The End is Near: Zombie Apocalypse

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James, I've been thinking lately, more than usual actually, which is a feat since we both know I'm always thinking about something. But it's been more about you lately; wondering if you're alive, safe or if you're with someone you can trust to watch your bad. I know it's difficult, but just like you used to tell me, there's a light at the end of the tunnel - you just have to wait for it. I mean, I know James, but I can't just sit and hope that you're not going to die and that you'll find your way to me. It's not often that I come across something I don't know, James, but right now the only thing I want to know but have no access to the information, is where you are. James I -

The hand holding the black pen shuttered to a halt on the page settled on the table in front of her as the door to the RV swung outward, signaling the entrance of another human being, most likely looking to use the bathroom. What the young woman was greeted with, however, was Marcus entering the midsized RV, equipped as if to leave. Had it been anyone else she would have slid her letter away, into the journal she kept in her bag, though the male who walked in now had stayed a month at the local library; she would write her letters to James every morning as her time to reflect over everything that had happened that previous day. It was her own way of coping, and possibly the only reason she had managed to stay sane after so long wandering and witnessing the most terrible things; she never forgot a thing after all. He never said a thing to her, but she knew what he was thinking by the look he gave her and the fact that the rest of the camp was still asleep. When he was gone, she had stood, tucking away her things inside of her own drawer and stepped outside.

When the sun had risen above the horizon, Anastasia found herself sitting by the edge of the encampment, her slingshot settled on her lap with a small pouch of rocks she had been collecting the day before. One leg sprawled forward at an awkward angle, the hem of blue-grey skirt touching just beneath her knee, leaving the end of the angry red scar exposed. The accident had been over a year ago, but when she'd been separated from James she'd fractured it again and it wasn't healing properly anymore. One of her crutches leaned against the side of the rock she sat on, within reach in case she needed to get up, but far enough away that she wouldn't accidentally knock it out of reach with her elbow. A closed book in her hands, held between long and frail fingers, delicate and easily broken, though strangely enough there were no scars on her hands and the soft skin as unblemished; not even a single freckle marked the skin. She was much like a doll, sitting in place watching for walkers as the others slept. It has been a long time since they had been able to make camp in such an empty place, so devoid of undead life that they barely had to worry about being attacked while they slept. It was just an empty field, not far from a farm house though right beside the road where their vehicles were parked.
Sergei slept on top of the RV. The height made it safer than the ground. He nursed a bottle of vodka in his arms. Though, as he slept, the contents had spilled out and trickled down and off the roof through the grooves. He rolled a little onto the center of the roof and caused the fiberglass to warp inward. The werp-werp sound the material made when bending woke him up. Slowly, he sat upright. The morning sun was right in his eyes. "Ah, der'mo chto bolit!" He irritatedly said in russian. He turned around and threw the empty bottle into the forest. "Time to start dee day, I guess." The cool air felt good. It had an alert aura to it. He slid off the roof and retrieved his rifle that was left leaning against the rear wheel.

He looked around to see who else was awake, and scan for the undead. No zombies, but there did appear to be a few awoken members of the group. He walked over to Anastasia, who was sitting at the edge of the camp. He ran his hand through his hair, still a little groggy. "You're up early. See anything?" He said as he patted his pockets, looking for a can opener.
Vincent awoke from his tent he had set up a bit farther on the outskirts of the little camp they had. He was the scout afterall, so he volunteered to be the first to know if anything was coming from that way. He wasnt far enough to be at a yelling distance, but looking around and at the RV, he could only slightly make out it was sergei through his red lenses. With a huff of hot air leaving his mask to create a usual sight of steam puffing from his mask, he checked his holster and pockets. Yup, still had his pistol and extra magazines for it. He felt a little anxious about ammunition for it, and has ever since they found him, but he hasnt had to use it more than once or twice since then.

The way sergei went was behind the RV for his vision, so he didnt bother taking the time to follow, he was probably just checking the other side of the perimeter, he thought. With a sigh he looked at the tent, and realized he'd have to stop being lazy and start compacting it down into its travel bag. He cracked his knuckles through his thick gloves and kneeled down to pull the stakes out of the ground. Not exactly a loud process, he got startled when halfway through a twig snapped across the way, which caused him to drop the tent immidietly to pull his sidearm, only to see a fat squirrel scurry along. "Hmph... I guess youve got nothing to worry about, huh little guy? Wish i could say the same for myself... wait, no I don't" he laughed to himself, remembering this has been what hes been dreaming about all his life. Not that he likes it, its been the hardest thing he's ever had to deal with, but for once he was given a role, and he wouldn't fix this situation if he was given the choice to cleanse the world of the dead right now. He continued on until he finished packing the tent, and stuffed it into his backpack, hiking back to the RV.
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"Isn't it poetic? In those days we were terrified to sleep, because we were afraid we'd slip into a nightmare. But now, well, our nightmares are waiting for us when we wake up."

