OPEN SIGNUPS Mission: Z (IC)

Discussion in 'GROUP RP IN CHARACTER' started by JJ, Sep 26, 2016.

  1. Edit: Signups are now re-opened and we are looking for new players to join.

    OOC SIGNUPS IC

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    There it was again.

    Dexter Bastian Fletcher put two fingers between the window blinds and pulled them apart just far enough to peer outside. The same car had traveled the length of the road in front of their house twice in the last hour, and while this wouldn't be too terribly uncommon under normal circumstances, the world had ended five months ago. The headlights disappeared again and Dex let the blinds fall back together, turning around with his dark brows furrowed in worry. They lived in a rural, sparsely populated town, at the end of a long, winding county road, and since the Z. gondii parasite had "taken over the world", they very rarely saw cars. So seeing the same big, dark colored pickup truck several times in one hour, much less one day, was unsettling.

    His dog, Hero, sat at his heels. Sensing Dex's worry, the little pit bull grumbled good naturedly and pressed his blocky head against his master's knee, eliciting a scratch behind the ears and a long, low sigh. "Gotta keep our guard up pal." He whispered, reaching up to itch at the few days worth of stubble that graced his cheeks. Dexter crossed the large, well furnished room and hit the light switch to darken the windows.

    "Hey!" The whine came from across the room, to the couch where his sixteen year old sister, Riley, had been reading a book. "I'm trying to read here." She scowled.

    "Use a book light." Her brother replied quietly. "There's a suspicious truck that's been driving around and I don't want to draw attention to the house."

    "Yes sir." She mock saluted him with the wrong hand and stormed off in the general direction of her bedroom, using the weak moonlight that shone through the sliding glass doors in the kitchen as a guide. Dexter shook his head. Had anyone else called him "sir" they would have been corrected. He was a Sergeant, and used to being addressed as such. But Riley got away with a lot of things that others could not. Hero looked after his young mistress and then back to Dexter, waiting, and Dexter mock-scowled down at him. "Oh go on you traitor. Geh." Dismissed, the dog trotted after Riley.

    They had been reasonably safe here since the z-pocalypse, as Riley had christened it. Their father, Aaron, was a freak about being prepared for emergencies, and as a result, the Fletcher home had an entire basement room stocked with dehydrated, canned, and jarred goods. Naturally they were all store bought or ordered online, as Aaron wouldn't dare do something as mundane as growing vegetables, but they were there nonetheless, ready for a nuclear fallout, or a super storm, or any other natural disaster... but they worked just as well for most of the world being infected by a brain-controlling parasite, too...

    Now alone, Dexter sank down on to the couch Riley had vacated, resting his face on the knuckles of his bent right arm. He knew Riley wasn't really angry with him. She was angry at the world, yes, at their father, definitely, but the two siblings, despite being seven years apart in age, and damn near polar opposites, rarely fought. She was used to Dexter's hyper-sensitive instincts picking up on things that could pose a threat, which is why she hadn't put up a fight about the light switch. He sat there in darkness, listening for the crunch of gravel that would signal someone pulling into their driveway, but after over an hour of silence, the tension in his frame lessened, and not long after, he was asleep.

    ...

    He was awoken by the feeling of cold steel pressed against his temple.

    "If you make a move I'll blow your brains out." The words were muffled, originating just beside his left ear. Dexter stiffened, heart slamming against his rib cage as a euphoria of adrenaline pumped through his bloodstream. Fight or flight? He was confident he could handle one armed gunman if presented even the slightest opportunity to disarm him, and his dark eyes flickered around the room, searching for something to use as a weapon. His .50 caliber Desert Eagle, a birthday gift from his father, was tucked away in the drawer of his nightstand, but it was too risky to attempt to make a run for it - the room was big, but he didn't envy his chances of dodging a bullet from 15 or even 20 feet away.

    Before he got a chance to think about it again, a second gunman, this one wielding a double barreled shotgun, made an appearance. "Is there anyone else in the house?" He demanded in a harsh whisper.

    "No." Dexter said automatically.

    It was at that point that his father, who was downstairs in his lab, decided to knock something over. The sound of glass shattering, followed by a muffled curse, belied his answer. Obviously irritated, the first intruder slammed the butt of his pistol into Dexter's face, seized him by the back of his shirt, and propelled him forward onto his hands and knees. He knelt then, the pistol again against the side of Dexter's face. "I don't like being lied to, boy. I'm going to ask you again, and this time a wrong answer will earn you a bullet. Who else is in the house?"

    Leaning on one elbow, and using the opposite hand to try and stem the flow of blood from his nose and mouth, Dexter nodded, voice muffled through his hand. "My father, he's in the basement. Working."

    "Working on what?" The shotgun-man asked.

    "It doesn't matter. Is he armed?"

    "No."

    "Are you lying to me?"

    "Do I look like someone who wants to get pistol whipped twice in one night?"

    "Good. No one has to get hurt, we just need your supplies. Cooperate, and both of you walk out of this alive. Show me where they are. Go." Dexter was hauled to his feet by the man with the pistol, but he was smart, and kept the gun well away from his quarry. Still clutching his nose with one hand, and holding the other up in the universal symbol for 'I don't mean any harm' he made his way to the basement door with now both the shotgun and the pistol aimed at his back. He cracked the heavy, wooden door open and the leader, the man with the pistol, grabbed him and pulled him back, voice lowering to barely audible levels. "If you, or your father, try anything stupid, I swear to God I will not hesitate to shoot you. No one has to get hurt. Both hands up."

    The leader pushed Dexter in front of him, and he lifted the other hand too. His lip had stopped bleeding, but the nose was still pumping, sending a cascade of crimson down the front of his white t-shirt as soon as he removed the pressure. The three of them descended the stairs. At the bottom of the stairs, there were two doors, one to the left, one to the right, and a small storage closet directly across from the stairs, door slightly ajar to reveal nothing but a mop bucket and a dirty mop. "Which one?"


    "The one on the left is the storage room. Food, medicine, everything is there. The one on the right is my father's... office. Please don't hurt him, he's harmless."

    "That remains to be seen. Open the door." He gestured to the lab, and Dexter twisted the knob and pushed the door open. Dr. Fletcher looked up, a frown on his face.

    "Dexter? I told you I didn't want anyone-" Dr. Fletcher stopped as soon as he noticed the blood on his son's shirt, and the two gunmen that entered the room behind him. "What..?"

    "Dad." Dexter said slowly. "They just want the food. They're only here for the food." Please don't ask where Riley is, please don't ask where Riley is.

    "Where's-"

    "Hero's locked in the bedroom." Dexter interrupted.


    "Who's Hero?"

    "My dog. Chihuahua."

    The man grunted, uninterested, and Dr. Fletcher seemed to get the point because he didn't continue with his inquiry.

    "Watch them." The man with the pistol said, pulling the gun away from Dexter's back and heading towards the supply room. Dexter turned. The shotgun man was a few feet away, the double barrels pointed squarely at the soldier's chest. Still no room for a play. "Don't move. We'll just get what we need and be on our way."

    There was a creak on the stairway, but the gunman either hadn't heard it, or decided it was unimportant. Dexter and Dr. Fletcher exchanged a glance, the horror mirrored in their faces. Riley.

    He saw a flash of bright red hair as Riley's face peeked from the doorway. Thankfully, the shotgun man's back was to her, but the leader of the two was still in the other room, across the hallway. She must have heard him though, because she quickly turned away, disappearing behind the door frame. Moments later, the first gunman entered the room again. He met Dexter's bewildered stare with one of caution, but before he could ask anything, there was a clatter in the hallway. The pistol was automatically up, pointed at the doorway. "What the fuck was that?"

    Riley's terrified voice came from the hallway. "I'm so sorry Dex I'm so clumsy I knocked the mop over." She sounded close to tears, which was weird, because she didn't usually cry so easily.

    "Is that a little fucking girl?" The second man demanded.

    "Yes." Dexter said, desperate now. "My baby sister. Please don't hurt her."

    "Get your ass in here girl." The first man said, exasperated. He turned and aimed the pistol at Dexter. "You lied to me."

    Dexter raised his hands again. "Hey man. Listen. Listen to me. She's my baby sister, you understand why I had to protect her."

    "We had a deal, Dexter." The man sounded out his name like a bully on the school playground, and though anger burned like hot lead inside his gut, Dexter stayed calm, still pleading. And then Riley stepped into the doorway. Any hope of escaping this unscathed would disappear as soon as they had Riley in their clutches. Dexter would rather die than let them hurt her, or worse, take her with them. He clenched his fists, taking a deep breath and preparing to lunge at the man with the pistol, who was closest with him and had become distracted by his little sister when she entered the door frame.

    It happened so quickly that he hardly had time to react.

    Riley lifted the gun.

    Dexter's .50 caliber Desert Eagle looked enormous in the hands of the petite sixteen year old girl, but no less deadly. Seeing the gun pointed at her brother's chest had steeled something in Riley, and the hard set of her face, her intense green eyes, reminded Dexter so much of their mother in that moment that he was momentarily stunned into silence. Riley screamed "FASS, HERO!" just before she pulled the trigger, and Hero rounded the corner in a full fury, slathering and snarling as he leaped at the man with the shotgun. But the resulting BOOM of the .50 caliber in such an enclosed space drowned out both the dog's snarling and, as Dr. Fletcher lunged at the him and pulled his gun arm between them as they hit the ground together, the four pops of the first man's pistol, which sounded like a cap gun in comparison. Riley, having no experience with such a large weapon, had been totally unprepared for the kickback it produced, and as a result, had missed the man entirely. But it had been enough to provide a distraction, and that was all Dexter needed.

    He leaped across the room in what seemed like an impossibly long stride, snatching the gun from his sister's trembling hands and whipping around. He put the second round in the leader's head and turned to the man who had previously been holding the shotgun. "Aus, Hero!" He snarled, ordering the dog to let go and back off, which he did, circling and barking with a bloodied face. The third round dispatched him, and when his ears stopped ringing from the sound of the blasts, he turned and dropped to his knees beside his father. Riley stood, stunned, in the doorway, tears streaming down her face.

    Dr. Fletcher had taken the gunman's four rounds in the gut, and the gun was still pressed between them. Dexter gently turned his father over, putting pressure on the cluster of wounds, but it was obvious that this was not something you recovered from. "Dad..."

    "Dex..." Dr. Fletcher whispered, blood bubbling up in the corner of his mouth. "Fridge..."

    "Dad, what-?"

    "Fridge." The man insisted weakly. "Vial."


