World of Decay

"I'm not here to hurt anyone. Some of my friends got killed by some roadsters, so pardon my lack of hospitality" Jordan said, starting to notice that there were more than a few zed around that corner.

Nodding curtly, Shaun indicated that he would let the uncivilized introduction slide. With a brief glance he turned and surveyed the approaching walkers, disgusted. There was no sign of fear in his eyes. Only the deep stare hatred and the glint of some deep, hidden hurt. He then returned his attention to the soldier.

"Before we had to leave our base there was a rumor going around from some survivors we rescued that people are hiding out at the dam and have got the thing running and chugging out electricity. That's my overall objective now, since everyone I know is dead" he made the first gesture to ease down the situation, lowering his rifle first and then raising it nearly immediately afterwards, but not at the other survivors.

The age lines on Shaun's forehead deepened, indicating that he was assessing their situation here. He was still a little askance towards this fellow, however, at least the guy had a plan. Pulling his bow out once again, Shaun quickly notched an arrow, sighing, and prepared to spear some flesh-eaters if need be. He wouldn't show it, but he was actually fairly relieved to have someone with a gun with him.

"I'm Officer Bolt, Afghanistan veteran. I was sent home and have been with a militia ever since. Not that my background should give you reason to trust me, but at the moment I think we can talk about getting to know eachother a mile westward. There's some taller trees that direction, and I have gear to sleep in said trees"
He said, his eyes never moving away from the EOTech's target reticle that was firmly layered over an undead's head.

Shaun shivered slightly in the night cold, breath fogging into a vapor in front of him. The gurgled growls and shambling feet were nearly upon them now, and he wasn't sticking around to dance. Looking hard and clear into Officer Bolt's eyes, he indicated he was making a difficult decision by choosing to trust him. "Hell, sounds good to me. Lead the way."
 
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Sam looked between the two men that stood near her and sighed. "Fine." She replied and kept her knife in her hand as the walkers got closer to them. She dodged out of the way of a few her feet tapping lightly against the ground as she avoided being grabbed and bit by the few that had come close enough to them. "Now would be a particularly good time to go gentlemen..." She urged the two men and nodded towards the direction directly opposite of the hoard that was closing in on them.
 
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Without hesitation, Jordan turned and began running. It wasn't a hundred yards of the heavy jog that he gripped his chest as he went. He could feel those tiny pieces of shrapnel from that old wound scratching at his muscles and bone. The wound that wasn't completely fixed, because his surgery was scheduled a whole two weeks after patient zero appeared.
" I have a nice aircraft harness, used to hold down the Blackhawks and Pavelows...we...I...use them for restraining myself...against a tree by making a "bed" across the branches...just letting you know...in case I can't do much more runnin'...but I should be able to suck it up for a six minute run" he said, fighting to get the words out, run, keep from banging his knees on his rifle dangling from his chest holster, hold his chest and breathe. Sometimes all that gear really sucked. But it's those moments when you can't run anymore that made it worthwhile.
A stumbling zombie fell from the side of the wood lines, but about the time that it's rotten brain registered the running soldier, he had already sprinted into it, breaking it's jaw with his shoulder. Infected blood smashed all over his grimy uniform but it didn't phase him. Hell, it didn't even look like he blinked.

Up on the horizon was the large sections of trees he had spoke of, and behind them, the zombies were starting to get a hold of their scent.

(@Bluemoon.xx @Whispers_of_imagination )
 
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With a sharp inhale, Shaun faced a group of six walkers that had managed to get within his personal bubble. This did not bode well for them. Priming his bow, he took aim at the leader of the pack. Standing about six feet in height, with his left arm missing, a sharply dressed zed glared at him, mouth snapping rapidly. Exhaling airily, the practiced hunter fired. With incredible force, the arrow he released sunk about 6 inches into the incoming abominations skull, sending its rotten form crumpling to the ground. Partly clotted blood oozed out of the wound. Rolling his shoulders, Shaun let out a little "Yeah!". He was feeling pumped.

Noticing that Officer Bolt had....well....bolted, Shaun took no time in following suit, quiver bouncing as he ran.

" I have a nice aircraft harness, used to hold down the Blackhawks and Pavelows...we...I...use them for restraining myself...against a tree by making a "bed" across the branches...just letting you know...in case I can't do much more runnin'...but I should be able to suck it up for a six minute run" he said, fighting to get the words out, run, keep from banging his knees on his rifle dangling from his chest holster, hold his chest and breathe.

Grunting in acknowledgment, Shaun huffed and puffed, showing that his age was beginning to catch up with him. He sure as hell hoped that six minutes worth was all the running they'd have to do.
 
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Sam kept up with the two just fine as they jogged through the woods. She looked over her shoulder to check on Shaun every now and then to make sure he was doing okay. Bolt seemed to be in pain but he was pushing through it. The wind whipped through her hair and in just a week she had become a better runner. She followed towards the camp wondering what it would be like.
 