Small sounds. Skittering footsteps and hushed tones. It was so familiar, yet still seemed so alien. The voices that Reached his ears were familiar, but, he couldn't put names or faces to them. Yet, all too familiar voices still rang in his ears. A scream. His name being called. Another scream, then the sound of something...something awful. Like a page being torn from a book, but...wet.

The sounds faded as vision replaced sound as the primary sense. Bright light shone in through the Crack of the door, the windows thankfully shaded. The R.V. Right. He'd been one of the fortunate few granted leave to occasionally sleep in the most protected location. He wasn't sure why, as he didn't particularly bring anything to the group.

After all, his survival skills had only been picked up from people after the initial event, and, of course, various books. Yeah, books, in his experience, always had answers. Except for when the dead started eating the living. The bearded man slowly sat up, running his hands across his face to wipe the sleep from his eyes. Or, rather, the lack thereof. A quick glance up through squinted eyes revealed the ceiling, and the sounds he had been hearing immediately made sense. Someone had been moving about up there, probably had been sleeping as well.

Alphonse took the glasses from his shirt pocket, placing them into position atop his nose. The room cleared, and he remembered that he had been attempting to use his jacket as a pillow. A slow sigh prepared him to stand and begin his day. After a quick trip to the proverbial can, he grabbed his trusty Mace and stepped out of the vehicle. Interestingly enough, he wasn't the first one up today. A couple of his fellow survivors were having a conversation, or, perhaps the beginnings of one's.

Alphonse flashed them a polite smile before meandering over to his little area about thirty paces from the R.V. where he had a simple setup. Several books, his survival pack, etc...he couldn't help but wonder what the hell he was going to have to be doing today. Education wasn't really considered paramount these days. Not even taking into account just how few children their camp had. Thus far he had essentially been the go to guy for whatever people needed. Didn't bother him in the slightest, especially since it just allowed him to better learn various survival skills. He'd learned a lot this past year already. And some voice was constantly speaking in the back of his head...

Eyes staring outward, the vast landscape beyond him, he saw nothing particular. But, that voice was ringing. Some day, this camp would fall, and he would be alone again. Maybe with a couple people, maybe just himself. But someday. Because this would never last.


In a fetal position, she cuddled with a jacket at her chest while her head rest upon a pile of books. Maria murmured something in Russian and stood up. Rubbed her eyes slowly as she stared outside the window of the RV. Spotted her reflection and made a wry face, Maria rubbed her eyes again and took, from the pocket of the jacket a sour candy and with a swallow it was gone. With a small movement, she tried to wake up, it was early for her, maybe a little too early for her soul. So early yet so much activity, she wasn't amused at the idea of sharing her little dirty secrets and fears with them, but compromises must be made for a long living in this wilderness and she didn't even represent the most agreeable person among them. With good and bad, they were ok.

She pushed her feet into the boots, covered her face with the gas mask and took a last view of her reflection, in a strange or maybe morbid, she adored her eyes or maybe her eye, was something specific to her nation, her country. The sclera was deformed from a natural white color to a reddish, copper color. The iris had a paler tone of the mesmerizing blue she was proud of. Underneath the mask she smiled, a short and sad smile, in the corner of her lips. She steps outside the vehicle and took a deep breath and exhale it.

The smell of autumn, the cold breeze in the morning and the rusty color of the leaves made a perfect picture, for a lazy day, one second her thoughts weren't about the zombies or that she has to run, hide and fight against them together with a group (like she was some 'great' fighter). Maria wasn't the first to get up, nor the last one, as she spotted a member of the group. Raised her hand as a 'hello' or 'good morning' gesture and made a few steps as she examined the field. The cold breeze touched her skin, it woke her up. Her eyes flew around looking for anything particular as she threw her hands in the pants pockets.​
As he made his way to the RV, he saw a fellow masked friend of his Maria just awaking. He got the impression he was actually a bit late to wake up and examine the area if nearly everyone but him was already seeming to be up and around. With the slight wave of a hand he gave his own wave back, and not really having a need to he doesnt bother to call out or say anything. It was in the morning and everyone was probably tired anyways, he wasn't the kind of guy to force words out of a tired friend. He stays silent awaiting others having a need to address him, a habit that was formed long ago thats only now starting to wear, and only at times does it actually show he's breaking out of his shell. He placed his bag down against the RV, and dusted off his tactical kilt-ish dressing he had that covered his cargo pants. Had it been any other time of the year he'd probably be deathly hot right now, but in the mornings and nights of the current season of an onsetting winter, he was kept cool by it. He took a quick scan of the area like everyone else mustve been doing, considering this new way of life kept him atleast on alert twenty four seven. Not seeing really anything of worry, he let out a sigh and rubbed the back of his helmet.