    Confused, Dexter leaned over to the mini fridge under his dad's desk, pulling out the only thing contained there, a small vial filled with purple liquid. He handed it to his father and the man produced a capped syringe from the pocket of his lab coat. With a practiced ease that belied his condition, he drew the liquid into the syringe. "D-dog. Hero."

    Hearing his name, the dog crawled over, flat on his belly as if he knew the situation required precision and gentleness. As if he didn't have a giant, gaping wound in his abdomen, Dr. Fletcher leaned up, taking hold of Hero's foreleg and finding the vein there. The dog didn't protest as the needle slid under his skin, and when Dr. Fletcher depressed the plunger, he stayed steady and calm until released. Dexter helped ease his dad back to the floor, and the man gestured to Riley. Finally galvanized into action, she weakly crossed the room and dropped to her knees, too, leaning across her father's chest to hug him. Sobs wracked her frame, and their father draped an arm across her, reaching with the other hand to clutch Dexter's.

    "The cure." He managed. "Hero... has... cure."

    Dexter's head snapped up. "What? You-"

    "Washington. Washington. Get... Hero... Washington."

    There was a crash from upstairs and all three of them jumped in surprise. Hero let out a long, low, growl, hackles raising, teeth bared at the doorway.

    "The infected." Dexter whispered.

    "Loud... gun..." His father said weakly, attempting a smile. "Go... I will... distract them..."

    "No!" Riley screeched.

    "Riley, we-"

    "NO, Dexter!" Her voice was like nails on a chalkboard, harsh and demanding attention. "We can't!" She collapsed into sobs, clutching her father's lab coat and muttering his name over and over again. He touched her cheek, eyes soft and so full of pain. "Love you, baby girl." He said. "Go."

    ***


    THREE DAYS LATER

    Hero sat between them in the middle seat of the truck cab. The radio was low, a Garth Brooks CD that had been there when they took the large, black Ford from just beyond their driveway. The keys had still been in the ignition. Guess the guys hadn't planned to be there that long.

    They'd left their father to die as the infected swarmed the house. Dexter used the last four rounds in the Deagle to clear the stairwell and get them out. In the days since then, they'd made their way East. To the only place they had to go. Washington. Their father had been clear. Get Hero to Washington DC, to the only place that was rumored to be working on a cure. And if he had been right... well... their dog was the key to saving the world. He glanced over at the blocky headed pooch, snoozing with his face buried in Riley's lap. He had been a present for their mother when she was diagnosed with cancer, trained in Germany, and able to carry the heavy oxygen tanks she'd needed when leaving the house. When their mother died, he had effectively become a house dog, but his training for protection was not something easily forgotten and had probably saved both their lives that night.

    "You okay?" He asked her softly.

    "What do you think?"

    "Listen Riley, I'm sorry. If I could have-"

    "Save it, Dex. You did what you could."

    Dexter fell silent, dark eyes focused on the road. Ahead of them, a line of cars appeared, scattered across the highway, and he pressed the brake, slowing the car to a stop. "Fuck." He muttered. "Highway is blocked."

    "Fantastic." She said. "I do love walking."

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    BACKPACK (DEXTER):
    Items: 1
    .50 Cal Desert Eagle (no rounds)
    Food: none
    Water: none



     
    #1 JJ, Sep 26, 2016
    Last edited: Nov 17, 2016
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  2. PART 1


    Arkansas Prison: 14 hours after pandemic.

    Crash. There's the window Baby was looking for. The guard tower timbered down and collapsed a major part of the razor wired fence by the courtyard. Baby sprinted, dodging falling debris and nimbly avoiding the hectic clashes between the prisoners and guards. Making his way to the open field, Baby was suddenly flung to the ground. A Mexican man, standing just above five feet tall, towered over his body. "Ah, Sacapunta."

    Sacapunta. That was Spanish for pencil sharpener. When Baby was first brought into the prison this man, Enrique, was the one who brought real hell to his life. Baby's first words to him was 'sacapunta'. He didn't know any other Spanish.

    Enrique seized Baby by his bright orange collar, using his other hand to pick up a nearby jagged pipe. Baby was still a bit dazed from the blow. He hated cheap shots. As his vision refocused, Enrique struck down with the pipe only to be intercepted by a tackle from another prisoner. Baby scrambled back to his knee, glancing over to he Enrique's face being pounded in. With a distinct laugh, Baby moved with great haste to the opening out of the prison. He wasn't sure how the prison tumbled down like a bad game of jenga. But he didn't care.

    Moving his way on the road he had nothing. But was worse than that is that he had no clue of what the world's dire state is. But then she came. Driving a ford escape this young college girl stopped. Baby was startled. I mean who stops to pick up a dude in bright orange prison jumpsuit? But she needed him. The trust barrier needed a little work but before a month in they developed a well built relationship. Ella was her name.

    Ella's little brother though, Mikey, was a shithead. Oh how Baby despised that little brat. He was only about eight and filled with more whining than a hospital of babies could produce.
    Baby learned of the situation of the world. He helped Ella and reluctantly helped Mikey with adapting. They managed to salvage a load of food supplies and created a well working system to avoid the infected. And then came the thunder.

    Northern Arkansas: 1 month 6 days after pandemic.

    "I think Mikey ate the last candy bar." Ella informed Baby regrettably. Baby was staring out the window of a small shop they were inside. He turned his gazed to Ella, a slight gap in his mouth. "That little shit." Ella opened her mouth with a rude expression. "That's my little brother you're talking about." She reminded him.

    Baby walked away from the window, shaking his head and moving his way to the shelves, racing his fingers among the useless items. Silly string. Plastic frogs. Pom-Poms. Baby picked up a Nerf gun, loading the foam bullet into the chamber. He cocked the pistol and shot it straight at Ella's face, Ella throwing her hands up as a shield but was much too late. She responded with a playful frown, picking up the bullet and tossing it back to Baby, the bullet not even reaching half way.

    "I say we cook him." Baby suggested teasingly, continuing to knock over the toys. "That's disgusting." Ella remarked. She kept her eyes on Baby, observing his movements. She was attracted to him and more than just a lustful feeling. She felt what many would consider love. Or it could just be the end of the world talking.

    "You're disgusting." Baby fired back, looking across the shop to see Mikey strolling to the two of them. Ella gave a look of disgust to Baby, shaking her head slightly. She seated herself down, followed by her brother resting his head on her shoulder. Baby rolled his eyes and walked to the back of the shop prowling for any goods like a vulture on the road. Firecrackers. That might be useful.

    Crack. Baby perked up, turning his attention to Ella. Ella matched his eyes with her own, shaking her head to tell him that she didn't generate the sound. Crack. There it went again. Sounded like glass being broken. Baby grabbed the knife from his pocket, beckoning Ella and Mikey to come to him. As they both stood up cautiously, shadows came from outside. They were right outside the shop. Ella stopped moving and held Mikey close to her. Mikey begin to tear up and let out a small whimper. Baby narrowed his eyebrows, staring down at Mikey. Don't you dare. Don't you dare cry like you always do. But the pressure only made it worse. Mikey's whimper turned into a whine. But for silent world it was more of a howling squeal.

    The shadows moved to the door and burst it down, five men all armed with glocks pointing to Ella and Mikey. Baby raised his hands up, signalling a surrender. As the men circled around, the leader walked casually to Baby. No way. It was freaking Enrique. Enrique let out a devilish smile to Baby, showing his yellow stained teeth. "Sacapunta! Oh man what a small world!" Baby exhaled, biting his bottom lip. The other four began to roughhouse Ella and Mikey, searching them for any useful goods. "I mean seriously man!" Enrique exclaimed. "Aren't you gonna say hello?" Baby released the bite on his lip, eyeing Ella with concern. He focused his attention on Enique, noticing his nose bent completely out of shape. "Nice nose. I think I can hang my jacket on that thing." Baby joked, Enrique aiming his glock straight at Baby's chest, flustered. "Still think you're the joker?" Enrique questioned. He let his aim drift to Ella and Mikey. "These your friends, Sacapunta?" Enrique returned back to his devilish smile, cocking the glock.

    Ella was more than just a beautiful creature. She was compassionate and giving. Her soul was good and in the end it cost her life. Protecting that little brat ended up the end of all of them.
    Enrique blasted two shots. One for each of them. Then as a farewell finale he lit the shop on fire with no escape route for Baby. As the shop burned down and turned to ashes so did Baby. At least that was what the five of them thought.

    ((Part 2 will be my introduction to group))​
     
    #2 The Crimson Crow, Sep 26, 2016
    Last edited: Sep 26, 2016
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  3. Otto Williams
    28 hours after outbreak
    -

    He moved his arm so that his rifle was situated on his back better as he slid over a log, the forest was dense but Otto had learned how to navigate most wilderness through the many hunting trips with his father in his youth though it was funny he had never thought he would be living in the forests when he got older. He was low on supplies and as such had began his rather long walk into the nearest town with several pelts to trade for ammo and supplies that he was unable to make or scavenge in the wilds around him. Otto's trip was for more then just supplies though, something was different...he was unable to put it into words but something just felt different even smelt different as something drifted on the wind that put him on edge.
    -
    The sound of light splashing filled the air as he crossed a small stream but he stopped in the middle and looked around him, something he hadn't noticed before was the lack of sounds in the air. Otto had become used to the noise of insects and birds filling the air at almost all hours of the day but that was not the case today, the only sound that Otto had noticed on this day was his foot falls and the sound of his own breathing no bugs, no birds and no cars in the distance. If Otto wasn't on edge before he was now.
    -
    He crossed the tree line onto a small road that led into town and noticed a large number of abandoned cars and not the normal husk left behind after someone had run out of gas or had a mechanical problem no these had been left in a hurry with door and trunks left open, he looked around the cars trying to figure out what had happened and came upon a rather disturbing sight. A man's body sat slumped against a car's tire his expression frozen in both pain and fear but that was not what drew Otto's attention, no what drew his attention was the wounds on the man's body. Bites and what looked like claw marks ripped along his torso and chest, Otto was not doctor but he knew what animal bites and scratches looked like and these wounds didn't look like the work of any animal he knew of. He shut the man's eyes before heading into town to both tell of the dead man on the road and get his supplies.
    -
    The town was dead, no one was around and not cars were on the streets and the usual sounds of the day were gone but a putrid stench hung lazily in the air. He had his 1903A3 Springfield rifle off of his shoulder pointed and ready as he walked through the town, he came upon the usual store he traded in and slowly made his way inside peering around corners to make sure nothing was about to attack him. He cleared the small building and went to the shop front where he found a newspaper, as he read it his eye's widened. "A viral outbreak?! What?" As Otto read on their had been a timeline listing what had been happening in the past few months, he had heard of the new virus that had been spreading but not it's mutation. He needed to get back in the forest now. He grabbed as many boxes of 30-06 rounds for his Springfield as well as needed medical supplies and put them in his pack before heading out and leaving the town fading into the forest again to his camp.
    -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
    Backpack:
    20 round boxes of 30-06 x20
    first aid kit x2
    antibiotics x1
     
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  4. It had been a great relief for the rest of the family when her cousin had gone into labor early. There was no risk of the birth interfering with the wedding - though she doubted that Mark would have hesitated to reschedule the wedding for his sister. The whole of the family had shown, gradually trickling into the home. Because of course Lisa had to give birth at home. It was only logical, after all.

