No Matter the Distance: (w/Muna)

[Turtle of Doom]

The coppery scent of blood and the noxious tang of gasoline filled her nostrils, as she came to. Her head was throbbing as she warily opened her eyes, the memory of the wreck already blurry in her mind. Emma's vision blurred, but her hearing was picking up some unnerving sounds.

The jeep was still upside down when everything came into focus, the blood she smelled was her own, and Seth's. "Oh god! Seth? Seth can you hear me?" Emma frantically felt around for her seat belt hoping that it wasn't jammed and she could right herself without much effort. After struggling with it for several minutes she finally manage to get it to release her, and she fell clumsily to the roof of the car.

"Fuck," she grumbled as she tried to finagle her limbs beneath her body so she could crawl towards Seth. As the adrenaline of the crash wore off she found that her arm was most likely fractured, and unable to support her weight. Instead she slithered along the roof of the jeep towards the lump in the back that she assumed was Seth. Was it dark when we wrecked? She couldn't remember how high the sun was, if it was at all as they had taken off out of Cherry Hills.

Seth groaned, and guilt and relief simultaneously washed through her. "Fucking 'a, Seth. You're alive?" Her hands finally grabbed his shirt and she grunted as she tried to pull him out of the wreckage. It was a painstakingly slow process, but finally she managed to get him past the front seats. She hadn't been sure how long it took her but she lifted herself over the broken glass and began to carefully remove enough of it to drag Seth out unscathed.

The night was eerily silent as she worked, her mind screaming at her that she was forgetting something extremely important. Seth groaned again, but this time it sounded intentional. Crawling back in, Emma lowered her ear to Seth's mouth. "Guns. Get. The. Guns. First."

"Oh fuck the guns Seth!" Emma protested a bit too loudly, and she was answered by a loud growl. Her eyes went wide as she glanced over her shoulder. Biters surrounded them and panic slowly crept up her throat. Nausea slammed into her and she thought she was going to blow chunks, but some sort of survival instinct took over and she managed to hold her food down.

The biters stood silently, staring, their nostrils twitching. A group of twenty or more from Emma's count. Shakily, she reached around the roof, feeling blindly for either gun. The cool metal grazed against her fingers. A slick, murderous grin spread across her face as she tightened her grip around the pistol and pulled it out.

She took aim, firing five consecutive shots. Four out of five shots met their targets, and Emma grabbed the pack that had fallen out of the jeep in the roll, and pulled Seth from the wreckage. "Kill me!" He urged.

"Fuck you, we're both getting out of here!"

"Kill me," his weak voice protested and Emma felt the tears streak through the mess of blood on her face.

"I can't," she whispered as a biter grabbed her leg. "No, you fuck face! Get the fuck back!" Three more shots, three more dead biters.

She turned back to Seth, but it was too late. A biter had taken a chunk out of his midsection. Tears brimming her eyes, Emma fired two shots into his head to make sure he wouldn't return. She hoisted the pack on her shoulder and stood up, fighting her way through the mob of biters.

 

[Muna]

Maisy had to pull her machete back through the window and sat back in her seat, taking deep breaths to calm herself. She would be panicking her way into a bad situation if she didn't take control over the situation. As she breathed, she looked at the biters surrounding the truck, as well as the larger group making their way to the building - to Erik. She couldn't let that happen. She struggled to the driver's side, her bleeding leg being dragged behind her. Using her uninjured foot, she pressed the brake pedal and turned the key, engine rearing to life in the process. Her eyes shot toward the floorboard, briefly thinking of the gun that lay beneath her. No, I can't risk losing precious bullets...

She gingerly pulled her injured leg in front of her, pushing it into the pedal hard. She revved the engine and honked the horn, screaming through the glass. "Come and get me, fuckers! You're pretty fucking stupid, aren't you? I know you can smell my blood, idiots!" Maisy ran her hand over the blood soaking her leg and smeared what she could on the windshield. The biters surrounding the truck began to move their way to the front, attempting to climb on the hood. Before she lost vision, Maisy let out a deep laugh - one that would have chilled the bones of others, had they not felt exactly as she felt in this moment.

