Rigormortis - IC

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The amber rays of dawn broke through the clouds of smoke and soot over Eureka, CA, various natural gas fires only adding to the gloom. The streets were very much the opposite of alive; figures shifted and shambled, stumbling over the bones of the old world with lurched gaits. They hunger... no humanity, no respite, no fatigue, no fear. The individuals who were once human were no longer. The breakdown of society also caused a return to the natural order; humanity was no longer the apex predator. s. lethargica was. Sure, some quarantine zones still remain, where a semblance of order is maintained; this order is tenuous, only reinforced at the barrels of guns, ammunition ever dwindling, slowly but steadily. Basic human necessity was only barely maintained in such zones, prompting the more daring to stake it out on their own in the shell of society. You are one such individual. No matter your background, there is one thing that differentiates you from the meek living in the quarantine.

You have initiative.

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Zackary's breath was ragged, strained with exertion. It was only two weeks after he decided to escape the quarantine, not content to sit and watch while the world burned and it's occupants consumed each other. He was running through alleyways and vaulting fences, a duffle around his back and a bulletproof vest worn on his person; such physical effort could never be maintained for long when encumbered. He was used to such strains, the pudge from his old life receding to wiry musculature. Rule #1: Cardio. Always be conditioned so you will never turn into a canapé for the undead.

Moans and slavering, hissing sounds were not far behind him, moving at a consistent pace, tearing down obstacles as they lurched towards the potential meal. Zackary kept up a fast pace, cutting across a 'busy' street, drawing more attention to himself. Zackary kept looking for potential outs, coming upon a convenience store. Perfect, as the layouts of convenience stores could lose a pursuing horde. While running, Z.C. lifted a single, large bag of jerky from the ransacked aisles as he passed through a metal door titled 'EMPLOYEES ONLY.' It wasn't long until the horde was upon the reinforced door; meaty hands were slamming upon the steel already. Thinking fast, Zackary took a chair and laid it against the knob, as well as sliding the deadbolt. It wouldn't hold for long. Rule #16: Always have an out.

Zackary clambered up a ladder leading to the roof; barren, with only various detritus strewn about. The roof was easily accessible to others, making it a great place to escape, or hole up for the time being. He noticed a large section of plywood. Picking up the section, he laid it over the now-closed hatch, sliding a large 64-gallon drum over it. Now that the roof access was sealed, it was time to do some reinforcing. Building supplies were opposite on a still 'under construction' office complex, a precarious plywood bridge laid out to bridge the gap over an alleyway milling with the undead. He set to work.
 
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Analiese crouched on the low roof of a small gas station. To her left was a street where the dead milled to and fro. She didn't give the street a second glance. She'd much rather stay up on the rooftops where she knew she was out danger, at least for the most part. She touched the bow on her back with a sigh. It had been a little over three days since she'd lost her group. She missed them terribly, but grief was a luxury that she couldn't afford right now. She knew that there was a good chance the gas station below her had some good supplies, it was just a matter of getting in and out without being seen or heard. She slowly made her way to the hatch. She pulled it open and listened inside. She didn't hear any dead, so she climbed down the ladder.

She crouched close to the ground, slowly making her way out from behind the counter and into the aisles. She tried to be as quiet as possible as she slowly paced up and down the long aisles. She'd expected something to be in here, even if it was just chips and junk food, but there was nothing. It seemed that it'd already been cleaned out. She cursed quietly under her breath before heading back to the ladder. She climbed up and looked around again. She figured that everything around here must have been looted already. She glanced at her bag, tempted to just find a place to bunker down for the night. She had plenty of food, but she only had a couple of bottles of water left.

She started to stand and leave, but she saw a man dart across the street in front of her. He bolted towards a convenience store down the street from her, disappearing inside with a horde right on his tail. She scrambled to her feet as she eyed the gap between this building and the next one. It was a decent sized gap, probably four or five feet, but she'd jumped further before. She took several steps back and got a running start before vaulting over the gap. For a split second she teetered on the edge of the other building, but she caught herself after a moment. Her heart was pounding after the near miss, but she didn't let it slow her down. He was three buildings down to her now.