    About half of the family had come down with a mild cold the day before. A couple of her cousins looked a little swollen and kinda shitty, but no one really cared. There was a new and screaming addition to the family just upstairs. Addison wandered outside just to escape the noise. Sure, yeah, the baby was family. But honestly? She didn't like kids. They were annoying. Maybe when it grew older she'd start really caring about it... Though with Lisa as a mother, it was highly probably that she'd hate the kid even more for being a spoiled little brat.

    She came back in when the baby finally calmed down. Everyone had gathered in worry around little Abigail, who had silent tears streaming down her face. "Mommy," she said. "Mommy, it hurts."

    -x-

    Mommy, it hurts.

    Addison jerked awake, startling her mother laying down beside her. "Nightmare," she muttered, trying to keep her from worrying too much. It had been two weeks since that day, since they had seen the future and lost it all at once. The Harper clan that had been sick only got worse. Abigail had only been the beginning, and she had marked the end. After three days, half of the family had turned into something unrecognizable. Another three, and only she and her parents remained. She could attribute that to the sheer dumb luck of none of them wanting to be sick and already planning a return home.

    They barely made it out of that damn city and her parents were ordering her around, telling her to hide when anyone came near them and refusing to let her do anything to help. It chafed, how they were treating her like a child. She managed by gritting her teeth and keeping her bow on hand at all times.
    -x-
    She was alone, now. Her dad was dead, or worse. Worse like her mom is. Was. Addison clutched the necklace so tightly in her hand that the charms left imprints on her skin when she finally slid the chain over her head. There was no need to close her mother's eyes. Hell, all that she needed to do was leave. That was easy enough.

    The world had turned into kill or be turned and she had some target practice to do.
    -x-

    Backpack
    Items:
    Soft bow case (1), compound bow (1), arrows (5)
    Food/Water: N/A
     
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  5. Becca Baily
    ~ Four Days Post Outbreak ~

    Beneath the dull flickering of a fluorescent bulb, Becca lay writhing. "Ma'am you don't understand." She gasped, her voice raw but heightened with panic. "You don't..... You.... get it I-... I'm DYING." The teenager pushed herself shakily into a sitting position, the world spinning as she did so. "Shit ma'am... I mean... I mean, what did I do to you?"

    From across the room, a heavy set woman in lavender scrubs looked up from her iPhone and met Becca's gaze. "You didn't do nothing to me honey." She shook her head and stood, stashing the phone away in her pocket. Away from the supervisor's eyes. "This is you. You did this to you."

    "I did?" Becca lay her head in her hands, rubbed sweat drenched hair away from her face. "No. No no no no..... No I... I just need little bit, you know like a step down. Hair of the dog."

    "You think I'd give it to you even if I had it? You're ain't dying, honey, just going through purgatory."

    "Purgatory?" Becca coughed, suddenly short of breath.

    "Yea, purgatory.... burned, by the fires of hell, until you get purged. Until you get clean."

    "Psh!" Becca spat, uncharacteristically annoyed. "And what comes after purgatory then?"

    The nurse shrugged and opened the door, "That's up to you."

     
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  6. "She is me, I am her, she is me, I am her Siamese twin connected at the--"

    As soon as the track started, it stopped. Lauren checked her player to see what was up - and the battery had died.
    "Fuck, are you serious? I just charged this piece of shit!"
    With an angsty sigh, she took the earbuds from her ears and put them, along with the player, in her bag. A small messenger bag, big enough to hold ammunition, food, and electronics. She had a pair of pistols in shoulder holsters, and a hand ax strapped to her leg which she had looted from an Academy store. Her load was appropriate for her physique - light enough to move quickly, heavy enough to keep her in shape.

    As rare as motorists were nowadays, she stuck to the center of the highway as she made her way to Texas. She'd just passed through Jackson, and was headed to Shreveport via the Interstate 20. The trip was boring, and the weather sucked - she could feel the sun scorching her during the day - her wonderful pallor would undoubtedly be ruined by the time she got to her uncle's place. At least she'd be in top shape when she got there.

    Just as she came over the overpass, a truck came by. She walked to the side, not making any risky moves or anything in case they were friendly. As the truck came to a halt beside her, however, her right hand went for her gun, and her left for her ax, drawing as the driver opened the door, hands up. He was an older man, probably anywhere from 50-80, depending on his habits. He was missing a few teeth.
    "Woah, woah, woah, missy, I ain't got nothin' you want."
    "Why are you stopping? You creeping on me or something?"
    "No, ma'am, I just thought I'd give a girl a ride. You headed to Munroe?"
    She kept her gun pointed at him and her ax ready.
    "It's pretty hard to trust strangers right now, what with there being an apocalypse going on right now and such. I'm headed to Texas, actually."
    "Well, shit, you got a long way to go, you might wanna take me up on my offer. Why don't you put the gun away and stop bein' so cynical?"
    "Sorry, dude, you can't really tell what someone's angle is just by talking with them. While you're right that I could use the ride, you'll have to forgive me for being on edge. Even if it means I hoof it, I'm not putting my gun away."
    The man smacked his lips, and what was revealed to be dentures slipped off his gums and back in place.
    "Well, I guess you gotta point. At least don't point it at me while I'm drivin'."
    Lauren weighed her options. This dude gave her bad vibes, and it wasn't just the apocalypse talking.
    "Where are you headed?"
    "Me? Shit, I'm runnin' around fer a settlement in Tallulah, I barter with other settlements and passerby, 'n' jus' now, I give pretty girls rides to Texas."
    That story seemed likely enough, minus the last part. As far as her experience went, settlement types were much friendlier than others, and people helped where they could. She decided to go with the old man, but remained wary of him.
    Three days later...

    "Get off of me, you fucking creep!"
    "Now, now, miss, is that anyway to talk to someone who just spent a good couple days drivin' you 'round? C'mon, gimme a chance, girly!"
    "Fuck off, grandpa!"

    THUNK!

    The blood started dripping from the man's skull, the ax wound digging deep into his cranium. He didn't have a chance to react, as he was already dead. Lauren quickly pushed him off of her and retrieved her ax, giving it a shake to loose it from the grip of flesh and bone. The blood squirted at her as she did so, slapping her in the cheek with his foul, dusty fluids. She voiced her disgust and used the rag in his back pocket to wipe it off her face. She hefted him out of the truck and went to see what was in the back. She opened the trailer and observed, with a mixture of disgust and glory, unmarked crates and a few cages with people sitting melancholic inside. Slaves? She went back to the geezer and checked his person for keys. She found a ring and went into the back to free them.

    She knocked on the cage bars, but they didn't move. She drew her gun now, and, at the ready, circled around to check them. She poked at one of them and only heard a wet squelch. What happened? She lifted at the fleshy thing to see if she could find a face. She heard an inhuman groan from inside and backed off, gun ready to strike.

    "Are you infected? Tell me your name if you're not!"

    All she heard back was another groan. Deciding they were, and not willing to chance them being clean, she put finger to trigger and shot at the fleshy pile she was poking at earlier. Inside the trailer, the bang was deafening. She thought she heard speaking after the shot, the tinnitus keeping her from making out what was being said exactly.

    "-er cage! We-"
    "-fecte-"
    "-elp!"
    "Please!"

    As the ringing went away, Lauren searched for the source of the clamoring and found the other cage on the other side of the trailer.

    "Please, one of us is dead, but we're not infected! Over here!"
    "How... Fuck, my ears... How did the one die?"
    "Slammed into the bars during a sudden stop, cracked his head open, we couldn't stop the bleeding. We've had him sat up against the wall ever since so we'd have some cushioning."
    "How'd you get here?"
    "I was captured in Antioch."
    "I'm from Carthage, I was captured in Canton."
    "Walnut Grove here, didn't think I'd see freedom again."
    "That remains to be seen. Where'd you guys join up?"
    "We were all captured by some people from Meridian, they shipped us off together."
    "You all still right in the head? You didn't bite any chunks off of Kenny here, did ya?"
    "We were thinking about it. It was starting to get desperate. I think there's some food in these crates, though. Let us out, please!"

    With a sigh, Lauren went to the cage and started trying keys. When she found one that fit, she pointed her gun at the would-be slaves and backed out of the trailer, tasking them with following. They were all naked and sweating like hogs.

    "Each of you, get these crates out one by one. After that, I'm going to have you open them. If there's guns, you stay away from the crate or you lose your hands. I'll play nice after you get everything unloaded."

    Grumbling, they complied, and in a few hours, the crates were separated from their tops. Lauren let them snack on the food while she went through the guns. She grabbed an M16A4, a couple mags, and a box of ammo, then went to talk to the captives.

    "If I let you guys go through the rest of this stuff, guns, clothes, food, and go on your way, while I take the truck, can I depend on you guys not shooting me in the back as I walk away?"
    "Shit, I'd like to go with ya, I don't know where else to go."
    "Go home, dude. I just did the right thing, it doesn't take a genius to know not everyone would do that. I know it's a long walk, but shit, I'm from Tennessee. Up until three days ago, I was crossing the border of Louisiana and Mississippi on foot. You've got all the time in the world, and enough guns and ammo to scare off any rat bastard who might try to hurt you."
    "You're not gonna change your mind?"
    "Nah. I got family to tend to. If I know my uncle, he's sitting in his bunker, trying to formulate a cure for whatever makes these infected fucks tick."
    "Shit. Godspeed then. Hope your family's safe."
    "Thanks. Now get your shit and get going."

    The trio of captives took their provisions and left, after helping Lauren unhook the trailer. She took the truck, deciding she'd take it as far as the tank would take her. Her heart was light after she saved those people, but her mind was heavy, knowing even settlement types could be capable of terrible evils.
    A few hours later - present time

    "Early in the morning, rising to the street
    Light me up that cigarette, and I strap shoes on my feet
    Got to find a reason, a reason things went wrong
    Got to find a reason why my money's all gone
    I got a dalmatian, and I can still get high
    I can play the guitar like a motherfucking riot!"


