The Last of Us: Last Hope

ze_kraken · Dec 30, 2015

Marching

Jane flinched at the sudden prod to her back, casting a quick glance over her shoulder to see the man with the rifle, Erik, leading her along. Path? What path? She froze for a moment, knuckles curling into tightly wound balls at her side. The rifle shoved her forward again.

"C'mon, hurry up," the one with the machete this time.

The girl shook herself, snapping back to reality, the momentary sensation of terror slipping into the background. She moved on, feeling the gravel of ground concrete and damp earth give way beneath her feet. For a while, only their footfalls crunching against the path sounded. Though she knew she was most likely imagining it, for a while, Jane was positive she could hear the distant din of crashing water.

"Right," her father began after they had been walking through over-grown wasteland for little more than five minutes; their procession stopped abruptly. "I'm going to need some assurances before we start heading through your little Q-zone. If you want to put a bullet in each of us because you think FEDRA cares about some little bug out west, then we might as well not've bothered stopping here."

Jane felt it best not to mention that they had never heard of a Firefly base in Texas, that they were just here to recoup and prepare for the winter. As her father spoke, she glanced down at her own, worn jacket, torn pants, and shoes so mangled they were hardly more than scraps of leather bound by a rubber sole. Fireflies were supposed to be smart, they had avoided FEDRA for years out here - how could they not see that a girl and her father were nothing more than travelers?

Erik walked behind the two, his rifle pointed at their backs, while Matthew moved ahead, leading them along the path. He tried to ignore the younger girl's anxiety and discomfort. It was hard not to view Lauren in the girl's place; he and his sisters had walked into the camp just like this, years back, a gun pointed at each of them as they dropped to their knees and were scanned. The Fireflies were fiercer then, still young and bold. Marlene's death had brought an end to that. Thinking on this, Erik's gun began to lower as they walked. FEDRA or not, these people looked scared, uncertain. There wasn't any use in threatening them, and nobody was here to tell him otherwise.

The procession halted as the girl's father turned around and spoke to him and Matthew. A brave man, he thought to himself before stepping forward, lifting his rifle and resting it against his shoulder. Before he could speak, Matthew butted in from the front of the line. "Does it matter whether we plan to kill yer or not? Yer weaponless, and surrounded. I reckon yer'd only last-"

"Matthew," Erik warned, "Watch your mouth." He looked back towards the father and daughter. "We're not going to kill you," He gestured forward, wordlessly asking them to continue walking. "Have you ever heard of the Fireflies?"

"Heard of them?" Her father questioned, the twitch of a smile tugging at his lips. "You're either being too modest or've never left here. Day didn't go by back in Atlanta when you little bugs weren't mentioned. Never had any issues with Fireflies like some of the other Q-zones did, but be damned if we didn't have idiots spray-painting that logo everywhere, stirring up trouble."

"There was one," Jane added, softly, stammering on nearly every other syllable. "Smuggled some meds in'n out of Atlanta."

Matthew scowled, turning his back on the group and pushing ahead at a faster pace. Erik ignored him; the guy was little more than a big child sometimes. He nodded towards the male, the corners of his lips twitching up in a semblance of a smile. "That's what we do, sir," he answered, glancing over at the girl. The poor thing could barely talk. He resolved to bring them back to his and Cait's living quarters after they spoke with Zoe; maybe Lauren could make the girl feel more comfortable.

"That's a more accurate account of what we do. We don't go killing," his eyes narrowed into a glare aimed towards Matthew. If the bigger man noticed, he didn't show it. "There's nothing to be gained in ridding the world even further of our humanity. Although I'm not quite sure we bring people to the light."

"I suppose you're just passing through, then?" he questioned. "I can't promise you anything, but I can try to get you some food 'n water before you head back out. Policy requires I bring you to see Zoe first. Won't be but a few minutes."

"I don't-"

"We were going to stop here and rest up before heading down south," Jane interrupted. Her father shot her a stern look, telling her plain as speech to shut her mouth and let him do the talking: she went on anyways, before he could drone on about some contrived reason they couldn't stay in Firefly territory. "Winters won't be so bad there."

The sudden burst of passion and outspokenness vanished as soon as it had appeared, and Jane retreated towards the rear of the group. Her father cleared his throat and glanced over his shoulder: this conversation isn't done. She could live with that. They couldn't live with another two, three, four, however many more weeks on the road.

"That's about the shape of it," he admitted grudgingly. "But I'm sure we'll be of some use 'til we have to get goin' ag'in."

Erik looked between the two in silence, watching them interact.Just like Lauren, Cait, and me, he thought. Although Lauren perhaps wasn't so shy, and usually had her elder sister to back her up. His sisters were never afraid to speak their minds. This girl seemed to know what she was doing despite that; he had to give her credit for that, especially after the look her father gave her. Do not admit weakness--it was something his own father had drilled into him again and again. Erik didn't say anything of it, but nodded towards the male, directing them with a wave of his hand past another turn.

"I'm sure there will be some work to be found," he said. "There's always work that needs doing, here." He hoped he wasn't lying. Zoë could be kind, but would she want newcomers to the group? Surely not after the last one...

A few Fireflies were lingering here and there, some carrying food, others cleaning guns, some just heading home. A few gave the newcomers curious glances, but there was no gossip or hushed words behind backs. There was a level of respect here that Zoë somehow managed to maintain, despite everything. Matthew pushed through any one on the main path, before stopping in front of the open doors of one of the station's biggest buildings. The camp might have seemed dead on the outside, but in here, it was teeming with life. Noise echoed through the halls, and the smell of cooking food followed suit.

"Over here, please," Erik said, standing between the two and Matthew. "Can you continue patrol?"

The man simply left without a word.

"Right." He stood between them and the entrance, gun still resting on his shoulder. "Zoë is a bit of a tough nut to crack. She'll see you, but I can't promise you she'll let you stay," his gaze dropped to the girl, "no matter the circumstances." He looked back at the father. "I'll try my best to convince her, but my sister is the one who has her good graces, not me. Not my speed."

Credit to @Rainjay!

Shalashaska · Dec 30, 2015

Okay, there was no way in hell she smelled so bad it warranted someone running away from her. Feeling a bit offended, Alysson huffed and crossed her arms over her chest. Remaining silent as the two led her to get washed up, she could only ponder on what the hell she was even going to do. She hadn't really thought past 'join the fireflies'. What were they even going to have her do? She really needed to think more, but thinking was her strong suit.

'Goddamn impulse.' She thought scornfully, mentally kicking her own ass for not thinking things through. Yeah, she had given this entire explanation to her father and mother as to why she was leaving - why she was so hellbent on joining the Fireflies. But now? She couldn't even remember what bullshit she fed to them.

Rubbing her face, she mumbled out a quiet thanks to the men that led her to the bath area. After about twenty minutes of attempting to make herself as clean as possible, she made her way to a mirror to inspect herself. The clothes they had given her weren't bad. Underclothes, a plain black shirt and a pair of slightly worn blue jeans. Pulling her coat back on, she brushed her hair out of her face and glared into the mirror. She would kill to have a pair of those 'contacts' her parents told her used to exist. Her father had told her that her eye color, as well as his own and her brothers, were a genetic mutation that seemed to be passed down in their family. It was like heterochromia, except instead of two odd eye colors, their eyes were red.

And everyone always assumed she was infected with something. Shaking her head to cause her hair to fling about wildly, she stopped only when she felt herself becoming disoriented. Goddamn white hair. Now, not even her father had an explanation for that one.

"Just roll with it." She repeated the words her father had seemed to turn into a catchphrase. Clickers? Just roll with it. Bandits? Just roll with it. Hurricane with any shelter in sight? Just roll with it. "Fuck everything..." She breathed out tiredly, as she left the bathroom before being shepherded off somewhere else by one of the men from earlier.

Being led to another room, she stepped through the door and her eyes fell on a woman.

'So, this is Zoë... Kinda underwhelming.' She thought instantly. She didn't know why, but the way everyone spoke about the woman she was expecting her to be wearing military gear and an eyepatch, with maybe a cardboard box thrown in for good measure. Shaking her hand, she nodded in response.

"Most people call me Aly." She added while sitting awkwardly, scratching the back of her head at the woman's question. "Uh... A few years back, I remembered these people my family came across talking about the Fireflies. At the time I thought they were just spouting some bullshit about hope and the future but... I don't know. I guess as I got older I figured it wouldn't hurt to maybe see if what I heard was true. If you guys were actually trying to create... Make a better future." She said with a chuckle.

"Now, how I got here? That's a really long story, but to make it short... I fucked around through a sewer-subway until I wound up here." She said with a shrug. "Not as pleasant as it sounds." Alysson added with a quiet laugh, holding her cards close to her chest.

A Clockwork Tangerine · Dec 30, 2015

Colton walked in thoughtful silence, narrowing his eyes at the man's words. He'd never been stupid enough to believe that he was the only one who was suffering. Who was hunted endlessly by a dark past that meant to mangle them beyond recognition until there was nothing left but regret. Hearing it though . . . feeling that same emotion coming from someone else who was in the same boat . . . . The teenager had no idea about Jon's past, and he didn't ask. That was Jon's business to tell to whomever he wished or keep to himself. Colton hadn't said a word about his own experiences to anyone, and hated when others pried into that can of worms, so the last thing he would do is stick his nose into someone else's weed-scarred garden. The curiosity was always there though. The teenager wondered if he'd ever trust somebody enough to reveal his own secrets. For all he knew, Patrick had spilled those particularly gruesome beans in his journal and that's why Zoë could barely look at him. Maybe someday, he'd ask her about that, when (if) he ever gathered the courage to face that truth.

Colton looked up at Jon. You didn't have to stay trapped in the memories. Deal with it, learn from it, and move on. It sounded so simple when he said it like that. But it wouldn't be. Jon had said as much earlier, and Colton knew from experience. He'd only been dealing with his personal hell for about a year. Who knew how long Jon or any of the others had been struggling with theirs? If there were anyone to learn from, it would be them. He glanced ahead, noticing Erik and another firefly in the distance leading a couple of newbies into the camp—an older man and a young girl who didn't look much younger than Colton himself. A father and daughter? He admired their survival instincts to make it this far. . . . And wondered what haunting stories they'd have to add to the ever-growing list of survivors in this nightmarish world. Colton rubbed the back of his neck and offered a grateful half-smile to Jon that only served to highlight his young face.

"I'm glad you tracked me down," he said with genuine sincerity. "I think I could learn a lot from you."

The teenager looked back out at the newcomers, nodding once. "Looks like we've got a couple larvae arriving. Assuming everything checks out, I may just graduate to pupa." Colton actually surprised himself by laughing, and while the sound was a little awkward at first, it gradually tapered into something more heartfelt and contagious.

Insomnant · Dec 31, 2015

Jon's eyes were also on the duo ahead, thoughtful and observant, measuring the two as they approached. The sight of an older man with a younger girl brought to mind the stories he'd heard of the single man who'd done so much damage in Salt Lake City. Jon doubted that would be the case here, but he would remain on guard either way. He was always on guard, ready to move at a moment's notice. This was his natural state of being, actually. Prepared for combat, ready for the worst. After what had happened to him in Oklahoma he had vowed to never get caught flat-footed again. Maintaining a constant level of alertness wasn't easy, but it was one of those things that gave a reason to keep going, at least. It'd be a shame to give up without another chance to really prove himself after staying on his toes for so long.