The next building was closer than the last one, but it was still a couple of feet. That jump was easier than the last one. Two more buildings. She could see that the horde had followed him into the building. The gap between this building and the next one was more problematic. She wouldn't make the jump on this one, it was too wide. She glanced around the roof, but there wasn't much up here to help her. She considered going down into the building she was on to try and find something, but she saw the man climb up onto the roof two buildings down. She couldn't call to him or the dead would hear her. She thought for a minute, then picked up a small stone on the roof and tossed it gently in his direction. She hoped the sound of the stone on the roof would grab his attention. It looked like he had some plywood, he could make a bridge for her and help her over.
 
Zackary was in the middle of making a ladder out of filthy sheets when a stone impacted close to him. His hand shot to his weapon, but he looked up and saw a female, waving. He was puzzled, this was the first person he'd seen in three days, he had no idea why she would risk getting his attention. Unless... he approached the side of the building he was on, and noticed that the building past him was too far of a jump for an ordinary person; she couldn't get over. She was taking a risk, and for that reason he decided to help her. Grabbing a plank of plywood, he took a short jump over the first gap and laid out the plywood over the second, she crossed over carefully. He gave her a once over; she had no weapons, save for a bow and arrows. He pressed a finger to his lips, then crouched. She did the same.

"Keep your voice down. You're the first living human being I've seen in three days. Your name first, then mine."
 
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The man shot his hand towards his weapon, and for a heart-stopping moment, Analiese thought he was going to kill her. She sighed with relief when he jumped over to the building next to her and laid down a plank of plywood so she could get across. She carefully crossed the gap before crouching next to him. She studied him just as thoroughly as he studied her. He had quite a lot of gear. He almost looked like an army man. She brushed a loose strand of dark hair of of her face. As always, she had her hair in a braid but a rogue strand was always escaping.

"Keep your voice down." He told her. "You're the first living human being I've seen in three days. Your name first, then mine."

She nodded a bit. He sounded wary of her, but she could understand that. You had to be wary of everyone these days. "Analiese." She replied quietly. "My name is Analiese. I lost my group three days ago. Thank you for your help."
 
"Call me Zackary, or Z.C. We have all lost somebody to those shambling bastards." He looked her over once again, appraising the woman. She was attractive, yes, but seemed to have little skill in self-defense, her lack of melee weapons a defining factor. "And, you're welcome."

Z.C. stood up, tossing a half-finished blanket ladder to Analise. "I'm fortifying this rooftop, at least, until I find a way out of this city. If you could finish that for me while I put up some cover, that would be great."

Z.C. attached a tarp to a ventilation unit, and stretched it out, while the woman started to tie knots. He spiked it to the ground, essentially making a tent large enough for three occupants. He pushed various large items to the flanks of the tent such as stacks of pallets and a large waste receptacle, obscuring the line of sight, if one were to look from the opposite rooftops.

He had little time to admire his efforts. A single, piercing moan emerged from the half-built office complex. A particularly vile zombie shambled into view, bearing the outfit of a construction worker splattered with bile and other... disgusting fluids running down it's mealy mouth. It's left leg was twisted 180 degrees around, leaving it to only stumble across the plywood bridge hap-hazardly. Z.C. wasn't going to abandon his little construction project to a single lone zed.

Ana had a hand over her mouth, slowly backing away from the walker. Z.C. didn't hesitate; before the shambler could elicit another moan, he dashed to it and slammed his combat knife up under the zombie's chin, driving the steel spike through the face and into it's brain. He withdrew the knife, the zombie rendered inert as it fell backwards off the roof, a wet crack punctuating where it fell. Z.C. wiped his trench knife on a stray rag and threw it off the roof, putting the knife back into it's sheath with a rasp.

"Rule #25: Target the stragglers. A stray zed is more easily dispatched; it's the hordes that you have to worry about."
 
