"Rebuild": A Zombie Survival RP

I had been sitting on the stairs the whole night, only once getting up to go to the bathroom, I sneaked back into the room on my way back, got my rucksack and my coat, checked on Lola. She seemed to be sound asleep and I went out again. I dozed off once in a while, but never for long because my brain wouldn’t stop working.

With my head leaned against the bannister, pumping my light in one hand, I tried to read, but not even Reacher could keep the wheels in my mind from churning. Book and light landed beside me on the stairs.

Nothing was happening downstairs, once I heard some rumor further upstairs and I wondered if that was the group who was hiding there. Early in the night Peter had been wandering around. A few times someone came out off one of the rooms behind me and went to the bathroom, but all in all it was a very quiet night. Much quieter than I had expected. Except for the four SMS’ses I got from my daughters, my Ex and a friend …

Morning announced itself with some grey light. I started to write down the ideas that had been swirling through my head all night. As soon as people started to get up and wander through the library I got up and went to the bathroom. Washing oneself with paper-towels isn’t very funny, but I got it done and I dressed in my spare clothes. I asked myself why I hadn't put a deodorant somewhere in my rucksack. Everything else I had: mini flacons of my favorite shampoo and soap, toothpaste, toothbrush, hairbrush ... My undies I washed and didn’t know where to put them to dry. Most of the water I pressed out off them with some more paper-towels. Then I wrapped them loosely in some and put them in my rucksack. I brushed my teeth and combed my hair and I was ready for the day. Only then I realized how many towels I had used.

Max was handing out breakfast and I eagerly took a yoghurt and a sandwich.

“Meeting on the second floor at eight.” He had said and was on his way before I could say more as “Thank you”. I met one of the girls and a young man who had stayed behind yesterday evening. They never had introduced themselves to me and I asked them their names as we walked to the meeting.

“I am John.” He said softly. “John Mayers. Norah is my sister.” I must have looked quite astonished, he was about half a head taller than I am, his skin-color deep brown, and she was very petite, a head smaller than I am, and fair -the shade ladies from earlier times would have killed for- with Celtic reddish hair.

“We are both adopted.” Norah explained. She spoke so softly she almost whispered. They stayed with me, when we sat down I had to chuckle, John sat himself beside his sister, and I sat myself without thinking on her other side.


The meeting went well, I didn’t say much, we agreed on calling the Zombies, Zombies. Some wanted to go home. As if Peter had heard some of my thoughts of last night he initiated a meet and greet. Finally!

A teenager introduced himself as Kip, and a grown man as Cramer Grimes, an organic farmer. A woman was just telling something about herself, she seemed to be as good a cook as I am, when a helicopter made her stop.

“Stay Inside” was the message we got. Knowing what I knew, I knew that wasn’t really an option. Peter looked quite relieved though.

“Who’s next?” Peter asked after we had rejoined around the table.

“To a few of you I have introduced myself already.” I said. Again I told them my name and told them I was Dutch. “I am a middle-school teacher. My subject is history, the theme of my exam-project was “The defensive structures of castles in Gelderland in the fourteenth century.” I have some ideas how we quite easily could adept some of those proved old methods for this building. After we are done with the meet and greet, Peter, I have something to tell. I had contact with Holland this night, and I think there is something you all need to know. But that can wait until all have made their introductions. We have to know each other, because we are in this together. Think of it as a rope we are all pulling on. If one pulls suddenly a lot harder than his neighbor, or suddenly stops pulling, changes are big that that neighbor is going to fall. ”

Nobody said anything.

I looked at John. To my surprise it was Norah who started to talk.

Before she told them her name, she told them her brother and she both were adopted.

“I am two weeks short of my eighteenth birthday.” She then said. “I was planning on studying engineering.”

With a big grin John said he was her brother. If the unbelieving expressions and sounds were any indication of how I had looked I now knew that I hadn’t looked astonished but flabbergasted.

“I am half a year older than my sister, but we got adopted on the same day. So we also are twins somehow.” Not only I, nearly all giggled or chuckled at this revelation.

“My talents aren’t as practical as those of my sister. I like to work with fabrics. I designed what Norah is wearing.” He sounded very proud of himself as said that and I looked at Norah’s clothes as did many others. I hadn’t thought about her clothes before, she wore a jeans and a blouse. Like I did too. But hers were extremely well fitting I noticed now, not only color-wise but also the fit and style.

He thinks his talents not as practical as those of his sister, I thought. That will change in no-time.

Kip

Kip had been inconspicuously ogling the girl who introduced herself as Norah, finding her very attractive. He'd been wanting to find a way to introduce himself, but the tragedy of the events made such a thing seem a bit inappropriate.

And now, learning that she wasn't yet 18 years old made him even more leery. He was only a few months older than her, but that age limit of 18 that the various governments and social norms deemed as a line in the sand for relationships wasn't something that was simply ignored in proper society.

Of course, the whole End of the world as we know it thing that was happening right now made Kip wonder whether such social norms even mattered anymore. Hell, if he wanted to introduce himself, flirt, court, kiss, or make love to her before she reached 18, who was going to stop him, right?

He suddenly felt his face flush red with embarrassment. The answer to that question -- "Who was going to stop him...? -- was simple: it was him.

Kip wasn't the ladies man that Peter was. His entire sexual history to date included only three events, each of them more embarrassing than the last.

At age 16, he was caught by his grandmother making out with his cousin at the family reunion. At 17, while again making out and grinding hips in the back seat of his father's Buick with the high school's sluttiest cheer leader, he erupted prematurely while still fully dressed and was ridiculed for the event for much of the next two years. And at 18, while on a high school ski trip to a lodge in Aspen, he finally got naked with a girl he'd met while on the slopes, only to have her boyfriend catch them and throw Kip out into the lodge's parking lot with nothing to conceal his body but his goggles and his ski poles.

If anyone was going to keep Kip from getting anywhere with someone like Norah, it was going to be Kip's own history and bad luck.

(OOC: This post is just a "Hmm, let's consider this" post. These two characters aren't even identified.)


Earlier this morning:

He zipped his fly, pushed down on the urinal's lever, and headed to the sink to wash his hands. As he walked past his brother, he grimaced, wrinkling his nose. "Jesus! You need a shower."

The older brother back handed the younger sibling, asking, "What do you expect. I sweat like a pig yesterday, running from those fucking monsters. It's gotta be a mile from Autzen to here."

"What're we gonna do for showers?"

The older brother looked around the bathroom. It was just your typical bathroom, of course: urinals, toilets, and sinks. No showers. "Remember when Sis was born...? And mom said we needed another bathroom, 'specially another bathtub and shower?"

"Yeah, so?"