Colton's suddenly youthful expression and gratitude made him look back to his new companion and he smiled back, quite pleased to see that response. "Hey, yer quite welcome. And I reckon th' feelin's mutual!" he assured the teenager, which might seem odd at first. But Jon felt there was always something to learn from other people, regardless of how young or old. Sometimes a fresh new perspective could reveal things that might otherwise have remained hidden.

And right off the bat, the comment from Colton made Jon chuckle in spite of himself. "Aheh, now that's- hehe, that right there's some biology terms I'd forgotten!" he admitted with a shake of his head and a wide, amused grin. "Ya'd better not go referrin' t' us as 'butterflies' any time soon- 'Fireflies' is bad 'nough," he said as a final aside with a laugh before they stepped up to Erik and the group.

"Welcome back, Erik," he greeted whilst giving Scott and Jane a welcome nod and a lopsided smile. "Lemme guess..." he addressed Erik even while giving the two a mischievous grin that invited them in on the joke. "They followed ya home an' ya wanna keep 'em?"

Rainjay · Jan 1, 2016

Corpus Christi - Texas
Naval Air Station Corpus Christi - Firefly Quarantine Zone

"Aly," Zoë repeated back, growing solemn. She listened quietly as the girl offered her explanation. Another idealist, knocking on their doors. She wasn't sure if she would define the Fireflies as trying to "make a better future"; most people wouldn't even regard them highly enough to call them real, particularly as of late. Their newfound silence in the world had Zoë surprised anyone thought them worth finding. How did Alysson know where to search? They'd left no real trails to follow.

She supposed it didn't matter. At least this girl wasn't another Colton.

"So, I suppose you're here to join us, then?" she questioned, trying to get to the heart of the matter. What did this girl actually want? She certainly didn't come looking for world peace, and the Fireflies wouldn't provide it. And she'd already admitted she didn't stumble on the group by chance. "Or did you just come to see? Not to try and frighten or terrorize, but due to our... qualms... with FEDRA, we can't normally allow people to make pit stops here and leave knowing where we are. It's a security risk, you see. You might decide to let FEDRA pitch you a bargain; or perhaps you'll simply give the information up out of loyalty. I wouldn't know."

"And, if you were here to attempt to join the Fireflies, you'd be giving up a lot of personal freedoms. This organization is not a rebel assembly. We have authority," her eyes took on a proud gleam as she sat up, resting her forearms onto the rickety desk, "and everyone here has a job, a role to play, and listens to orders. The people here risk their lives for our cause. There is no 'I', only 'we'. We are servants for the people."

She paused, watching for a reaction from the kid in front of her. A flinch, or a sign that she was having second thoughts. "So?"

Corpus Christi - Texas
Naval Air Station Corpus Christi - Firefly Quarantine Zone

Erik was about to move past the doorway and into the building when he heard two approaching voices from behind, and then saw Jon and Colton come into view.

He couldn't say that he knew Jon or Colton incredibly well, despite having spent a fair amount of time working with the former. Even still, he found it just the tiniest bit odd to see the two together, walking side by side as though they were old friends. Colton was usually isolated from the rest of the people in the Zone, the type of person people stepped aside for on the street and avoided sitting, sleeping, or working nearby. It was mostly Zoë's fault. She's rejected him the moment he arrived and showed her those dog tags, and despite allowing him to stay, her apparent distaste was echoed in many of the other members of the group. Even though who had no problem with the poor kid avoided him simply to avoid harassment from those who, for no real reason, hated him.

Erik himself had no qualms with the kid. Colton pulled his weight--when he was actually given a task to do--and kept out of the way. He'd never caused a problem, and just seemed to want to fit in. But he still had rarely spoken to him. Caitlyn kept herself and Lauren away, muttering in their younger sister's ear that 'there's got to be something wrong with him' and 'if he's pissed off Zoë, it's best to steer clear'. Lauren, only fifteen and not trusted with things like patrols or watch, had hardly a chance to interact with him anyways. Erik liked to think that his little sister was smart enough to ignore Cait's 'warnings', but he couldn't be sure.

He nodded towards Jon, and then to Colton, although when he spoke he looked at the former of the two. "That's more Zoë's decision than it is mine," he said with a glance at the two. "I hear this lot aren't the first to arrive today. A girl, Mel said she had 'weird eyes'? Have you heard a word on that?"

A Clockwork Tangerine · Jan 2, 2016

Colton's grin widened when Jon chuckled, his spirits actually high for once. It looked like he was finally making a friend, and he had to admit, the thought rekindled the fire in him that had begun to dim as of late. When people avoided you like the plague, it wasn't hard to question your reasons for 'fighting the good fight.' Even his promise to Patrick, however strong, had been tough to stick to without any real attachment to anyone living. It had kept him going this far. Maybe a friend would keep him sane a little longer.

"Butterflies," the teenager murmured to himself. "Can't make any promises."

He smirked and glanced over at Erik and the newcomers, trying not to laugh again at Jon's amusing greeting. It might've helped ease the tension. It might not. And he had no idea whether the man and the teenage girl were in the mood for jokes. Colton found himself glad that Cait wasn't with them. Like Zoë, he always got the impression that the eldest Wright sister didn't like him very much. She always seemed to avoid eye contact or change her course if they happened to be walking near each other. Luckily, Lauren didn't feel that way. Or if she did, she was a damn good actress, because she was the only person (well, one of the only people now that he'd met Jon) who treated him with an iota of respect. Erik . . . . Well, Colton really didn't know him enough to judge him. All he knew of Erik were things he'd observed, heard from others, or heard from Lauren during one of their occasional chats in and around the residence building when Cait wasn't around. From what he'd seen, he was a fairly upstanding guy. Always looked out for family. Colton could respect that.

When Erik nodded, Colton nodded back, raising an eyebrow when the older man mentioned another newcomer. Three new people in one day? The teenager hated the wave of paranoia and pessimism that surged up again like bad food after a rough night and too many drinks. Who were they? And was there even a remote possibility that any of them could be connected to the group that he had once ran with? The ones that had pulled the dark wool over his eyes and with whom he'd done unspeakable things? He had no way of knowing if Patrick's last stand had taken those manipulative S.O.B.s out for good. They could still be out there. Biding their time. Sending in spies. It could also be F.E.D.R.A. Colton winced and dropped his gaze, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly and quietly. You don't know anything for certain, he thought. You can be cautious all you want. But if you automatically treat them like crap just because . . . then you're a hypocrite. The teenager looked back up again with a steady gaze. He offered Erik an answer by simply shaking his head, then looked at the newcomers and gave them a nod and half-smile in greeting before looking back at Jon to see what he had to say.

Rainjay · Jan 3, 2016

Corpus Christi - Texas
Naval Air Station Corpus Christi - Firefly Quarantine Zone

Cait made her way through the dusty paths of the zone quickly, for the most part ignoring the other Fireflies around her. Her mind was spinning, caught around what Jon said. She wanted to go, she really did. She was fully devoted to the Firefly cause, even if she thought Zoë was crazy. But she couldn't just leave Lauren... They couldn't just leave Lauren. She'd yet to stumble across Erik--hopefully by now, Jon had found found him, and explained the situation--but she hoped she knew her brother well enough to say that he'd be worried about their sister as well. He wouldn't just leave her here alone.

Actually, he'd be more likely to leave without telling me, to force me to stay, she thought to herself, sighing internally as she half walked, half ran towards the living quarters of the zone. If she and Erik couldn't come to an agreement, he very well might leave on his own accord and give her no other option. It felt like blackmail, and she didn't like it. The only solution would be to leave first... But would that make her any better than he?

Morals don't matter here, she told herself. We blow holes in quarantine zone gates and let in the hoardes just to piss of FEDRA. Why should this bother me? It shouldn't. It shouldn't.

But she couldn't deny that nagging feeling in her stomach that told her it was wrong. How could she claim to want to protect humanity if she was this cruel and heartless? What would Lauren think?

It doesn't matter what she thinks, as long as she's safe. That was from Erik's mouth, something he'd said on their journey here. They were traveling through a big city--she didn't even know which, nor did she care at the time--one slow step at a time. The place was teeming with Infected, especially after a nearby zone had been compromised and fallen. It didn't look like there'd been any survivors. The place was overrun with the new Runners, scrambling to and fro and picking off the leftovers. Erik and Cait stood watch every night after they'd found a safe enough place to camp, and both of them were beyond exhausted. They only had two pistols and a handful of bullets to their name, and miles to go. One day they reached a road block, a street intersection that was swarming with the things--clickers and runners alike. Twenty feet from the intersection proper, shining like a gold mine, was their savior; six downed survivors, with heavy backpacks and guns in their hands. The corpses were only a few weeks old, and were destroyed, heads nearly torn off, giant gaping wounds on their arms and shoulders. They must have been caught off guard, and hadn't stood a chance.

We have to get to those weapons, Caitlyn had said, pleading with Erik. Just beyond the intersection was the subway and a Firefly bunker. It was their best chance for food, clean water, and safety. Please, Erik.

They'd locked poor Lauren into a closet, armed with one of their two pistols, before they left. She'd yelled at them as they left the house, slamming her fists angrily on the door. It doesn't matter what she thinks, Erik told Caitlyn, as long as she's safe.

Caitlyn wasn't sure that Lauren ever forgave them, but she agreed with their brother. Lauren could barely hold onto a gun, not to mention fire it. She was a tree hugging, hippy humanitarian. She was a vegetarian back in their zone in Houston, and almost starved herself to death on their trip to Corpus Christi. In the zone proper, the Fireflies taught her the hard way that she ate what she was given, or she suffered for it. Their little sister was better off hidden, tucked away, safe from herself and the world.

If that's what she and Erik had to do now, then she supposed they would. Corpus Christi was as safe, probably safer, than that broom closet.

Her footsteps were quiet on broken pavement. The naval air station had supplied housing to its men and their families, some in large apartments, some in single family homes. The Wright's were lucky enough to acquire one of the latter, residing in a two story building with a number of rooms that mostly just held junk from the past. Lauren spent her days here, tending a small garden she'd revived in the front of the building and reading whatever Erik and Cait brought home. She, like some of the other kids, were going through a training program similar to that of the FEDRA's military one, but she didn't take to it.

The door was unlocked--most of the locks on the buildings were broken, the keys long since lost--and she stepped right inside, dropping her things on a shaking, wooden table. "Lauren!" she called, making her way through the entry way to the kitchen. A small portable gas stove sat on the counter, bowls next to a bucket of water. "Lauren!"

"Coming!" She heard her sister call from upstairs.

"Hurry up, I don't have all day."