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True to his nickname, Cottontail had been living through the outbreak in a subway. It served his initial goal as a makeshift hospital. Most who came stumbling through needed medical attention, and he was the man for the job. The "hospital" was successful until his patients tried to eat him. They swarmed the subway and now wandered through aimlessly. Cottontail hid out near the entrance trying to scavenge for food, with no luck. Now's the time to leave. While those... monsters are distracted. Cottontail left the subway, carrying all he could on his back. His white bag held most of the medical supplies he had left after the invasion.

When Cottontail escaped the subway, a strong sense of fear started to overwhelm him as he noticed his surroundings. The street had been lively when he started tending to people, but now all that remained was a hollow gust blowing through. It carried the moans of the walking dead, causing him to shiver. He looked down the streets and alleyways, hoping to see another survivor. The few bodies he could see were left in pieces and twitched with some new ungodly life. Cottontail spent a long time timidly searching the streets for life, and then he heard some noises.

A pair of feet hitting the pavement hard, coupled with heavy panting, and the collective moans of a horde. Cottontail ducked into an alleyway, and watched from a corner as some man sealed himself into the building across the street. The horde of corpses clumsily dogged his steps and were soon trying to break into the store.
Cottontail also observed a woman hop across the rooftops and call out to the man, who now was on the rooftop as well. How swift. Maybe a former mercenary? They built a makeshift bridge soon, and shot a monster that got onto the roof. Good. They're friendly. Maybe I could find.. a ladder.. or some crates. Cottontail glanced around and saw a parked car nestled towards the back of the alley. He tried his best to silently approach, but made noise with an accidental kick of a stray can. Moans followed, along with squishy footsteps.

Abandoning the quiet, Cottontail leaped onto the hood, and climbed up the wall. It was old and littered with things in reach, but it still took him some time to reach the top. As Cottontail swung his leg over the roof's edge, the horde had already advanced into the alleyway. They reached up to his stray leg fruitlessly. Cottontail swung his other leg over, and sighed. I made it! I can't believe I made it!. Cottontail then looked across the street and hollered at the strangers, in a humorous tone, "Not my most graceful moments. Got any more plywood?"
 
The voice of a young male echoed across the alleyway, the building on the other side of the convenience store occupied by a single individual. He was alone, bedecked in camouflage, with a crest emblazoned upon his arm; Z.C didn't recognize the device. A peculiar white frame pack was on his person... an interesting color choice. His accent, while somewhat Americanized, had a tinge of Belo-Russian inflection. Z.C. appraised him; he was armed, and the weapon was loaded. He tried to get their attention, which was indicative of someone seeking assistance; if he really wanted to kill the duo, he would have opened fire by now. Z.C. pressed a finger to his lips, approaching the opposite drop into the second alleyway with his last partition of plywood. He laid it over, and the reservist crossed.

Zackary was doubly surprised. He didn't expect this many people to still be alive in this section of Eureka; it's been declared dead ever since the quarantines initially went up. He didn't seem hostile... that was when Z.C. noticed a Red Cross band upon his left arm. He had medical training, a useful talent.

"Keep your fucking voice down. I don't want any more attention attracted to this position. We should be fine, as long as we don't make any more unnecessary noise. I'm Zackary, that's Analiese," Z.C. pointed at the woman, she waved in kind. "What's your name, Ruskie?"
 
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"Boleslav Genya. But you can call me Cottontail. All my patients do." Cottontail tried to appear friendly, sticking out his hand towards the duo. Was hoping to find more... better than no one. Cottontail then saw the tent. Are they planning to sleep here? Queer... Maybe he really is army and knows how to fortify the roof... Zackery seemed surprised by the offer, but didn't turn down the gesture. He gave a firm and solid shake. Cottontail then turned to Analise and offered her a shake also. Analise's hand responded quicker, but seemed less certain and almost scared. Who knows what they've seen. We probably all have stories...
I guess this is better than the subway.
 