"Well... Dad built one, dummy," the older bro' laughed. "Tapped into the existing plumbing and built one. If we stay here much longer, we'll have to build showers in the bathrooms. Simple"

"Dad went to Jerry's for the parts and tools," the younger sibling said with a harsh tone as they headed out into the hall and toward their seats next to the windows. "You gonna take a walk to Jerry's...? With the Zombies out there? Hell, you need a shower, but even I don't want you to go out there for PVC and a faucet head."

As the pair sat, the older brother looked down upon the plaza below the Library, down upon the Zombies walking about, searching for humans to attack. "Well ... we just might have to go steal stuff from one of the nearby houses."

The two looked at one another, shrugging. If it had to be done, it had to be done.

Norah

Sitting between her brother and Ria made her feel save and she felt confident. So confident she had made the introduction for herself and John, telling the whole group they were adopted.

She was asking herself why she had done that, now all were looking at her. She even told them she wasn't eighteen yet!

She felt her blood rising to her cheeks and didn't say another word. John started to talk at once. Norah relaxed somewhat, but only for a few seconds.

"I designed what Norah is wearing." She sat as upright as she could, forcibly ignoring her burning red-hot face, and keeping her arms, which wanted to cross themselves over her chest, down with all her might. She only allowed her right thumb to hook around her left index finger.

Her eyes on the table in front of her she endured the stares, the soft oh's and ah's and the other compliments John got. She knew she was lucky he started to make her clothes about a year back. Without them she would look like a little girl. With them she still was darn small, but at least she looked more like a grown woman.

Her mom had grinned and chuckled at first, her dad too, but when they saw what John was able to do without any classes they stopped persuading him to continue his painting and drawing classes and allowed him to do sewing classes.

Her helping her dad with the cars and around the house had never been a problem. When she told them she wanted to start engineering neither.

Finally she felt the eyes turning away from her, all but one guy were looking at the next person who was talking. She cast a few glances in the direction of him and wondered briefly what his name was. Skip or something like that she thought.

A man was talking now. He told he was on his way to the Knight to meet his fiancee when all hell broke loose. Who wasn't there though. He looked as lost as the farmer, Norah thought. Cramer was his name. This one was called Thomas. Thomas Kowalski and he was 24. He was a car seller. And a boy scout headman.

(OOC: This post takes place after the Meet and Greet ended, HOWEVER, if your Character hasn't posted in the meet and greet and you want him/her to do so, go ahead. We're all smart enough to put it in the time line where it belongs, particularly if you put "Meet and Greet, Sunday" at the top. Or, if you wish, you can "time" your post for later, adding some flashback to the M&G.)


The Meet & Greet was dying, with the one-at-a-time introductions giving way to an onslaught of questions about the Residents' future. There were people arguing for fortifying the Library further for what they expected would be a long stay; there were those who were saying they wanted to leave and leave now; and there were those who didn't seem ready to commit one way or the other.

"Can I talk to you?" Peter said softly to Max. The two walked away from the others, stepping into a study room. "What happened to the food in the vending machines...? And the kitchen? Please tell me it wasn't looted already ... that you--"

He stopped at the nodding gesture from Max.

"I hid it away," the janitor answered. "I was afraid that one or two people in a panic would endanger every one else by pillaging the machines.

"Pillaging?" Peter asked with a chuckle. "How much is there? How long will it feed us, I mean?"

"Depends."

"On...?"

"On whether or not everyone is willing to accept rationing," Max answered. "Let me tell you a story. When I was in Cambodia in '73, my unit--"

"Wait ... '73?" Peter cut in. "We weren't in Cambodia in '73."

Max gave the young man a smile that said he knew something most people probably didn't. "My unit was on the Mekong, way behind enemy lines, waiting for extraction after a search and destroy mission. The Lieutenant was sure that the choppers would come for us at dawn the next day, or at least that the river boats would come up the Mekong.

"But the NVA had brought anti-aircraft units over the border, and not only were the boats four days away, but the river was rumored to have been mined. We weren't going no where, but the Lieutenant refused to face the fact."

Peter rolled his hand in a get to the point gesture.

"We only went in with minimal rations," Max continued, elevating three fingers. Then he raised his second hand and extended all of his fingers. "We didn't get out for ten days."

Peter understood Max's meaning. "So ... the moral is ... ration now, even if we don't know whether we need to--"

"Rather than wait until its too late, yes."

"So, back to my original question--"

"There's about 60 meals," Max cut in, "if you divvy up carbs, protein, vitamins, etcetera, which I did last night."

Peter's eyebrows raised. "You did?"

Max shrugged. "Couldn't sleep."

"So ... 60 meals ... 3 meals a day--"

"No," Max cut in, laughing. "One meal a day. That's why it's called rationing."

"They aren't going to like that?" Peter said, worry in his tone.

Max reached out and patted the younger man on the shoulder. "That's why you're in charge, Peter. To make the hard decisions--"

Peter laughed loudly, looking out of the study room window to see if anyone was paying him any attention. "I"m not in charge!"

"They think you are. Listen, you're doing good out there. They like you. You're charismatic, you're a good speaker, you've got an even temperament. And the girls are hot for you, by the way."

Again Peter laughed and, surprising Max, flushed a bit. The young stud didn't seem the type to blush when told he was attractive to women, but then Max didn't know the man that well either.

"Listen, we can have some sort of elections later if we have to," Max continued, walking to the door and grasping the door handle, "but for now, you just tell them we have food, but that there isn't much, so we're going to bring it out a meal at a time. It's simple."

"That's what Custer said before Little Big Horn," Peter said with a solemn tone as he headed out of the room. Softly, he said, "I'll tell'em later. Right now, we just need to ensure we're safe and secure."

"You're the boss," Max said, his lips wide in a sardonic smile.

Cassandra 0730 Sunday morning

Someone woke me up … and I was PISSED! I’m use to staying up and sleeping in … but for some reason the Nazi that thinks he is in charge wants to have a meeting at 0800. Ahhh maybe he should have considered what everyone else likes as a meeting time. WHAT A DICK! I mean I don’t want to be “that bitchy girl that complains about everything” but most people DON’T start work until 0900!!

Max the janitor came by with a sandwich and I found some coffee.

I gave him a friendly look and told him “Max … thanks so much … you’re the best!” As I pulled off my jacket and stretched … I did not mean it …. But I gave him an eye full. Showing off my good figure, as my hands were held over my head.

Anyhow, I just made it to the meeting as I completed brushing my hair. I finally saw the man named Peter (the “great” leader). After my breakfast and the coffee, I was in a better mood … and calling him a “Nazi” may have been a bit harsh. He was cute, that was for sure. And he suggested everyone introduce themselves. I thought that was a good idea. So when my turn came I kept it pretty simple and told everyone.