She lifted her foot off of the brake and the truck lurched forward, the majority of the biters surrounding her falling beneath the wheels as she sped through the parking lot. She drove it in a wide circle to attract the others nearest the building. When they were all behind her, she took a deep breath and realized what she had to do. She couldn't tell how near the entrance Erik would be, but she had to clear a path. She tightened her grip on the steering wheel and sped straight for the front doors. With a loud crash, the truck barreled through the building's doors with ease. She slammed on the brakes and rolled the window down enough to shout through. "Erik, darling! We have to go. NOW!" Her shouts echoed through the room, a tone that sounded like a playful jest, etched with panic and urgency. A flashing light caught the corner of her eye, drawing her gaze to the passenger's side floor board. Her phone lay open, showing an ended call screen. Shit... I was leaving a message for Emma...​

 

[Turtle of Doom]

A pinkish hue tinted the horizon as Emma trudged onward. She had lost the will to run around the same time as her tear ducts had dried up. Her legs felt as though she were walking through quick drying concrete, and there was a heavy weight pushing down on her chest making it difficult to breathe.

A rock jutted up from the ground, tripping Emma. She barely got her feet back underneath her before she hit the ground. A sigh escaped her lips as she looked around. The highway was still next to her, and cars littered the countryside, but the hoard hadn't followed her as she ran. No, they had been too busy eating Seth. Her eyes stung as the unbidden thought made its way through her head.

Deciding she had put her body and mind through enough, Emma began checking the doors of vehicles. Looking for one that with tinted windows and large enough for her to curl up comfortably on the floorboard. She came up on a Dodge Grand Caravan with the sliding door already ajar, and cautiously peeked her head in, looking for anything lurking in the grey shadows of the early morning. After satisfying her need for security, she crawled in and slid the door closed, taking care not to slam the door shut.

The seats were easily moved to make room for her to set up a bed, and while she was getting things situated her stomach growled loudly. Emma grabbed her stomach reflexively and looked around to make sure the noise hadn't drawn any undo attention. She took a deep breath, and shook her paranoia off before tossing her pack on the floor in front of her. The thought of food made her stomach lurch, but she couldn't risk allowing herself to starve, and even in her current state she recognized that.

Her hands trembled and fumbled as she strained to work the zipper. Her frustration got the better of her, and she ripped the seam, spilling the bag's contents across the floor of the van. Several cans of food rolled out of reach, and her phone hit the floor in front of her with a thump. In her distress she had forgotten about the electronic device that had miraculously kept her in contact with her sister throughout this hellish ordeal.

Maisy! Shit, she had forgotten about her sister for a while. Rushing to turn the phone on, Emma almost jumped out of her skin when the voice mail icon flashed on the top of the screen. Punching in the code, she listened in silent horror at the message that played through her speaker. She couldn't breathe, she couldn't think, her heart had actually stopped as she listened to Maisy fending off untold numbers of biters. "No, no, no, no, no...." The words sounded hollow and distant. The phone fell from her hand, and she just stared, unblinking as the message replayed itself once more.

 

[Muna]

Erik looked at Maisy briefly before slamming the truck's door shut and sprinting to the entrance of the building. From the look of it, it seemed like it used to be an office of sorts - broken fax machines, computer monitors strewn across the sectioned floor carelessly. Papers lay crumbled and blood-stained, only disturbed by Erik stepping on them as he ventured into the abandoned structure.

There's got to be something here that we can use... Erik's leveling thoughts helped him keep his eyes sharp as he kept a hand on the gun strapped to his leg. Moving quickly, he passed through the room in an effort to find an office or storage closet that wasn't already turned inside out. He managed to find a pair of scissors on the floor and picked them up without a single thought. His eyes were peeled for anything that could be useful.

Further down the corridor, he approached what seemed to be the only closed door. Locked. Grasping the handle harder, he reared his shoulders back and slammed into the hard wood, hoping to break it open. This whole damn place has been torn apart...

One slam, two shoves, a final crash. Erik stumbled through the doorway with a lurch and quickly recovered his stance. The office had been locked and boarded, though the stench in the air was noticeable. He looked from left to right to scan the room, making sure it was safe to enter before walking toward the desk sitting on the far side. The room was very organized compared to the cubicles that lay beyond the four walls. It wasn't long before he found the source of the stench: The office's owner lay behind the desk, a single gunshot wound parting through platinum blond hair - a gun lay in the palm of the unfortunate woman even still.