"I guess this'll never feel natural, but atleast we can say we made it. Or, making it, to be exact." He wished it was the former, but he wouldn't lie to himself like he knew they were going to survive the entire apocolypse, that was a longshot. He already understands eventually he'll die, and probably in an ungraceful way. Afterall, he shouldve died the moment he fell off that roof. He rubbed at his lenses, having needed to considering they were constantly fogging up in the mornings. He had internal fans to stop the fogging in his mask for these situations, but those took batteries, and he wouldnt waste the power unless they were in danger. He looked at his hands after, gloves stained with blood and guts. He closed them into fists and the leather made an audible clench.
Alone for a long while, the young woman watched the empty road and the flat ground across from it, wondering how long it would be until Marcus would be back and how far they would go before they found a neat place to settle. Hopefully it would be long before winter, as the early summer heat was beginning to sink in, and the open sun was a tough place for them to be and the threat of a drought was as realistic as can be. She was worried about the survival of the group as a whole, as realistically, they could survive with two or three less members though she knew that death would bring hopelessness upon those who survived the attack and ultimately bring about the end of the rest of them. It was in fact an irritating thought, that so many of those with them could be swayed by such emotional events in a way that they may not wish to continue living; it was reasonable, but illogical in the young woman's mind. Soft grey eyes passed over the horizon, watching patiently for either the return of Marcus, or the arrival of another being, living or dead, though with the long silence drawn out of the time spent sitting alone and alert. Instead of pondering the logistics of their time, she turned her attention to the volume in her hands, leafing through the pages of agricultural knowledge until she reached the page she had last read the day before on their journey. It had been Marcus' request for her to learn as much as she can about farming while they drove north, looking for sanctuary and a place they can settle for the winter. Not to mention that Adrienne would be having her baby in a matter of weeks and they would need a place to last for at least a year, assuming that she and the child survived the birthing with them lacking a doctor; the only person they had remotely close to a doctor was Anastasia, and that was largely because of her medical schooling and ability to learn.

She turned at the sound of footsteps behind her, looking over her shoulder to see the young Russian male walking toward her. He was one of the few people she spoke openly with most days, and one of maybe three living people she'd spoken to in the last year that she has come to trust enough to smile around and allow them to watch her back in a fight. Seeing his ruffled hair and the liquid on his shirt she knew he'd fallen asleep drinking again, though it didn't bother her anymore having learned that the Russian sure can handle his liquor. She'd met him a few months ago, when her, Marcus and Alphonse had been scouting out an area for a potential camp for a few days while they scavenged through the area, but instead they'd come across a group of walkers they couldn't beat without guns or ammunition; one had caught her by surprise and tripped her over a root where she couldn't get her slingshot up in time. She would have died have Sergei not tackled the undead man and slammed his head into a sharp rock. He'd packed up and gone with them a day later, after she'd gone back to find him in the morning before they were due to move on. It was a rather interesting conversation as she had to convince the lonely and somewhat deranged man to go with them, for he had a better change of survival with them and he would be an asset to their group. From then on she had attempted to help as best she could to help him with his episodes.

"All is quiet this morning; Marcus has gone to scout ahead. He'll be back by noon, so we should get everyone fed and pack up before he gets back." Anastasia said without much emotion, though as she moved over on the rock to give space to the male she nearly slid off but caught herself on her crutch before patting the rock next to her for her companion to sit with her. She looked upon him with one of her rare smiles, sweet and shy though her grey eyes never truly met his gaze. She was awful for looking people in the eyes, since she was a terrible liar and had a hard time hiding how she was really feeling about anything since she was little. She had never been a stranger to the cruelties of the world, but waking up with no one there, a machine beating to her heart as it raced to remember what had happened; having a complete stranger tell her that her parents had died in the crash and that none of her family had gone to the funeral, or even responded to the phone calls that were meant to inform them about her state and injuries. The doctors called it a miracle that her memory hadn't been damaged when she's sustained her head injuries that were the primary cause of the coma, though there was still a year in her mind that she didn't remember because she'd been asleep for all of it. "How was your night Sergei? Did you get enough sleep?"
Sergei, still slightly inebriated, took the seat next to Anastasia. He flinched a little when she almost fell, ready to help if she did. He breathed a sigh of relief when she didn't. After about a year of solitude she was the one of few people he didn't want to see get hurt. He set his rifle across his lap and continued to search for his can opener. "My night vas good. About as good as it gets these days." In reality he didn't remember how he slept. The vodka he had was like dragging a magnet over a hardrive. He could have been partying like a madman and wouldn't remember it. The drinking staved off bad memories. Finally, he found his can opener. He smiled, pulling his only can of peas out of his backpack and began opening it. "So, uh.." He took a few seconds to think. "I vas looking at a map yesterday. I think ve should head southwest." He finally got the can open and began picking peas out, eating them raw. He didn't care. Cooking them would take too much time.