    With a laugh from Lauren, she kept her stride up. The truck died earlier, but she was in Shreveport. She remembered visiting family here as a teenager. She was on the right track, and she was glad to see familiar terrain. With a cityscape in sight, she stretched. She was ready to scale the city again, desperate to get her muscles working. Making her way west, she kept singing, the lyrics belting out as she wanted them, the song keeping her feeling good.

    BACKPACK
    Total Items: 10
    Walther PPK/S x2 (8+1 rounds in left, 8 rounds in right)
    Box of .32 ACP rounds (32 remaining)
    M16A4 (30+1 rounds)
    Box of 5.56x45mm rounds (30 remaining)
    Survival Ax
    Canned fish x2
    Tupperware Container (filled with leftover Spaghetti-Os)
    Small MP3 Player​
     
    #6 VerbalAbuse, Sep 27, 2016
    Last edited: Sep 30, 2016
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  7. Wyatt Whitmore
    That Was Then
    There were many times when he had been pushed to the brink before, many times when the world crashed down on top of him, but something was always there to keep him from tumbling over the edge. The bank had taken that helping hand away, stolen his last safety net after tricking him out of everything else and that goddamned letter in the mail was the final straw. What did Wyatt have anymore—no family, barely any real friends, no money—nothing but a dried up farm he'd never wanted. Disappointment was his reward for doing the right thing.

    “Should have sold this place when I had the chance,” Wyatt complained to only himself, pitchfork in hand as he went about piling hay up against the side of an old pole. “Should have sold it and got the hell out of here, but no, had to try for everyone else.” The last ten years had been lived for others, burdens shouldered for the sake of family, for the sake of money, for the sake of spared feelings and dreams crushed under the disappointment that had been bills and final notices. “Fuck 'em,” he spat, straightening up to try and ease the kink in his back.

    It was a hot day and sweltering even for the beginning of summer; the sun was relentless as it beat down on his uncovered neck and shoulders. Sweat had already put a shine on his face, aged a little more than the average thirty-five year old. Wyatt's mother, God rest her soul, used to tell him that he was distinguished, handsome, that back in her day, any girl would be lucky to marry a farmer like him. He had always smiled politely and refilled the water glass next to her bed. When she got sick, she'd gone downhill fast and there was nothing to do besides make her comfortable—somehow, cancer felt like his fault too.

    It was just another burden, another stress that killed her a little quicker, but now Wyatt was glad for it. He didn't want his mother to stand by and watch as some stuffy bank employee turned her into a vagrant, out of chances and homeless. Wyatt didn't care about the farm anymore—he didn't want to plant anything, he didn't want to watch it grow, he just wanted to watch it burn down. If the bank wanted their land, they could have the ashes. Glancing to the pile of dry hay along the side of the bar, Wyatt was just seconds from getting back to work when a sort of...low growl caught his attention.

    Seemingly from nowhere, a woman was standing before him. She was a little older, maybe had five years on him, but her skin was sallow and her hair was ratty, tangled with leaves and dirt. Her clothes were just as filthy and Wyatt might have asked her what was wrong, if she needed help, but something didn't feel right. The woman stood there for a long moment, almost as if she didn't see him and swaying on what looked to be unsteady legs as her vacant stare looked off in another direction.

    “Ma'am?” Wyatt asked anyway, hesitant and incredibly mistaken. The woman whipped her head around, the action so fast that her neck should have snapped. Her formerly vacant eyes flashed in the overhead sun, black like Texas gold, and a hungry gurgle bellowed from deep in her throat. Wyatt's heart pounded, he barely had a chance to back up as the woman lurched forward, coming at him with an unexpected amount of speed.

    Fight or flight forced him to act, his own primal instincts and pitchfork saving him from certain death. He pulled the three, sharp tines from the dry earth and pointed them at the woman, taking a swipe at her torso before the points landed in the yielding flesh of her face. She clawed at him, her hands just as hungry as her eyes—rather, her remaining eye—he gave the pitchfork another yank, pulling away skin from bone in a gory scene that nearly made him gag. The woman didn't slow much, however and Wyatt took another stab, the spikes pointed vertically as they impaled the woman's neck, jaw and breached the barrier of her skull. She fell to the ground after, still gurgling but (hopefully) dying.

    It wasn't like he had never been hunting before, but this wasn't some deer in a field. This was a person, or...was she a person? He had never seen someone take an injury like that and keep attacking, unfazed.

    Still brimming with adrenaline, hands shaking, Wyatt left the unknown woman where she fell and ran back toward the house. The ranch-style home looked untouched, unassuming and broke down as ever but he didn't really stop to check if he was alone as he wrenched the screen door open and skittered inside. It was just him now, he remembered, just him to deal with whatever the hell was going on.

    This Is Now
    Nearly a year later and the world had changed so much, but still looked eerily similar. There was no more hustle and bustle, not so many cars on the road, no more waiting in long lines, no more work; just survival. The apocalypse had been a blessing in disguise in many ways, and although Wyatt would never admit it to anyone, not to those who had suffered, or lost their loved ones to the virus, but he was better off for all that had happened. How many could, or want to say the same?

    Beyond the wall of Impact Point, Wyatt limped his way through a field of thistle. The tops of the purple flowers brushed his legs as he made his way through, determined to tackle the last hill before the sun got to be too high in the sky. It was dangerous on the outside, a lot of people thought he was asking to die by leaving so often but Wyatt had never been the type to stay cooped up for long. The least he could do was look for other survivors and try to find supplies. The others could always use more oil or gasoline.


    Backpack:
    12 Gauge Double Barrel Sawed Off Shotgun (1, carrying)
    12 Gauge Shotgun Ammunition, 2-3/4 (20 Shotshells)
    Hunting/Boning Knife (1)
    32oz Water/Water Bottle
    Basic First Aid Kit (1)
    Tinned Fish (2)
    Soda Crackers (2 packages)​
     
    • Like Like x 1
  8. Riley and Dexter had been walking for about three hours since they had left the truck. According to Dexter it was around 1700, which in normal person talk meant five pm. They had been walking along I-20, Dexter had wanted to stay off the main roads but Riley refused to go off in the woods and get lost. So sticking to the interstate Riley had been able to salvage a few supplies from some of the abandon vehicles. "Dex look." Riley called out as her eyes landed on a town right outside of Dallas, Texas. Picking up her pace Riley looked around the deserted town. It looked pretty ransacked but everything couldn't possibly be gone right? "Riley, don't run off." Dex called after Riley. "Chill Dex, the world might be falling to shit. But that doesn't mean I went back to being six." She said as she made her way into a gas station.

    A bell on the door rang as Riley made her way into the small store. It was pretty trashed but there were a few things they could use. Riley made her way through the snack aisle grabbing anything that could be salvaged. The bell attached to the door rang again as Riley was crouched down to look through the things that had been scattered on the floor. She was able to gather a few water bottles and a roll of toilet paper. Knowing Dex he would lecture her about not sticking to only getting the necessities. Stupid Dex, toilet paper should, would and always be a necessity to Riley. She smirked as she spotted a few lighters near the window, they would definitely need those. Riley could hear Dexter rummaging through another aisle as she made her way to the window. Once she grabbed the lighter she noticed someone digging through one of the cars out front of the gas station.

    "Dex! There's someone outside. Get over here." Riley called out as she started to back away from the window. She could hear Dexter making his towards her. Was it a person? Or was it an infected? Riley watched anxiously as the person started to come out of the car. Wait...Dexter?! Riley's green eyes widen as she watch her brother examining a hunting knife outside by the car. If that was Dexter then who was... Riley turned around just in time to see a man coming out of one of the far aisles. Noticing the blood that was around the man' face and body, she started to back away. The man was large, not the type that you would see from someone who lifted weights on a daily. But as in a 40 year old who sat at home playing video games and eating pizza in their moms basement. But most importantly he was infected!

    "DEX!" Riley screamed as she turned and ran down another aisle. She grabbed at stands and threw them to the ground in attempt to keep space between him and herself. Running towards the front counter, she jumped it and ducked down. Riley spotted a baseball bat hidden under the counter before the infected started reaching over the counter growling at her. Grabbing the bat Riley started swinging at the Infected as she screamed. "Get Away From Me!"

    -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

    BACKPACK (Riley):
    Items:
    Baseball Bat

    Lighter x 2
    Toilet Paper x 1 roll
    Food:
    Granola bar x 3

    Skittles x 2 packs
    Water:
    Bottles x 2
     
    #8 JinxMonster, Oct 2, 2016
    Last edited: Oct 4, 2016

  9. Mitchell James Kennedy » FINCH
    location: home → wandering highway's edge.
    mentions: --
    interactions: --

    ♦ ♦ ♦
    then
    After everything, Finch's life was finally falling together. He had endured his parents divorce, his mother's depression, his awkward high school years. It was only a month ago that Finch had received his acceptance letter from a pristine University upstate, and would soon enroll in their performing arts program. He hadn't the slightest idea what he wanted to study to be exactly, yet he didn't care. His life was falling together. He'd be okay. His future looked bright in comparison to the more bleak few years he had put behind him. Finch was looking forward, ahead, at what could be, but never was.

    The night had happened tragically and drastically. Finch was a rich boy, they lived in a beautiful, expensive condo in the heart of the city. Naturally, the cities would go down first. The lights went out in that beautiful home after a few good night wishes, Finch couldn't stop looking at the acceptance letter laying across the room, on the desk. The following morning he'd be off to college, and Finch couldn't sleep for obvious reasons. Tossing and turning all night, he drifted into a light sleep, until he heard a blood curdling scream that made his heart stop, his veins go cold. It broke him from his sleep, sitting up in bed in a panic.

    It had been his mother.

    Finch rushed out of bed despite how much his instincts told him to run. If it had been anyone else, maybe he would've, but this was the woman who raised him, loved him. His first instinct was to help her, and so he tried, running across cold, hard wood floors with bare feet and baggy sweatpants, stopping short in front of the bedroom door. From the crack in the door, Finch could see it all. His step dad, or what had been his step dad, had his jaws snapped around his mom's neck, ripping with his teeth. Blood was everywhere, staining the satin sheets and his mother's white night gown. And despite best judgement, Finch screamed. He screamed his head off like the damsel in a horror movie, unable to keep the panic settled in his throat.