“Hi my name is Cassandra and I’m a pharmacy major in my junior year. If we can make it outside … my car is parked very close to the library.” That meant a power source, gas, 12 volt battery, and a tire iron … as a weapon … well shit … for that matter the car was a weapon. But i did not say any of that out loud... just thought it. I was going to tell them about the zombie’s slowly down a little bit after eating human flesh … but the web people had already explained all that.

It seemed to go well … there were a few guys gave me a funny look. I think they had been to the “silver dollar” strip club … and seen me dance. But no one called me by my stage name that might have been a bit embarrassing. Some people have hang ups about strippers … you know.

Ria had said something interesting in her introduction and that got me thinking. I decide I needed to go talk to her today. The helicopter flyover also validated my thought that we’d be out of this mess in a week or two. Cool!

Cassandra bumps into Derry near the end of the morning meeting

I started to walk over to Ria … but I was not watching where I was going … so as I moved through the people, I got behind a young woman with flaming red hair. She turned unexpectedly and we banged our chests together! She kind of “bounced” off me and almost fell down. It was kind of funny actually!

“Oops … I’m sorry …” I said and thought a joke might make the accident seem less awkward so I added “I hope my bumpers … made it a soft impact?” I giggled as I grabbed her arm to prevent her from falling.

After the Meet & Greet began to fall apart, Kip first thought of ambling over to say hi to Norah, then chickened out. She made eye contact with him for a moment and he smiled, but when she smiled back, he felt a blush threatening and turned away quickly, heading across the floor for the stairs.

He ascended to the third floor, then to the fourth, two steps at a time. He made his way to the southwest corner, where he'd earlier found a window with a good view of the campus and houses that, for the most part, were all rented by UO students.

There were still Zombies in the streets and lawns, walking around in every direction. Some had slowed, which -- according to the news reports -- meant that they had already eaten Human flesh. Kip so badly wished he had a high powered rifle. It'd be like one of those Zombie hunting video games, popping off rounds at the targets, racking up points, typically more for head shots and double bonuses for killing two or more Zombies with one bullet.

He wasn't really paying attention to anyone figure below, until he realized that one of the Zombies -- a female -- was being chased by another Zombie ... then a second, and a third, and then a half a dozen.

"She's not a Zombie," he mumbled. Then, as loud as he could toward the stairs, he called out, "There's someone down there! A girl! C'm'ere, someone, look! There's a woman down there!"

He didn't know what calling to his fellow Residents would accomplish, but Kip was excited -- fearfully so -- about what he was seeing. The woman had a pretty good lead on the Zombies following her, but Kip doubted that she was going to be able to outrun them.

Then, suddenly, the Zombies slowed, turned, and sprinted -- or in the case of the already-fed, ambled -- off in the other direction. Kip didn't understand what was going on: why had they stopped. Then, suddenly, he heard gun fire. A dozen or more rounds exploded across the campus, ending only when a loud scream -- a human scream -- echoed through the trees.

Kip never saw the Human that the Zombies got. And he couldn't be sure that the woman who'd been running past the Library escaped either. He flinched as he heard footsteps behind him and turned to see a man and woman hurrying up beside him.

"What's going on?" the man asked.

"There was a woman," Kip said, pointing in one direction, "being chased by Zombies. But they let her go and went after someone else--" He pointed again. "--over them. I think they got him."

"Someone was beating on the door downstairs," the woman said. When Kip asked why she wasn't let in, the woman said, "By the time we realized she wasn't a Zombie, she ran off. She saw us in the window, though, so she knows we're here."

"Maybe she'll come back," Kip said with a hopeful tone.

As the man turned to leave, he mumbled, "If she's still alive..."


OOC: This scene leads into a "side story" which involves the woman mentioned above. It is being written separately because:

• It occurs outside the Library with characters not involved in the Library story line.
• It will not always correspond to the time line of the Library happenings.
• And, while I encourage all "Rebuild" writers to read along with us, the happenings in the side story do not require your attention right now.
• This side story will intersect with the main Story thread eventually. At that time, the side thread will end and the character(s) from it may join the regular Story Thread.
• If you are interested in doing something similar to this on your own, there is one important rule you MUST obey: there should be nothing written in the side story that contradicts or sets a precedent for the main Story Thread, because if the Rebuild Writers aren't reading your side story, they won't see these facts and there will be a severe failure to communicate.

To read this side story, subscribe to this link.

Finally the last person introduced herself, Derry was already thinking about leaving, but out of courtesy she listened. The way this Cassandra girl talked caught her attention. She had the no nonsense type of personality, a practical girl Derry surmised, (she is the kind of person that is a survivor.) When she was done and everyone proceeded to get some coffee, Derry hated to wait in lines so thought to come back later and hoped that there was some coffee left.

As Derry was leaving she suddenly realized she had left her purse on the chair, quickly turning back she bumped chests with the same girl she had just been listening to just moments ago.

Trying to keep my balance, I heard the girl say as she grabbed my arm,

“Oops ...I'm sorry...” adding, “I hope my bumpers ...made it a soft impact.”

I couldn't help but smile at her trying to make an awkward moment humorous I laughed lightly, the first time since yesterday that I could forget my stupid troubles.

“Yes, you do have soft bumpers....your name is Cassandra right? I'm Alana Brennan but my friends calls me Derry.”

For some reason I felt comfortable with this girl, I looked at her adding,

“Do you have something to do or do you want to get some coffee?”

“Hi Derry” I said “I’d love to get coffee” Then I looked over to peter “someone called an 8:00 o’clock meeting. Fricking ridiculous! Zombies or no Zombies! So another cup sounds good.” I was not sure if Derry agreed with my zombies or no zombies statement but she got my weird sense of humor.

“Who put him in charge anyhow?” I ask in kind of rhetorical way.

“But it is amazing everyone seems to be weathering this catastrophic pretty good … I thought I’d be in tears not knowing where my parents are … but right now … I’m trying to focus on helping. What about you … how are you holding up?” I ask

2pm:

One of the men who'd been standing Lookout the night before ran up to Peter and pulled him close as he said, "We got a problem. Max is hurt, and ... well, you better come with me."

He was trying to be quiet -- to keep it between him and Peter -- but he noticed eyes watching him. He hurried off, with Peter close behind him. They quickly descended the two flights of stairs to Max's Underworld, where they found the old janitor sitting on the floor in the corner with an ice pack on the back of his head.

"What the hell happened?" Peter said with concern, leaning down to help Max up. "Did you fall?"

"Someone hit him," the third man said.

Peter's surprised eyes shifted between the two men. "Who hit him?"

"He won't tell me," the man said with a critical tone.

"Go away," Max said softly, glancing at the third man. "I'm fine."

"You're not fine, Max," the man said, moving behind the old janitor to lift the ice pack and check the wound as Peter helped Max into his ancient, rolling chair. "You probably have a concussion, and you're going to need stitches."

