Optional Reading Post:
Jack and Ryan's Meeting.
(This isn't part of the RP at all but more background on a couple of characters. Read if you like, or don't if you don't.)
---------------------------------------------------------------------
December, 2025
"How in the world did I end up volunteering to do this?" Ryan questioned, under his breath. Still, despite the low volume of his words it felt like his voice was carried forward through the whole store. Clicking the power button on his torch, his arm raised to reveal a cone of light further into the building.
"Lily better be grateful..." he whispered once more, in an attempt to calm his nerves.
Having become the leader of their group of renegade refugees, Ryan had felt personally responsible when one of the girls, Lily, had lost her footing on a slope and injured herself while the group was absent medical supplies. None of them were fighters. At least none he wanted to put in harms way. He had military experience from his youth but potshots from guerrilla fighters paled in comparison to the enemy they were now facing.
During their travels in the day, they had come across this store but had only peered inside. Bodies of soldiers lay strewn about the floor, other non-uniformed corpses among them. When Lily found herself injured, the only access to medical supplies they had was the possibility for supplies in the now-deceased soldier's IFAKs. And thus, Ryan crept through the building, terrified eyes falling on the bodies that littered the place. He had been quite informed on the cause of the infection, part from his own research and part from the knowledge of his nephew, Wes. He knew the dead didn't get back up again but... as empty eyes devoid of life and character glared at him from a pool of blood, it was all too easy to expect a horror-movie styled jump scare to occur.
Clutching onto the baseball bat he had for a weapon in one hand and a pale-knuckled hand grasping the torch, he thankfully cleared the main group of non-uniformed dead, delving into the maze of aisles that led to where they had seen the soldiers. Suddenly, the sound of tearing velcro was heard ahead. Visually flinching, Ryan killed the light on his torch and darkness enveloped him. Two hands gripped the baseball bat as he shuffled further up the aisle, closer to the source of the noise. The sound of a tin can bouncing on to the floor followed as the velcro noises ceased. Reaching the end of the shelf, the noises ceased. Preparing to round the corner and strike, Ryan counted down in his head, steeling himself for the encounter.
3...2...1...
Ryan bolted around the corner, baseball bat raised ready to swing when his eyes fell on what was before him... nothing. Suddenly, the cold, hard cutting of a gun barrel jutted into the back of his head. A deep voice followed,
"Now you know what I'm carrying, I'm gonna back away and you're gonna drop that bat, okay?"
"Okay, okay," Ryan replied, breathing become uneasy. He had been terrified of falling victim to the infected, so shook with intense fear, that he forgot that humans could be just as much of a threat.
"Take it easy. I'm just here looking for supplies." Ryan lowered to the ground placing the bat on the floor. He could feel the presence of the man, acutely aware that he had a gun pointing towards him from a few paces away.
"Now turn around," the man demanded.
"With your hands up, of course."
Ryan acquiesced without question. The last thing he wanted was to wind up with a bullet sized cavity in his skull. Turning to face the man, Ryan squinted slightly to try make out his identity through the darkness.
"Move back against that wall there," the man commanded, and once more Ryan complied. As he did so, the man shuffled forward and as he emerged from the shadows of the aisle and into a beam of moonlight which pierced through the windows, he laid eyes on his assailant for the first time: a rather dishevelled looking man, an M4A1 rifle hung from a plate carrier on his torso and a military-grade M9 handgun was held firmly in his hands. He looked like he had been on the road for a while but, judging by his military gear, he was unsure whether or not he had been with an affiliated unit or not... the alternative was the gear was the result of being an enterprising looter. Ryan opened his mouth to ask his questions, however, was swiftly interjected by the man's own, rather surprising interrogative.
"Shit, are you that author? Wrote Marching Orders?"
"Erm... y-yeah, that's me. You know my books?" Ryan asked, somewhat unsettled, somewhat confused and somewhat relieved. All he could do was to hope that the man was a fan rather than a hater. He'd always imagined getting stabbed at a book signing by a critic, not shot at point blank in the apocalypse for a shoddily written paragraph. Still, at least the latter was more interesting.
"Well, I only know the one," he said, seeming to drop his guard somewhat. The man slung his backpack around his shoulder and onto the floor. The gun remained in hand, which made Ryan confused. Should he drop his hands? Were they friends now? Or would his brains still become part of the decoration if he did anything out of turn? Ryan couldn't believe his eyes when the man removed a copy of 'Marching Orders' from his pack. The man's eyes peered over the back page where a picture of Ryan's face was hosted.
"Quick test," the man spoke, eyes narrowing with suspicion.
"Who was your CO back in Afghan?"
"First Lieutenant James Danse," Ryan answered, confidently and swiftly. The man lowered his gun, returning the pack to his back.
"He used to wake everyone in the FOB with a trumpet every morning."
"Well, shit," he remarked.
"Can I drop my hands now?" Ryan asked.
"Sure, go ahead," the man replied.
"What you doing here?"
"I was looking for medical supplies. A member of my group, she's injured and the only place we knew of was this place. I was hoping to find a couple of IFAKs and get back before she gets an infection," Ryan explained, dropping his hands in the process but still not moving. It was clear the man was still analysing him.
"I see," the man replied, looking to the corpses.
"I checked those two, didn't have much. You might have luck with the guy over in the corner." His tone was grim and regretful but still, he seemed satisfied with Ryan's answer. Ryan nodded his head, moving over to the corpse the man had indicated and unzipped the pack on his waist.
"So, you like Marching Orders?" Ryan asked, trying to start a conversation more to try and cease his own nerves than anything else. He grabbed the flashlight once more, peering light into the pack.
"Yeah. I found it in a bookstore back near Atlanta, didn't know why I picked it up at the time. I was only there to take shelter from a horde of infected so figured I might as well read something, I guess," the man explained.
"Y'know, it actually got me through a bit of shit. There was that bit with the guy and the '240, watching that kid go towards the AK... based on true shit, right?"
"Yeah," Ryan said regrettably with a sigh.
"Know how it feels. Seen it myself."
"Ex-military?" Ryan finally got to ask his question. The soldier's pack seemed to have everything he was looking for, also. Taking it into his possession, he raised to his feet and faced the man.
"Yeah, 1st Bat', 75th Rangers," the man nodded.
"SGT.Jack Whitley." The man held his hand out. For the first time since departing on this mission of his, Ryan felt somewhat comfortable and it seemed the man wasn't suspicious of him any more.
"Ryan Taylor, but you know that already," Ryan said with a warm smile.
"Good to meet you, Jack."
Before Jack could reply, a loud crash was heard out on the street. Both men killing the lights on their flashlights instantly. They scurried to the nearby window to peer outside. Two infected lurched from a nearby alleyway, seemingly inhaling the odour of the area. Maybe it was the bodies which drew them, or maybe they had been somehow tracking Ryan, there was no way to be sure.
"Child's play. We can sneak around 'em, no wo-" Jack spoke, cutting himself off as more infected filtered into the picture. With the clear sky above and the prominent moon, visibility was high and there was no mistaking the number of creatures now surrounding them.
"I don't think that bat is gonna cut it somehow..." Jack commented.
"What if I swing it really hard?" Ryan added, jokingly as he gulped.
"There's an AR-15 over on one the bodies back there. I got a few STANAGs you can take in my pack."
"Okay," Ryan nodded.
"This is gonna be a wild ride..."
