Peace In Apocalypse

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Seductress

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He was a preacher. A married man with four kids. He woke up every morning to bacon, eggs and blessings from God. Now, he found himself on the floor of the Ceasar casino in Vegas, his arms and legs chewed up and blood spewing from bite marks in his neck, stomach and head. His name was Rory Milligan, and he died because of false hope.

Joe Reagan found Rory and his church group inside of the casino, their big yellow bus parked outside. Joe hardly left his truck for other survivors, but lately humanity had attempted to rebuilt itself. There were camps, sections of city, even trading routes that were developed. Humanity was building itself back up despite the reanimated dead, and the mutated animals. Joe left his truck to trh and get some money, food, medicine or whatever he could get that he would be able to use for himself, or trade others for it.

Instead, Joe came out with a few bags of money, and a group of young Christian survivors. The group had been attacked by the last group to trh surviving in the casino.

Joe looked in the mirror of the bus, watching the group silently as he drove down the strip.
 
Frank didn't know how they had survived this long. Maybe it was Divine Intervention, maybe God was keeping them safe from the evil that plagued the world now. And then...then, in a casino in Vegas, Rory, their only guidance, was dead. Now, no one knew what to do. There were still the undead in the casino, but they were distracted by strange noises towards the elevator hallway.

Everyone was hiding, either under a table or behind a slot machine, some of them praying while others simply sat there. Frank...wasn't sure what to do. Rory's body was starting to make growling noises, and, though his limbs were mostly chewed off, Frank was worried that it would start to move.

Then, almost like an angel, their savior came. The man had led everyone out of the casino, piling everyone into the bus. The youngest of the group were clinging to each other, afraid, but Frank was only focusing on getting out of there. He'd made sure that everyone was there as the bus began moving, thankful that no one else had gone missing.

Frank sat up front, just behind the driver. "Where are we going...?" he asked, his hazel eyes gazing out the window. "Sarah's got a fever, and Jason cut himself bad the other day. Is...is there anything I can do to help...?" He bit his lip, his hand reaching up to clutch the cross that hung around his neck.
 
Joe felt like taking his trucker cap off, but it helped him hide his tailbone length, greasy pony tail that hadn't been washed in most likely a few months.

"There's a hotel up ahead." Joe muttered, watching the road for any undead, or mutants. "We can stop at the hotel, or we can wait and I'll get us to the camp just outside of Vegas."

Joe normally made all the decisions for himself, but he was no longer alone. He was armed, though. He had his 12 Gauge hunting rifle and his cop issue Beretta side arm. His extra ammo and his machete was still in his pick up truck he left by the casino.
 
"I...think we should stop at the hotel...it would give all of us time to think...to catch our breath. I think everyone's still shaken up about Rory..." He ran his fingers through his hair, hoping that Sarah's fever and Jason's cut weren't signs of infections. They were younger than him by a couple years and he didn't want to have to...to kill them. If it was the same infection that made all the monsters, then that's what he would have to do, since he was the oldest. Now that Rory was gone, he had to take responsibility.

Taking a deep breath to steady his nerves, he bit his bottom lip, glancing back at the others. Everyone looked scared, but that was to be expected. Sighing heavily, he faced back to the front, hoping that this hotel would be safe.
 
Max drove down the highway that went through Vegas. His battered pickup was beginning to make different noises, indicating the end of it's life. The elevated road was littered with the husks of abandoned, deteriorating vehicles. He had been driving for 8 hours and was quite fatigued. So much, that as he exited the highway he didn't see the school bus driving on the road parallel to the exit and nearly smashed into the side of it. He jerked the wheel at the last second he swerved into place next to it, avoiding a collision.

The surprise stirred a small rush that pulled his mind from semi-conscieousness. Driving next to it he could see multiple persons inside. Assuming it was some kind of roving bandit group he merged left and jumped the curb, putting a nice median between him and the bus.
 
The past few days had been a blur to Rebekah. Her boyfriend had invited her on a church trip. Normally her parents would refuse because they weren't the 'correct type of Pentecostal church's and had heard rumours about it. She didn't really care, being that she believed that God exists, but has an extremely sick sense of humor. But surprisingly, they agreed. She found herself with the group in Vegas, then suddenly everything got screwed up quick. Her mind had gone onto auto-pilot so she didn't have to think about the death of Rory. She didn't want to think of how her boyfriend had gone missing at the beginning of the trip, pretty much the moment they entered the casino, presumed dead now.
The only thing that ran through Rebekah's mind was the thought and drive to survive. So she did the necessary things needed to live. She found herself a weapon and held it close at all times. She got as much food as she needed, and being that she was able to run a lot on a little bit of energy, she shared with the younger members. She didn't trust most other older members, due to her family's preonceived notions.
When the person had come to save them, Rebekah marched out with the others but held her head low. She sat in the very back of the bus and watched as a truck drove a bit around them, still sort of not caring whatsoever. After a bit, someone sat down next to her, which caused her to tense up and reach for her weapon.
 
"Mind you, this is a large hotel." Joe said as he looked behind him quickly. "Its considered a megaresort. Planet hollywood. I have to make sure there is a safe place."

Suddenly the bus Nearly smashed into a truck, an old růsty piece of Crap ať that. Joe watched as the driver pulled to the side. Joe honked the horn twice, then flipped him off with his right middle finger.