He did a quick 360, seeing just about everyone was up at this point. He didn't know what to do. The only goal was to stay alive for another day. Such ideas of rebuilding humanity or creating a safe haven seemed far fetched. He sighed and tilted the can towards Anastasia, offering her some of the food.
Careful fingers traced the page of a book, the ink marks arranged so strangely symmetrical. Words, language as a whole, had always fascinated him. Especially the written language. A particular irritation with it was the way books were mass produced. Language was about communicating, thoughts, ideas, stories, and more. But, it didn't mean nearly as much when they were produced by machine and not by hand or voice.

Alphonse himself always loved to write, read, tell stories. It wasn't exactly pivotal to their survival, but, he liked to think that the occasional story around the fire, or reading to the children, things of the sort, helped keep the group going. After another short burst of reading, he set the paperback down on top of the stack of books. A Tale of Two Cities. He was profoundly surprised that he hadn't gotten around to reading it before the entire zombie apocalypse thing.

Another sigh escaped him as he glanced around at his fellow survivors. Their esteemed leader seemed to be missing, likely meaning he was out scavenging or something on his own. Which was a little odd, since he talked about all the importance of not going off alone. It didn't matter all that much, he figured. Especially since they had the wonder girl Anastasia to help watch out for them. Alphonse would have to admit that he had a great deal of respect for her.

Great head on her shoulders, understanding of responsibility, kind soul. In ways, she reminded him of his daughters, or rather, his oldest daughter, only a bit older and more refined still. Lily is a great kid,, it wouldn't do to think about that. Alphonse himself knew as well as anyone that keeping his kind in dark places would get himself, or worse, others killed. His gaze again dropped down to the ground, his mind uncontrollably reeling as the memories flooded his subconscious again. Damn it.
The previous night, expectant mother Adrienne Banks had slept inside the RV where the bed was. Being heavily pregnant, Adrienne kinda had an excuse to be in the bed, since sleeping anywhere else was either going to keep her up all night long or it was going to bad for her back. Due to the weight of her expanding uterus where her baby was currently resting...and growing, her spine was curving inwards. That was the source of most of the backache that she currently suffered. Upon awakening, the young mother-to-be stretched out her arms and yawned before removing the covers and swinging her legs onto the floor so that she could stand up. If there was anything she didn't enjoy about pregnancy, it was going to the bathroom every twenty-minutes. After using the restroom and briefly washing herself up, Adrienne looked through her Clothing and grabbed the most comfortable dress that she could find. However, she couldn't wear any maxi dresses, since those are likely to cause to trip if she doesn't watch her step. Tripping and falling wrong could easily prove fatal. Because her husband passed away, this baby meant a lot to her.

Slipping on her dress, leggings and a pair of shoes, Adrienne grabbed her shoulder holster and handgun before she exited the RV to get some fresh air. It would seem that most of her companions got an early start to their morning. Tired, she yawned again before holstering her Handgun and stepping outside, inhaling the fresh air. She then leaned against the RV, looking up at the sky as she started caressing her belly.
Pushing bronze bangs out of her face with her off hand, the young woman reached up and gently touched the males cheek with her knuckles in a comforting caress. She knew of his habits and reason for drinking at night once everyone else but the watch was asleep; his memories plagued him as hers did though where he thought he was being conspicuous, he was fairly obvious about it - to her at the very least. Over the course of the passed three months they had gathered quite the force though many of them had joined within the last month or so, and Anastasia knew they would need to be kept busy lest their minds wander into dangerous territory. Every one of them had lost after the epidemic had spread across North America like the Black Plague had Europe in the Middle Ages, some had lost more than others and some had lost before the apocalypse had even started. At the very least, Anastasia herself had lost her only remaining family to the space between them and had never been able to find him since regardless of whether or not she still silently hoped he was alive somewhere, looking for her. He was kind, and strong, but with his lack of social skills she would not expect him to be well liked or protected if he managed to find and join another of the few and far between survivor groups; even if he was a doctor.

With the males voice she looked away from her own hand and hastily dropped it back to her lap while she looked away, pretending to be scanning the horizon for their leader though in truth she was ashamed of having grown distracted while touching the older Russian man's face for so long. He was still partly a stranger, and thus such familiar actions were too familiar and comfortable to be socially acceptable; not to mention he was several years older than her, nearly the age of her eldest sister actually, but still she'd touched him too long. Without missing a beat she set the book in her lap and nodded, thinking about his suggestion. She'd previously had time to study the same map that he'd been looking at it and knew that there were some places that could possibly still be standing this long afterward. With her face lowered and her brow furrowed in thought she closed her eyes to see better what it was he was thinking. "The University?" She question for a moment, thinking of her tour of the facility until she remembered a few things that may be able to help them now. They needed to know more about the lay out of where they were, and being in Montana, she was sure there would be books on the local environments and applicable crops.