"Fine. Why don't you walk me the three blocks to Sacred Heart", he snapped, his comment referring to the Catholic-based hospital that he very well know was no longer located just west of the campus but was instead several miles away in Springfield.

The man threw up his arms, gave Peter an expression of surrender, and said, "You talk to him. Who ever did this--"

"I know," Peter cut in. "I'll take care of it. Go upstairs and ask around. Somebody must know how to stitch a wound."

Peter had listened to the other Residents talking about their life experiences, and he remembered that one of the men was a paramedic and one of the woman was a ... well, now he couldn't remember.

"I'm alright," Max mumbled, the pain in his voice obvious.

Peter moved to behind him and set to cleaning the wound and putting a bandage over it for now. Max continued to argue against the fussing, but Peter just ignored him. Finally, when there was nothing more to be done, Peter moved a metal legged chair around in front of Max and asked, "Who did this? And don't give me any bullshit. If we have someone who is violent, or a looter ... a thief ... we need to know who it is."

Max hesitated for a moment, gently touching his head and grimacing. He sipped at the bottle of water that the third man had given him earlier, set it aside, and lied with great sincerity: "I didn't see him. He hit me from behind while I was boxing tomorrow's rations."

Peter looked about and saw no food or drinks. He looked back to Max. "He took them?"

Max nodded, then grimaced again at the effect of the movement of his aching head.

"How much did he get?"

"Ten meals, maybe less."

"Fuck," Peter murmured. He stood and paced about for a moment, contemplating how to react to this without causing a panic. Then he looked to Max. "From now on, the basement remains locked. We don't tell anyone about this. It won't help."

"Sure," Max said, not in the right shape to disagree with Peter is he'd wanted. "I'd like to take a nap."

"Not if you have a concussion, you don't," Peter said sharply. "Talk to me. Tell me something about ... about anything, while we wait for the Doc.."

Peter sat down across from Max, who reluctantly maintained a conversation with him until the closest thing they had to a doctor descended to the Underworld.

Just after the meeting - Cassandra and Derry;


Cassandra's easy going ways seemed to be just what Derry needed at this moment. She smiled as her new acquaintance chattered on, when she had the chance she jumped in,

“ Your lucky to be going for your second coffee, I still haven't had my first cup yet.”

When she mentioned Peter, Derry looked over at him, nodding her head in agreement,

“Yes he does seem to like being in charge, but someone has to do it.”

I can't help but gaze at him for a few seconds before hearing Cassandra comment on the state of some of the people as well as herself, ending with,

“What about you....how you holding up?”

Giving her a small frown I reply,

“Well you know I have been better but all in all I guess I am ...like you a survivor. I hope my family is safe and sound, but there is nothing we can do right now except to pull together and hope for the best.”

The M&G had changed to a discussion about fortifying the Knight or not, I told some of my ideas. Those who weren't in favor of the whole idea quickly dropped of and I was left with John, Norah, Thomas and some others.

"There are some things that wouldn't need much efforts but would be a great start to our defense. We have none at all at the moment. We are just hiding in a hole now basically. If someone wanders inside, we are at their mercy. So the main point is now to make it as difficult for them to come inside as we can. The doors are closed. That is our first protection. The fire doors are closed, second protection. But would someone break through them or through a window, we are defenseless.

We need to protect the entrances in a way which enables us easy exit and entrance, but hinders intruders in coming in. This might seem logical, but people have been talking about putting more bookcases in front of doors already."

"Which would handicap us." Norah said. With that she broke the ice, the others started to discuss too and soon we had a list of things we could do.

A stack of Molotov-cocktails and heavy objects on the roof above each door.
Desks turned or their side to hide behind. And to throw down.
Bookcases at the doors, not in front of them, but forming a corridor, door-widht at the base, one man wide at the top.
Obstacles outside, seemingly randomly but the start of a wall. Cars, holes, debris.

The last point was discussed longest, it was the most dangerous one to accomplish. Finally Thomas said he had an idea.

"What if we, when foraging, just take cars that are standing on the street now? Some might even be loaded with weekend shopping. Maybe when we go out, four or five jump in the nearest car, I can start any car if it has gas, drive to a shop, drive through the door if that is necessary, load the car, some others standing on the parking, drive them back, unload them and put them to rest around the building?"

"Bit risky with the Zombies around." John said. "But maybe we could reduce the risk a bit if we used our phones? One or to on the roof who direct the others and ready to throw Molotovs at the Zombies?"

With that we called an end and got up. Some to select desks, others to select heavy objects and Thomas and I searched Peter and Max.

Someone told us they were in the basement. On our way there we picked up Lola who was sitting again a wall, again covered in sweat. I popped a sweet in her mouth before we lifted her up. She stumbled along between us.

In the basement we found Peter talking to Max who seemed to have a head wound. At least someone was attending to his head.

"Hi everyone" I said. "Max, are you alright? I hope you didn't stumble on the stairs?"

To my surprise he nodded.

Peter and Max:

"Bumped it," Peter said, lying about Max's assault injury, "on a shelf. He'll be fine."

"I'll be fine," Max confirmed with an unconvincing mumble. Then, he looked up to see Lola and the exhausted expression in her face. "What about you sweetheart...? How are you?"

Max hadn't seen Lola as of yet, which didn't really surprise him: although he'd already laid eyes upon everyone except the eight children in a third floor study room, he had presumed there were still faces to be viewed.

"I'm fine," Lola said, with about as much sincerity as Max had had a moment earlier. She leaned back against Max's desk, studying the old man. She'd heard that the janitor had access to -- possibly even control over -- most of the food in the building. "Just need to eat is all."

"What can I do for you folks?" Peter asked, seeing in Ria and Thomas' eyes that they has something on their mind.

Ria and Thomas began imparting their ideas on the security of the Library and its Residents. They were good ideas. Peter questioned them for clarity when needed, then made a few suggestions along the way:

"Maybe some spears made of handles, or maybe Max has some metal objects we can make blades out of..."

"Pick and choose buildings based on their probability of having vending machines or kitchens..."

"Determine which buildings might have survivors in them before we bust into them, so we don't got shot or speared ourselves..."

And more.

While the trio were talking, Max had gotten up -- with Peter's help -- and made his way down the hallway, gesturing Lola to follow. She had hesitated but done as he asked, following him down the long hall that ran much of the distance under the Library.

They reached a 7 foot high book case unit, no longer used and sitting atop furniture rollers so that it could easily be moved by just one man, even an injured old man. Max looked down the hall, but couldn't see the others.

"Help me with this," he told Lola. Together they pushed the shelf unit, revealing a bank of employee lockers, one of which he unlocked and opened. Inside, Max had used some regular old cardboard boxes, standing on their narrow edges, to make a couple of shelves. And on those shelves was an abundance of vending machine items.