    The monster that had taken his step dad's place lifted it's head, dead eyes settling on the blond as it as not his step son, but food. It wasn't long before Finch was running down the hall to escape him, unable to see the humanity that was once in the man. He had been cornered in the kitchen, and once more, despite his flight instincts, he fought. All it had taken was a few too many stabs with a butcher knife and the monster was down, blood on the stainless steel, broken glass littering the tiles, leaving small cuts in Finch's feet that he hadn't felt at the time.

    He knew he couldn't stay there, not after what had happened. He packed everything he could inside an old school backpack, clothes, food, water, basic necessities. He took the knife then, it was the only protection he had. He took the picture of him and his mom from his night stand, shoved it inside the bag.

    And as he stood in the doorway, he looked back at his room one last time. The sliver of light from the hallway landed on the acceptance letter, and with an aching heart, Finch shut the door, leaving what could've been in the dark.
    ♦ ♦ ♦
    now
    The sun was beating down on Finch's shoulders to the point where he could no longer bare the hood over his platinum hair, so he decided to take the hoodie off, in favor of lazily tying it around his waist. His hair made him stick out like a sore thumb, noticeable from a mile away. He knew that as much, so without the protection of the dark over garment, he kept his eyes peeled and his ears keen, walking along the side of what had once been an express way. Cars had been abandoned by their owners, whether it was from crashes or lack of gas, and any sign of human life was gone. As if the human race had just been plucked from the Earth in the snap of the finger.

    That's what Finch had always found to be the scariest; not the parasites inside the human mind, not the gore that followed, it was how easily humanity had succumbed to the chaos. As if their lives had been a fragile house of cards, the slightest challenge had made it all fall down. Seeing abandoned towns that were once so full of life not only made Finch sad, but it filled him with dread and fear. It made him feel alone; sometimes he believed such. Of course, he had come across other survivors, it wasn't entirely rare to see other people. But it never got rid of the feeling of loneliness and fear that had become a dark cloud over the blond's head. He was often lost in his own thoughts, after all, it was just 'me, myself, and I', and he often let his mind wander to far down the dark, depressing gutters of this reality. He couldn't help it.

    He was doing it once more, only to be drawn from his thoughts by the terrible noises that the infected made. The snapping of teeth, the slight screeching sounds, followed by the muffled sounds of a screaming victim. Finch froze, his silver eyes immediately landing on the source of the noise. An old, broken down car, and right next to it, blood, the infected body ripping the prey to shreds with it's teeth. Whoever she had been, Finch could only assume she made the mistake of trying to catch a few hours of sleep inside one of the cars, but the barriers of the windows and doors hadn't been enough, unfortunately for her. He tried not to think about it, instead, slowly moving to back up. He wouldn't shoot unless he had to, he needed to save his lowering bullet supply.

    Crack beneath his feet. The infected's head popped up, covered in the blood of the poor girl.

    Oh, fuck me.

    The infected was now stumbling, running, towards him, Finch's hand immediately reaching for the gun in his waistband, firing two bullets at the creature. One hit the shoulder in his panic, the other landed between the eyes. He didn't allow himself a moment of relief, however, as the gunshots rang out in the open, there was another sick sound, and two more came barreling out from the road side ditches and forestry. He could only hope to god that this was all that were around, for he only had so many bullets left.

    Finch fired two more bullets, one through the chest and the other in the abdomen. Even if it didn't kill them, it'd slow them down, that was for sure. He wasted no time running, turning on heel as soon as the bullets left his gun and darting down the highway, wanting to put as much space as possible between him and the zombies, even if the bullets had killed them.
    ♦ ♦ ♦

    inventory

    * basic glock in waistband.
    * switch blade in pocket.
    - roughly 45 bullets.
    - three granola bars.
    - refillable water bottle.
    - a few clothing items.
    - hygiene items.
    - basic medical kit. (bandages, gauze, alcohol pads, etc.)
    - photo.

     
    #9 Mysty, Oct 2, 2016
    Last edited: Oct 2, 2016

  10. An unease settled over Dexter as he watched Riley run off. Yeah, sure you're not six anymore, but you'll always be my baby sister. Still, he let her go. Since the incident back at home, their relationship had been fragile at best, and he didn't want to stress it any more than necessary. He figured she probably blamed him for everything that happened, but, fuck, it HAD been his fault, right? He was the one that was supposed to be in charge of guarding the house, after all, and he'd let the bandits walk right through the back door. Dexter rubbed his face, chest heaving with a massive, world-weary sigh as he watched Riley disappear into the store.


    Deciding not to follow her, he turned and walked over to peer into the dust-covered windshield of a nearby car. A lifeless corpse was propped up in the passenger seat, the skin dried and shriveled, eye sockets empty yet somehow still staring. Their father had been aware of the parasite before most others, locking them away in their home. Despite the governments recited promises, for the next several months they'd watched the world fall to shit around them. Local law enforcement fled first, leaving their small town to the mercy of looters and criminals, yet they'd escaped unscathed, unnoticed... until three days ago.

    The image of Riley lifting his gun with that steely cold look in her eyes haunted him. His baby sister, gentle and caring and innocent, prepared to take a life to save his. He was thankful she'd missed. He didn't want that evil hanging over her. He could deal with it. He was trained to deal with it. But she shouldn't have to.

    Moving on to the next car, he wrenched the front door open. It had become nearly sealed by rust and grime, but he managed to open it, leaning inside with one knee on the driver's seat to pry open the glove box. There was a hunting knife, still safely encased in its leather sheath; a bottle of prescription pills labeled "Meperidine", made out to a "Lucy Baron"; and a pack of cigarettes. He pulled all three out to examine them, quickly crushing the cigs beneath the heel of his sneaker. He didn't recognize the name of the pills, but he pocketed them just in case. The knife came last, and it slid out of its sheath with a flair. The blade was fine, nicely sharpened, and he'd bet money that it had never been used. Fantastic.

    He was about to resheath it when Riley's screams reached him, and he spun around, sprinting to the door and wrenching it open just in time to see her pull a baseball bat out of nowhere and start swinging it. She'd always sucked at baseball, though. "Back up, Riley!" He snarled, coming up behind the infected and planting the knife right at the base of his skull. The spinal cord severed, as intended, and the man - or what was once a man - slumped to the ground.

    "Are you okay?!" He demanded. "Were you bitten?"

    ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

    BACKPACK (DEXTER):
    Items: 3
    .50 Cal Desert Eagle (no rounds)
    Hunting Knife, with sheath
    Bottle of Meperidine (13 pills)
    Food: none
    Water: none
     
    #10 JJ, Oct 2, 2016
    Last edited: Oct 7, 2016
  11. Northern Arkansas - Ghost Town

    Four Months After Outbreak

    (Part 1 1/2? Lol sorry I really am excited for this roleplay))

    They say that everyone has a breaking point. That no matter how big of a rock you are, you still crack. Some sooner than others. Baby was never one to believe this quote. After he killed his father he felt no remorse. It felt good. They also say vengeance will never bring peace. Maybe not peace. But it sure as hell brought closure. Baby knew his mind wasn't like the normal human. Maybe he was psychopath and never even knew it. Maybe a sociopath too? Ah, who cares. Labels are labels. Baby knew what he was. A survivor.

    Step after step, Baby's eyes scanned the deserted town. It was a fairly small town. Almost reminded him of a western movie. All he needs now is the tumbleweed to roll by. Oh look! Oh wait never mind, that's just a dead cat. "That's a cat. That has to be the most depressing thing I've seen so far. How did I even think that was tumbleweed?"
    His eyes continued to observe the buildings and the land. Baby stood pondering for a moment. "Ya, this will do." He strolled his way to a particular house that caught his attention. It was more like a mini mansion. Baby walked to the door, knocking. "Holla its your boy." Baby paused, awaiting a response. He knocked louder. "Got the goods. Girl scout cookies. Devil chocolate right? That's the shit." A scratching originated behind the door with what sounded like feint moans. "Yup. No one can resist the devil chocolate." Baby withdrew his glock 19 with an attached silencer. His rarest find so far. Unfortunately he had a whopping seven bullets left.
    Baby placed the barrel onto the door, tracing the aim with the sound of the moan. Click. The bullet shot through the thin door, ceasing the noise. Baby paused making sure he actually got the shot. No sound. Awesome, but now he only had six bullets.
    Baby forcefully opened the door, looking down at the infected. The bullet went straight into the cranium. Baby gave a soft nod of victory as he stepped over the corpse. "Just kidding. I ain't got no girl scout cookies." Baby sauntered around the house trying to find the kitchen. "Don't worry, love. I'm just as disappointed as you." Baby licked the bottom of lips in hunger. He hadn't eaten in awhile.
    He clicked the safety on the glock and placed it back under his jacket. Making his way through the living room, picking up a book. 'The Art of War'. "Ha. Don't tell me you actually were reading this fifty-five." Fifty-five was reference to the infected he just put down. He liked to keep track of how many he has killed.
    "I spy." Baby whispered, finding the kitchen. He tossed the book to the side, moving his way into the area. Opening the cabinets he found what seemed to be untouched and mostly unscathed products. Some of it expired but most of it was in great condition. Baby snapped his fingers, letting out a victorious groan. "Hell to the yes." He danced his fingers around the products trying to select a favorite. Baby let his fingers glide over to a box of Captain Crunch. Picking up the box he could tell by the weight that it wasn't even opened. Baby, without hesitation, tore openthe cardboard, ripping into the plastic shield and chowing down on the cereal. "Oh my God, yes. Cruncha-fucking-tize me." With a mouthful of cereal, he set his barren backpack onto the table, grabbing other food items.

    After eating an entire cereal box and scavenging the rest of the food into his backpack, Baby made his way back to the door. His bag was much more notably heavy now but he definitely was not complaining. He peered outside, observing the building. A large open circle in the middle of the town. There was a clock tower across and was particularly interesting was the speakers on top of iron poles. The town was old school. But it was perfect. This will be the spot. He had been tracking Enrique down since after Ella's death. He knew where he was. All he had to do now was set up a trap and this town is the perfect answer.