Her sister appeared at the top of the stairwell, concern etched across her features. She was fifteen and looked marred by age, dark circles under her eyes from sleepless nights and scars marking her skin. But she still smiled warmly at Cait, and skipped down the stairs, jumping the last three steps and landing on the tile. "What is it? Is it another one of those Harry Potter books? I'm trying to piece it together but my copy of the sixth is absolutely wrecked and I can't read the seventh until I've read the sixth."

Cait shook her head with an amused grin. "No, sorry. But if I find another one I'll bring it your way. I need to talk to you about something... important."

"Yeah, okay." She bounced over to the chairs situated around the kitchen table and pulled one out before dropping into it. "What's up?"

"You know how they've been working on fixing that junky radio in the Hole?" Cait asked, carefully taking a seat beside Lauren, who nodded. "They managed to put that thing together again and make it run. And they've made contact with .... someone. Across the seas. They think in Europe."

"That's great," Lauren said slowly, her eyes narrowed. "What's this got to do with me?"

Cait inhaled deeply. "They need people to go looking for parts for that ship they have parked up north, by that giant dock. They want to go across the ocean and go meet with these strangers personally. It was Zoë's idea," she added quickly. "She didn't tell me at all."

"So, you want to go. And Erik too, I bet." Lauren stood up, crossing her arms. "And I bet I'm not allowed to go, too."

"Lauren, you wouldn't want to go. We'll be gone for--awhile... and it'll be dangerous. Zoë is sending us out armed to the teeth. After that last unit didn't make it back, she's not taking chances. It's strictly volunteer, and people might not make it back. We don't know where we're going to find these parts, not to mention how we're going to haul them back to the zone. Most of our vehicles are stranded at Salt Lake, and you know nobody wants to go back there--"

"I get it, Cait. Whatever. I'll stay put. Okay?" The girl sighed, pushing unruly hair from her face. "Just don't go and die. We made it this far, right? I don't want to hear about your deaths from some stranger."

"We'll try," Cait said, "but no promises."

Insomnant · Jan 3, 2016

Even if he was aware of the social stigma surrounding Colton and association with him, Jon seemed to give it no thought as awaited Erik's reply to his joking query. It's not like the two newcomers would know anyway, and he doubted Erik would make a big deal of the teen's presence. Especially not when they had something far more pressing to attend to. "Well sure, but I figger she might be more likely'a let 'em stay if ya give 'er some puppy eyes and add in a 'please' or two!" he joked, but his smile faded a little bit into a slightly more serious look. "That's the first I'd heard'a that, 'nother person showed up? Talk about timin', huh?" His eyes drifted over to Scott and Jane to observe their reaction to the coincidence. "Ya'll runnin' from somethin' in par-tic-u-lar?"

Standing Around

"Wouldn't call it running," Scott remarked dryly, running a hand through the beginnings of a patchy, salt-and-pepper beard. "Looking's, more like. Q-zone was gettin' worse 'n worse by the day. Got so bad we had one of those things..." He paused, fumbling for the word. "The blind ones in the fence."

Corpus Christi - Texas
Naval Air Station Corpus Christi - Firefly Quarantine Zone

"Timing... Really good timing." Erik murmured to himself. Hopefully that didn't mean droves of survivors were heading their way. He could only imagine what Zoë would say. He might be able to convince her to let these two stay, but nobody wanted an entire zone's worth of people walking by and begging for nourishment and safety. Nobody could provide it.

"We call 'em clickers," Erik said. "Perhaps the other one came from the same zone? If it's breached, anyone with some good common sense to them would have fled. Maybe not survived... but fled." He chanced a glance over at Scott. He was probing for answers; he didn't even know his and the younger girl's names. "How long were you two traveling for? You looked a bit roughed."

Chatting

"'Bout a month, though can't say for a certain. Too many interstates were clouded with infected locked in cars, FEDRA patrols, usual s- stuff 'round highways. Had to take the back routes most of the way 'til we hit Texas state lines."

"A month, huh?" Jon repeated, thinking back to his own trip from Oklahoma. Travel these days was hardly a walk in the park anymore, and he avoided asking the man how many had been in their party when they'd first left. "An' ya'll don't know nothin' 'bout a girl with weird eyes? Didn't have one'a your group wander off ahead?" he asked, musing out loud but definitely not accusing. "Well I s'pose we oughta go meet this other lady- an' Zoe. She's been miiighty ornery as of late," he added, before cracking a grin in Erik's direction. "Good chance'a work on that pleadin' face!"

Colton was quiet for a time, preferring to listen to the others and take note of what was being said instead of putting in his two-cents of useless commentary. He still had a weird feeling in the pit of his stomach about the new people. The teenager felt it best not to fight or question those emotions, because being a little wary was better than repeating old mistakes. Still, he'd give these people a chance at least. Colton glanced over at a group of fireflies in the distance as Jon's southern drawl filled the air. Puppy dog eyes, he thought. I doubt that'll work. She seems immune to that sort of tactic. When Jon asked if the two had been running from something, Colton shifted his gaze to them, watching the strange man with a relatively straight face. Clickers. Christ, how he hated those things. In the beginning, he could barely look at them, let alone fight them. He'd learned real fast that ignoring them wasn't an option sometimes. And the sound. It was like fingernails across his brain. Used to give him nightmares. Hell, still did on occasion.

The teenager shook his head briefly and lowered his gaze, concentrating on the back and forth between the three older men. It had taken the newcomers about a month to get here. And the other girl with the weird eyes could have come from the same place, or at least the same general direction. The idea of some mass exodus arriving at their gates was a little disconcerting, but Colton kept that to himself. Besides, as smart as everyone here was, they probably had the same concerns. As he was mulling over all this new information, Jon mentioned going to see the new girl—and Zoë.

"Great," he murmured. The teenager blinked, his heart racing when he realized he'd just said that aloud. It probably sounded disrespectful as hell. He cleared his throat and looked up at Jon with a bit of a forced smile. "Great idea." That had been a lame cover job. And anybody with eyes who had been looking at him when Jon first mentioned Zoë could've seen how tense his body had become, even for that brief moment. Colton shoved his hands in his pockets—an old self-conscious habit that was kind of like a poker tell—and quirked an eyebrow.

"I, however, remain unconvinced that puppy eyes will have any effect on Zoë." The teenager leaned conspiratorially closer to Jon and added in a hushed tone: "She seems more like a crazy cat lady to me."

ze_kraken · Jan 3, 2016

Back on the Road...

"Didn't have one'a your group wander off ahead.....?"
Two weeks previous.
Texas-Louisiana Border

The camp had been silent for nearly an hour now, the fire encircled in stones just beginning to dwindle against the gentle wind. Even with the sun gone, and autumn in full swing, the swampy, thick air of Louisiana clung to everything. Their clothes. Their belongings. Their hair. Walter had suggested they travel by night to help fend off the humid, unpleasant days, but no one in the party felt particularly inclined to wander by night with so many unknowns. None of them had stepped a foot outside their quarantine zone until almost three weeks earlier, and not a single one had come from this far south. Scott suggested, instead, they take the route along the coast, so at least they'd know where in the world they were, but that had gotten them into more roadblocks than it had saved them the trouble of navigating.

"You think there's a chance, out west? I heard-" Scott raised a hand to cut Abby off.

"It's Q-zones, Fireflies, or marauders. Those are your choices," he replied.

"And what about her?" The woman gestured towards Jane, tucked away in her sleeping bag. The girl stirred, rolled in place, and sunk back into sleep. "That's what you want to tell her?"

"I'm not 'gonna lie to her - but I'm not 'gonna go off and pretend the world's over. I reckon there's some island, down south, where winter won't be so bad 'n there'll be no infected, or people for that matter."

"What happened to findin' 'decent folks'?"

"I'm done talkin' about this, Abby," Scott grumbled, staring up at the woman at her perch atop a low-bearing tree.

"Hold up," Abby raised her rifle - a military rifle they had picked up on their flight from Atlanta - and propped open its scope cover.

For a moment she stood, leaning her back against the bark of the tree, scope tracing the surrounding land.

"See so-"

Abby shushed Scott and flicked the safety off her weapon.

"Don't you-"

A high-pitched twang rang out from the barrel of Abby's rifle, the muzzle flare illuminating her tree for a brief instant. By the time the shell bounced down the branches and into the damp earth below, Jane and Walter had jolted awake. Walter and Scott shared brief nods, and in a flurry of motion their camp rang into life, packing up bedrolls, grabbing weapons, and fastening backpacks.

Then a lone howl pierced the night...

The Wrights

Their meeting with this "Zoë" had gone about as well as Scott could have expected from the leader of a rebellion group. She carried herself with the natural bearing of a leader, if a tad two-dimensional, consumed by her cause. The sort of person that couldn't carry on a conversation without bringing up a matter related to that cause - but, Zoë was still human, Scott could see that much. Maybe he was still wrong, but that would be for another day. Erik had given them a good word, and she had given them a place to stay...

...Under conditions Scott was still mulling over. He and Jane could "remain" in the Corpus Christie quarantine zone so long as he agreed to a supply run through the country, gathering parts that he had been damned sure were gone or otherwise out of repairs. Assuming, when, he told Jane that he was off to leave, he knew she would want to tag along, and his personal sacrifice would mean nothing with both of them out of the zone and back on the road. But then, what choice did he have? They were better armed - they still hadn't given him his weapon back - and leaving here would be even more difficult than leaving the Atlanta zone: these Fireflies were more paranoid than FEDRA.

After the private conference with Zoë, Erik had taken Scott and Jane back to an apartment block well within the zone, settling them into a disheveled room with moth-eaten carpets, curtains, and bedding matted with a thick film of dust. After settling her things at the foot of the bed and propping her jacket upon a bed post, Jane quickly slipped out of the room and downstairs, taking advantage of Scott's focus on unpacking. When the last of both his and his daughter's possessions put neatly upon a decaying office table, food stowed beneath it and concealed with a blanket, he stood and turned to find that Jane was gone. About to go and grab her, the man thought better of it and sank gratefully into the bed, slipping out of his pathetically travel-beaten shoes and tossing his jacket aside.

How long since he had slept in a true and proper bed? With little over a month on the road, giving up the only bedroll the group had owned to Jane, he had spent more nights with nothing more than his jacket to comfort him. About one night in three saw to it that he had a rock or other object to lean his head and arms against, but long weeks of resting upon concrete, firm dirt, and other 'road hazards' had left his spine mangled and in constant discomfort. Discomfort that was now giving way under a soft, if perhaps decrepit, mattress.

For a while Scott lay there, staring at the hole in the ceiling where a fan must have been at one point, rusted wiring and bits of aged insulation poking through, imaging the blades moving round and round and round. He was ripped from his hazy trance when a knock came from the doorway into the room.

"Hey," Jane.

"Oh, come on in kiddo," Scott beamed at his daughter as she stepped cautiously into the bedroom. She'd already untied her hair from its flat, the light brown, grease-slick locks falling around her face in an unruly mass. "I'm looking a bit rough myself," he added with a chuckle, running a hand through his own lengthening hair. "'Course, at least it hides the grey ones for a little while longer."

Jane nodded and sat down in the chair where her jacket hung, propping her head against its back, propping it up with folded arms. "Let's get this over with. You don't want to be here."