Opening her eyes she looked at her friend with a smile as her mind began racing, looking for other possibilities and wonders that seemed to work well together but she needed to talk to Marcus and Alphonse as well about a few things. Picking a pea out of the can happily she bit into it without a care in the world that it was raw, as raw canned food had become normal at this point. "Do you mind getting Alphonse for me? I have something to ask him." She said to him with a mouthful of peas but she swallowed it half chewed and slid off the rock toward her crutch, landing on her leg wrong in the process. With a yelp of pain she threw her hand out to catch her face before hitting the ground and stumbled, limping badly before eventually tilting into a fall. She could feel the throbbing in her leg, knowing that it had already started to swell before she'd even stumbled. Anastasia realized that she had rushed in her excitement but even still her mind was racing, thinking still as her body was endanger. She was calculating the odds of Sergei catching her before hitting the ground, of possibly breaking it again as punishment for her clumsiness and again of James.
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In the dark of a makeshift tarp-tent strung between two trees, a restless figure tossed and turned. Behind her eyelids, dark images swirled. The face of a leering boy, the face of a scared child, a grotesque face with one eyeball protruding, It was all so overwhelming. The fear from her nightmare catapulted her from her sleep with a strangled cry.

As soon as Soren awoke she placed a hand over her mouth to stifle herself. It was dangerous to make noise. She sighed and rolled to her knees, pulling on the dirty sweater she had been using for a pillow. She heard the soft murmurs and footfalls of the rest of the camp already awake. It seems she had slept late again.

The first thing she did was check the violin case that she kept next to her. She opened the beat up case with a creak. Her eyes fell lovingly on the one thing she valued as much as her own life. She ran her fingers across the rich wood with a sigh. Shutting the case once more, she stepped outside of the tent.

She had picked a spot to sleep as far from the others as was safely possible. She hadn't been with this group very long at all. She was probably the latest addition. She still wasn't completely sure she'd made the right choice, joining their group. There were so many men here at this camp. Soren had always held the opinion that traveling alone was safer than traveling in a large group. Not to mention, a slow large group. She was traveling amongst the company of a crippled girl and a pregnant woman; not exactly the world's strongest.

Still she knew she couldn't survive on her own forever. And it's not like they were holding her captive. She could leave any time she liked. Pulling the tarp from it's position, she folded it and set it beside her supplies. Today would be a long day and she had already gotten off to a late start.​
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She drew a breath of air with lust, a long breath enough to suffocate herself. Maria took a long look at the sky and underneath her mask she smiled. With a spin on her toes, she entered the RV once again, but now with a purpose in her mind. Last night was pretty much busy, with all the work and brainstorming she had fallen asleep. She took her backpack, the compass, two empty bottles, her chemistry kit (yes, she made her own chemistry kit which included various chemicals, bottles and a small, torn notebook along with a tiny used pencil) and a rope. She was a woman with shoulder-length fair hair, a pitch-dark color somewhat curled. With the gas mask and her clear blue eyes had the perfect image of a steampunk chick, this thought made her giggle like a mad man, or even worse, to giggle or laugh (too often) at your own thoughts wasn't the best indicator on having a sane mind.

She took her jacket and threw a couple of candies in her pocket, maybe for later, to be there. With a few movements her hair was set up in a messy bun, as she steps outside the vehicle she placed her bow along with a number of ten arrows resting on the vehicle. Yes, maybe in a zombie apocalyptic scenario, having a bow is not quite the weapon you would wish to have in a fight; indeed it is a long range weapon, but without arrows you are pretty much done. The length of her bow plus the solid and sharp edges are quite beneficial in a fight, at least will cut through some flesh, a rather good acquisition.

With a proud smile, she stared at it as her finger slowly played over the carved figures on it, her eyes flashed toward Anastasia. ”Anastasia” She only whispered her name as her arm sketched a gesture, stopped mid-way and returned her hand in her pocket. The little damsel in distress will soon be saved by the white knight, so there was no need for some extra attention, even if she would like to ask her how she feels.​
Her eyes run across the improvised camp as the last member of the group woke up, a little red-headed female with a quite bewitching glare.
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He jerked back a little when Anastasia touched his face. It felt good, and rather nice. At the same time it didn't feel comfortable. He moved slightly away and continued his breakfast of peas and listened to the wind blowing through the trees. He fucking loved the outdoors. "Ya, the university. It'll probably have some useful stuff. As far as I know schools vere rarely looted." He closed the tin of peas and pocketed it. "I'll get him. I think he's awake by now."

