of me. He's strong, far stronger than a scrawny little office worker like myself. My claw hammer has gone skidding across the floor and under a table, and I fling my arms against my face in a desperate attempt to ward of the blows he's starting to throw.

Not for the first time, I begin to regret not going to the gym more.

At least my gallows humour is on form, though.

Richard throws himself into the fray in my defence, grabbing the man's arms and attempting to wrench him off me. I do my best to help, but even with two men trying to pin him down this maniac is managing to hold his own. My ears are ringing from the punches I've taken but I can hear the barman attempting to talk the man down, to reason with him. But his words fall on deaf ears; this guy is lost to reason, nothing but fury and aggression remaining in him now.

And then we receive some unexpected help from little Katrina; out of nowhere she appears, swinging a whisky bottle into the man's head with surprising force. The bottle shatters, spraying all three of us involved in the fight with glass and liquid. My attacker collapses instantly, crumpling on top of me, and I manage to struggle out from under him with assistance from Richard.

My head's swimming and I'm swaying on the spot; the hits I took have left me dizzy and my bottom lip is split open, sending crimson cascading down my white shirt. Should have worn black, I find myself thinking. Hear I am in the middle of what could be the apocalypse, having just had the shit kicked out of me by some psycho, and I'm worried about my choice of dress.

I think I took more punches than I thought.

"Thanks..." I say weakly to Richard. As I start to become more aware of my surroundings, I notice a new face in the bar; an asian woman, who's snatched up Katrina and moved her over behind the bar. "Hey!" I snap, rushing over and hauling the woman away from the girl, "Who the fuck are--" Yet I'm cut off by the door bursting open and another survivor entering, yelling about 'more of them coming'. I stare at her for a moment, the words taking their time to register in my head.

Then it occurs to me just how much noise we've been making in the last few minutes, and how we've likely caught the attention of every single one of those things nearby. Not good. Really, really not good. I let the woman go and lean against the bar, breathing heavily. "Then we don't have much time. Get the door locked and bolted if there's no-one else alive out there, and see if we can't stack some chairs and tables against it to but us some time. Richard, this there a way out of here through the back? We're not gonna want to stick around when they get here."

Looking over to my unconscious attacker, I start to wonder what we should do with him. The easy choice would be to leave him, but that leaves a bad taste in my mouth. He's not become one of those things yet, those infected maniacs with eyes of red and murder in their hearts. Maybe once he's calmed down he could help.

Or he could try to kill me again. It's a tough call either way.

Sighing, I haul myself over the bar and kneel down next to Katrina, smiling despite my split lip. "You really saved my bacon there, Katrina. Thanks."[/size]


[size=+1]Mistvale has entered it's death throes.

The infected stalk the streets, moving from house to house and killing anyone they come across. Yet as the sounds of crashing and shouting starts to emanate from the Mistvale Inn, several of them spin around towards the source of the noise.

One lets out a howl of rage and charges off in the pub's direction, and dozens begin to follow him.

They will reach the pub in minutes.

The survivors don't have much time left.[/size]

((As a head's up, we now have an OOC thread for the game. It can be found here.))
 
<img src=http://i94.photobucket.com/albums/l81/Asmodeus1845/blue.jpg align=right style="padding:5px"><TABLE><tr><td width=75%>
James Estacado said:
"We have a little girl,"
Click to expand...
</table>
Curtis sank into darkness, his face against a floor flecked with spirit, blood and broken glass. Around where he and Peter had struggled, the chairs and tables were toppled. It was a circle. From above it would seem he had fallen from a great height.

"We have a little girl."

He curled his fingers around hers, leaning over the bed. The sheets were sweat-soaked. His other arm came around her shoulders, circling to brush the swaddling that she held.

"I love you."



<TABLE><tr><td width=75%>
James Estacado said:
"gone through hell,"
Click to expand...
</table>
Even as consciousness left him, he heard the noises. The Infected were coming. Their snarls and chokes made music with the panic of the survivors. He should have been worried. But there was only the blossoming pain, moving like ice-cracks through his head; and the sweet and slightest relief... that at last he could sleep.

"...gone through hell."