So serious.

"About that," Scott began, adopting the tone reserved for bedside manners. "You can stay here if I agree to help them with a little project of theirs. Head around the country, picking up parts they need for some trip across the ocean - it'll probably end up being a wild goose chase, but if it means you can-"

"But I'm not 'gonna stay here."

"Jane-"

"You're stuck with me 'til we can find a place we can both stay," the girl retorted, giving him the closest thing to a real smile she had managed in months.

"We'll talk about that when the time comes," Scott replied, abruptly shifting the subject, he added. "So what did you do downstairs you sneaky git?"

"Checked who was around - Erik's got a little sister. I talked with her a little bit before I headed up here. It's...." Her statement trailed off.

"No, I understand. Weird seeing other people again, I get it."

"You think Abby's still out there?" Jane questioned, swiveling her bare feet against the floor. "Somewhere by New Orleans? Maybe she made it back to Atlanta?"

"I 'dunno, kiddo - why don't you head back downstairs, talk with Erik's sister a bit more?"

"Lauren, her name's Lauren," Jane corrected. "And I don't think she's up for talking - she seemed pretty upset about something Erik's other sister said."

Another one?

"Well, then I guess you can keep buggin' me for a little while longer," Scott smiled.

"So what's Harry Potter?"

Hell Hound Woof · Jan 4, 2016

Enrique had been quiet during the meeting, and immediately after it was over he left to his room to begin packing. He knew he would be put on a team that was going somewhere fun. Somewhere with large amounts of infected. He was experiencing some small amount of joy at the knowledge they'd be out exploring, cutting down more of the infected bastards out there. He knew what he had to do, he was packed up. His .45 on his hip, his knife on his vest and his vest strapped to his chest. He grabbed the fireaxe from the floor and twirled it in his hands as he picked it up. He walked out of his room wearing a hoodie and his plain white tee, some combat boots and jeans. He was ready, no not ready, he was excited. He walked out of the building he slept in and moved out to the armory. He was picking up some rounds and if allowed he'd happily take one of the rifles but he didnt figure anyone would let him.

He saw some of his comrades, Erik and Jon, along with some other person. It was a bit odd. New people around here was strange, and not a good sign. Could mean migration was coming. Could mean this person was F.E.D.R.A. or even some lunatic trying to lead more infected to them. Enrique warily stared at the teenager as the three walked. It was the kind of look a dog gives a new dog, the kind of look of a fighter looking for any indication of a punch coming. He walked to the armory and calmly dropped the look he'd been giving the young man.

Shalashaska · Jan 6, 2016

Remaining silent, Alysson considered Zoë's words. In the back of her mind, from the moment she stepped into the base, she knew she was in over her head. She didn't know what she was expecting; was she hopeful that maybe the Fireflies would be some group of down to Earth superheroes, or was she just searching for an escape? A break away from her overbearing family that tried to keep her sheltered from reality.

She could feel her heart pound against her chest as if it was attempting to burst through her rib cage and she shifted in her seat awkwardly, her hands tightly clenching her pants' legs. What was she supposed to do? She should have considered that the Fireflies would be wary of any random straggler that found themselves at their door - everyone was. Even her father. She knew how those things could play out, and she should have figured it'd be even worse.

But, if there was one thing she was certain of, Zoë's words could easily be interpreted as a threat. And that's how she was taking it. She could feel herself fidget under the older woman's gaze before she attempted to steel her own resolve, her eyes steady as she stared into Zoë's eyes.

"I'm here to join the Fireflies. Good or bad, this is the choice I've made." Alysson said, her tone firm and resolute. Yet, she wasn't sure if she was speaking to Zoë or herself.

Rainjay · Jan 9, 2016

Corpus Christi - Texas
Naval Air Station Corpus Christi - Firefly Quarantine Zone
2 Days After the Meeting in the Hole

The news Zoë revealed in the Hole shook up the whole camp; everyone was prying for more details, swarming the engineers for more information, jumping on one another to form their ideal 'teams' for the mission. Despite the risks, the Fireflies helps up to their reputation, each member more eager than the next to participate in the plan, no matter how crazy it was. Zoë had them simply wrapped around her finger. Of course, she wasn't going to go out and join the members on the wild Easter egg hunt--she had 'things' of great importance to do back at Corpus Christi. Caitlyn knew that she probably had to monitor progress on repairs, continue trying to make contact with... whoever ... they'd spoken to, and to formalize plans to meet with these trans-Atlantic survivors. But their leader was usually more hands on than this. Zoë had patched together bombs and infiltrated FEDRA zones and killed--a lot. It was a bit odd that she wasn't eager to join this escapade. Who cares if it's impractical?

The arrival of three newcomers alerted the Zone even further. The strange one, with the red eyes and white hair, become somewhat of a spectacle--she was different, and some didn't care about more than how she looked. No one had the guts to be quite rude or aggressive towards her, but a few didn't mind sharing their distaste. Cait felt bad for her, and as she did for the newcomers who stayed at her own home, tried to act as a guide to the younger woman. She found her clothing to keep, and briefed her on the ways of the Firefly Zone, and found her work. All three were quickly told that if they didn't earn their keep, they weren't to stay, and those who didn't stay, didn't really leave.

Although Caitlyn kept this information from the younger girl, Jane. Erik had told her of what Zoë said to the father-daughter pair when they met, of the deal the Firefly leader had struck with them. Would Zoë really send Scott on a mission like this? What about the girl?

What was happening to her friend? If she could even call Zoë a friend anymore.

Back at home, Lauren shared some of her clothing with Jane, who was roughly the same size as she. It was difficult to find fitted clothing; most of Lauren's wardrobe fit her either too loose, or too tight. Sometimes she ripped open the seams and, with a sewing kit she'd found on the Wright's way to the Firefly Zone proper, expanded the waistlines and shortened lengths. She'd also given the small family blankets and pillows and other valuable items--toiletries, small books, candles, and things of the like. Most of this she did without a word, just leaving items outside of their door, a silent do-good. Among the books was a Harry Potter.

Erik had returned the gun the pair had had with them when they were recovered in the city, and entrusted them with a second one. "Just in case," he'd said, a neutral expression cast across his features. He busied himself with patrols and labor, acting strange at home and stranger around Zoë. He had told Cait very little of the meeting, only of the deal that had been made. She wasn't sure she wanted to know.

After two days had passed from the first announcement, Zoë gathered the entire camp back in the Hole, where she stood in the front with Barry and a few of the other engineers and scientists. Their presence was more formality than anything, because Zoë didn't have a word to say about the radio, or the parts. She had lists with her, scrawled writing on yellowed paper that sat on a table before her. They were lists of names--the groups that were going--and of the supplies they sought, with pictures and diagrams painstakingly drawn out by the engineers. She parked herself in front of the table, a broad, triumphant smile on her face, her hands on her hips.

"Fireflies!" she exclaimed, "It's time we get to work!"

Caitlyn exchanged a glance with Erik. The enthusiasm nauseated the older Wright, although Caitlyn was taken. No matter her doubts, Zoë could assuage them with her passion and pride. "Ready?" Cait asked.

Erik rolled his eyes.

"I have with me the lists of the parts we need, as well as the maps we have of the areas you'll be travelling to. To prevent overlap, we've assigned each group an area in which to search. We also have marked Firefly safe sites and FEDRA Zones. Our supply caches will be open for groups later on today; what each group can take out is strictly limited. Be careful with your supplies," Zoë said, her expression hardening into seriousness. Each group was to be provided with rations, weapons, clothing, miscellaneous tools. But they only had what the Zone could spare, which wasn't all that much. Many people withdrew just to that cause.

"Before you all leave, we do need some volunteers to go and secure abandoned Zones and areas for Firefly use. We have three locations in mind, one in Central, Eastern, and Western America each. Des Moines, Concord, and Salt Lake--"

Uneasy murmurs rippled through the crowd. "Now, now," Zoë said, waving her hands until it grew quiet again. "Salt Lake is perfectly safe. We simply need to reclaim it as our own, and make it capable of sustaining our numbers again. As I was saying," she continued, "we need folks to go and set up safety zones there. Areas with food, water, medicine. Bunkers of sorts. And a place to store supplies, big and small. If someone finds parts, you can secure them there. For pieces too big to move, you can secure the item where you found it, and report to the bunker and wait for assistance there."

Then she smiled again. "Volunteers can come approach the table now. The maps and supplies lists, you can pick up at the caches."

At the end of Zoë's 'speech', Erik moved forward, striding easily through the crowd towards the front table. Caitlyn frowned, jumping a few steps to meet Erik's pace and then wrapping her fingers around his arm. "Erik? You can't be serious. You don't want to go to Salt Lake,"

"No one else is going to want to do it."

"That doesn't mean you have to do it!" Caitlyn wasn't sure what she wanted more; to keep Erik out of trouble, or to buy herself time. Neither of them had come to a conclusion on the unspoken issue of what-to-do-with-Lauren. Lauren had voiced her own distaste of the topic before washing her hands of it, wholly avoiding the two of them except to give them an off hand glare. "Just think about it first, please. What about Jon? You two wanted to go together."

"He might not mind this, either. We'll be doing more good there. Besdies," he paused, stopping to look Cait in the eye. "Lauren made us promise we'd be safe. I'm safer there than I am wandering the country, but I'm still helping. Afterwards, if we get a chance to join the scouts, then we will. She doesn't have to know about that. But for now, it works."

"We?"

"I know there's no way to compromise with you, Cait. We'll both have to go. Lauren will be happier this way, knowing we're not running around and sticking our heads where they don't belong. Salt Lake is empty."

Caitlyn bit her lip before nodding. "Fine. But if she gets upset about us both going, it was your idea, you brought it up. Not me."

ze_kraken · Jan 9, 2016

...Anywhere but Here

"'Bout a month, though can't say for a certain. Too many interstates were clouded with infected locked in cars..."
Two weeks previous.
Texas-Louisiana Border

Twang. Twang. Twang. Abby's rifle spat shell after shell into the night, muzzle flaring yellow as the howls came closer and closer. A sprinting figure came bursting through a thicket of bushes to Scott's right. Before he could whip out his pistol and wheel to fire, Walter's shotgun roared into life, splattering brains and blood out the back of the creature's head. It fell, the gaping hole of flesh, bits of skull, and brains smoking from the impact. Scott nodded his thanks to Walter and turned to Jane, cowering by the tree where Abby perched, hammer in hand.

"The fuck are you doing you crazy bitch?!" Walter demanded, loading another shell into his weapon.

Between shots, Abby responded. "Too many of them around us - this one was..." Twang. "'Bout to see me." Twang. "So I did it in."

"Shut up, Walt," Scott barked, noticing the large man beginning to open his mouth. "Abby, get your no-good rear down here - we're leavin.'"

Abby swung down from the tree, rifle in hand. She hoisted the weapon up and fired a quick burst to the left of Walter, downing another runner, sending it sprawling forward mid-sprint. She and Scott exchanged brief glances, nodded, then began to run.