Brows furrowed and a frown on his face, Erik shook his head and forced his eyes away from the body, now looking for storage cabinets. A large storage dresser graced his vision and he hurriedly throw open the drawers. The largest drawer on the bottom answered his prayers as it contained half of a first aid kit: Antibiotic cream, gauze, tape. Beside it sat the late-woman's purse: A wrinkled black bag made of worn leather. Glancing toward the desk reluctantly, he picked up the bag and dumped it out. He smirked to himself as he remembered how cluttered his wife's purse used to be.

Sifting through petty things like gum packs, cigarettes, a lighter, and a pocket mirror, he came across what he had hoped he'd find: A small sewing kit. His heart skipped a beat, both from the sight and a sudden loud crash. His blood ran cold and he quickly stuffed everything back into the purse, grabbed the kit, and ran toward the door.

"Erik, darling! We have to go. NOW!" Her voice penetrated his ears clearly and he began to run down the corridor without hesitation. It took little time for him to register what was wrong: The truck was parked in the office building's lobby and there was a horde of undead following closely. Shit.​

 

[Turtle of Doom]

Time ceased to exist. Emma sat there staring at her phone, her eyes brimmed with tears, though her body and mind were numb. Her baby sister... Was she dead? It sounded like she was dead. She threw herself at the wall of the van, beating against the metal and hard plastic of the door panels. A primal, pain-fueled scream tore from her throat as she thrashed against the vehicle.

Zombies be damned! Emma could care less about the noise or the expenditure of energies. She needed to hurt dammit! And the sharp metal of the van was the perfect place for her to unleash the pain and torment that she had been feeling. Killing Seth hadn't been the same as killing the others. She knew Seth, and in fact despite everything had grown quite fond of him. Her heart had already been torn to shreds when she got Maisy's message.

The door panel was ruined-- dented in places, bulged in others-- and Emma's hands were raw and bleeding by the time she stopped and the quiet of the van was disturbed by yet another sound. The air was ripped apart, shredded by the wail of an infant.

The sound grounded her, pulled her out of the haze of mourning and loss as she spun inside the van. How the fuck did I miss a baby? Eyes sweeping the seats, she finally located the source of the keening. Securely swaddled and tucked beneath the back most seat of the van, the small infant screamed and howled. It's cheeks crimson in its anger. Emma stared for a long time, unmoving and unsure of what to do. How long had it been wailing like that, and how didn't I notice?

Her shock soon dissolved and she crawled over to the babe. Cradling its head she pulled it to her shoulder and attempted to soothe it. It was foolish to keep the child in these times, but it gave her a reason to continue. "Shhh," she whispered. "It's probably going to be okay." She held the child out at arms length and stared at it for a few minutes. Its face was still puffy and red, and it reeked of bile and urine, but the wailing had died down to something more along the lines of displeased grunting. "I'm not going to make any promises, and I know I'm not 'mommy' material, but I'll do my best to keep us both alive."

First things first, Emma looked around for a diaper bag. If she was going to tote the kid around with her at the very least she would try to keep the poop machine, poop free. A fancy black embroidered bag revealed itself further back underneath the seat, as well as a papoose. Emma grinned. "Well, that will make running easier." She put the kid on the seat and strapped the strange contraption to her chest. It would take some getting used to, but it was definitely going to help in the long run. Her eyes slid from the diaper bag to the babe as she considered how to change a diaper. She had never done it before, and more than that, she had never planned on having to learn.

BANG! CREAK! SQUEEEEEEL!

What now?! Emma looked out the window, and her jaw dropped. Sometime between her discovery of the child and then a smallish group of biters had descended upon the van. There six of them maybe a few more, it was hard to count from inside. "Shit," Emma glanced at the bag with her weapons, and then back at the child. "Shit! Shit! Shit!" Emma grabbed the baby and held it close to her chest, tossing herself at the driver's seat and began looking for the keys. Luckily, they had been discarded haphazardly on the floorboard of the vehicle. The engine sputtered. Sputtered again. And finally turned over. Emma said a silent prayer of thanks to whatever deity was looking down at her before slamming on the gas and launching the van forward, squishing a few biters beneath the wheels as her and her new baby ran for their lives.