Rigormortis - IC

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Cottontail stayed with Diana and Red following Zackery's command. Everyone moved down swiftly, all hitting the ground with loud thuds. Cottontail heard the van's motor still running, and sighed with relief. Thank god he's still here. Maybe these newbies aren't so bad... Will was the last to go down, looking disheartened at his sister. Diana smiled in her typical no nonsense way. Will climbed down and jumped off near the last rung. Diana had eyed her dog, and promised, "One of you grab him. I can manage well enough." Red grabbed hold of the dog, and climbed down the ladder, gently cradling the dog while moving efficiently. Cottontail grabbed the top rungs, and looked at Diana sheepishly. She held her visage, looking tougher than all the others. Cottontail then went back to his descent cheerfully aware Diana was already moving down the ladder at a quicker pace. Cottontail hopped down and held out his arms in case she fell. Diana made her way down, already at the bottom. She took out her crutch and got on her own two feet. Diana was already on the truck with Will while Cottontail took out a few zed wandering near the door. He flew into to the only available seat and slammed the door. Without really thinking, He shouted at the driver, "Hurry up, kvaker! Move the truck now!"
 
Z.C. was doing a fantastic job at keeping the Zed horde delayed via .45 and trench knife, allowing the group to descend first and reach the truck. Confident that everyone was in, he made space by killing a couple zeds with gunshot and then grasped the ladder.

It was then that a zed grabbed Z.C.'s ankle, ready to sink it's teeth into his leg from it's prone position. Z.C. used the last round in his magazine to dispose of the anklebiter, then slid down the ladder, barely escaping the zeds flowing through the door and towards the ladder, some falling off the platform with a grotesque display. He sprinted to the truck and hopped into the back with some other members of the group, then firmly slammed his palm on the innermost partition that separated the covered truck bed and the cabin. "Let's get going!"

(Edit: For coherency)
 
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I tap my finger against my knee as I listen to my iPod, waiting for the added weight and possible a screamed "GO!" before paying any more attention. Damn, they were slow. I'd have to get them to work on that...
((Btw, hurry up with the evac, this is taking forever. Also, this is a military-grade transport truck. You know, the big stereotypical truck that carries all the soldiers in Call of Duty [the WW2 versions], and all that? Single 2-seat 2-door cab, and a big cargo/seat area for soldier to easily jump out.))

After they all climbed in, I gunned it...
And shot backwards. Flicking a switch, a chain-link fence-like barrier unrolled itself from the top of the cargo area's entry point, slamming down and effectively keeping any flying undead from getting into the back of the truck, as small spikes rotated from under the truck, tearing into the zombies behind me. It made sense, since the other way was blocked by one of my old blockades, and I shot out into the street a few seconds later. Executing a swift turn, I come to a stop, quickly shift the big vehicle into drive, and gun it, jolting as the acceleration kicked in, and we moved down the car-filled street, an obviously-convienent path through the cars showing, probably from past drive-throughs, as I head towards the shipping places, whatever Americans called them.

((Is it a seaside city?))
 
(Be patient Mr. Speedy Gonzalez. Some people are preoccupied with RL. And also, the group is only as fast as it's slowest member, and Diana has a wounded leg, a kid brother, and a dog to protect on top of that; tell me, how fast can you move with a potentially-torn Achilles tendon? And yes, the city of Eureka has a port.)

Z.C. was impressed with the killing power of the truck, noticing the barrier to the back and the bits and pieces of infected left behind in it's wake. Kneecappers, maybe? A hard turn pressed Z.C. against the side. He finally allowed himself to relax, reloading his USP and stowing his blade/pistol combination. Three mags remaining. Hopefully Miller had some spare .45 ammunition laying around somewhere.

At that point, Z.C. was seized with a sudden lethargy, the events of the day thus far catching up to him as he briefly shut his only eye. Any amount of REM's caught would be better than none, even with the abhorrent sounds that accompanied zombies minced by steel blades.
 
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Cottontail could feel the adrenaline leave his body once the truck started moving. He soon had to fight off exhaustion as he sat in the military truck. Zackery was already passed out in his little area, snoring slightly as he stirred. Even in deep sleep, Zackery was armed to the teeth, seemed ready to spring into action, and looked pissed. Crap. If he has his limits, we are all doomed. Cottontail took the moment of quiet to sling off his bag. The red cross shone out between his legs as he asked the group, stiffening a yawn in between his offer, "We moved pretty quickly,Mine venner. Is there anyone that needs medical attention? Scratches, cuts, *YAWWWWN* bruises. No bites, though. I don't want to shoot anyone." Cottontail could barely keep his own eyes open as everyone else was besieged with lethargy. Then he remembered Diana and Will. "Diana, ung jente, is your leg holding up? Wouldn't do to lose it now."
 
I drive through the city, occasionally spotting the gang tags, marking a bandit group's territory, so that they other groups won't raid it. They all steered clear of me, of course, the 'Crazy Ivan' as they all called me, already taking down their friends, and they wanted no part in someone that continuously beat them without a sweat. The route I was taking was one of many: habitual routes mean that the bandits could lay down an ambush, and possibly get me good enough to stop me from moving very much, and any half-serious injury out here, such as a broken bone or infection, is just the same as being tossed into a pit of angry vipers. The only difference is that it'll take longer to die.