He stood up at the same time she went for crutches and fell. He did not react quick enough to catch her. He quickly moved to get her back on her feet. "Woah, you ok?" As he wrapped an arm around her to keep weight off her leg as he reached for her crutch. His rifle had fallen off his lap. "Not so fast. Save it for when we're in real trouble. Just then he heard a growl behind him. He turned his head to see a zombie shuffling across the field towards them. It was still a about 50 yards away. He reached for his rifle but couldn't find it as it had fallen into tall grass. "Oh, fuck me!" He carefully nudged Anastasia towards her crutches, hoping she could catch herself against them. He looked at the ground trying to find his rifle. Eventually, he did. Quickly he picked it up and put a round in the zombies chest, halting its advance. A second shot to the head dispatched it. The shots rang through the forest over a great distance. "Kurwa." He scanned to see if there were anymore, then turned to Anastasia. "Time to go. Get in the RV." He hollered to the others "HEY. WE SHOULD GET GOING NOW!"
Sev was looking around for everyone. He liked to take attendance of people and where they were going just so he could plot a good escape if need be. He noticed some of his pals having trouble with their crutches, which he wished he was closer to help. He had been with them a few months, but he was almost a stranger. He talked about plans, where to go, even was a big part of setting up this camp in a place that wasn't that crowded by the dead, and knew wouldnt be for awhile due to the location. Though, apparently that time was coming sooner than expected. Just as he started to look away, he jerked his face back at the sound of a gunshot. He wondered what the hell was going on, but clear in the day that sound was going to attract more and more of those damn zombies. Hearing a Russian man yell to get going was certainly a sign they should get going. He knew not to fuck anything up with being risky, he was gonna make sure everyone packed up and headed out as soon as possible. He quickly climbed ontop of the RV, and was looking around ontop through a pair of binoculars he put up there earlier on an antenna the RV had, pistol already in hand but pointed down as he was creating a safety on where he was aiming.

"Fuck, let's go let's go! They're gonna be here any minute! My yelling isn't helping but neither is sitting around!" To be fair, his mask actually muffled a lot of the yelling, though also robotizing it like he was speaking through a voice changer, or a radio. He saw more on the horizon. Some were weaving through the hordes of zombies all around, some still standing still. Not every last one of them heard it, or attempted to go for sounds, but to kill off every last one heading their way would surely cause even more to come.
While looking up at the sky, Adrienne heard gunfire. The infected must be nearby. Looks like it was time to go! When Sergei called out that it was time to go, Adrienne decided to get inside the RV. However, Anastasia seemed to be having some trouble, so she helped the injured girl into the RV before getting in herself. Sure, she was pregnant, but she wasn't injured or crippled or any of the sort. They were the two slowing everyone down. Between a girl with crutches and a pregnant woman, she didn't know which one was more of a hassle to take care of. For that, Adrienne felt really bad. Upon getting inside the RV, Adrienne helped Anastasia find a seat so that she could sit down and relax a bit. Adrienne wanted to do the same. After helping Anastasia get situated, she sat down across from the girl. As she did so, the young mother started rubbing her ever-growing belly, partly because she was having a stomachache and partly because she was having contractions. For the most part, she stayed quiet though. Now all she had to do was wait for the RV to get moving...
Luckily, even though Sergei hadn't managed to catch the tumbling girl before she hit the ground though as she had been falling she'd moved so that she could catch herself properly without really injuring herself. Braced and ready, the impact of the ground of her forearms still hurt and she sucked in a breath before she felt hands on her, two sets helping her off of the ground as gunshots rang out in the late morning air. Grey eyes wide and watching she leaned on her crutch for a moment, refusing to move as the pregnant woman attempted to help her; there were zombies approaching from the field north of them, slowly still so they had enough time to pack and get out but the noise would attract more of them. The camp erupted into chaos as others started throwing packs into the back of the truck, while Sergei fired at the closest of the walking dead, picking off those that were a major threat to them. "Marcus." Anastasia said the name of the male, her eyes scanning for him while listening for the tell tale sound of the motorcycle engine. It was just something he used for scouting, since he preferred driving his truck though in this case she knew he'd have either Soren or Vincent drive the truck; but if he wasn't here then there was nothing he could do.

The young woman didn't see him and leaned over to pick up her slingshot and novel, looking again to see the male she had wanted to see while the pregnant woman guided her toward the RV and safety again. It was a good thing she hadn't brought much outside and most of their supplies always stayed packed up in the vehicles in case things like this happened. It had been a while since they had been caught so unprepared with Marcus away though with nearly everyone up already it was better than nothing for them. As the pregnant woman sat her down at the table bed, the female looked out the windows, hands curled up with the novel in her lap as she watched silently for Marcus. If he didn't make it before they were gone he might not be able to find them with the approaching zombies, even though this was the reason he'd gone out by themselves this morning. On the outside, the young genius appeared calm and collected, as if she was merely thinking while the bruises spread up and down her leg, but if one was sensitive and watched her enough they would see the slight tremble in her arms and the worry in her eyes for the few in the group she had come to trust and love. As more people piled into the RV, each one jittering or shocked by the sudden appearance of the possible twenty undead that had managed to sneak up on them so well. With a breath, the young woman pulled down the window and aimed her slingshot, watching with narrowed eyes as one zombie broke away from the rest, heading toward Alphonse unnoticed by Sergei who remained distracted by the others. She was cold, silent and accurate as a super computer when she let the small rock fly. Twenty yards away the child zombie fell to the ground, a massive exit wound in the back of it's skull.