"Get something to eat," Max told her quietly, looking back down the hallway yet again.

Max hadn't even told Peter where he'd hidden the vending machine contents, and after being attacked -- though he trusted the man explicitly -- Max hadn't been planning on telling any one.

But there was something about Lola that struck Max. She looked so sweet and innocent, and while he didn't know that it was the diabetes that had weakened her, he could see that she needed someone to take care of her.

Max had never had children, let alone grandchildren, so the closest he had ever gotten to taking care of someone else -- not counting a plethora of needy lovers during his earlier years -- was helping out the occasional young Library worker or Work Study student with what ever they needed.

And besides Lola's apparent need to for some tender care, she was a darling, too. Max didn't like people to imagine him as a dirty ol' man ... but deep down, he was a man, and like any man, he liked the sight of a beautiful young woman.

He knew nothing would ever happen between him and Lola -- between him and any of the women in the Library for that matter -- but that didn't mean he couldn't fantasize.

Lola took a couple of items, immediately eating one of the all natural fruit cups. She resisted when Max told her to pocket a couple of more things, but when he snatched a simple blue jean purse from the nearby Lost and Found and shoved it at her, she stuffed it with four or five things she thought would help balance her blood sugars.

"Thank you, Max," she said with a meek smile. She leaned over and kissed his cheek. "You're great."

"Keep this to yourself," he warned her. "Everyone's going to get their share, but we can't tell anyone about this."

She nodded, and they headed back to the others, who seemed to be reaching the end of their conversation.

"So, my opinion," Peter was saying, "is that we start with the closest, most logical building. Search it. Scavenge what we need. We set up the defenses you two have suggested, widening our ... what shall we call it, a perimeter? Widen it as we can, to keep the Zombies out."

Peter laughed. "I can't believe I keep using that word ... Zombies. Who would have thought."

He looked to Max -- specifically at the bandage that he was unsuccessfully hiding beneath his stocking cap -- then back to the other two. He hesitated for a moment, then confessed, "Someone attacked Max. They tried to-- No, they did steal food. I'm only telling you two because I know you were upstairs, so it wasn't you."

Their reactions to the news was pretty much what Peter had expected. Lola's reaction surprised him, though. Her face filled with concern and she took hold of the old man's arm as if she expected him to suddenly keel over and die.

"Max cleaned out the vending machines and hid the food," Peter continued. "He inventoried it, and he says that with rationing, we only have enough food for maybe two days. After that ... people go hungry."

"Eat your vegetable, young man," Max murmured. "There're children starving in Africa."

When the others gave him an assortment of expressions, he explained, "It was what my mother used to say to me as a kid, when I didn't finish my dinner. I saw hunger in Cambodia ... Viet Nam ... Laos. It's not pretty."

"No one's going to go hungry," Peter said, then -- looking to Ria and Thomas, happy with their plan -- he asked, "Right?"

Somebody had attacked Max and stolen food. I could only shake my head at that. Impossible! Who would it have been? Why? I was still pondering this when Peter was already talking about the food-suplies we had left.

I chuckled at Max' words, didn't my mother use a variation of them? "The children in Africa would love to have your beans!" Peter's next words made me hesitate. I bit the bullet though. No use to start dreaming now.

"Well, that depends." I said. "It might very well be we will go hungry for some time. If we only scavenge food that will keep a while and use it now, we will go very hungry later on before we can rely on our rooftop farm, if we ever can fully rely on that. If we scavenge durable and perishable food now, we might build up a stock for later. But, we also need to start building up a stock of honey, salt, vinegar, oil, alcohol, sugar, pepper and the likes now.

Because now it still out there. And that reduces the amount of food we can take in. I think the quota should be 1/2 durable, 1/4 perishable to eat now, and 1/4 conserving stuff." I let this sink in a bit. Max nodded, Peter opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something, but closed it again.

"We also need non-food. Candles, oil-heaters, pans, hunting knives, cooking knives, sanitary thingies for ladies, scissors, what do I know, medicines, seeds, plants, chickens, rabbits and all. Building material. I heard some young men talking about building a shower. Some bathtubs might be more useful."

Thomas put a hand on my arm.

"Food is a priority, you said so yourself before."

I nodded. It was.

"We won't go out today." I stated. "Tomorrow. Today we will try to establish which cars are promising, and start on working out a code. We need something we can use as flags Max, inflammable liquids, things that can be made in weapons, and we have to ask who will take part in the first ... hunt?"

The mention of signalling brought a memory back to Max.

"When I was in Subic Bay, waiting to ship out to Viet Nam, the Signalmen used to chat between the ships."

He smiled. They were usually trading stories about whores or cheap bars with equally cheap hashish or heroine, but he didn't think this was the appropriate time to tell that tale.

"They were using Semaphore," he went on, gesturing his hands to his side in a relaxed manner. "Just, without the flags. They'd just use their hands, 'cause they were just signalling between the ships that were side by side in the port, not signalling across thousands of yards of ocean to another Signalman watching them through binoculars."

He shrugged, glancing upwards as if he could see through the floor to the appropriate section in the library. "I'm sure we could find a book on it. And it's easy to learn. Easier than Morse Code."

"But we have cell phones," Lola interjected. "Why can't we just--"

"That might not last," Peter cut in politely. "The world as we know it is coming to an end--"

"Peter," Max cut in, wanting to keep him from scaring the younger people. He looked to Lola. "It might be a good idea to learn something that doesn't require cell phones ... before we lose them."

"Right," she said, giving Max a friendly smile, before giving Peter a sharp, disapproving look. "Be prepared. My brother was a boy scout. Isn't that their motto or something."

The group continued talking about preparing, then Peter said, "I need to go upstairs and inform the others about our plans. Ria, Thomas ... much of this is your baby. I'll leave telling it to the others to you, if you don't mind. There are a few people up there who, I think, are getting the impression that I am a tin pot dictator--"

"You're doing good, Peter," Max cut in, patting the younger man on the arm.

"I know that, but..."

Peter contemplated his words. In all honesty, he hadn't wanted to take a leading role in the Library's Community. This wasn't the Student Council or the Prom Committee or the ASUO or any one of the other groups that he had been the leader of during his teens and twenties.

This was real life, scary shit, with people dying all around him. One thing he'd never taken on was any sort of leadership role in which he was truly responsible for another person's life or well being. He'd never been a fire fighter, or volunteer at the police department, or even on the City Council, which sometimes made decisions that affected the entire lives of people within their boundaries.

He didn't want to be responsible for someone's life. And he certainly didn't want to be responsible for someone's death. He had been at the fire door when a woman banged on it, then ran away. He had told those guarding it not to open it until they could see that the visitor wasn't a Zombie. He had made the decision that resulted in her running off.