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Z.C. shook Boleslav's hand tentatively, but firmly. "Alright, 'Cottontail.' It should be a tight fit, but three people can fit underneath that tarp. Two, if you're looking for comfort. Me, I'm more for sleeping under the stars... at least they are unfettered by the walking dead."

The sound of shuffling feet, louder than what was on the streets and alleyways, emanated from the construction complex. The horde was coming up the stairs.

Cursing, Z.C. rushed from one end of the rooftop to the other as the first zombie started to cross the precarious plywood bridge, the 50+ crowd of shamblers gathered at the edge of the complex, hands grasping hungrily at air. Zackary kicked out the plywood supporting the partition; the first zombie, an infected teenage girl, crashed through the unsupported plywood, taking the ramshackle bridge with it as the walker plummeted towards it's doom. Z.C. breathed a sigh of relief; there were two outs still, one being the way from which Analiese crossed, the second being Boleslav's route to the roof of the convenience store, an old red-brick building that looked like a law firm. Not optimal, but the best position that Z.C. could think of in this area.

"So... why don't the both of you tell me what you're good at? A little 'show-and-tell,' if you will."
 
Is the Red Cross not big enough? "I was studying at the university to become a doctor. Even now I can operate decently, from broken limbs to bullet removal. In fact, I ran a clinic out of the subway until the dead walked. Surprised you didn't hear about it. Must've helped hundreds of armed men and countless civilians. I do have to warn you, I'm not the best scrapper. I only took gym twice and nearly flunked each time."Cottontail pulled off his pack and unzipped the side, showing off his supplies,"Sorry to say, this is all that's left."

Hopefully he won't ask to scavenge. I hate that job. Even while operating the clinic I had better men to do it. Cottontail nearly felt like his description of himself seemed lacking, but medical skills were all he felt he could confidently offer. I guess being an avid reader is not considered a survival skill. Otherwise this would be easy.

Cottontail then directed the question to Analise, attempting a polite tone, and asked, "a u tibyA? I mean... What about you?"
 
Analiese fidgeted a bit as she helped Z.C. build a makeshift tent. As excited as she'd been to see anything human being, she wasn't so trusting that she'd blindly crawl into a shelter with a man she didn't know. They were almost finished with the shelter when another man vaulted over the walls. She jumped and stepped away, then slowly relaxed as it became apparent that he was not planning to hurt them. The conversation between the two didn't last long before Z.C. asked about their skills. She watched the shamblers on the roof of the other building, then pulled an arrow out of her quiver and carefully took aim like she'd been taught. Her arms shook a bit, but she managed to fire the shot without incident. When she released the arrow it buried itself in the forehead of the zombie, which plummeted off of the building and onto the concrete below. It was a better shot than she usually had, and she took a moment to be proud of it before answering.

"I'm not a good fighter, but I'm a good scavenger." She said. "I'm also a decent scout. I'm good at getting in and out of places quietly." She gestured back towards the gas station she'd come from. "I was trying to find supplies there before I spotted you." She glanced at her bag when she was reminded of her supplies. For now, she'd keep it to herself. She wasn't sure yet if this was a new group, or a chance meeting.
 
"Nice Shot, Analise!" Cottontail praised, but accidentally pronounced her name "Annalice." I seem to be the only one that can't shoot well. Hopefully they'll overlook that. " I hope we won't be needing many shots like that. Arrows can be so hard to retrieve. You seem like you hunt for your food. How can that be, in this city?" Maybe the disease only affects humans. Hope they don't need my hunting skills. Then again, she said she scavenged. Probably better luck than me.

Cottontail then turned to the tent, and realized Analise was the only female. Cottontail blushed slightly and offered apologetically, "I'll sleep outside if you don't feel comfortable with some stranger sleeping next to you." Great. Already looking like a pervert. This won't go over with the young terka well. Smooth...
 