He blinked, put the bottle down on the kitchen counter. He had been so busy drinking he had missed the first part of her sentence - her tired explanation. Nothing needed to be said. She was holding a suitcase. The cot was in the car. Why the fuck did she bother explaining?



<TABLE><tr><td width=75%>
James Estacado said:
"don't scare her."
Click to expand...
</table>
For the first time since arriving in Mistvale, his hands uncurled. Something was happening around him. It didn't matter anymore. Only the darkness. Only sleep.

Curtis passed out entirely.

"Don't scare her."

The phone line went dead. Bitch. Curtis lowered his mobile, eyes straight ahead, hand trembling. Her cry echoed. He put the phone on the dashboard.

Then turned the key in the ignition.
 
"Damn it." I looked towards the man who seemed passed out. What was he thinking, what could cause him to rampage in here like that. It happened quick tge struggle ending with the help of a child. I kicked tge glass aside so no one would get hurt. Then I heard it. A rustle a slow moaning. All the violence had attracted them. This place could last against a few, but no more then five and it sounded like there would be far more then that. The only transportation I had was a jeep it was enough for 4 but I hoped someone else had transport as well "Peter we have to get moving, ill start packing what food and supplies I can it won't be much. If this hadn't happened, we might have lasted longer." I look towards the girl and smile. " you did good," reaching over I take a napkin and hand it to Peter. " whatever your going to do to get ready do it now I have a jeep it can fit four, I was hoping maybe you had something. More groups means less targets and that's good on the road."
 
"We need more than a four seated jeep.... there's 5 of us not including him." I said as I gestured to the one knocked out on the ground. I looked around quickly being a little jumpy after those attacks. "I don't have anything."

This was all so unreal to me. A bunch of things in human body's running around, people going crazy, and a girl just knocked out a mad man. Less than a week ago I was sitting in an office drinking coffee and eating chocolate, now I was running for my life almost completely exhausted with a bloodied bad. I sighed and looked around again. "The girl could sit on someones lap and then just leave the other guy." He couldn't believe he just suggested to leave someone behind. He may be crazy but... maybe he was just... temporarily maybe?
 
"I've a motorbike." I spoke up. Wherever we're going, someone can hop on the back. It doesn't sound too safe with all those grabbing hands outside." Glancing around the room I realized no one had really noticed me. "I'm Antoinette by the way."

The situation looked grim, and my bike offer didn't get a pleasant response. I'd left my chair legs outside, by the bloodied corpse. The beating had me exhausted and I was nearly out of breath.

"I've also plenty of food across the street in my home." I was inviting people into my home. My castle. People, most of whom I'd never seen before, who just knocked a man out. Was I with the right people?
 
A stranger's hands grabbed her. That easily made Katrina scream in panic. She was calling for help and Peter quickly did as much. However when Katrina looked back and saw the look on the woman's face, the little girl quieted. There was no malice in those eyes. Chin quivering, Katrina was lowered back to the ground where she wrestled with her fingers and the folds of her clothes. Adrenaline was still pumping madly within her. She forced her heart to stop beating so fast and her lungs to take in air when Peter kneeled in front of her.

Looking into his face face, Katrina cracked a hesitant smile. "I did good then?" Gingerly she wiped at the blood on his lips with a sleeve. "You're bleeding Peter."

Katrina turned around to the woman who carried her away from harm. The little girl wasn't sure if she should say thank you, after all the woman gave her quite a fright. However that conflict was quickly resolved. Katrina's sensitive ears picked up on the sounds of people moving outside. Instinctively she looked to Peter for guidance.
 
[size=+1] Little Katrina's eyes are so like hers it's scary.

Cat always said she'd had my eyes, and I always disagreed; the two of them were masters of pulling the same big, wide-eyed look that was so well-suited for making me give in to what they were asking. A look not dissimilar from the one Katrina is giving me now as I kneel down next to her. The memory brings a smile to my face despite my smashed-open lip and face now blooming with bruises.
"Yeah, I am. Nothing to worry about, I'll be fine."