And he knew -- incorrectly, it would turn out -- that she was probably out there right now being eaten alive by the Zombies who chased her down because he hadn't been quick enough to let her inside the Library. Of course, Peter couldn't know that the woman -- Tia, he would learn one day in the future -- had made it to safety, despite his hesitance to help her.

"But I think we need to begin sharing responsibility," Peter continued. "Make a conscious effort to spread the power, as it were. Each of us takes on a specific area of decision making."

"Government," Max murmured. "You're talking about creating government."

Peter shrugged. "I ... I guess so." He looked to Ria, who had been very outspoken so far. "I think that ... that we could create a sort of Council. Each of us who wants to take responsibility for a specific area of responsibility ... Yeah, that was a bit redundant, wasn't it?

"Anyway, we are responsible for organizing and directing our little group and their tasks. We come together as often as we need to discuss our goals and such. If someone doesn't like what someone else is doing ... if it affects all of us ... we vote. Everyone who takes a role of responsibility earns a vote. If all you want to do is sit back, eat, and stare at the book cases ... well, you don't earn a vote."

"Sounds kinda vague," Lola said. When some of the others glanced her way, she said, "Vague ... that's the word, right?"

"We can work on the details," Peter went on, but it's a start."

"But for now, I need to go upstairs and tell everyone about the food situation," he said, picking up another box of perishables that Max had told him needed to be eaten by tomorrow. He looked to Ria and Thomas, asking, "Shall we go talk to the Masses?"

(OOC: Dutchrain, I am sending you a PM about his post.)

(OOC: The roles of the teachers below are still available to anyone -- current or future role play member -- who wants to write them.)

(OOC: This post is meant to be a hint for future activity.)


Mister Riggs, as the children called Robert, was keeping the 8 students busy with anything he could: writing, drawing, reading, even stacking books into tall towers that he knew the kids were only building to eventually knock over with howls of laughter.

While they'd been entertaining themselves, a couple of the other Library Residents had gone to the Quiet Area of the Second Floor and masked the lower portions of the windows with what counted as fun art work. The idea was to hide the terror that was taking place on the ground below without making the kids think something was being hidden.

Robert hated lying to the children: he was the type that believed kids should live in the real world, not the protected one that parents wanted for their offspring. But he couldn't find a way to explain that people were eating other people, so he had relented and allowed his counterpart -- to whom half of these children "belonged" -- to delay the truth for just a little bit longer.

Who knew what would happen anyway? Tomorrow, this might be over, with the Zombies extinguished. Then, all they would have to tell the children is that some people died but that life for them would go on.

Robert came across one of the quieter of his students, a little girl named Amy. She hadn't spoken much, scared that "Mommy will be angry 'cause I didn't come home after school". She was drawing with colored markers from an employees desk, but the imagery seemed a bit off.

"Tell me about your drawing," Robert directed. You never asked What are you drawing? because some kids thought that meant that their drawing wasn't good enough for other to interpret. "The colors are great."

"It's a rooster."

Robert could see that, but the setting seemed wrong. "Does it live in a barn?"

"No, it lives in a house," she said, pointing to the lopsided structure. "I heard it."

"Heard it...? You mean the rooster?"

"Yes. This morning when we woke up, I heard a rooster outside the library."

Robert smiled. "Honey, I don't think there are roosters in the city. Hens, maybe. The City of Eugene allows you to have three hens so that you can raise your own eggs, but roosters make too much noise ... so--"

"It was a rooster!" she insisted, suddenly scribbling the tip of the marker all across her drawing, slashing the rooster with black.

"Okay, honey, I'm sorry," he said, patting her head, which was the most intimate he ever got with his students in this day and age of rampant child molestation claims against teachers. "You're right. I think I heard it, too."

Robert saw new movement out of the corner of his eye and found his female counterpart gesturing him. "Bring them."

"Okay kids," he hollered. "We're going to a new room, a big room, that's going to be just for us."

Many of the kids screamed and laughed and they headed down through the tables and aisles, north through the second floor to the Quiet Room. Many of the chairs and tables had been moved, cutting the big room into two sections. Make shift beds were laid out on one side while the other was filled with what would amount to playground equipment, to keep the kids occupied during the days to come.

"We'll have access to both a girls and boys bathroom," his counterpart said. "Max said he will figure out a way for them to bathe, and Peter said they're working on a plan to get more food."

"They want to go home," Robert said. "Where are we getting on that?"

"I've made contact with a parent or guardian for each kid," she answered. Then, in a lower volume, said, "But I lost contact with some of them, the ones who insisted in getting in their cars and coming for their kids. I fear..."

He knew what she meant. "And the ones who stayed home?"

"They want their kids home," she stressed. "I don't blame them, but how do we do that?"

"They're working on it," he assured her, wrapping an arm gently and innocently around her waist. "We can't stay in the library forever. But ... we can't go outside, either."

"Why can't we just jump into a van or bus or truck and haul ass?" She blushed at her use of the profane word, then continued softer, "We could get out of the city in a few minutes and--"

"They're everywhere," he cut in. When she looked up at him, fearing what he seemed to be implying, he clarified. "The news reports ... they say the Zombies are everywhere by now. Cities, towns, the countryside. There's no escaping them. And yes, before you ask it, they're in Junction City, too."

He knew that not only did they both teach in Junction City -- 10 miles to the northwest -- but she and her entire extended family lived there, too. And JC had been overrun during the late evening.

Shortly after our discussion Peter seemed lost in thoughts for a moment. None of us said anything for a while, until Peter started to talk about leadership. Lola thought his ideas a bit vague, which they were, but that was no problem. They were good. Not because I had been thinking along the same lines, but because it simply was a sane idea to spread leadership over three people.

For several reasons: If one would fall, the group wouldn't be without a leader. Thus there wouldn't be confusion about who was in charge. Another reason was, nobody could accuse no-one of being a dictator. The leaders had to present a united front, which meant they would be an example for the others. Discussions, and votes were good too. I liked his idea about only those who worked for the group as a whole, having a vote.

"I will come back after 'lunch', Max. To rummage through the L&F and your supplies, maybe something inspires me to a McGyver." I said before we walked up the stairs.

"Peter, let's call them together for the meal, the children too, and talk things over. It might be a good idea to introduce mealtimes as meetings for the group. As occasions to discuss. We always can call them together for special meetings were only those with a vote may use it. But mealtimes should be the occasions were everyone has a right to speak his mind, otherwise those who don't do their share maybe could start an ... uproar, is the word I think, because they can't take part in discussions about our goals and such. And it would be a sign for all: You want food, you come to the table and sit down. We are no restaurant where food is doled out at the whims of the patrons."

Thomas chuckled. "Maybe we could sound a gong or such."

Peter nodded.