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"Treetops up ahead! Ill go up last since I have the better ranged weapons!" Jordan said, pointing to a tree that had yellow aircraft harnesses in it already, making a hammock across five or six hefty oak branches. It seemed sturdy, and there were some boot marks from where Jordan had climbed up there before.
Suddenly, the soldier dropped to a knee, aimed at the area behind them and quietly listening to his own breathing and for zed footsteps that might be near.
His weapon was at a near perfect 45 degree angle, perfect for performing headshots on any wandering walkers.
 
"Thank you." Sam told him as she began to scramble up the tree following the marks from his shoes that he had made. She lifted herself up to the top branch and cautiously moved onto the net that was slung across. She looked down and motioned for Shaun to come up and join her. She leaned over the branch to help him when he got close enough.
 
"Treetops up ahead! Ill go up last since I have the better ranged weapons!" Jordan said, pointing to a tree that had yellow aircraft harnesses in it already, making a hammock across five or six hefty oak branches. It seemed sturdy, and there were some boot marks from where Jordan had climbed up there before.

Shaun scanned the tree line for the makeshift hammock. Following Officer Belts finger, he spotted it. Suspended fairly high in the forest canopy, it wasn't the most luxurious accommodation; but it was just going to have to do. Anything to keep his skin on his bones for another night. Heaving loudly, Shaun noticed the pounding of his heart had reached his ears, nearly blotting out all sound. He was tiring quickly. Growling, he pressed on, pounding his way towards their destination.

Sam looked down and motioned for Shaun to come up and join her. She leaned over the branch to help him when he got close enough.

Shaun laughed to himself, despite their situation. This was one hell of a turn of events. One minute he was peacefully picking off a few walkers from his carefully chosen hunting perch; and now, he was running willy-nilly with two strangers, caught in the sights of nearly one hundred. Ah, how life can throw you a curveball.

Reaching, Shaun took Sam's hand, hoisting himself up with strength. Settling into aircraft harness with a grunt, he took a moment to catch his breath, still sucking in air fairly rapidly. After a moment had passed, his air intake stabilized; as did his heart rate. Feeling strength return to him, as well as clarity of thought, Shaun sighed. Without skipping a beat, he primed his bow, aiming with precision at the vast approaching horde. Lord knows he was going to take down a few more of the bastards before bed.
 
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Jordan tuned and began to climb the tree when one of his arteries rubbed the ribbed shrapnel in his chest.
" Fucking...fuck....shit, I need help...." his tone of voice was somewhere between combat dementia and pain. Combat dementia was what his unit in Afghanistan called it. When yo got shot several times and thought you were dead. The pain hurt the same, but part brain starts pumping you full of adrenaline while other is thinking of ways to make it's final goodbyes. Probably the fact it was his gunshot wound made him start recollecting those emotions- but that's something most civilians probably didn't understand.

He firmly anchored his right hand on a branch, extending his left towards both of the people he had helped earlier.

"Please...just pull me up..." he said, begining to grunt from his chest pains. He ran a little too hard. A six minute mile wasn't in his system just yet.
 
With a violent hiss, an arrow plowed into the neck of a teenage zombie, passing through completely. The walker continued shambling, not in the least bit phased by the gruesome wound. It was coming dangerously close to Officer Belt, and Shaun was actively attempting to bring it down. Yelling random expletives, he reached for another arrow. As he was about to notch it out, he heard Officer Bolt moan something.

" Fucking...fuck....shit, I need help...." The soldiers tone of voice was somewhere between combat dementia and pain.

Scrambling urgently to the edge of the aircraft harness, Shaun bent towards the injured soldier, noticing the wounded fashion in which he was moving and speaking.

Officer Bolt firmly anchored his right hand on a branch, extending his left towards both of the people he had helped earlier. "Please...just pull me up..." he said, begining to grunt from his chest pains.

"I've got ya! Grab on!" Shaun said, extending his muscled arm.

helping-hands.jpg
 
With surprising ease Bolt was able to pull himself up with a little help. He immeaduately took off his military MOLLE rig and his shirt, exposing a torso with two distinct bullet scars and a lot of lean muscle packed on it.
"If anyone has a clean knife I'm about to perform botched surgery on myself..." he said, pointing to a gunshot scar that was seemingly on his heart.
" I just...I can't get all of it but there's a big chunk near the top of my skin and it's killing me...oh Jesus this hurts"
 
With surprising ease Bolt was able to pull himself up with a little help. He immediately took off his military MOLLE rig and his shirt, exposing a torso with two distinct bullet scars and a lot of lean muscle packed on it.