"Son of a bitch." Joe stopped the bus on the side of the road and grasped a hold of his Shotgun. He opened the door after doing a quick check for any flesh eaters. "You nearly hit me you asshole!"
 
With the shotgun wielding bus driver outside Max attempted to drive away but his truck died right there. The engine sputtered and died. He jumped out and took cover behind the broken vehicle. He grasped his baseball bat with both hands. "Shit, I'm sorry dude! Don't shoot." He shook with fear.
 
Joe watched with a chuckle as the shit sucking truck died on the spot. He slid the strap around his shoulder and clasped his hands together.

"Č'mere, boy." Joe cleared his throat. He tugged ať the bottom of his old, tired red flannel shirt that covered an even dirtier Rush shirt. "Can I trust you? How old are you?" He called, feeling stupid for questioning an old truck.
 
Frank let out a shout as the bus was nearly hit by a truck, flinching as the driver gave the other the finger and cursed at him. Then, the bus was pulled over and the man was getting out, toting his shotgun. Worried that he might shoot, Frank followed him out of the bus, watching the two. He didn't want anyone to get hurt, but he was worried that the other person might have a gun or something worse.

"Wh-who are you?" he called to the man behind the truck, pushing his glasses up his nose. "Are you friendly?"
 
"What the hell is that kid doing?" Rebekah said to herself. If this dude wasn't friendly, Frank was about to be killed. She recognized him as a guy who was in her high school,whose name it took a while to remember. But being that she was a quiet kid, it was unlikely he would know of her too. Anything she did, such as winning second place in the talent show or exhibiting art or staring as a musical lead always seemed to turn into dust and blew away.
She stood in her seat, disturbing the person sitting next to her, to watch what would happen.
 
Max poked his head out. "Don't shoot!" He held his hands up. His bat in his right. "I don't mean no harm." He had a revolver concealed beneath his jacket. He hoped it didn't print and reveal he had a deadlier weapon than a bat. "I'm only seventeen." His voice was shaky.
 
"Then come over here." He called back to Him. Joe turned his back to the driver, and turner to the church boy that had stepped off the bus.
"Get on," he carefully pulled his handgun out of the holster on his hip and handed it to him. "Go to the back of the bus, and shoot him if he tries anything. Go!"
 
Frank's eyes widened as the driver handed him a gun, his breath catching in his throat. He couldn't shoot a guy. It went against everything he believed in. Still, he found himself stuttering, "O-okay," and turning back to the bus. He had never even held a gun before, let alone shoot one. Regardless, he got back onto the bus, ignoring the gasps of some of the younger people on the bus. Walking to the back, he took a shaky breath and opened one of the windows,

That guy's only seventeen, like me...I could be that guy, he thought, biting his lip as he took nervous aim at the guy who had come out of the truck.
 
"Oh shit, HE has a gun." Rebekah whispered to herself. She scooted past the person who sat aisle side and quickly ran to the front. She was going to do something, but she didn't have a plan.
"Uhm..." She said, unsure of what to say. "He doesn't look like he is feeling okay with that gun. Do you want me to aim at him instead? I have lots of experience." Which was no lie. She grew up with a hunting shooting family.
 
Max was about to object to having that, obviously untrained guy hold the gun, but then he heard a growl from somewhere he couldn't see. "Ya, ok, let's go." He quickly grabbed a backpack from the bed of the truck and hopped onto their bus.
 
Joe quickly grabbed the truck driver by the shirt. "You stay right behind me, and you try no funny business." Joe let go of him, then gave him a pat on the head.

He walked on to the bus and listened to what the girl had to say. "Actually, yeah. You take the gun. I'd rather not be shot or have anyone else shot when shit hits the fan."

Climbing into his seat, the middle aged Joe aimed his glance at the New comer. "This is nothing personal to you. I hardly trust this bus load. You're all kids, so I'm just going to have a little bit of trust in you."
 
She nodded, then approached Frank, who she thought looked willing to give the gun up. She quickly took a glance at the newcomer, who didn't seem too dangerous, but scared. but you never know in these sorts of times.
"Let me at least show you how to hold it correctly, in case you ever need to again. You don't have to now." She took the gun carefully, turning the safety on. She pointed at it. "If you aren't currently shooting, make sure this is on." she adjusted the gun so she had a firm hold on the gun. "Im not too sure how much of a kick this one has, but be careful, because some guns like this will naturally go backwards. You don't want to be hit in the head by your own gun." All the while, she said this gently and as if she were reading from an instruction manual. It was natural to her. She did grow up in a northern Pennsylvania town where hunting was the norm. She never did get to actually go hunting though. Her family moved when she was 15, and she hadn't had time to take the hunting test before hand. Though shooting ranges were another thing. Whether it was legal or not, from some pretty young ages people learned how to properly shoot a gun.
She nodded at Frank when she was done explaining, still holding the gun, to see if he understood or not.
 
Joe closed the door to the bus and looked around the inside of the bus. He pointed at the New comer.
"What's your name?" He asked as he say back down in his seat. He listened as the girl taught the church boy how to hold a gun and the baisics. He let them finish up before driving off.
 
Rebekah thought the same to herself. Who was this dude? She sat attentively in the front seat of the bus, which used to be occupied but the original people seated there moved when the events unfolded dangerously close to them. She held the gun tight against her, safety still on. She motioned to Frank that he was allowed to sit with her or choose his own seat. She didn't really care.
 
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