"Jane, stay right beside me ," he muttered, dashing out to what they knew had once been a road. Hulks of rusted-out cars littered the street, blocking safe passage. Abby lunged forward, leaping atop one of the vehicles, firing into the tree line they had emerged from. Under her covering fire, Walter, Jane, and Scott made sprinted for a tipped-over semi trailer, coming face to face with another runner. For a moment the creature stood, snarling at Scott, who swung his arm to throw Jane behind him. His arm rose, shaking, and he squeezed the trigger of his revolver. The first round blew a hole in the runner's gut, sending entrails spilling out the front of the wound. It staggered, lazed towards him, and collapsed as another two rounds ruptured its midsection entirely.

"Keep going," Scott gasped out, clumsily stepping over the corpse of the infected.

Behind them, Abby still fired from atop her car.

"You can't kill me!" She howled. "Come on, come and get me you fuckers! HAHAHAHAHA."

"What're we going to do about her?" Jane asked, being dragged along by Scott's vice-like grip. "We can't just-"

"Keep going," he repeated. "Just keep going."

Walter kept apace with the pair, shotgun constantly at the ready. As they cleared the downed trailer, ending up on its other side, Abby's rifle stopped. No scream. No sound of struggle. Just more howling infected laced with the occasional, groaning click...click...click....

"Why'd she stop?" Jane questioned, panic clear in her voice. "Dad, why'd she-"

"I don't know, kiddo - just keep going. Walt?"

"I'm good," the man huffed out. They were halfway through another gathering of cars now, runners still hot on their tail. Attempting to vault over the hood of a car, Walter slipped and fell to the ground, crying out in pain. Scott wheeled around, noticing his prone form on the ground.

"Jane - Run." She just stood there. "RUN."

The girl stammered, tears beginning to well in her eyes. At Scott's scathing glare, Jane swallowed hard and made for the next car, hands fumbling with her hammer, knuckles clearly white with strain.

"Come on Walt," Scott muttered. "Come on..."

"Aw, fuck it, anywhere but here."

Figured I Came This Far

Jane had been caught in Harry Potter for little over an hour when a knock came on the door to her and her father's room. She glanced up from the book - fuming over the page count skipping from "13" to "18", but otherwise did nothing. The door creaked open and her father poked his head through the door, relief washing over his face as he saw her rooted firmly to the bed, wrapped in a quilt made of torn-up clothes, bedding, and other scraps.

"You know, a knock on the door usually comes with 'come in'," he smiled, attempting to pass away the sense of fear that had gripped him before opening the door, Jane could see it.

"I'll be sure to remember that," she muttered. "You wouldn't happen to know what happens...In pages fourteen through seventeen, would you?"

"I, uh, I watched the movies," her father laughed and sat next to her atop the bed. "Your grandfather and I made a point of seeing each of them - never read, though. I didn't have time to." He sighed. "Sure don't have it anymore."

Jane traced his gaze to the new rifle that sat against their already-packed belongings, a long, scoped one with a lever by the trigger. It, and a box of shells, had been a gift of sorts from Erik before the meeting her father had gone to. She hadn't asked if this meant that the revolver was now hers, since her father had owned it since before the outbreak, but she knew that the rifle was most decidedly not hers.

"So about the trip."

"I'm going," Jane huffed, crossing her arms, shutting the book. "You don't get to just shove me here."

"This," he gestured around the room. "Is for you. I didn't sign up to tramp 'cross my country 'tis of thee so you could tag along, get yourself..." He choked back the last word.

"You decided to leave Atlanta," she hissed. "It was your idea. This is still part of your decision!"

He looked away for a moment.

"Jane..." When he turned back, tears had formed in his eyes. "Don't make me put you back out there - you're safe here, I don't have to think that I'll wake up to your throat slit, or that you'll..." He swallowed hard. "Just..."

"Dad...."

"You never had to wake up knowing that people've died 'cus of you, Jane," He stammered. "I don't want you to become just another name. I'm afraid that, if I go on long enough, that's all you'll ever become... That's what's happened to..." A pause. "Happened to too many people - can't remember faces, any of it. One thing became clear to me, comin' from Atlanta - I would be willing to do anything to make sure that you got to see the next twenty years like I did. That's why I was spared some terrible fate on the road. Why I wasn't eaten alive, why I wasn't shot, stabbed, burned...Why I'm here, with you, right now. It's not because I'm some survivalist, no, I think it's something more than that...."

Silence fell on the room.

"And what if I'm supposed to go out there, too?" Jane questioned, fighting back brimming tears.

Her father only stood, gave her one look, and went for the door.

"You fuck up out there, you do anything wrong, I will personally escort you back here myself - you got it?"

Jane nodded slowly, flinching at his harsh tone. He'd never used profanity around her, never. The gravity of what she had just driven him to do slammed into her gut, dragging it down in a feeling of guilt. As her father left the room, she grabbed at the mismatched blanket, tugged it over her head, and wept.

Hell Hound Woof · Jan 10, 2016

Enrique had stocked up on .45 rounds, and had found a whetstone to work his axe with. He was eagerly on time for Zoë's called meeting. He heard mention of Salt Lake, last time he was there he'd had a good time. Plenty of infected to kill, easily to find something to do there. He saw Erik step up to sign up for Salt Lake and smiled. If Erik was doing it then it seemed like a smart decision, and smart decisions meant very few infected. Enrique didnt want safety, he wanted dangerous violence in unexplored territory, looking for parts. But he did care about those two getting back safe to their younger sibling. Erik and Enrique had worked together before, Caitlyn more likely than not had a distaste for Enrique's methods so he didnt attempt to talk to her too often. Enrique passed the pair and approached the table. He looked at Zoë with a wide smile and put his hands on the table.

"Hola Zoë," Enrique said nodding upwards, "I'll take some action at Salt Lake, then after it's clear I'll move to meet with some of the scouts. Just between you and me how bad is it up there? I'm not calling you a liar but I do think Salt Lake isnt clear as you say."

Enrique let his smile fall to a smirk, he meant no disrespect to Zoë or any threat either. He just liked to seem like he knew more than he let on, and from what he knew he did. Zoë knew how bad Salt Lake was, either raiders or biters would be there. No way it was clean. But he was excited still, he hoped if he was going to Salt Lake they'd be giving them more ammo. That'd be a good clue onto whether or not Zoë believed Salt Lake to really be clear. He was studying her for any micro expression to show guilt, or anger, maybe a little fear. He understood to be a leader you had to make tough decisions and he wouldnt take it personal if she was lying but he wanted to know.

Rainjay · Jan 17, 2016

Corpus Christi - Texas
Naval Air Station Corpus Christi - Firefly Quarantine Zone

Enrique. Another of the strange members of the Fireflies. A man who wanted to get out, kill, and kill some more. In many ways that was a good thing; the Fireflies needed killers, especially good ones. Enrique was just that. While many people offered to volunteer to help set up base camps in Des Moines and Concord, Enrique was the first, and so far only, volunteer for Salt Lake. So she returned his wide smile, a glimmer in her eyes betraying her pleasure at his anticipation.

"You're not calling me a liar, Enrique, but you aren't calling me a truther either," she said, grin changing to a lopsided smirk to meet his own. Was Enrique up to something? His normally straightforward behavior was absent, replaced by scrutiny that she'd never seen before in him. He still looked eager, and ready, but his eyes watched her carefully, not exactly meeting her own. Was he being hiding something? Perhaps this mission wasn't the only thing on his mind--but of course, it wasn't. He just wanted to kill Infected. And he would get his chance to do so.

"All I owe you to say is that Salt Lake has been abandoned and empty for months now. The University itself was entirely cleaned out prior to our work there; you don't expect us to have stayed and operated in a place crawling with Infected, do you?" She turned a paper towards him as she spoke, a pencil with it. A list of volunteer names for Salt Lake. "But the tunnels and sewers were our natural defenses. Naturally, most travelers try to stay underground or away from the light--" She laughed. It was ironic, considering Alysson's arrival. "--Sorry. I was saying; travelers go underground when they can to avoid FEDRA and aggressive populations. Our neighbors in Salt Lake kept unwanted visitors at bay."

"It's only too bad they didn't keep Joel company for longer," she mused, looking thoughtful. "He seemed to arrive at the University quite unscathed considering."

She waved her hand. "But anyway, I presume you'll be going?"

ze_kraken · Jan 22, 2016

Plan A

Barely a moment had passed after the door to the room had shut before it opened again. Jane, still sniveling, rubbing at her puffy and swollen red eyes, had perked up, expecting her father to be in the doorway, ready to make peace. Instead it was Lauren. Their conversation drifted from Harry Potter to living in different quarantine zones to how Lauren felt she should leave with the rest of the Fireflies. How she wasn't going to be left while her siblings took all the risks without her. Jane had considered using this to further sway her father to her side, but when Lauren had admitted that she had yet to run the idea past her siblings (who had implied she was not to step a single foot outside the zone), the hope of making amends through shared circumstance faded.

"But what does this have to do with me?" She had asked as the two sat at opposite ends of the bed.

"You're my way out. You can get me a ride out of here."

"What's in it for me?"

"There's more than one of those books, you know."

The next two days saw the pair planning, rehearsing, and scouting. Lauren had overheard, through her sister, that Zoe intended to have the party leave through the less conspicuous gate into the Zone, though that dose of paranoia only did so well to hide the convoy's location. Even with a day's warning, Jane had realized that there was only so much room to hide an operation like theirs from a zone full of people who, more or less, all knew one another. The young kid with the spiked hair, whose name neither Jane nor Lauren could recall, had left her father a map of the zone in addition to a more generic map of the United States, their route already marked. He had tossed both the zone map and the note that had accompanied the package onto the writing desk for Jane to snatch.

It would be awkward if I became the newbie again,
Don't get lost!
-C.

Jane had no notion as to whether or not her father found any use in a map she knew full well he already had - he hadn't bothered to speak to her for the better part of a day beyond a half-hearted "good morning" - but the map of the zone proved invaluable. Within twenty minutes, Jane and Lauren had turned a well detailed and preserved map of Corpus Christi into a scribbled mess, marked with the route they'd take, the moves they'd make. It had not been until the midday of the second day, with Lauren, Jane's father, and Erik all out and about, the two girls locked in Lauren's room just to be safe, that their plan was set in stone.

Then they had to wait.

---

She'd been awake for an hour, watching as the sky outside turned from bright grey to faded pink to gleaming yellow. Her sleep had been haunted by nightmares: the plan had gone well until her father, now one of the clicking infected, came out from behind one of the supply trucks and set into Lauren. When Jane had gone to shove him off, he'd hurled her back and walked back to the car, driving off without her. Lauren, thrashing on the ground, hands flailing wildly at her side, had jumped up, screeched...

...And that's when Jane had snapped awake, unable to still her thrumming heart. Rather than fall back into sleep, she'd gone over the plan once again in her head, checking it for last-minute flaws. After her father went to do whatever it is he did for the Fireflies, leaving Jane to her own devices, she would grab her book and head into Lauren's room until Erik and Caitlyn left as well. Once they were left alone, they would creep out Lauren's back window, keeping the door shut, and make their way through the back alleys. Lauren would be taking the Fireflies' "dead weight" to go be of some worth packing the vehicles for the journey. The pair would then go to where the 'warehouses' where the Fireflies were keeping the stored supplies, sneak Lauren into a pile of blankets, and land her in the backseat of a four-door pick-up truck, tucked away.