    Baby walked to the clock tower, scoping the inside of it. Surprisingly there was no infected. "Huh. First for everything I guess." Baby checked the equipment in the middle of the room. It was some sort of sound equipment. This must be what generates the outside speakers. Baby's heart began to rush. He let his backpack down on the floor, going back outside to pickup his rifle. A standard hunting rifle with four bullets. It seemed meaningless to carry the extra space around just for four lousy shots but this rifle had a part to play. With the clock tower and the speakers, the rifle was now more than just a part. It was the star of the show.
    Baby dashed upstairs to the top floor of the clock tower, placing the rifle down on the wooden floor. He placed his hands on the dust covered glass, pressing aggressively. "Ya this will do." Baby sat down gently, inhaling. A soft smile spread across his face. "I wonder where I can find a lambo." Baby thought sincerely. "I mean surely one has to be somewhere. Or a monster truck. Ya, that would be sweet as hell. Ah, but the diesel would be a bitch." Baby tugged at his fingers boringly. "I need a new outfit. Something badass. Like a cape. Capes are cool. Or a tuxedo. Tuxedo with a cape." Baby responded to his own comment with a disgusted frown. "Ew, no. I don't know but lets focus on my homeboy first. Take him out and lets scavenge every damn thing in the world." Baby returned to his soft smile only this time it turned wicked and sly. "Enrique, Enrique. Best be ready. This towns got a new sheriff."
     
  12. Cecilio & Ringo

    20 Hours after initial outbreak
    Cecilio tapped his fingers repeatedly on the desk from which he watched the properties monitors from the small security room in the back of the manor. The door opened rather suddenly and another guard clad in riot gear handed him a bag of food "Hey. Marcus just got back from Wendell's and got everyone their food." Cecilio let out a relieved sigh and snagged the bag "So how's it out there?" He asked digging a burger out from under a pile of napkins and condiment packets. "Cold as hell and bullshit. This guy lives nearly a mile out of town and he's worried someone might come and ruin his shit while he's in Tahiti...God. Lucky we're all getting overtime..." the other guard lamented. He nodded "Hey he's an investor and we're getting paid. Tell you what I'll eat up and trade shifts with you in a bit. Who's the star pooch now?" He asked before he took a bite of his hamburger. The armored man responded "Ringo, so you two should get along great."

    After quickly eating the rest of his burger Cecilio suited up in the new gear and headed out to the front of the house near the driveway. He spotted the German shepherd and called it over giving it the command "Ringo! Achtung! He commanded prompting the guard dog to get up and sit on its haunches next to him. He whistled and the dog followed him looking around at it surroundings yet again. Cecilio and Ringo walked together towards the back of the house. He shivered slightly due to the cool night before he pulled out a cigarette and a lighter almost lighting it until he heard a scream from the from. He and Ringo raced back not sure if an animal scared one of the other guards or an intruder managed to get snagged by one of them.


    As they rounded the corner Ringo seemed to stop and just growl while Cecilio spotted a man on top of a guard ripping his neck out with his teeth. The sight hit him a little hard causing him to flinch but he pulled out his baton and got on the Comm's "We've got an intruder. Just bit Tim's neck. Get the first aid kit and some back up here Stat!" He said as he approached the man. "Hey! HEY! Get offa him!" He shouted getting the strangers attention though he regretted it when he saw that mans empty gaze. The guy was dressed like a business man but right now that didn't count for shit. The suited man lumbered towards Cecilio rather quickly his walk swift and slightly erratic. Of course a very nice 'thwuck' and 'crack' resounded from the baton meeting flesh and breaking the mans jaw though it scared the living hell out of Cecilio when the man looked at him with dead empty and made a guttural sound.

    Luckily back up arrived though it seemed more people were deciding to intrude though they went for Cecilio as he backed off the suit not standing down. Marcus tried to arrest one of the other intruders only to be overwhelmed and scream as he was bitten and literall eaten alive. Cecilio struck the man in the head this time causing him to falter and fall to the floor "STAY DOWN!" He shouted as he counted about 5 intruders now including the business man and they lost 2 guards. Ringo was barking up a storm behind Cecilio but he didn't do try to attack seeming to intentionally keep away. Cecilio drew his P226 as the last 3 guards arrived "If they keep coming shoot them!" Cecilio barked his orders at the others. He could have used lethal force the moment he saw Tim dead but he didn't want to escalate this but at this point he exhausted using reason.

    He holstered his baton and when the business man rose again He tried again one last time "Sir lay on your stomach now!" He shouted but the man kept walking towards him making those godawful sounds. "Go lethal!" He shouted as he took aim and nailed the man between the eyes. The rest of the guards opened fire on the other 4 trespassers most of them vagrants who usually hung out far from here. Cecilio trembled a little from the adrenaline rush and looked to the others knowing something was up. From the driveway he could see the fires burning from the nearby city and faintly hear the chaos. After some brief discussion and deliberation the others decided that the crazed individuals and chaos were linked together and it would be an optimal time to leave. Cecilio took claim of a Colt rifle from the weapons locker and some spare magazines before he whistled and chose to bring Ringo along as well. He got in his car and looked to Ringo in the passenger seat "Lets go buddy..."He said starting the car and heading to his home to try and salvage supplies.
    Present
    Cecilio yawned as he walked down the long stretch of highway mostly just wandering at this point with Ringo by his side. Things had technically 'calmed' for the most part and that just meant he didn't have to worry as much about bandits. He thought for a moment how bizarre he must have looked seeing himself in an abandoned car's glass window reflection though he considered it a good thing to be holding a rifle suited up in riot equipment. He'd forgotten he took the riot gear when he left that night but it had served him well offering a bit of intimidation along with protection. He resumed walking and noticed Ringo just seeming to stop for a moment and rub himself on the road to get an itch which was enough to get a small chuckle from him.

    It wasn't to long before he came to a stop to rest for a moment and he pulled out a small plastic cereal bowl filling it for Ringo. The dog wagged it's tail happily as the bowl was set before it and it began to lap up water swiftly. Cecilio looked around keeping an eye out for any infected not wanting to be surprised though Ringo served as something of a portable alarm providing some warning . He sat on the hood of a car and looked around listening to the silent dead world almost finding it peaceful.

    He adjusted his bags hoping he'd run across some company soon not that he didn't enjoy Ringo's but he missed actual human conversation. He kept hold of his rifle and picked up the bowl after Ringo finished. "Komm." He commanded as he walked ahead and the shepherd followed closely behind him. He eased his stance a little hoping soon he might find a place to settle and relax that he could fortify or maybe a survivor community he could contribute to but for now there was still ground to cover.

    Backpack
    1x Colt Le901-16s
    4x Rifle Magazines (4 loaded)
    1x P226 Pistol (9mm)
    3x Pistol Magazines (3 loaded)
    1x Crowbar
    1x Trauma kit
    1x 7 string acoustic guitar
    4x MRE's
    3 lb's of dog kibble
    Assorted hygiene items
    1x Large canteen


    Mentions: @Mysty

     
  13. The city was emptier than she remembered, but that was expected. Most people nowadays either lived out in the boonies or in settlements, but it sucked seeing what Lauren once knew as a lively city look so dead. Making her way through Bossier City - Shreveport's Casino Sister - she stopped as she reached the bridge over the Red River. Lauren looked north, to Horseshoe, and sighed.

    "And I thought Nashville looked bad. There used to be lights for miles... I barely see someone these days who isn't trying to either eat my brain or steal my skin. All of this over some damn cats."

    She shook her head - it wasn't like her to brood like that. Lauren kept walking, passing over the river within a few minutes. She looked more to the west and saw the Sci-Port. An idea hatched in her head.

    "I bet there'd be meds or something there. 'Sides, I need to stop and eat, my stomach's craving some Spaghetti-O's right now. I'll take that exit there."

    She followed through, heading down the Spring Street exit, and ended up on the Sci-Port's corner, and eagerly bound down the parking lot towards the door. After trying it, Lauren found the door locked from inside. She could break the glass and get in, but no doubt there was a security system in place - last thing she needed was zeds storming because she sounded an alarm. Walking the perimeter, she tried all of the ground level doors, and as expected, they were all locked. She walked the perimeter again, this time looking for a way up. As she finished, she came to her goal, an idea had formed in her head.

    vents.png

    She could climb the vents, using the studs at the top to finally reach the roof. There were stairs on the other side she could use to get to a point where she just had to pull herself up, but that was no fun - she needed to exercise her grip, anyway.

    Slapping her hands together, she stretched out her fingers, then ran towards the wall, directing her momentum upwards to reach the vent, skating across the wall before grasping the bottom. Familiar tension singing in her arms, she gripped with her other arm and found traction against the wall with her shoes. With a mighty pull, she jumped up and reached for the top of the vent, using the bottom for a foothold now.

    "Oh, that feels good! I'm back in action, baby! Haha!"

    She jumped up twice more, once to get to the next vent, and again to scale it. After that, the stud was within reach. She shook out her catching hand and gripped on before transferring her other, then used the control plates on the fan below to clamber up, before finally making one last jump to the roof's edge. Lauren pulled herself up and over, her arms singing.

    "Ah, that's better. Heh, I think now's a good time for a snack."

    Safe on the roof, she took her tupperware container from her bag and opened it. With no utensils, she just drained the Spaghetti-O's into her mouth gleefully, gobbling up the canned pasta. She replaced the lid and slid it back into her bag, her stomach settling for the moment. She'd need more, soon, as that was nowhere near substantial enough for her, but she was fine for the moment. Lauren slid off her bag and rifle, then laid back to rest, her arms feeling like jelly after such exertion.

    She felt a bit uneasy, considering she'd seen so few zombies on the road. Still, she felt safe for the moment, and allowed herself to rest.

    BACKPACK
    Total Items: 10
    Walther PPK/S x2 (8+1 rounds in left, 8 rounds in right)
    Box of .32 ACP rounds (32 remaining)
    M16A4 (30+1 rounds)
    Box of 5.56x45mm rounds (30 remaining)
    Survival Ax
    Canned fish x2
    Tupperware Container (dirty)
    Small MP3 Player (dead)​
     
    #13 VerbalAbuse, Oct 2, 2016
    Last edited: Oct 4, 2016
  14. Riley fell back onto the floor, once she saw Dexter take care of the infected. That was close...to close for Riley's liking. "Are you okay?! Were you bitten?" Dexter demanded as he looked down at Riley. "I'm fine." She muttered before she heard a whining to her left. Riley's green met Hero's brown, she could tell the canine was anxious. "It's ok Hero. Come here boy." She called, as she sat up from her laid down position. Without even a second to thought, the stocky brown and white pit came running at her. Riley laughed as her face was covered in doggy kisses. Hero was trained to only attack when told. So while Riley and Dex weren't thinking clearly, they had never given the command. Riley could only imagine an anxious Hero sitting on the side wanting more then anything to jump in and help.

    "I'm ok Hero." Riley cooed as she wrapped her arms around her furry friend. Taking comfort in Hero's presence, Riley hid her face into his fur as a few tears slipped free. She didn't want to show Dexter any weakness but that had honestly terrified her. Riley's own stubbornness had nearly gotten her killed or worst infected. "I'm sorry." She muttered, it wasn't very loud but Riley was sure Dexter had heard her.