The new arrival who warned us about the approaching... crazies introduces herself as Antoinette and offers to take us in at her house nearby. A kind offer, but little help to us now we're about to have so much company. I pull myself back to my feet. "Nice to meet you. It's a kind offer, but when those things arrive we want to be as far away from here as possible. Cars would be a bad idea, too, I'd wager. All my car did was get jammed up in traffic and draw more of them to me; I'm surprised I didn't get beaten to death on the way here." I crack a nervous grin, sending pain shooting from my lip. It's a shit joke, even by gallows humour standards, but lightening the tone is never a bad idea.

Richard's already at work grabbing supplies, and there's another new arrival holding a gore-covered bat. I point to him as I come out from behind the bar. "Right, we need to find something to tie him up with." It's fairly obvious who the 'him' I'm referring to is; he's lying in a stupor on the floor where we left him, out cold. For how long, I don't know. Katrina got a good hit in, but that crazy fuck's carved from stone going by his fists, so he could bounce back soon. I move towards one of the closets that Richard's already been through, scrabbling about for anything of use.

A minute of fruitless searching later, and I strike gold; a dusty old set of Christmas lights tucked into the corner of a cupboard shelf, plenty of wire to get the man's arms properly bound. Striding over to the unconscious figure I haul him over onto his back and begin to wrap the wire around his arms, securing it with knots.

It's not pretty or terribly efficient, with those tiny Christmas lights jutting out at awkward angles, but the wiring is thick and the knots tight. Even with his strength this prick should have a hard time getting through it, at least for the immediate future. Right now we have greater concerns.

Like the sound of screeches and howls, growing ever closer.

They know where we are, and they're coming for us. They won't stop until we're dead.

"Katrina?" I call over to the girl behind the bar, "Could you grab me a glass of water please?" Despite him having beaten my face blue I don't want to just leave this man to be killed by those things, but I sure as shit don't plan on carrying him.

He can either get the hell back up, or we're leaving him.[/size]
 
<img src=http://i94.photobucket.com/albums/l81/Asmodeus1845/blue.jpg align=right style="padding:5px">
Despite what movies would have people think, a man cannot be knocked out for hours and make a full recovery. Experts say that if you're out for more than five minutes, you probably have concussion, traumatic brain injury or cranial bleeding.

So when Curtis awoke, after Peter had tied the final knot, it would be both a relief to himself, and a shock to regular movie-goers, how quickly he came around.

His eyes found the man, then the Christmas wire swamping his arms. And this, with the exception of bringing his knees up slightly, was the only motion Curtis made. Pain had filled him head to toe, as if his blood had been drained and replaced with liquid agony.

"...wh...."

He rolled his head, taking in the other faces in his delirium, then curled onto his side.

And that was when he saw Katrina, responding to Richard's request. Eyes and mouth went wider. He tried to say something. He could not find the words.

Then fresh cries from outside brought his attention to the boarded windows.

"Girl... where is she....?"

His legs cycled, but he couldn't get up.
 
The water still ran from the tap, surprising since all traces of ordinary life had gone up in flames hours earlier. What a marvel. Katrina held the glass under the stream of water far longer than she should have; the cool liquid was oddly soothing on her flaming hands. She turned the tap off, tipped away some of the excess back into the sink and walked over to Peter. She held the glass out in two small hands.

"Here you - "

She froze.

The water rippled as Katrina's hands shook. Her eyes were fixed upon the man she hit with the glass bottle, his words slamming into her like a ton of bricks. Stop getting up, she wanted to shout at him. Just stay there, please stay there. What did he want with her? She doesn't remember his face, all of these people are strangers to her. What does he want with me?!

Katrina tore her gaze away from the mad man. Her head hangs ever so little as she gives Peter the glass of water. This is too scary, too much suspense. She wants to cry again but the adults are expecting her to be brave. A small hiccup of a sob escaped her lips.

"Can we go now...?"
 
I nodded at Antoinette. " That guys coming round. We need to be getting out of here, the kids right." The noises are louder outside and if we don't go now, we might not be able to. I look at the man waking up. "You pull that..crap,again I swear we will leave you. Now who is this kid you keep mumbling about?" Lots of questions for this guy, but since that seemed to be his question it was whst I was asking him first.
 