"Soren, Vincent, Maria! Truck! Southeast! Make for Dillion!" Anastasia's voice rang out the open windows and doors, loud and clear as the firing of the small pistol in the Russian's hands. He was the only one taking aim right then, and she needed him inside here with her and Alphonse so they may start making their general plans. Two fighters in each vehicle would be good to protect the others while the planners and weaker back support stayed safe inside the RV until they made it to the next place safe. She knew that without Marcus there, someone had to try to keep everyone organized and play a leader role; at the very least until he returned to them. "Alphonse, Sergei! RV! Now!" She yelled out her second set of commands, her hands dropping to her lap while the slingshot and novel sat on the table in front of her. It was a rather large space for them, with lots of storage space for the various things they kept on them though she knew that not all of them could stay in here in the case that the truck broke down. Sleeping space for four at least, if two shared the main bed in the back, one slept on the empty bunk bed across from the bathroom and another on the bed the table lowered into. Not to mention camping gear, gas and water storage was all kept in the bed of the truck below the cover.
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"I hate surprises. Especially rotten ones. Oh, uhm, no pun intended."

The first thing he noticed was the smell. For some reason, no matter how many of the undead he'd been around, or the bodies at that, that stench of decay was always so pungent. He barely had time to get to his feet and start throwing his books into his pack before the first gunshot. Once everything was put away, he slung the large pack over his back, retrieving his Mace from the ground beside him.

Alphonse risked a glance towards the north, noting the several shambling corpses. One of the most frustrating things about the undead was their strange affinity for stealth. Sometimes they would moan loud enough that you could hear them through sealed brick walls. Other times, they were so quiet you wouldn't hear them until they were on top of you. Immediately after the information processed, he heard the familiar voice of Anastasia, calling him to the R.V. No objections there.

Fortunately, it seemed people were managing to get to their respective vehicles, so they could make an expedient and safe retreat. He moved quickly, making his way up into the large vehicle, noting the now truly dead child he has to step around, being sure to move past it's legs and not it's upper body, just in case. Once in, he dropped into one of the seats, looking out at the creatures and his fellow survivors as they scrambled.

This wasn't the first time they were uprooted, and it wouldn't be the last. This was the way of things now, and though it was becoming common place, it was something he'd never be able to get accustomed to. He glanced down at the floor before looking to Anastasia, whom even with her Injuries, looked so sure of herself. Alphonse supposed, more than anything, he has to admire that. His composure was usually intact, sure. But, more often than not it involved putting his emotions aside before allowing them to slowly escape through his stories.
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The man had woken before the moon had dared to set this morning, stars beginning to dull as the sky grew from the ink black to a dark navy blue. It was rare that he slept more than four hours at a time, though when he did it was oft caused by a rough hit to the head and he'd wake hours later with Anastasia sitting next to him. She was a sweet girl, smart and responsible but she carried her own scars as well and needed a shoulder just as much as he did. Regardless of how much the others looked down on her, mocked her, pitied her and tried to help her; she would be his second in command and the first he'd save if he had to make that choice. Luckily for them, he was always sure to place her somewhere she'd be safe and on the off chance he couldn't get to her she had Sergei watching her back. He hadn't been happy with the idea of the unstable Russian coming with them, but after witnessing the man saving Anastasia's life and how she calmed him during a psychotic episode of those, he had accepted the girls decision to bring him with the three of them and add another member to their group. It was an ever expanding group it seemed, but if they grew too large there would be troubles among the chain of command; the last female they had picked up, Soren, was ready to pounce and challenge his leadership already since he brought with them a pregnant woman and a cripple.

With a sigh, the man shook his head quietly, looking through the shelves of the pharmacy for anything useful so that he wouldn't end up going back to the group empty handed after leaving without telling anyone but Anastasia. She would need new medication for her allergies as well, supplements for her and Adrienne; the two were often lacking because of their conditions. Moving an empty box off of the shelf he grinned when he saw an untouched box of painkillers. It was a surprise no one had gotten to it yet, but the small town must have emptied out pretty damn fast with how few zombies were in it. That or everyone died too fast to collect supplies. Dropping the entire box in the basket he'd grabbed from the front he kept looking for what he'd come for originally as well. With two empty saddle bags there was plenty of space for whatever he found while he was here. He was never as alert as Anastasia, though when he was alone he paid attention to the sounds and smells more than the sights around him as the dead gave off a foul stench that gave a better warning than looking for them. With a glance to the side he picked up a package of pads and a box of tampons for the ladies when they'd need them later this month, as well as anything else he thought would be useful. He still had time before he should go back to the others; they planned to move out before dark tonight the previous day when him, Anastasia and Alphonse had been talking. As the core group that started it all, they'd been together the longest and almost never did anything that would effect everyone without talking to the other two about it first.