    24 Hours Later

    'Welcome to Shreveport Louisiana'
    Riley glanced over the sign before she looked back towards the road. Unfortunately due to the roads still being to jammed, they had no choice but to continue on foot. Now the traveling trio had ended up diverting from their planned route. For the fact that they thought it would be a good idea to stay out big cities. Well it had been Dexter who flat out refused to enter the city, claiming it was to dangerous. Riley not wanting to rush into another situation like her last infected encounter, decided it was best to just listen to Dexter.

    So here they were arriving in Shreveport via their detour to hopefully avoid some of the infected. Riley sighed as she walked next to Dexter mindlessly swinging her baseball bat. Practicing swinging the wooded bat had given her something to keep her busy when they were walking. They had taken a few breaks and slept for a while during their travel. But there had still been a lot of time on Riley's hands. "We need to see if we can find some more water before we continue on." Riley was well aware of Dexter's dislike for stopping. But they were running low on water and there was no way they would have enough to last them till the next town.

    "We could just make a quick stop. Get some water and then head out."
    Once Dexter confirmed he was ok with them making a quick stop. Riley continued to make her way through the town. Hero stuck close to her side as she navigated her way around. Riley and Dexter were both familiar with the area since they had family that use to stay in Shreveport. Finding a spigot that was still functional, Riley took her's and Dexter's water bottles and filled them before calling Hero over to drink. Once done, Riley looked around and noticed that they were next to Red River. "Look Dex." Riley said as she pointed towards the river. Red River had been one of their mother's favorite places to just sit and relax. Not being able to resist the memories of their mother that surfaced. Riley made her way toward the river and took a seat next to the river bank.

    Having sat there for about fifteen minutes. Riley was about to tell Dexter she was ready to go before she heard Hero let out a distressed whine. "What's wrong Hero?" Riley asked as she watched the canine pace around anxiously while sniffing the ground. She was about to call Hero to her so she could calm him, but before she knew what was happening he had took off running. "Hero!" She yelled before she took off after him. Hero had headed toward the bridge and started running across it. "Dex what is he doing?" Ri asked as she ran along side her brother. This wasn't normal, Hero never just ran off. He was trained to stay by their side...So for him to do this it had to be something important.

    Once off the bridge Hero had started heading west towards they Sci-port. "Hero! Get back here!" Riley called out, Hero would slow to sniff before he would take off running again. He was tracking something...but what?

    -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

    BACKPACK (Riley):
    Items:
    Baseball Bat
    Lighter x 2
    Toilet Paper x 1 roll
    Food:
    Granola bar x 2
    Skittles x 1 packs
    Water:
    Bottles x 2 (filled)


    @VerbalAbuse
     
  15. Otto Williams
    -
    He had been walking for days, no stopping but to sleep. His rifle was slung on his shoulder fully loaded and with one round in the chamber as he walked west, he had been walking for awhile now though he was unsure of what state he was in at the moment. The heat and humidity told him it was somewhere in the south but as he had started in Mississippi before this had all started that was a given but he was unsure if he was still in Mississippi or had crossed into Louisiana as he had stayed off the roads, hunting had been...enough and while he wasn't able to load himself down with game but he had been able to take a deer and get enough meat off to smoke it it had only been a few pieces for himself before he had to abandon his fire when those...things had started to approach.
    -
    He still wasn't sure what to call them, the papers he had found detailing what had happened when he was in the woods isolated had called them zombies but from what he had seen these things were not the zombies of popular culture no these things seemed to act more like animals though they were a bit harder to dispatch then a normal person would be but they still went down thankfully. He wiped the sweat from his forehead as he made his way up onto the interstate to see if he would be able to find out where he was and look for anything useful in the cars left abandoned. As he walked about the cars he didn't find much of use other then a single machete, he also saw a road sign it read
    Shreveport Louisiana 1 mile.

    "Well that solves that mystery." Otto thought in his mind as he finally found out where he was, state wise anyway. While he as strapping the machete to his bag he weighed the pros and cons of venturing into the town of Shreveport, he knew any major population area may be filled with infected but at the same time he was running low on water and he also needed some food that wouldn't spoil as he wasn't sure how well the hunting would go in the near future let alone when winter rolled around. He ran a hand through his graying hair and let out a sigh. "Nothing ventured nothing gained I suppose." He thought to himself as he got off the road again and started to make his way to Shreveport, following the road but taking the wooded areas adjacent to it.
    -

    One Hour later
    -

    It had taken him about an hour is his guess was right but he had finally made his way into Shreveport and began to look for supplies. As he looked around he reflected on the past few weeks, the lack of other people was wearing on him. He was used to isolation but he still had people to talk to when he went into town to get ammo and other such things but now their was no one and it was starting to get to him. He didn't put much stock in finding anyone else though, for all he knew he was the only one left.
    ------------------------------

    Backpack:
    30-06 x 180 (18 boxes)
    First aid x1
    Smoked meat x1 pound
    Machete x1

    On person:
    Canteen x1 (1/4 full)
    30-06 rounds x20 (Five in rifle, 15 ready to load)
    1903A3 Springfield
     
  16. After a lengthy rest, giving her arms time to stop screaming at her, Lauren moved to the door on the southern roof. It was, thankfully, open. Thinking on it now, the former occupants probably were trying to secure the building before making an escape off the roof. Heading inside, Lauren drew a gun and her ax, just in case the occupants never escaped, be it infection or hostile occupation. She headed through the complex, searching for souls, and finding none. Allowing herself to relax, she started looking for meds and equipment.

    The place was pretty cool, there were research labs, a gift shop (filled with sweets), and a planetarium! Lauren looked around and took in her surroundings before heading back to the labs. If she were to find medication, it'd be there.

    "Silica compound, Phenyleph- not even gonna try. Uh... Ah, antibiotics! Penicillin... Ah, some people are allergic... Like cousin Mel. Levofloxacin? Sounds useful. Gentamicin? I've heard of that before, like in passing... That'll be good for infection... Bandages, nice... I can grab a box from the gift shop to make these into a medkit. I think that'll be all I need for anything serious, though. I'll have to stop by a hospital for splints."

    Pleased with her cargo, she headed to the gift shop for the aforementioned box, and as she was packing everything away, she heard a dog barking. Lauren froze for a second, then heard the dog bark again. She hurried in packing away her impromptu medkit and stored it in her bag, before drawing her guns and heading to the door closest to the noise. The extra weight set off her step, her bag was getting a little heavy. If that dog didn't shut up, there'd be more zed here than anywhere else in the city.

    "Hero! Get back here!"

    The dog's name is Hero, how cute! Just like her cousins' little service pit. She wondered how he was now. Well, a domestic dog probably won't attack her for no reason, but she had to wonder what was causing it to run off. She looked towards the noise, and sure enough, found a big, burly terrier barreling in her direction, followed by a teenage girl who was obviously exasperated. Perhaps the dog tracked Lauren's scent? But why would it be coming at her? She noticed the tail wagging, and then the coat was easier to make out. She saw the collar. She saw the girl's face better.

    "Riley?"

    She'd grown since Lauren last saw her, but make no mistake, that was her baby cousin Riley! Where was Dexter and Uncle? Lauren looked at the door and found the locking mechanism, opened it from her side by turning the pin, and ran outside to greet Riley and the dog.

    "Oh my God, Riley! Hero! I was looking for you two!"

    Her tone changed from pleasant surprise to mushy baby talk as Hero almost bowled her over.

    "Hero, you got so big, boy! Who's a good dog, ah-boo-boo-boo! Oh, yeah, you're a real nice puppy, ain'tcha? Mwah!"

    Nothing made her feel as good as a friendly face - human and canine, to boot. Lauren stood back up after having her fun with the dog before looking back to Riley as she drew closer.

    "Riley, where's Dexter? Where's Uncle?"

    BACKPACK
    Total Items: 11
    Walther PPK/S x2 (8+1 rounds in left, 8 rounds in right)
    Box of .32 ACP rounds (32 remaining)
    M16A4 (30+1 rounds)
    Box of 5.56x45mm rounds (30 remaining)
    Survival Ax
    Canned fish x2
    Tupperware Container (dirty)
    Small MP3 Player (dead)
    Homemade Medkit (Contains Levofloxacin, Gentamicin, and bandages)​
     

  17. Well, it had been going alright. No infected, no thieves, just him and Riley and Hero sitting on the same riverbank that had been so dear to their mother's heart. He hadn't understood, when he was a kid, why she liked it so much. Being butted right up against the city meant the banks were more often than not strewn with trash and debris, and the water itself had always been an unappealing shade of brown. But now as he sat with his arms wrapped around his knees and Riley at his side, watching some sort of birds he couldn't identify pecking at the shoreline, he could see it. He looked away, eyes burning, but unwilling to show Riley any weakness. After all, he was the big brother. He was the protector. If Riley saw him tearing up what would she think.


    But then Hero, who until now had been sniffing around the area quietly, stood at attention. Dexter saw the dog stiffen, nose quivering, with the posture that foretold his intentions just a fraction before he acted on them. As the dog fled, Dexter was on his feet, the sneakers he'd looted from the wreckage of a department store sliding in the sand with the force of his takeoff. "Riley, wait!" He called, exasperated. "Don't take off again, do you not remember what happened last time?"

    But by the time the sentence was finished both dog and girl had disappeared from sight. Dexter was fast, and he had a lot of stamina, but his sister had been a gymnast almost her entire life, and she had a head start. He chased them into the city, a half a block behind and gaining. He watched Hero turn a corner, then Riley, and by the time he rounded the building himself, there were now three. Instantly the gun was in his hand, pointed at the stranger's head. He was still out of ammo, as every weapons shop they'd passed had been picked clean, but the stranger didn't know that.

    "Riley, where's Dexter? Where's Uncle?"

    And then it hit him - Hero's relaxed, goofy stance, Riley completely at ease. As his heartbeat slowed, and the red haze of adrenaline faded from the edge of his vision, he had time to take in the newcomer's features.

    "Lauren?" He squinted, dropping the gun. "What? How..?" Seriously, what were the odds. They hadn't seen their cousin since their family reunion two or three years ago. He hadn't had any contact with his dad's side of the family since the initial outbreak, and had presumed them all dead. "I don't understand how you got here." He said finally. "But it's nice to see you're alive."