I looked around at the faces surrounding me... it was worrisome to see no one getting a move on. "Lets get out of here and to some where safe before we start chatting." I said as I looked outside to see the first of those things rounding the corner. It was just the faster runners... which was bad for us but still better than the whole group. "Three are already here guys." I said as I looked around and tried to barricade the door a little more. "Wheres the back door?" I said as I through a table in the way and grabbed my bat. It was dented, bloodied, and over all worn out. It wouldn't hold for much longer... it may possibly be able to hold against one more of those nuts but who knows. "Please tell me someone, for whatever reason has a fire arm..." I knew it wasn't going to happen, no one had fire arms around here... we could only run...
 
<img src=http://i94.photobucket.com/albums/l81/Asmodeus1845/blue.jpg align=right style="padding:5px">
"...Katrina..."

It was muttered softly, a whisper lost beneath the howls of the unliving, the shaking of doors and windows. Curtis made a try to sit up, a lunge that only made Katrina back away, that brought Peter as a block between them. And then the landlord was asking questions. Curtis glanced then looked down, his only answer the flexing and twisting of his arms.

The wire was tied well. It would not be breaking.

Then, as if for the first time, the noise of the Infected became apparent to him. His gaze went back to Katrina, then flicked to Peter, the landlord, the others... calculating...

"...The supermarket..." His eyes were on Katrina all the time. "It has shutters. And delivery lorries."
 
Out of the corner of her eye Katrina sees Peter move to protect her. When Curtis speaks, she dares to look at him again, peeking out from Peter's side. Her blues eyes swirl with fear; unshed tears makes her gaze luminous and all the more innocent. Common sense tells her to look away from this dangerous man, but something within her breaks.

Her hands ball together to form fists and she stomps her feet. Her eyelashes are coated with tears, but they don't fall onto her cheek.

"What do you want with me?!" she demanded shrilly. "Is it because I hit you with the bottle? I'm sorry, but you were hurting Peter. And I-I'm scared -- PLEASE STOP LOOKING AT ME! JUST STOP!"

She hides her face in Peter's coat, sobbing. Between her heaved cries, she's begging to leave without this man.
 
[size=+1] He starts coming to just as I ask Katrina to bring the water I was going to throw across his face. A rude awakening, sure, but right now I'm going for speed over tact. He's freaking the girl out, that's for sure; I can see it in her eyes as she hands me the glass and asks if we can get moving. Richard growls a warning to the man as the fellow with the baseball bat asks if anyone has a gun. I give him a confused look and shake my head.
"This isn't America, mate. Not much chance of finding a gun round here at all."

We've got to get moving now, since my attacker's on his feet and the things outside are almost here. He's testing the wire, trying to see if it's breakable, but my handiwork holds up well; no chance he's getting through that without something sharp.
"...the supermarket..." he's muttering, pointing out the fact that the location has both shutters and lorries that we could utilise. It's a good plan... but I'm barely hearing it. All I can see are his eyes, fixed on the little girl at my side the entire time he's speaking. I step between Katrina and the man just as the staring really starts to freak her out.
"Okay, okay, we need to go," I snap to the others, trying to imbue my voice with as much authority as I can muster, "Someone get him up on his feet. We head out the back door and move for the supermarket on the edge of town; this guy's right about moving there, if nothing else." I drop to one knee to talk to Katrina again, cracking open my lip again in an attempt to smile. "Relax now, alright? No need to worry about him at all; we've got his hands tied, and there's more of us than there is of him isn't there? And hey, if he tries anything again we'll just have you deal with him again, right?" I chuckle; I was hoping the sound to be amused, but it just comes across as nervous to me.

The others are moving out through the door marked for 'Staff Only', leading through into the back rooms and on towards the back doorway. Stopping mid-stride across the room, I spot my claw hammer that had been sent spinning away from me when the man charged into the room. Retrieving it, I'm almost through the door when I notice it's just him and me left in the bar. Without warning I've slammed him against the wall, pressing the claw of the hammer up against his neck and cutting off his breathing. "Stop staring at her like that." It's a whisper of a threat, audible over the approaching screams but only just. I'm staring him in the eyes, beaten and rapidly swelling face contorted into a snarl. "You try anything with that girl and I will fucking kill you, understand?"