"Mornin', Jane," her father grumbled, tearing Jane from her internal checklist.

"Morning," she replied, voice cracking.

He stood, offered her a fragile smile, and slung his rifle over his shoulder. "Today's the big day, yeah?"

Jane saw the worry that still lingered behind his facade, but she only nodded and watched as he left the room, gently shutting the door behind him.

Let's get going.

---

"There goes Cait," Lauren reported, peeking out the crack in the blinds of her front-facing window. "Let's go."

Jane nodded and moved over to the side window, lifting it open, allowing Lauren to slip through and hold it open from the other side for Jane to follow. It reminded her of the times spent in Atlanta, sneaking out of the barracks at night to spend more time with her father. Later, it became sneaking out to sit atop the roof, or, once, smoke a cigarette one of the girls had plundered from the drill sergeant's office. It had been an awful, acrid smoke that clung to Jane's body until the next day, even if no one ever found out, she had panicked all day.

That's all this is, she told herself as Lauren guided her through the alleyways. But instead of a cigarette...It's a person.

The alleyway gave way to the open street where the convoy would be departing. Already one military-grade supply truck stood, flanked by a sedan, a pick-up truck, and a van that had all seen better days. With dawn having just broken, the number of workers present was minimal.

"You sure your siblings won't be there?" Jane had asked during their planning sessions.

"Nah, they're too important."

Only, there they were, both Caitlyn and Erik.

"Shit."

A Clockwork Tangerine · Jan 26, 2016

======================================== A Few Days Earlier =======================================

"Great," he murmured. The teenager blinked, his heart racing when he realized he'd just said that aloud. It probably sounded disrespectful as hell. He cleared his throat and looked up at Jon with a bit of a forced smile. "Great idea." That had been a lame cover job. And anybody with eyes who had been looking at him when Jon first mentioned Zoë could've seen how tense his body had become, even for that brief moment. Colton shoved his hands in his pockets—an old self-conscious habit that was kind of like a poker tell—and quirked an eyebrow.

"I, however, remain unconvinced that puppy eyes will have any effect on Zoë." The teenager leaned conspiratorially closer to Jon and added in a hushed tone: "She seems more like a crazy cat lady to me."

Jon fully understood Colton's hesitance to meet once more with Zoë and yet- he also recognized it as a valuable opportunity to face down one of his own obstacles. Or two, really, in the form of the external disapproval and his own mental hangups. He didn't seem to respond to the sarcastic mutter though he logged it away and once they were on the move he couldn't help but snicker at the surprisingly accurate characterization of Zoë. "Hey I'll betchya got that'un right- might be threatenin'' 'er witha squirt gun'd be a more 'ffective means of motivation!" he chuckled at the mental imagery, shooting Zoë with water every time she started getting too catty.

Perhaps he wouldn't actually need to confront Zoë again right away. Erik could always lead the two newcomers to her himself, while Jon and Colton waited outside. The only real issue was when she'd need to call them all back to give them details about parts they'd need to be looking for. Lord, it was exhausting. Maybe if Jon were with him, he'd scrape together the courage to face Zoë without getting too tongue-tied, though having to ask the older man was embarrassing as hell. It made him feel like a shy kid hiding behind his parent whenever the scary neighbor tried to introduce herself. He wasn't sure what to do, and so remained silent, as he was accustomed to doing, hood pulled up to hide the worry that etched itself into his brow in deep lines. Jon's voice suddenly snapped him out of it. Colton tried to contain a burst of laughter and ended up going into a coughing fit, his cheeks turning a brilliant shade of red.

"Think if I found her some catnip, she'd mellow out?" he said with a smirk.

Jon was more than happy to keep the joke going and he snickered madly before glancing over at Colton. "That... er getta serious case'a th' munchies an' eat all our food," he stated sorrowfully, as if he were describing a horde of locusts descending upon their crops. "Ah but nothin' else we can do here, I reckon. They'll go have their li'l talk an' Zoë'll throw'a hissy fit..." he paused, wondering if his own cat pun even made sense. "But whatever happens'a them don't effect us none. We oughta get focused on the trip ahead."

And with that he had a moment to reflect, and he turned his attention fully toward Colton and gave him a considering gaze. "Part'a that... s'handlin' yerself in a fight. How much 'sperience ya got fightin'- humans or infected, either one?" He was already putting together a training program in his head, something that would not only help Colton when out in the wilds but also help his self-confidence by helping him learn his own capabilities, and limitations.

"Pfft…" the teenager reined it in, trying not to picture their intrepid leader as a humanoid feline eating all the rations.
Hey, he thought with a grin on his face. Might be a good way to calm myself down. Public speakers picture everyone in their underwear. I'll just picture Zoë in a cat costume. His amusement began to gradually decline to an even keel as he paused to consider what Jon said. No, there wasn't much they could do anymore here, was there? Part of him felt for the newcomers. But a bigger part of him was relieved that he'd be postponing his meeting with Zoë for at least another day. There'd be more time to compose himself and figure out what to say to her. And maybe more time to ask Jon if he'd accompany him to that future meeting for support. Just until he could conduct himself properly.

"Yeah, makes sense," Colton said, pursing his lips as he thought about what to do next. But it seemed Jon had his own ideas. The teenager's hand twitched a little—the one with the bloodstained glove. He was never aware he was doing it, and if anybody noticed it they'd never told him. "I uhh . . . Not a whole heck of a lot," he said. "I'm not bad with guns. Not that great either. I've been using a bow since I was thirteen though. Much more accurate with that. It's helped in a pinch with hunting, and picking off infected that wander too close without alerting a hoarde. I'm umm…" Colton trailed off, suddenly wincing as if he'd just heard a loud noise. "I kinda know how to set traps. Trip wires, pressure switch triggers, but . . . I don't really do that anymore." The teenager dropped his hands and stuffed them in his pockets yet again.

"Too much collateral damage with those."

Jon listened to the account of Colton's skills with a thoughtful nod, and his expression barely shifted throughout though it did cycle through cautious at the mention of guns to far more supportive when he brought up the bow. He picked up swiftly on the reaction to the mention of traps- and without even knowing what was in Colton's past, he could recognize that expression at the least. "Hey now, ya gotta remember- everythin's justa tool. Diff'rent tools got diff'rent jobs, right? Traps can be good fer coverin' yer back, delayin' a chasin' bad guy, protectin' ya for the night even, that sorta thing. But a trap ain't a primary method'a fightin'. It ain't a bad thing- just gotta know when ta use 'em."

Any knowledge could be potentially useful or even life-saving so he objected on a deep-seated level to a refusal to use handy skills for moral reasons. Even with a compelling history to have brought about such hesitation. But he wasn't just going to come out and say it. Breaking into a house with a lockpick might take longer, but it was far less messy than doing so with a sledgehammer. "But hey, that's good thatchya know how ta use a bow- guns are great, but loud. Against other people- that all know yer there? They can't be beat, but they do let ev'ryone know where ya are. An' loud noises... well, I'm sure y'know how that works with infected 'round. Calls 'em faster 'an a dinner bell."

"But sometimes, a gun or bow just- well it ain't always whatchya need, kid. Those're devices, they can help ya do stuff sure, but when ya get down to it- whatchya really got at all times is yerself- yer body. Yer muscles." He raised his arms into a faux fighting position and tensed, flexing the muscles in bicep and forearm alike. "Once ya learn ta trust yer body- all that other stuff is jus' extra. Cuz even if ya run outta ammo or arrows, er yer gun jams er bowstring gets whet er whatever! Ya still got yer body, and ya ain't gonna give up until that gives out!" This pep talk was clearly leading somewhere and now that he'd gotten there, Jon couldn't hide his lopsided grin. "So how 'bout some sparrin' practice?!" he asked, with likely far more enthusiasm than he should have put into it.

Colton nodded subtly at Jon's explanation for trap setting. He had a point. Especially when it came to protecting a base camp from intruders. He'd done that many times back in Red Rock, where he had worked on making silent but deadly traps to keep infected from bumbling into their zone, or to stave off hoardes. But he couldn't help picturing that firefly woman . . . Linda. Making a brave but desperate move to track them down when he and the other hunters had captured Patrick. She'd been so narrowly focused on her pursuit and the fear of being spotted by a nearby group of infected that she hadn't noticed the pressure switch. Not until she'd stepped on it. The ominous rush of air and meaty thump that followed had been horrifying, but at the time, Colton had been mildly pleased despite his disgust. After all, he'd killed one of the people who'd slaughtered his family and friends, right? He'd been so terribly wrong. Now all he could think about was that innocent woman's face frozen in agony with sharpened pipes skewered through her midsection. The blood . . . .

He cleared his throat and dug his thumbnail into the palm of his opposite hand, trying not to disagree, because as much as he hated the reminder, traps were a good way to defend yourself and others. You just had to make damn certain that your allies weren't the ones getting caught in them. The teenager focused his attention back on Jon, his face devoid of expression. It was harder to maintain than he would have liked, but he supposed that was just one of the many, many things he'd need to work on. Colton knew how to use a bow, a gun to a lesser extent, but he'd never really had to fight anything, or anyone, in hand-to-hand combat. Not without a knife. Unless roughhousing with neighborhood kids was suddenly considered combat experience.

Colton lowered the hood from his head and laughed in spite of himself. He'd never seen Jon in such a playful, energetic mood before. And even though his lack of fighting skill embarrassed him, the older man's eagerness was almost as contagious as CBI. Thankfully, not as deadly though.

"Er . . . sure," he said with an awkward grin, trying to mask his insecurity with humor. "I'm just gonna warn you ahead of time: After you see my amazing moves, you might be thinking twice about having me in your group. Maybe even three times."

There was nowhere to go but forward and Jon intended to get there in spite of the constricting grip of the past. He had to get Colton's mind off the failures haunting him and onto his own capabilities. And so he clapped the teen on his back while tilting his head toward the residential buildings. "Good! Be nice if I could sit back an' relax while I letchya go t' town on 'em. Go getchya some'in ta drink an' a snack, an' meet me at th' ol' collapsed cafe."

With that instruction delivered he nodded and jogged towards the abandoned medical sector- behind the dentistry wing sat his backpack on his running route, where he'd stashed it after the morning run. It was on the way toward the cafe anyway. The irony was that he'd chosen that building as his training ground because the gymnasium had been intact, and the Fireflies had seen fit to convert it into a kitchen, food pantry, and eating area. Half of the old cafe had caved in at some point, likely due to a fire in the kitchen but the main eating area was still intact and as such he'd cleared it out over the months and moved in whatever workout equipment could be salvaged. A makeshift pull-up bar, free weights, a climbing rope, benches and in the middle a nice open stretch for martial arts practice. A number of target dummies had been set up for just that- one an actual faux human of faded peach rubber with a weighted stand, several others quite clearly homemade, composed of rough fabric stuffed with dirt most likely.