After about a half-hour of driving, I pull through the gates of the city shipyards, long, rectangular containers stacked everywhere, in row after row after row, and from a single layer of containers to up to 6 stacked upon each other. I drove down the center 'aisle' of the container maze, the took a left as soon as possible, then a right, then a left again, then another left, then straight down another way into a small 'clearing' of a sort. Here, the containers were stacked at least 5 high, and I had arranged them with the remaining fuel for the crane so that it'd be extra-hard to climb on top of the containers, and over the 'wall' the containers made.

Besides, if anyone went through the maze without the specific directions, they'd be torn apart, blown apart, shot, burned, paralyzed, whatever, with all the traps I had set up. Weeks after weeks of work, and the plane that I came in was close enough to scavenge from: all the wiring and most of the outside panels had already been removed, which can be seen because most of it is used to create a roof that slants down on either side of my clearing, to a clean, stainless-steal trough, welded and crafted from the assortment of tools scattered in one of the farthest corner. Several of the container doors were open, with gas lamps hanging up inside, with various supplies and munitions, as well as little collections of teddy bears, or lamps, or coins.

I pulled to a stop short of the stainless steel water collector, and killed the engine, jumping out after taking the keys, and stretching.

((This way, you all can get all armed up and ready, mk? If you guys are planning to leave the city, I'm not sure which way my char will go: With the surviving group, or stay 'home.'))
 
(Sorry for the wait, I was waiting to see if some of the others were going to reply.)

At first both Diana and Will sat straight backed and wary, eyes watching out the back of the truck as though waiting for a zombie to jump into the back, even with the chain links covering the exit. But eventually Will's eyes began to droop and it was not long after that that he layed his head on Diana's lap and fell asleep. Diana for her part did not sleep well while still moving. So she just let herself zone out, eyes gazing out the back of the truck and one hand resting on Will's shoulders. Hearing Cottentail she shook herself back to the present and gave him a warm smile.
"Sore but I think I will live." She said softly, making sure not to wake up those who were catching a bit of shut eye. "We can change the binding next time we spot. Besides I don't think we need a sleep deprived medic." She continued with a small wave of her hand indicating that he should get a bit of shut eye while he could. The ride was long and it gave her plently of time to think. Not something that she relished in these times. Will's birthday was in two weeks and she did not know what she was going to do. More than anything she wished that she could give him safetly, give him back their parents, both of whom she had killed, give him a world not totally consumed with chaos. Diana found herself sighing and she frowned at herself. There was no time for weakness she had to be strong, she might not be able to give Will many things but she would give him the tools to survive and just maybe he would live to see this whole thing blown over. When the truck pulled to a stop Diana gently tapped Cottentail on the leg with her crutch to wake him up before she gently shook Will awake. Shuffling towards the back of the truck she cautiously peaked out as though expecting to see an ambush waiting to mow them down. She almost looked surprised not to see anything but either way she turned back to the rest of the group and gave them a shrug as though to say. "Looks alright to me."
 
The lurch of the U.S. Army surplus truck slowing to a stop shook Z.C. from a tenuous sleep. He stretched out, limbering up, then exited from the back first, surveying where the truck pulled into.

Shipping containers stacked 5 high formed an effective, bulletproof steel palliside around a certain area in the shipping yard, wrought metal stairs and ladders leading up the stacked walls. Varous signs of habitation were scattered around the area, including beds, collections of sundries and supplies, and stockpiles of fuel. Miller seemed to be well-prepared, his area heavily fortified; Z.C. didn't blame him, as various bandit groups were inhabiting this relative location, scavenging for supplies from the still somewhat ample dockyards, reappropriating the consumer products of a bygone age. Said bandits had no respect for human life; they killed anyone who 'trespassed' into their territory, and worse... this is why Z.C. avoided the dockyards, but it seems that Miller fashioned himself a foothold out of a complete mess. Z.C. walked around the truck to the driver's side, where Miller recently got out.

"I'd like to thank you for pulling our collective asses out of the fire," thanked Z.C., "But you didn't extract us for no reason. We intend to leave Eureka, to go somewhere safer... but if you have a plan, which I think you do, I would like to hear it."
 
Cottontail chuckled at Diana's concern. "Please, I could operate in my sleep." She smiled at that, and then went back to worrying about Will. Cottontail went back to napping, but couldn't quite get there. The truck lurched back and forth, not allowing him to settle in. He spent the rest of the ride sitting stiffly, wanting nothing more but to fall asleep. After what seemed an eternity, the truck stopped. Cottontail felt ecstatic as he got close to shutting his eyes, but nearly fell backward when Zackery opened the door. Cottontail was too tired to bicker. Instead, he miserably pulled himself out of the truck . He figured the nice fresh air would help. It didn't. Cottontail leaned against the wall, resigned to watch the other two talk as his body reanimated. Cottontail barely made out words from Zackery, but didn't pay much mind. Let the two army men figure out battle plans. I'm just here to sew them back up to full strength. No one else seemed to stir from the truck. Maybe we'll luck out, and this operation can go nice and quietly.
 
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