     
    #17 JJ, Oct 4, 2016
    Last edited: Oct 7, 2016

  18. Mitchell James Kennedy » FINCH
    location: wandering highway's edge.
    mentions: --
    interactions: Cecilio @Derp.

    ♦ ♦ ♦
    Finch had slowed to a panicked jog; the zombies may have bullets between their eyes, but that gave him little piece of mind. He stuck out like a sore thumb, in the wide open space, with a dwindling bullet supply and an even worse food supply. Who knew how far the next town would be, whether or not it would be safe, and if not, if he would have any bullets left to protect himself. Sure, he had his switchblade, but what good would that really do? Finch wasn't strong, he couldn't pack much force into a simple stab. With his luck, he'd be weeded out within the next couple of days, a few weeks if he was lucky. In his own little pessimistic world, things were looking bleak, dark, and he was a little terrified if he was being entirely honest with himself. By himself, he allowed his thoughts to wander, his finger still gripped at the trigger, his heart still racing, anxiety still evident in his eyes. He was ready to shoot anything that moved.

    It was only obvious that he had been so lost in his thoughts, thoughts that were telling him to prepare for the unknown, which caught him off guard. The boy hadn't noticed the damn dog in plain sight, nor did he notice the man until he walked well around the car's front, and the minute movement caught his eye he yelped, jumping back away from the car and aiming his gun; only as his finger teased the trigger did he notice that this was no lounging zombie, but a person. Another real, live, person. Pale blue eyes widened in surprise, before relief flashed across his face; only to be followed by another small dose of panic. Another human didn't necessarily mean safety.

    "Oh bloody hell, you're a person. An actual living person," Finch sighed after a moment, British accent apparent and thick as he spoke. His voice was one of relief but of edge, not necessarily allowing himself to assume safety, but the fact that he hadn't fired a bullet into the man's head, or just gotten his throat ripped out, was a cause for celebration. He hadn't seen a live person in what felt like forever. Maybe a month. He didn't lower his gun still, but the tension in his shoulders slacked slightly. The blond was obviously debating what to do in his head, whether he should turn his back and keep walking or warily keep an eye on the man, conflict evident. Finch glanced off in the direction of where he had been headed, bit his lip, and then back to the man on the car.

    "What are you doing on the hood of a car, any how?" Finch asked, attempting to figure out friend from foe; possible ally or a future waste of bullets.
    ♦ ♦ ♦
    inventory

    * basic glock in waistband.
    * switch blade in pocket.
    - roughly 45 bullets.
    - three granola bars.
    - refillable water bottle.
    - a few clothing items.
    - hygiene items.
    - basic medical kit. (bandages, gauze, alcohol pads, etc.)
    - photo.

     
  19. Becca Bailey
    ~ 1 Week Post Outbreak ~

    Becca sat in plastic chair, wrapped in a blanket and eating peanut butter from the jar with a plastic spoon. She'd never been a huge fan of peanut butter and it's associations with self-made dinners and unbothered foster parents but damn if it wasn't familiar. The shaking had stopped, as had heart palpitations and paranoia. Still, even the smell of pretty much any meat or vegetable was still enough to send her running for the trash can so for the last couple days, at least, she'd been back in PBJ city. Almost a tribute to her rock-bottom childhood.

    She couldn't make sense of the news lately, but that's what they were all watching. Seven girls in various stages of withdrawal and two staff members who stared at the static filled screen with both fear and irritation. The newscasters were calling it a "budding pandemic" and according to Tiffany a pandemic meant that people were getting sick. The disease, called 'Gahndi" she thought (though what it had to do with him she couldn't guess), was speculated to be related to rabies but it was much more aggressive than rabies. The newscasters warned them to stay indoors, to wash their hands frequently, to stay away from anyone displying flu like symptoms and yet at the same time they were told over and over again not to panic. This is not cause for alarm. Everything is under control.

    "Is this rabies thing in Texas?" She said out loud to no one in particular.

    A nurse answered first "Not in Athens."

    "Like hell it's not in Athens." Becca turned to the voice, a dark haired woman a few years older than her. The name escaped her, but as the girl turned her attention to Becca the younger girl felt certain it started with a V. Victoria? Valerie? "Why you think all the nurses are leaving Bailey?" She asked quizzically. "Why you think we been eating hot-pockets and canned tuna for three days? Use your head girl, ain't no time to be stupid."

    "Look," The nurse said. "We're under quarantine. Nothing gets in or out. Were in the middle of east-Jesus nowhere, we've got an infirmary, we've got food. We're gonna be just fine to sit it out here till the government figures out this mess."

    "Since when has the government figured out much of anything? The way I see it they don't give a shit about a bunch of loser addicts up in a......" But she failed to finish her sentence, instead breaking into a fit of coughing.

    ~ 2 Weeks Post Outbreak ~

    Four cans of tuna, a box of pop tarts, and a milk jug emptied and refilled with water. Becca surveyed her meager rations quickly before shoving them forcefully into faded pink backpack. Her companions rations didn't look much better but Louisa had managed bar the doors to the kitchen and Tania had skillfully accrued their ticket out. Two hundred dollars and six bottles of methadone, taken from the directors safe moments before he had lunged at her face. "You'll see, this shit will be as Gold on the outside. Any sort of opioid, but this is what we're paying Rodrigo with.... or at least half of it." She smiled, "If he said he did it for three why should I mention I had more right? I mean, I know he's my boyfriend and all but this is dangerous shit. And I swear to God B. don't even look at it. Not at all. But here..." Tania carefully parsed out $60 dollars to each of the other girls. "Don't say I never done nothing for you."

    "You think their all dead in there?" Becca asked solemnly. It had been nearly two days since the scratching stopped, and they'd been camped in the kitchen close to four. "I mean, do you think anyone else could be alive?"

    "Don't even think about it girlie." Lousia was older than Becca and Tania by maybe six years, but she spoke in a way that seemed to carry decades of sorrow. "If they're not dead, they're not what they were. Better they be dead, and there aint anyway we're gonna go back. For what? To get killed? There could be 30 of them out there and they, or what they used to be, wouldn't want us getting recklessly killed like that."

    "I guess." Becca sighed, "It's just messed up. It's all so fuckin messed up and I mean I've seen shit before this but not like..."

    "No one's seen anything like this." Louisa said, wrapping her arm around Becca's shoulder. "You gotta just keep on keeping on, ok?"

    Becca nodded, and simultaneously the sound of a car horn sounded outside. One beep, a pause, then two more.

    "Alright, alright that's them let's move. You got your knives?" In response, Becca pulled a large kitchen knife from within her jacket, Louisa did the same. "Right. On three then, if you believe in God you better say a prayer! One. Two. Three!"

    And with that Tania pulled unlatched the heavy service door.

    Becca's heart leapt at the sight of the pickup truck, an older model in a silvery blue that matched the early morning sun. Two men, one young and the other middle aged, stepped out of the cab, each carrying an AR-15. The younger one waved, and Tania turned and mouthed Rodrigo.

    Tania was smiling. Rodrigo was not.

    "You lying little shit." He hissed, "Do you have any idea how many infected were on the road? Holy shit Tina it's a madhouse out there."

    "Well you're here aint you?" She ran up to him, kissed him on the cheek. "My friends are coming too. That ok?"

    "What?!"

    "They can ride in the back."

    "Are they even fucking clean? We don't have any goddamn....."

    An unearthly scream behind them. Becca turned to see a group of three infected stepping out the door they had just occupied. The creatures seemed to hesitate in the open air, but only for a second. "Infected!" Becca cried, running towards the truck. Gun shots rang through the air, too close for comfort.

    "Rodrigo!" Tania screamed.

    "Fine! You come up here, they get in the back. Hurry!" Becca scrambled onto the rear of the truck just as Rodrigo started the engine. Dangling for a moment, she heaved herself into the bed before turning back for Louisa.

    The infected had moved quickly and as Lousia struggled to catch the truck the zombies gained ground. "My hand," Becca yelled. "Take it, TAKE IT!" Their hands met, once, twice, but then Louisa fell back. An infected jumped on her, bringing her to the ground.

    "Shoot me!" She screamed, "BECCA PLEASE." The woman's screams broke into sobs as the truck sped away. "I don't want to be what they are!!!"

    "I don't have a.... I don't have a...." But even as she sputtered Becca saw a shot gun sliding in the bed around her knees. She picked up the gun, unsure if it was even loaded, unsure if it would even be lethal. "I'm sorry." Becca knelt and aimed the gun, unfamiliar with it's weight. She registered the sounds of shots firing before she registered the sensation of her fingers on the trigger.

    But the screaming continued. ​
     
    • Like Like x 1
  20. Cecilio & Ringo
    Interactions: Finch @Mysty

    Cecilio relaxed with Ringo for a moment before he heard a yelp and swung his rifle in the direction of it's sound and before him was another person shockingly enough. He restrained his finger from the trigger though it hovered above it just in preparation as well as staring down the barrel of this strangers pistol made him extremely uneasy. "Oh you know just waiting for the tow truck." Cecilio replied slightly sarcastic but using a joke as a means to try and deescalate the situation not really in the mood to kill or sick Ringo on someone. "I'm gonna make a deal with you. I'll lower my gun then you lower yours and we can talk. Also as a bonus I'll let you pet Ringo." He said in a calm tone setting his rifle's selector on safe and aiming it away from this stranger. He made a mental note about this individual and mostly how their hair seemed to stick out. He also made a few observations on how he looked gear and health wise willing to lend a hand if this person was willing to be civil.

    Ringo whined as he saw the stranger but didn't seem to know how to process them letting out a mixed response of growling whines though he settled when he saw Cecilio's body language become relaxed. The Shepherd sat on his haunches and panted softly his tail wagging rapidly before he slowly tried to approach the stranger a little playful and curious as well. Cecilio spotted Ringo getting a little excited and he said firmly to the dog "Sitz!" He didn't want his dog to get shot over a misunderstanding because someone thought he was going to bite. The Shepherd did as told sitting once more on his haunches but still looked very happy.

    "I'm Cecilio and as you heard this little troublemaker's name is Ringo." He calmly gestured to the dog with his hand very slowly not trying to freak this person out with very quick rapid movements. "Mind if I ask you for your name?" So far this seemed better or at least looked that way because neither of them had shot each other yet at least showing that this stranger didn't have murder on the mind. "And why you're roaming about this place?" He added in just wanting to try and form some kind of conversation and perhaps make a new friend and have another traveling buddy. He was also genuinely curious why someone would be traveling completely alone out here and where he was headed.

     
    #20 Derp, Oct 5, 2016
    Last edited: Oct 5, 2016