Jon stepped in and slid open the blanket that served as a curtain across the windows in the front. This place wasn't exactly a secret, and he'd invited several people there in the past- but he didn't want some kid peeking in and thinking this would be a good place to go exploring. Still, there were no lights in the ravaged cafe, fire-based or otherwise, so the natural sunlight coming in through the window was the only real option.

Before Colton showed up, he slung his backpack against the wall and took a sip from the bottle he'd retrieved from it. Water was one of the most precious commodities these days. Frustratingly so given the vast expanse of water stretched out before them in the Gulf. But actual drinking water was hard to come by, thanks to the lack of rain and the deep water table. That would be one nice thing about getting out there again, possibly even to another state. No more water preservation and due collection. Still, Jon spared a sip of water and moved over to the practice bag. Pullups could wait, they had important work to do first. When Colton did show up the sounds of dull thuds would meet his ears to assure him that this was indeed the right spot.

Colton winced good humouredly when Jon slapped his back and scratched the back of his head, gazing at the older man with one eye narrowed. "I don't think taking them out on the town for a nice date is going to help anyone." With his typical odd joke out of the way, the teenager nodded and headed off toward the residences once again, wondering if he had time for a quick smoke. Probably wasn't a good idea. He'd need his lungs at top strength if he were going to be exercising. The last thing he wanted to do was start gagging after five minutes and go puke in a corner with Jon glaring unhappily at him from the wings as he came to the realization that Colton may not exactly have been joking when he told him he'd regret inviting him to join his team. He'd only been in one hand-to-hand fight in his life, and that had not ended well.

The teenager shoved the door open and strode through the building, making his way to the far end room that was kind of isolated from the other ones. At the time, Zoë had claimed it was the only room available, and it probably had been. Not that Colton minded. He sort of liked being off where there wasn't a whole lot of traffic flow. Made for less awkward random encounters with fireflies he didn't know. With a sigh, he opened the door to his room, his eyes fixating on the now lopsided map he'd pinned to his wall a couple days after he first arrived. The semi-detailed state of Texas hung by one dull thumbtack, and where the other half should have been were old scratches that had been etched into the surface with a knife. Colton stared at them for a moment. The words were a bit hard to read now, but not impossible:
You can't be trusted.

Well, that was the general consensus around here, wasn't it? That had been carved into his wall two days after he'd arrived. And what had changed since then? Almost nothing. Now, though, he had a new friend, and a new purpose. A chance to set things straight. He couldn't run from his past. But Jon was right. He could learn from it, and move forward. All he had to do was make the effort, and give it his best, just like this training lesson. Quit being a nervous freak.

"Would that I could just snap my fingers and voila! Magic therapy." Colton smirked briefly and pulled the remaining thumbtack from the wall, taking the map in his hands. No sense hiding it, he thought. Soon, it'll just be another piece of history. He started to crush the map in his hands when a thought suddenly occurred to him.

The teenager rifled through the mess of miscellaneous crap in the top drawer of his dresser. Top drawer was giving it a little too much credit. Only drawer was more like it. After a second, he managed to find a pencil and laid the map on the dresser top, scribbling a note on the back of it and trying not to poke a hole through it in the process thanks to the furniture's dented surface. When he was finished, he folded the map up and stuffed it in his back pocket before fishing his rucksack out from under the bed. His canteen was still about three-fourths of the way filled. The side pocket had a couple firefly-made energy bars that tasted like bits of decades-old cereal and dried fruit held together with wood glue, but it was better than nothing.

Colton threw his pack over his shoulder and made his way out of the building, munching on the bar with a pinched look of determination on his face. It didn't take long for him to reach the café. When he arrived, he looked around a bit, not seeing Jon standing anywhere. A faint thudding sound was coming from nearby though, so the teenager trekked inside, one eyebrow making a familiar upward rise when he saw the workout equipment and training dummies and Jon throwing some casual punches at a heavy bag that had been 'fixed' with a healthy amount of duct tape. He swallowed the last of the snack bar and shoved the trash in his bag before taking a swig of water, relieved to get the bizarre staleness out of his mouth. Screwing the cap back on, he glanced at Jon.

"You just punch any old bag that looks at you funny?" He grinned and put the canteen back in his bag before pulling his jacket off and hanging it on a random dummy. "Joking aside though, this is pretty impressive. Makes me wonder what gyms were like before. Some guy I used to know said they were huge places that smelled like sweat and desperation. And the occasional 'meathead.' Not one-hundred percent sure he meant it like he said, but I prefer not to think about it."

His hands were up. His eyes were focus, his face a mask of concentration that only hinted at a rage contained deep within. Those casual punches were done slow, but precise, with focus on body posture and arm movement, fist position and legwork. Then a series of faster jabs to solidify the technique, putting it into action and cementing it as muscle memory. And the result showed, as the bag bounced even though it was propped against what looked like a metal pole set in a bucket filled with cement.

He paused while resting with an arm holding the bag, and turned his head sideways to meet Colton with a pleased grin. "Can't go lettin' th' other ones think they c'n gettaway with funny looks!" He held his hands out to indicate the room, with its oddly sloping roof on the other side, broken ceiling tiles and light fixtures sticking out of a wall of rubble that used to be the far side of the cafe. "It ain't much but it works. Really, anythin' c'n be a gym- ya can workout with jus' yer body weight, honest. Buuut... it's funner if ya got some stuff ta workout with."

"Speakin'a fun- get over here! Wanna see what I got ta work with." He held his arms out again in a 'come at me, bro' sort of pose. "Gimme a punch- not the face, er groin- but hit me hard as ya can." He seemed quite serious about it too, watching Colton expectantly but with no intent to defend himself.

The teenager watched Jon with a tilt of his head, seemingly a nonchalant pose, but he was actually paying careful attention at how the man was working the bag. He couldn't see Jon's face particularly well in the lighting and thanks to the awkward angle. The small glimpse he did get, however, was surprising. Something about the look in his eyes . . . . It seemed familiar. If he had to place it, he might have said it reminded him of how he felt moments after he'd woken up in his camp at Red Rock, after his family had been stolen from him. He also looked incredibly focused. Like he was channeling that anger into a more useful form of energy. Colton hoped he'd be able to do the same. Jon seemed like a good teacher. Then the glimpse of rage was gone in a flash, when Jon turned to him with an amiable grin.

Colton snickered companionably at the joke, listening to the older man's gym explanation, which didn't sound nearly as bad as the horror story he'd heard when he was younger. They actually sounded pretty damn useful if utilized correctly. Colton glanced at the heavy bag, then back at Jon, the youthful smile on his face faltering and then turning into an amusing look of incredulity. Did Jon really expect him to punch him? Full force? Granted, Colton's most powerful punch would probably give Jon a mild case of the giggles and not much else, but still. The idea actually horrified him just a tiny bit. He struggled for some way to communicate this, or come to terms with it, but all that came out was another tirade of self-effacing jokes that did little to instill confidence in the teenager.

"This is some weird ploy to get me to punch you so you can whip out some secret kung-fu shit and knock me on my ass, isn't it?"

Colton took a deep breath, walking over toward the older man with a reluctance that might have suggested he was stepping in front of a firing squad.

"You . . . really want me to just sock you in the chest? No bullshit?"

The hesitation was expected, but appreciated. Jon shook his head as Colton approached. "Well knockin' ya on yer ass does have its worth! But that ain't th' point right now. Here's yer first lesson, Colton: A man's word is his bond. There's room fer jokes an' sarcasm sure, but fer a real man, when it really counts: his yes means yes, an' his no means no. Now go on."

====================================================================================================

After the training session, Colton headed back to his room. The map from his back pocket was gone. He'd tracked down where the newcomers Scott and Jane were staying and left it for them, not knowing how useful it'd be, but more concerned with making them feel welcome. If it was one thing he knew could dampen the spirits, it was being unwelcome in a strange place. So he'd written a little note on the back. A little joke to lighten the mood and hopefully make them feel a little better. Now, he shoved his pack under his bed, flopped onto his mattress (wincing at the spring that jabbed him in the chest), and closed his eyes. The teenager had only meant to take a nap. It seemed his body had other plans.

Colton stirred from his slumber at four in the morning. The grogginess was still a cloud around his head, and his shoe clanked against the metal frame of the cot. A seemingly innocuous sound, he nevertheless started and clambered out of bed, breathing heavy and staring into the shadows as if he expected something to come staggering out of them. It took him a moment to remember where he was. When that happened, the nerves slowly settled, but he knew he wasn't going back to sleep. He got dressed into a set of cleaner clothes and spent the rest of the day going over what he'd learned with Jon, taking a shift on guard duty, and then going for a run around the base. There was a rumor going around that Zoë planned on calling another meeting to set things in motion. With that inevitability hanging over him, he put himself through the paces, doing whatever work he could find to keep himself occupied, including lending a helping hand to the 'farmer flies' who were still hard at work organizing and getting there plans solidified. When the day started to wind down, he took a short smoke break on the roof again. Soon, all this would be gone, and he'd be out in the terrifying world again, vulnerable to infected and humans alike. But this seemed to bother him less than the thought of losing people. Again, again, again. Friends, fellow fireflies . . . even acquaintances. He just hoped he wouldn't crack or screw up and be responsible for those losses. With these thoughts weighing on him, he snuffed the cigarette and headed back to his room, falling into a fitful sleep that left him just as tired as if he'd never slept at all.

The next day, the rumors turned out to be true. Zoë called a meeting. Colton's first thought was to find Jon and attend the meeting with him, but he was hesitant. Not just because he thought it'd make him look insecure. And it would. But because he felt like this was a challenge he needed to take on by himself. So he dragged himself out of the room and headed for the Hole, his hood up and his hands shoved deep in his pockets, the internal dialogue already churning in his head. When he hit the floor of the Hole, his eyes locked onto Zoë for a brief moment before noticing Barry and a few other engineers whose names he couldn't recall. Instead of climbing up his 'rope ladder' and sitting in the rafters like last time, he leaned against the back wall and did his best to remain as inconspicuous as possible.

"Fireflies! It's time we get to work!"

Zoë's voice rang out across the room. It was finally happening. Everything was being set in motion . . . Now he'd just need to find some way to explain to Zoë that he was going out on this mission anyway, despite her express disapproval. They would have lists, maps, and would be put into different groups. There'd be safe houses and caches. Of course, they'd be supplied for the journey, but there wouldn't be a whole lot to go around. Colton was fine with that. He was kind of used to working with few tools and improvising.

"Before you all leave, we do need some volunteers to go and secure abandoned Zones and areas for Firefly use."