"...nice shot." complimented Zackary, "It's exceedingly difficult to hit a small target with a bow. I'd work on pulling back the string a little more, so that the arrow will travel straighter in flight."
He turned his attention to Cottontail. "Field surgery? Fantastic. My medical knowledge only just extends beyond basic first aid. With what little supplies you have, you would be able to treat at least us three if any one of us were to be severely injured. As for hunting, if we travel to the southeast, we'll hit parks and nature reserves... potential hunting and foraging to be found there."

Z.C. successfully stifled a laugh, passing it off as a cough. "I've already said that I'd rather sleep under the stars. Analiese can have the tent... it's only a temporary lodging anyway."

He sat down and pulled out a basic toolkit, and started to field-strip his USP, sliding out the mag, ejecting the round in the chamber, and disassembling it. "As for me," he mentioned, pulling the slide off of the weapon, "I pride myself upon... rendering the undead inert. It is one of the only things I live for." He started to oil the workings of the pistol, taking great care. "I also have a knack for scavenging. Did I mention that I am an author?" He reassembled the weapon, slid a round back into the mag, and reloaded, pulling back the slide with a well-oiled clack. Holstering his pistol, he dug around in his bug out bag, pulling out a slightly-worn composition booklet titled "THE NEW BIBLE" in handwritten script. He handed it to Cottontail. "One-hundred-and-one rules to live by, in this day and age."
 
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Analiese nodded her thanks when they complimented her shot. She decided not to mention for now that it had been a rare thing to be so good a shot. She glanced at the shelter before curling her hand around her bow with a sigh. "Thank you." She said appreciatively. It wasn't that she didn't trust him personally, it's just that she didn't have a lot of trust for people in general. When Z.C. gave her the tip on shooting from her bow she tugged the string back again, without an arrow this time.

"Like this?" She asked as she tested it. Her arms shook from the strain and she sighed. "I'm not very strong yet, it's difficult." She released the bow and tucked it back into the quiver. She looked over his weapon curiously. She'd only fired a gun a couple of times, and she was even worse with a gun than she was with a bow.
 
Where have I heard of this before... Some movie... "Spasi.. I mean, Thank you Zackery." Cottontail eyed THE NEW BIBLE in his hands and opened the first page. It read just like "Zombieland". Rule One: Do not die!. Rule Two: Panic is the enemy. Reminds me of the survival manuals the Peace Corps handed out. Wonder when he had the time to write all of this down. Skimming the rest of the pamphlet was entertaining, but after this point it seemed mostly common sense.

Can't be rude. He did handwrite it after all. Cottontail handed Zackery the NEW BIBLE back and stared at his gun. "Look at the size of that! I hope you know these zombies are fairly weak. Unless we go elephant hunting, I do not believe we will need that kind of fire power." Zackery responded with a smile and continued claening. Cottontail then tried to converse with Analise, "So, ahh, you shoot with that bow often? You look like you would run away quicker." Oh great. I'm already giving off that awkward vibe.
 
"Oh, that's what I thought at first, Cottontail. Once I noticed my .22 target pistol not popping zombie noggin with one shot, I switched to a 9mm. Same effect, except it was a 50/50 chance to completely destroy the brain; sometimes it required two shots, which was not efficient. .45 caliber is the only way to be certain. Even then, refer to rule #7: Double Tap. I only think .50 cal is excessive. The man I knew who had one of those monstrous Desert Eagle pistols was not able to carry as much ammunition, or shoot zombie skulls as fast... he was overwhelmed and torn apart in front of my eyes." Zackary trailed off for a brief moment. He looked up; daylight was receding, the embers of dusk starting to smoulder, the sky a brilliant burnt orange from the clouds of smog.

"Daylight is burning... is anyone else hungry?" Z.C. pulled out a bag of jerky he found not much earlier. He pulled up a small milk crate, flipped it upside down, and sat upon it, chewing a piece of jerky thoughtfully. On a positive note, much of the infected milling in the half-constructed office were starting to lose interest, as well as the zombies on the street. Swarms were dangerous... but the infected were only a group of individuals with no hivemind. If sneaky enough, the attention from the shamblers could be avoided.
 