With the sun climbing higher into the sky, the male had found a few canned food items and a department store that he wouldn't want to go inside of alone. From the looks of it from outside though it had some clothes and bed spreads they could use; maybe there's be batteries and kerosene lanterns inside. Looking up at the sun the man wished he'd brought his hat with him instead of leaving it on the RV with Anna before he left though it wasn't like the damn thing wouldn't fly away while he was speeding down the road toward Butte. When he turned around after packing everything into the saddlebags he saw a zombie shambling toward him quietly. It was a single walker, and nothing harmful as it dragged it's dead foot across the ground while it tried to get closer to him, though as he climbed onto his motorcycle he saw others walking away from town in the direction he had come from. The direction of camp. "Oh shit." The man gunned the engine, the back tire spinning on the gravel before he shot forward like a bullet, speeding down the road at potentially seriously dangerous speeds, but Anastasia was there and in danger. He didn't have to look to know he was being followed by the fastest of the zombies that had been in town, the slow ones would give up soon but he could out speed them back to the camp. He had to get back to them; they were all that was left for him to care about now. "Fuck humanity. If Anastasia dies I'll make damn sure we go extinct." He yelled as he passed another crowd of zombies. Leaning forward in his seat, goggles over pale blue eyes and leather jacket done up over the grey t-shirt he wore in the heat.

By the time he'd made it back he was just in time to see them packing up and getting ready to go. He slowed, going for a stop to help but as he opened his mouth to yell out orders he heard the voice of his precious girl call out exactly what he had been thinking. She really was a good girl, strong and brave; always ready to take the burden when others just wanted to shrug off their responsibilities. He'd rushed back to warn them off those coming from the north, but it seemed they had already gotten the hint and Anna had decided which way they were going to get around this horde. He was proud of her right then, glad to know that she wasn't dead and by the looks of one of the children laying on the ground, she'd been the one to put him down in her frustration. She'd be worried about him if he didn't show up, so he kicked forward and leveled with the open window of the RV, calling up to her from on the motorcycle. "Good job lil' Miis!"
What could go wrong, the damsel would be saved and she will take care of her job to discover things, things good enough for everyone in the near future. Luck or not she didn’t have the chance to put her little brain to a test. But what even more shocking was the fact that she started to panic, was scared, but not the type of scare to immobilize her on the spot, but the one, the one that makes you feel hopeless, empty and useless.
With a fast
movement, she grabbed her bow and arrows, with a spin on toes she made herself unseen on the other side of the RV. Her disfigured face showed unique emotions, that type of emotions that most people in the group decides that is better to keep it unseen, because, for reasons, was better for everyone: fear and terror. With her right hand grabbed her shirt as she tried to calm down her heart beats, her body fell as her buttocks hit the ground and her back was rested by the vehicle. Maria was ashamed, the rest of the group was trying to handle the dead ones and she was hiding like a coward, with a simple gesture she grabbed the bow closer to her body. A sensation of serenity and peace started to fill her as her heart beats slowed down. Her body flinched at Anastasia’s voice, saying her name felt so blank and disgusting. As she was biting her lower lip in shame, Maria did a detour of the R.V and stopped mid-way as in her ears rang the motor of a motorcycle. Deep inside her mind went white, her palms were cold and the throat dry, feeling guilty she didn’t dare to look at Marcus and the eyes flinched toward Alphonse. She spotted a zombie who was getting dangerously close; with a fast gesture, the dexterity and agility from her movements could be easily compared to someone who worked and practiced a lot. The back was straight, the muscles were tensed, she shot the arrow by pulling it backwards, when it was released the arrow it went straight in the mouth of the zombie. With a sharp head, the arrow had an aerodynamic structure, was heavy enough to penetrate a bone (since the zombie and a human don't share the same chemical structure when it comes to bones), but light enough for the wanted distance.
Maria had long fingers, scratched, bruised and beaten because of handling the bow unprotected and of course, because the love of her life: playing with chemicals. Her blue eyes stared at Anastasia. "Dillion ?" She repeated as she placed her bow next to her pile of papers in the RV. "As you ask."She spoke in a firm tone as she searched for her notebook. She kept an indifferent look like she always wore it with style, no emotion attached to that face.

[ If something seems out of ordinary or a little SFI tell me and I will change it, or simply if you don't understand (grammatical+spelling errors) - B.S]
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