At this news, the teenager perked up a little more. He was curious to know where he might be headed. Three locations? Des Moines, Concord, and Salt— The crowd hummed with disturbed groans and whispers. Colton merely stood there like a deer in headlights, eyes wide, heart racing. Salt Lake? Was she serious? That's where . . . . The fear he'd been trying to contain suddenly fell over him like a smothering blanket of ice. It had nothing to do with the man called Joel, though Colton knew a little bit about that. But that's where Avery came from. The man who'd killed Patrick and the other fireflies, and might have killed Colton if Patrick hadn't convinced him he was fighting for the wrong side. Salt Lake was perfectly safe? I highly doubt that. The teenager groaned, hardly hearing the rest of Zoë's speech, including her request for volunteers to approach. Any guts he might have accumulated before he stepped into the Hole were gone now. Lost in a sea of suspicions and doubts about Salt Lake. Colton grunted and left without saying a word, climbing back out into the fresh air and disappearing to one of his many hiding spots around the base. He didn't talk or interact with anybody until the day the volunteers were set to leave, and even then he hardly said anything as he helped get the trucks loaded up and ready to go.

(Credit to @Insomnant

Rainjay · Jan 28, 2016

Corpus Christi - Texas
Naval Air Station Corpus Christi - Firefly Quarantine Zone
Vehicle Loading Warehouse

"Oh, fuck!"

Lauren grabbed Jane by the wrist, tugging her behind a stack of crates. Her sister and brother were standing near the pick-up, talking to a third Firefly as they loaded the vehicle. Peeking over the top of the crate she knelt behind, she watched them, just moving back and forth in the same small space, never going very far from the truck. She could spot the little nook where she'd planned to hide, mostly left alone, but if they decided to drop one of these crates there...

"They told me they would be with Zoë!" she whispered fiercely, glancing at Jane and back to the three Fireflies. "Great. Now what do we do? I can't--"

She paused, then lit up with a sly grin. "Okay. I've got an idea, if you're up for it. Your father isn't here yet, so you should be totally safe to act as a distraction of sorts, right? You don't need to run out there or anything. But I have a stash..."

Alongside searching for the beloved Harry Potter books, her brother also brought back other random trinkets from his patrols and hunts for his sister. He brought home loads of things; dead lighters, empty lockets, cereal box comics, small marble figures, and things she didn't even know the use for. He simply loaded up things that looked interesting into his bag and dumped it out on her bed after he got back. Once, she'd found these weird colorful tube like things, like cylindrical box packaging, only she'd discovered by accident what happened if she lit them on fire. After tearing them open and finding what looked like the wick of a candle, she'd retrieved her matches and lit not just one, but three of the strange boxes. They started to whistle piercingly--candles definitely did not do that--and before she could get water to soak them, they exploded, sending sparks flying and up into the sky. It was beautiful.

Not very far from here was where she had hidden the remaining fireworks. Marlene had been so mad after she caught Lauren that she'd lost the other two she'd had with her; seven remained, buried in a box underneath a grate in the nearby warehouses. The grate was loose, and there was a little cavity inside, perfect for hiding things.

Reaching into the jacket she wore, she pulled out her small box of matches, pressing them into Jane's hand. "Across there," she said, pointing to the warehouse, "inside that building, is a grate. It's on the far right side, left of one of the giant windows. There's an old box that says 'U-HAUL' on it right in front of it. If you look, there's a red line dashed across the upper corner. The grate is behind it. It's a bit of a squeeze, but if you can get there, inside is a box of these color-grenades. Don't light them inside of the building, but out in the street. Light all of them at once and then run. It should be loud enough to get their attention."

orange The preparations for the scouting trips are almost over. The convoy for Salt Lake will be leaving first, and members of the group are loading the last of their supplies into their provided vehicles. Zoë will be there to see you off at 9 AM sharp. Grab some guns from the armory--maybe they have something nice left in stock--a final, home grown meal, and get ready to go! After everyone is gathered by the roadside, we'll begin off into the great unknown.

ze_kraken · Jan 29, 2016

Plan B

Jane reluctantly took the matches from Lauren, offering them a quick look-over. Surprisingly well-kept, though it did beg the question why Lauren carried them so candidly in her pocket; she cast the thought aside and, with no where better to put them, shoved the matches into her jacket pocket.

"...Light them all at once and then run. It should be loud enough to get their attention."

"Did you just call fireworks..." Jane paused. "Forget it. Right. Warehouse. Box. Matches. Run."

Lauren nodded and retreated out of sight into the alleyway, nestled behind a rusty hulk of a dumpster, more red-brown than green paint. Jane took a cautious step out into the street and hunched low by a stack of wooden crates, peering over the edge to examine the street. More crates, mostly re-purposed metal boxes and, in some cases, entire lockers, dotted the road in sporadic clusters. To her left stood Caitlyn and Erik, chatting with the third Firefly, rooted firmly in front of the pick-up truck. To her right, three Fireflies working on hauling a series of crates into the bed of the supply truck. The van and the sedan remained, currently, alone.

Jane, hunched low to the ground, crept over to the sedan and checked its door. Locked. Casting away the immediate thought of well, let's go find a key, Jane backtracked to her original spot and huffed. If she...

"Hey, Erik, give me a hand with this?" The third Firefly.

Curious, Jane glanced up and over the crate, watching as Erik went to work beneath the hood of the truck. Caitlyn opened the door and attempted to start the engine, which sputtered and went out in an electrical whine. Jane's gaze shifted to where the three Fireflies worked on the larger truck: they were all out of sight. Swallowing hard, attempting to beat-down the bubbling fear in her gut, Jane shot up and darted across the street as quietly as she could.

"Be damned if I'm lettin' a dead battery screw this trip over," the third Firefly grumbled. "Erik, mind gettin' my kit from the bed?"

Shitshitshitshit.

Jane, currently pressed up against the back of the truck in question, quickly slid underneath the vehicle, watching as Erik's feet came into view around the side. Heart pounding fiercely enough to burst clean out of her chest, Jane waited as Erik fumbled around in the bed of the truck and stepped back out, lugging clanking tools. She was so close to the warehouse...Only a quick dash through a partially open doorway. Gritting her teeth in frustration, Jane cautiously slid out from beneath the car on the opposite side of the trio, crawled over to front of the vehicle and spared a look around the corner.

If she went quietly enough, Jane could risk a run for the doorway... Erik and the third Firefly were intent on their work, and Caitlyn watched them, head sticking out the window. Jane made her move. She breached the gap between her and the doorway in little under three seconds, squeezed through the doorway, and nearly stumbled over a crate in the entrance of the warehouse. Letting out a gasp, fighting to stay on her feet, Jane fumbled around awkwardly in the doorway for a moment before she readjusted herself. Balance regained, she gave the warehouse a quick look-over, craned her ears, and waited. Nothing. Erik and Caitlyn weren't going for the doorway, and no one was in the warehouse to her knowledge.

"Grate....Grate..." She muttered to herself, searching through row after row of mismatched and haphazardly erected shelves. "Grate..."

Aha!

Nestled underneath a wooden board, barely visible, shone a metal grate just wide enough for a few boxes. Gingerly hefting up the board and shoving it aside, Jane inspected the grate, just barely able to read "U-HAUL" through the metal. With considerable effort, the girl dragged the grate up long enough for a free hand to snag a box out of the U-HAUL container. A few firecrackers, a Roman candle, and two real pieces or ordnance. Jane pocketed the Roman candle and took the two bigger fireworks out of the box, placing them to the side of the grate before she went through the effort of burying's Lauren's stash again.

Taking the side door out of the warehouse, into a fenced-off alleyway, Jane planted the fireworks on the ground and checked to make sure they would not explode upon an overhead covering. Satisfied with her placement, she reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out one of Lauren's matches.

This is so stupid...

Jane hunched low to the ground, scraped the match along the surface of the ground, and lit the fuse of the firework, quickly moving to ignite the second one. She quickly dropped the match and darted back into the warehouse, running for Lauren's grate. Too little room! Jane cursed and ran for the nearest sturdy shelf, tripping at the sudden noise of the fireworks beginning to go off. Grimacing - she'd landed poorly on her ankle - Jane ducked behind two crates on a low shelf, laying low to the ground to hide behind, just as the alarmed cries of Fireflies began to sound...

"Shit! SHIT! Where's that coming from?! We're under attack!"

Under attack by color grenades....Jane, in spite of herself, giggled softly. Color grenades...

A Clockwork Tangerine · Feb 9, 2016

Colton sighed and armed sweat from his brow as he finished loading a few crates worth of supplies into the back of one of the vehicles. The teenager was definitely off today. More so than usual, and he knew it was because of the news about Salt Lake. He wasn't exactly sure why it bugged him so much. Sure, Avery had once been there, but he'd moved on since then and was likely as far away from St. Mary's as one could get. There was also a chance that he was already dead, which would make worrying about him moot. Then again, he could still be very much alive, and not wondering where he was and what he might be planning could be dangerous. And he still hadn't talked to Zoë and told her he was going whether she wanted him to or not. It was just getting to him. The weight of the impending trip, the possibilities, the repercussions, the confrontations . . . . Colton literally felt heavier. Sluggish. At one point he even found it hard to breathe, but he kept it together the best he knew how. The teenager needed to learn how to manage it. Contain it. The last thing he needed to do was lose his shit before the journey even started.

He grunted and took a small sip of water from his canteen before securing it to his belt again, taking a quick look around. Where the hell is Jon? he wondered. Colton realized he hadn't seen the man since their training session a couple days ago and that made him feel about the size of an ant. After the effort Jon had made to track him down, invite him along, help him develop his fighting skills, and then for Colton to just blow him off because he wasn't "in the mood" to socialize. Pathetic. The teenager groaned and jammed the heel of his palm into his forehead in a dunce cap gesture and started to walk toward Erik to ask him if he'd seen the older man (Cait was in the vehicle Erik was working on, but he'd just have to suck it up) when a sudden and completely unexpected barrage of bangs filled the air.

His adrenaline spiked and his heart slammed in his chest. Was somebody firing on their camp? It sounded like gunshots, but . . . something was off. Colton couldn't quite put his finger on it. The noise was different, somehow. Shit! SHIT! Every firefly in the vicinity went on red alert. Weapons were drawn. Whatever the blasts were, they were coming from behind the warehouse. Colton saw some of the fireflies moving to either side of the building, so he decided to go through it, drawing his gun and jogging toward the entrance that Jane had used. He peeked around the door, saw nothing, and cautiously moved further in, eyes sweeping the interior for any possible intruders. His gaze lingered around the area the 'culprit' was hiding. Then he headed off toward the side door, carefully shifting his weapon as he stepped out. A couple fireflies ran past him toward the alleyway, so he stayed put just inside the door, watching their backs and casting a glance back toward the warehouse entrance before stepping out a little farther.

What he saw both confirmed his suspicions that it hadn't been gunshots and left him utterly confused. Colored tubes exploding with equally colorful sparks of light. He'd saw them only a couple times before. Tracy had told him they were . . . fire . . . fireworks! The fuck are fireworks . . . . Colton's eyes widened. There was only one reason someone would set off fireworks. A distraction. But rather than the innocent reason they'd really been lit for, he suspected something devious. Like the precursor to a raiding party. Colton backed up and went through the warehouse again, looking out the entrance at the vehicles. Most of the fireflies had moved off to see what the commotion was. It'd be the perfect opportunity for someone to make off with supplies.

Or a vehicle or two.

"Son of a bitch," he murmured.

The Last of Us: Last Hope

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