"If anyone has a clean knife I'm about to perform botched surgery on myself..." he said, pointing to a gunshot scar that was seemingly on his heart.
" I just...I can't get all of it but there's a big chunk near the top of my skin and it's killing me...oh Jesus this hurts"


Shaun grimaced at these words. Not because he was disgusted by the thought of botched surgery. Not at all. He grimaced because he was a hunter, and had extensive experience with surgically carving flesh. Eyebrows furrowing, he clasped the soldiers shoulder with his left hand, the other pulling out one of his arrows. He gripped it at the neck, just beneath the tip, and looked momentarily at the soldiers scarred chest. His eyes locked stoically onto Officer Belt's.

"Don't carve yourself up. Let me handle it." he said, face impassive and calm. "I've got quite a bit of experience quartering game." A bit of sweat formed on his brow-line, attempting to cool him down after his frantic run. "I don't know how to stitch you up, but I can clear you out."

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"Do you have any fishing line? Back at the base I held up north, we used fishing like to stitch up any survivors who had wounds" he said, begining to mentally prepare himself for an insane amount of pain.
 
A bleak laugh escaped Shaun's lips. Pointing out across the sea of undead, he indicated a barely distinguishable shape against the distant trees. "I've got some back at my cabin."

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"Lets hold off on it then...I just have to calm down and it will stop hurting...my artery veins rub against some of the shrapnel fragments" he said, calmly laying down an taking off his helmet. In his backpack, he had a random assortment of items. More harnesses, a blanket with blood stains and an Indian pattern on it, empty STANAG magazines, split shotgun shells, a folded parachute tarp, a radio, a bag of guts...wait...a bag of guts?
The fat was a whitish color, so it was a processed meat, likely bovine or swine, but it seemed so odd for him to pack it around in its rotting state. And the bag itself was probably rancid.
"If you need a blanket to keep warm, I've got a folded up on in there" He said, putting his shirt back on but nothing else.
 
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Samantha stared down at the walkers below them. She had kept her distance during the ordeal and was trying to figure out a way to take some of them down. She noticed a tree next to them, it looked to be dead. Maybe if she could somehow push it over it or cut a few branches off it would take out some of the walkers. She moved closer to it and eyed a few of the branches closest to her. She had a knife with a serrated edge that may be able to do the trick. She looked at the two men before leaping over to the other tree. She just made it to a fork where the tree split into two sections. When she realized that most of the branches were too thick she let out a groan and looked at the walkers again. Such filthy creatures. Sam began to think again.
 
"ignore them, they can't get us from here. I've got some pig guys to throw at them, they usually wander off while we sleep if they have something to fight over and eat. They aren't very bright"
 
While on his rooftop he heard gun fire and would turn to look in the direction it came from. He quickly grabbed some binoculars and after a few minutes of searching caught a glimpse of some people being chased by a huge group of walkers.. he sighed and looked down thinking they won't survive the night attracting so many of them. He then put them down and sighed he grabbed his blades and his revolver. Even though it was suicide to go out there he wanted to go check it out. He started to climb down and fire escape and when he got to the ground he saw a lone walker and sliced it in half.. He got some rubber gloves on a put it's blood on his clothing to hide his smell.. it made him gag a little because the decaying smell was so strong.. he started to run towards the woods seeing the sun starting to go down.. he finally reached the horde and he hid behind a tree about fifty meters away from them he looked and saw survives in the tree hiding from them. He sighed knowing he was going to be there all night.. but he stayed up and watched quietly waiting for the walkers to leave the area
 
"Lets hold off on it then...I just have to calm down and it will stop hurting...my artery veins rub against some of the shrapnel fragments" he said, calmly laying down an taking off his helmet.

Shaun nodded a little, settling into a lying down position on the aircraft harness. "Well, as long as you feel you'll be alright." Shaun said in a kind tone, although he knew darn well that there wasn't anything he could do regardless.

"If you need a blanket to keep warm, I've got a folded up on in there"

Shaun looked up at the treetops with a distant expression, trying to mentally drown out the sounds of the dead just beneath them. Smiling at the offer, the hunter shook his head. "Nah, I'll be alright." he said humbly, crossing his arms over his chest. "And plus, you need it more than I do. The warmth will keep your veins from hardening up and prevent the shrapnel from causing you more pain than is necessary." A hardened expression passed briefly over the hunters features. "We'll need to be at our best in the morning."
 
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"what about the lady? She might need it- I can lay my gear on me if I have to" he said, trying to be humble and nice to let them use the blanket.
He whipped out a reflective end of the parachute and placed several magazines on it.
"Old snipers trick I learned. While I never even picked up a MK14 or Remington 700, I did have friends that were snipers. Anyway, you set your bullets and magazines on a reflecting tape or spot and it will heat up the bullets and magazines. The heat does help them significantly when it comes to bullet speed- even though this isn't Afghanistan the principal can minimally apply. If the horde left a large quantity of stragglers behind, I'll let you borrow my Spas-12. I hope you've got the shoulder for it- it's a fixed stock"
 
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