"Maybe we simply tell them for now, you, Max and I take the responsibility for certain tasks and share leadership." I sighed. "We explain them the food situation, and tell them what we are planning to do to solve it. Ask for volunteers ... And ask who would take responsibility for other tasks. Housekeeping is an important one. No-one has been cleaning the toilets for example. A schedule where everyone has to spend one hour cleaning, doing laundry or dusting a day wouldn't be bad since no cleaning staff will be coming in."

Thomas and Lola sighed. "It is a dam big building ..." Lola murmured. Max chuckled. I too.

We waited a moment outside the door to the basement, so Max could lock it.

Walking to the stairs Peter told everyone we encountered food would be served in the room we met in this morning and asked them to round up the others.

Derry had said “Well you know I have been better but all in all I guess I am ...like you a survivor. I hope my family is safe and sound, but there is nothing we can do right now except to pull together and hope for the best.”

I answered “I think there is something we can do! Let me explain ... At first I was wondering why the men were so focused on weapons … I thought it was just fricking macho bullshit. But we’ll need weapons to get more food. Ria said something at the meeting that got me thinking. She is an expert in defensive structures of castles."

I reached into my book bag and brought out the necklace, glasses and “springy” belt I had found in the claims area.

“Here is some stuff I found in the L&F area." I showed her the necklace. “See all these stones on the necklace … they look exactly like arrow heads!” I said excited “This belt can be the bow string … it is really strong. If we can find some shafts … and maybe a few feathers … and a curved peice of metal ...we’ll have a bow and twenty some arrows. What do you think?” I ask Derry.

Derry lifted her eyebrow as Cassandra started talking about the men and their weapons. She knew a lot about self defense, but weapons was out of her range of knowledge. But that didn't mean she was unwilling to learn. She listened as her new friend pulled out a bunch of trinkets that she explained she had gotten from the L& F.

As Cassandra went on with her idea, Derry's green eyes widened in anticipation, finally when she had described it all she smiled and asked,

"What do you think?"

Derry laughed and grabbed Cassandra by the shoulders and hugged her, before excitedly replying,


"Yes....yes I think your onto something Cassandra.....let's do it.....do you think we should keep this to ourselves or tell someone? I mean...maybe we will get laughed at by the men....if we keep this a secret we can practice until we have something to contribute the the whole group. And I want to tell you, I would love to go out on one of the foraging expeditions I have heard might be happening in the near future. What do you think?"

She now waited to hear what Cassandra had to say.

I thought about what Derry said and nodded in agreement "Yes … we keep this a secret until we prove it works. We’ll need to find more arrowheads … like letter openers … those kinds of things. As far as going outside … I watched the zombies a lot last night and they are pretty fast and strong. We’ll need to thin their numbers before anyone should go out there. And fire and explosion will only attract more of them. That is why the arrows … if they work … are best. Silently killing them … it should not attract more of them. Then we can sneak out. I would like to get to my car … I think it can provide some power and some useful items. I’ll do my part … but going through a building sounds pretty scary!”

I looked at Derry “Thanks for not telling me my idea was stupid. Some people look at me and think dumb blonde … and sometimes I do have my “blonde” moments … but it is nice to talk to someone that does not think all my ideas are silly.”

We hugged again and I said “Another thing I was thinking about … we need to get on the roof of this building. For a few reasons … 1) In case that helicopter comes back. We could even put a sign up there ... that could be read from the sky … something like “help 28 people in the building … need food” 2) it is the best place to fire arrows from or whatever else we come up with to kill the zombies. 3) It is the highest place we can get too … we’ll be able to see other buildings and maybe other survivors.” I explained getting into this whole survival mind set.

Derry agreed. I put the items back into the book bag and we both headed off to find out from Max how to get up to the roof and if we needed keys. We hurried downstairs and found Max in the L&F area. He had a bandage on his head.

“Max … Derry and I would like to get on the roof. We thought in case that helicopter comes back. We could even put a sign up there that read something like “help 28 people in this building … need food” also it is the highest place we can get too … we’ll be able to see other buildings and maybe other survivors. Can you show us the way up there … or tell us the way ... and are keys are needed?” I ask him

Sunday Evening
10 Sept 2017

It had been a good day ... if you forgot about the half eaten corpses on the University's grounds or the siege still being waged outside by a dozen or so persistent Zombies or the post traumatic situation inside with some of the Residents.

There had been a lot of good thinking concerning the security of the Knight, the construction of weapons -- both defensive and offensive types -- and the needs, both short term and long term, of the people living inside the library.

Unbelievably, there was a situation brewing that Peter had never even considered. He called together some of the more involved players to explain what he'd been learning from those whose had been unceasingly monitoring the internet or been talking to and texting with the outside world on their cell phones.

"We have two enemies," he explained. "The Zombies, obviously. But time, too."

He reminded them that they only had 2 days worth of food left, four if they cut rations in half. Most of the other consumables -- toilet paper, soap, etc. -- were fairly well stocked because of Max's supply closet for the Library's bathrooms and Employee areas. But food was going to be a problem.

"And now," he continued, "it's going to be a problem because of another problem: Looters."

A pair who had been monitoring the outside world began explaining that other survivors were pillaging building all across the city, scavenging the very same items -- food in particular -- that the Library Residents were going to need.

"If we don't go out there soon," Peter said with a solemn tone, "there won't be anything left for us to scavenge. Daniel, tell them what you've been seeing."

Daniel hesitated. He had passed his information onto Peter, expecting their Leader to do the talking. He had had no intention of doing the report himself, but seeing the Peter was expecting it, he did.

"Max showed me a way to the roof."

Daniel stood, laying some drawings of the Knight that they'd found in the Architectural Section across the table. He noted the pleased looks on the faces of a pair of the women, not realizing that they, too, had been interested in getting up on the roof for their own planning purposes.

"From there, I've been watching some other survivors." He tapped his finger tip to a map of the campus as he talked. "They have already looted this building ... that one, and this one, too. Maybe more."

He pulled a sheet of paper out from under the map: it was a Google Map printout of the area just west of the Knight.

"I've seen no looting over here, 14th, 15th ... Kincaid. The buildings are untouched."

"For a reason," Peter cut in. "The place is crawling with Zombies. But ... I don't see that we have a choice. If we don't go soon ... tomorrow ... Tuesday at the latest ... other survivors will get in there and scavenge all the food. And even if they don't, the perishables will have gone back by then. There are several restaurants, cafes, bars, taverns, convenience stores...

"They all include food that right now..." Daniel said, sitting down as the attention from the others began to weigh on him, "...is going bad."

There was some discussion around the table about the danger and the reward of going out so soon.

"No one," Peter cut in, "has to go outside. And, to be fair, anyone who just can't bring themselves to do it will still partake of the food we return with--"

One of the guys who'd been absolutely Pro in the conversation about connecting food to participation said, "Whoa, wait a second. I gotta risk my life to get food for someone who won't?"