Grabbing him by the front of the shirt again, I shove him through the doorway. "Now move, and don't try anything stupid."[/size]


[size=+1]Mistvale has just flatlined as the Infected race up the street towards the small pub, screaming murder.

Self-preservation is a concept they no longer understand; the first to reach the door all but hurls himself into it, the thick and dead-bolted doors groaning audibly from the force. Others begin battering against the windows and bucking for positions, desperate to be the first through and into the room.

These aren't the actions of human beings.

The virus coursing through the bodies of these infected souls has reduced them to something lower. The lizard brain has kicked in, and there's only one thing on it's mind.

Kill.[/size]


[size=+1] I can hear them forcing their way into the Mistvale Inn as our small group flees into the night, but I don't look back.

We get ourselves off the streets as soon as possible; too many places to get stuck, and too many opportunities for those things to catch sight of us. Finding myself at the front, next to the silent Asian woman who had pulled Katrina away from the fight in the pub, I shoulder open a gate built into a shoulder-high wall that surrounds one of the many houses on this street, leading the group into a small, deserted garden.

Once again I am reminded of Mistvale's close proximity to the countryside; vast trees grow here, almost dwarfing the houses they face, and the grass is long and unruly. If we can reach the supermarket on the edge of town to stock up on supplies, we can easily flee into the trees and away from the crazed killers stalking the streets. Make it to a city, perhaps. It'll be safer there. Soldiers, policemen, society and doctors.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. We've got to survive that long first.

"If we move through these gardens we should make it to the supermarket before long," I explain to the others, "It'll take longer, but it sure as hell beats moving through the streets. Everyone stay close and keep an eye out, okay?"

wwy3omj9_zps04d0c4c3.jpg
[/size]
 
His suspicions were now confirmed, they new he was American. The base ball bat was a good give away but he didn't have an accent anymore because he had moved here a couple of years ago. He was hoping they would figure he had the bat as a souvenir or something but they could see straight through that. The second give away was the fact that he had wanted a gun badly enough to ask. Of coarse a gun would be helpful but no one had a gun, in America at least one of them would. He wished they would have let him bring in his hunting rifle but being in a city suburban area there was no reason to have one... the one thing he missed about America was his gun.

Right away he had taken the first step when Peter said they needed to go and was the first one out the door. He held the bat at his side and took lead though he was most likely the worst person to be in front. He was already worn out from the last couple of freaks he had to fight and would never survive another attack without major assistance and he did know the area very well yet because his job had been just across the street, friend the next one over, and the shopping center was down the road, everything he needed right there. Regardless he didn't want to see anyone else getting hurt, one of them was a quiet female who seemed compassionate and overall a kind person, then there was his first employer here, he wasn't able to get a job until this man helped him out, Katrina was an obvious, she was young, Peter was the only one who really knew what he was doing, the crazy was tied up and needed to have an eye on him and the last guy was almost completely unarmed... that left only himself. "Which way?" He said just above a whisper hoping someone would just point in a direction and let him take point.
 
<img src=http://i94.photobucket.com/albums/l81/Asmodeus1845/blue.jpg align=right style="padding:5px">

He had already forgotten how he got the head injury. A common thing. The pain was still there, and with it came dizziness and a lassitude he could not shake. With every ten steps he forgot the last five. He could not track the twists and turns of alley and garden. All was lost in the shadows of branches, the feel of twigs scraping clothes, the smell of concrete and coming rain. A labyrinth of the body and mind.

Yet she was still here. The girl... Katrina... up front with the man who'd threatened him... the man who would kill him if he was not careful.

And careful he would be now. So very careful.

All the way supermarket... where he had parked his car...

And then he would...

Curtis's feet caught on each other, as if they had suddenly lost the memory of walking. He stumbled, fell to his knees, and then, with bound arms unable to hold him up, pitched to one side. He crashed down against a fence and tripped the landlord who'd been right behind him.
 
You must log in or register to reply here.
Top Bottom
Back