Analiese smiled at Cottontail. "Actually, a friend of mine was trying to teach me to shoot. I started learning about three weeks ago. In all honesty, I only hit my target half the time." She shrugged. "You are right about one thing, though. I tend to run more than fight. I'm not...I can't really fight very well." She gave him a sheepish smile. "The last time I tried to throw a punch I hurt my hand."

She rubbed her hand absently. "Like I said, I'm more of a scout and scavenger than anything else." She tugged her hair out of it braid and ran her fingers through it as she talked. "What about you? If you're a medic, you must not fight much either, right?" She'd feel a little better if she wasn't the only one who was a hopeless fighter. She glanced over at Z.C. when he mentioned being hungry and nodded. She tugged her own bag to her and pulled out a package of crushed and crumbling saltines. She nibbled on the salty crackers and offered some to Cottontail as well.
 
Cottontail dismissed both offers. "Don't worry about me. " He plunged his hand and shuffled his belongings. His hand retreated victorious with two chocolate protein bars. " To answer your question, no. Even while running the clinic, I had people protect me and scavenge supplies. The only reason we lost the subway was that people turned while I was treating them. Imagine ten monsters and only having a scalpel. Not a fair fight."

Cottontail couldn't help but laugh at it despite himself. Zackery rolled his eyes. Then Cottontail remembered rule 47: Anything sharp is a weapon! " I don't fight much either. My punches are like mosquito bites. I was always the one who patched up the little thugs trying to kill each other. Say, you mentioned a friend who taught you how to shoot. Was that recently?"
 
She glanced over at him. "He was teaching me to shoot until almost three days ago." She said shortly. She didn't want to talk about her old group yet, it was still painful to even think about. She could still remember laughing with Carrot Top and Mark as they tried to teach her to shoot.

"Come on, Ana! I know fighting isn't your thing but the least you could do is hit the target once." Carrot Top was lounging lazily against the fence as Analiese sent yet another arrow past the red handkerchief that she was supposed to be aiming for. "Ah, give her a break Carrot Top. You were new once too." Mark nudged her arms up a bit. "You're holding your arms too low down, kid." He said. "Aim a little higher...there you go. Now pull back..." He put his hands on hers, guiding them gently as she shakily fired again. She hit the post this time and she spun with a laugh. "I did it!" Carrot Top rolled his eyes. "You hit the stomach." He tapped the handkerchief again, still untouched by the arrows. "You have to hit the head, Ana. Remember that. If you don't hit the head, then you're not going to make it very far." She nodded, and lifting the bow to take aim again. "A little to the left, Ana." Mark said. She nodded and adjusted her aim. She fired, and this time hit right next to the red handkerchief. Carrot Top gave her a little half smile. "Better." Mark snorted. "Better? Come on, Carrot Top. Loosen up." He turned to Ana with a grin. "You'll be a sharp shooter yet, Kid. just you wait."

A sudden blast of wind jerked her out of her memories and she glanced up at Cottontail. She realized she must look pretty strange, staring at her hands as she sifted through memories, and gave him a small half smile. "Feel's like a lifetime ago."
 
Z.C. looked upon Ana; she seemed to be lost in thought, potentially reverie. His facial expression didn't betray him, but he felt melancholy, knowing that she had went through the same trauma as him. She met his gaze; he looked away, slightly flustered, before turning his attention to Cottontail.

"Neither of you should be taking on the infected bare-handed. That's a good way to get yourself bitten." He took his trench knife out of his sheath. "Trench knives have a built-in brass knuckle. Even Cottontail's punches with a brass knuckle could stagger an infected. Punch hard enough, and enough times, you can cave in a skull." He slid the knife back into it's sheath. "I've only done that twice... both times was when I swung as hard as I possibly could and followed up in the same area. Remember rule #20: Aim for the Temple. It's the thinnest part of the human skull; anything sharp, and delivered with enough force, can puncture a temple and dispatch a zombie. Depending on what you're using, you might not get it back, nor would you want to."
 
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