Max had just stepped up and gave the man a harsh look. "Then you can stay here and clean the toilets and mop the hall and sew clothes out of draperies and all the shit work that those staying behind are going to be doing."

That shut the man up quickly.

Peter calmed the arguing. "Listen. You're right. If someone goes out and braves the Zombies, they should be compensated somehow. I've been working on that, and this is my suggestion. Each of who goes outside brings back as much food as we can carry. We'll take back packs ... or we get them off the street, or out of the Duck Store or where ever we can find them.

"But ... if you find something else you want for yourself," he continued, trying to hide the devious smile he was donning with the thought of what he might find out there, "you can keep it."

Max stuck a finger out before him as if scolding the man who'd spoken up. "But first thing you load up on is food ... food, meds, important supplies."

"So...?" Peter went on. "How does that sound...? And, who wants to go?"

"I'm in," Daniel said quickly.

Some others threw their hat in, some with reluctance. Others said they simply couldn't and would prefer to help here, which both Peter and Max said was perfectly fine.

"Okay, then," Peter said. "Get some sleep. Max will have breakfast for everyone in the morning, and I think some of you have been working on weapon ideas. We'll go out at ... let's call it high noon, when the shadows will be shorter and we'll have better visibility."


This is the last time I will post in the Main thread today, but I will post in the update as necessary. How about you all do this:

• Post for each of your characters at this little meeting, then post for what they do for the rest of the evening.
• I would like to be able to get "outside" by Friday evening, real date, so lets wrap up the lengthy exchanges between characters.
• Tell us about your simple weapons, what you made, etc. Be realistic. Max will let you use anything you can imagine he would find in a janitor's room; and you can disassemble desks, counters, shelves, whatever.
• I think there were some ideas for molotov cocktails, yes? Go ahead and make them with Max's chemicals.

John and Norah had a stack of Molotovs, desks and stuff ready to haul it up to the roof.

I had been looking through the L&F and had found a robust, y-shaped piece of metal.

"You have any rubber bands anywhere, Max? And some marbles or such?"

He looked over to me and grinned. We rummaged a little through some cartons and soon I had what I needed. I wrapped some fabric around the stem of the Y, attached the rubber bands and fired the first shot out of my catapult. I hadn't done so for a long time, but I was fairly pleased to hear the 'plonk' the marble made when it hid Shakera in her head. I had been aiming for a star just left of it, so I had some reason to be pleased.

Seeing Max's appraising and quizingly look, I told him about my grandfather and his small orchard.

"Crows and other birds were a problem. You weren't allowed to shoot them, and munition was expensive, my grandfather always said. So he build each of his children a catapult, and had them shoot the birds. My youngest uncle was just done with his duty when I was old enough to hold a catapult. I killed my first crow when I was five. Granddad gave me five cents to spend on sweets. Each and every time a bird dropped to the ground." I chuckled. Max too.

I spend the afternoon with some practicing. I wanted to be quicker. And shooting heavier stones needed more power. Three connected bands did the trick. When my first shot nibbled a piece of the wall I was aiming at, and the marble broke in tiny pieces, I was satisfied. The catapult wandered in my back pocket, and all the marbles and stones from jewelry and the screws and nuts we had found in my all my other pockets. Some others had a try too, but only John was fairly good with it.

The result was another catapult and munition for him. His catapult wasn't as stabile as mine though. The arms bowed back when he put force on the bands. Which gave his shots more power, but could be risky. If they broke, he was done.


The meeting Peter had called in the evening went well without me saying anything.
Only when they were talking about taking backpacks and going on foot, I shook my head.

"John, Thomas and I won't be part of your group then. We will take an other approach.
We will go for cars. Fill them with as much stuff as we can, and drive them back. Cars are a weapon too. Hit a Zombie hard enough, and it won't stand up again."

I found this cool website on how to make a bow and arrow on the library computer.
http://www.instructables.com/id/How-to-Make-a-Bow-and-Arrow/

But getting to asking Max about the roof. For some reason Max did not say a word … he stood there like a zombie (pun intended) .

“Let's finish building our weapons … ” Derry told me. So Derry and I went through the L&F and found some duct tape and a small pocket knife.

Derry and I went back upstairs to the fourth floor. There we found some of those modern wire chairs. It only took 30 minutes to unscrew the wire frames to one chair. The metal was prefect for a bow … thin, strong, and slightly flexible. Capable of holding 250 lbs or more of weight. Each piece was a little over 4 feet in length, had a slight bend, and had nice attachment points for the belt where the screw holes had been. Derry had cut that into strips and “strung” the bows. At first we cut to belt piece too long … but through trial and error we got the length right. It took both of us to lean on the metal to bend it enough for the belt to attach… but in the end it worked.

We both played around with pulling the bow back … my arm and chest muscles got tried pretty quickly. I told Derry “I’m going to need to start weight lifting if I’m firing more than 20 arrows!” She laughed and said “You’d think with a chest your size … that would not be a problem!”

“HA HA” I said back to her. But I had to admit … her arm strength was better than mine. She was going to be the distance champ when it came to arrow shooting.

We still needed arrows; we looked around and found some wooden dowels. They were easy to sharpen and we just glued small paper fins on the back … because that was what arrows were supposed to look like.

No one was on the fourth floor … so we tested the arrows and the accuracy kind of sucked (or we sucked as shooters ... I did not know which was the real cause) But the power of the weapon was incredible! The arrows went all the way into some chair pillows we were using as targets … up to the back fins!

As we continued to use the arrows Derry noticed the wooden tips were getting damaged. We needed to harden them if we wanted to reuse the arrows. I wanted to use some kind of metal … but Derry said it was too heavy and suggested melting plastic on the tip and sharpening it.

“It will really stink … when we melt the plastic … people are going to figure out what we are doing” She told me. I thought for a second “maybe I can talk Daniel into showing me how to get up to the roof?” I said with a naughty grin. Derry smiled back “So you like the forest hunter type from Canada .., eh! Just try asking first!” She said giggling to me “I’ll look for some candles or a lighter to melt the plastic.”

I found Daniel quickly on the second floor. The young virile man was rubbing his close cut beard, thinking about something. Derry had asked me to behave … I mean for goodness sakes there was a shitload of zombies outside and we only had a few days of food left. But Daniel looked good, like he walked out of one of those lumberjack stories.

There was a slight gleam in his greenish grey eyes as he looked over to me as I got closer to him. I’m not sure I did it on purpose but I thrust my chest out a bit more … giving him a good look as i smiled at him.

“Daniel … sorry to interrupt … but I heard you know the way up to the roof … can you show Derry and I how to get up there? We are working on something that I think can help the group but we need to finish making it ... outside. Do you mind?” I ask him.