Route 16

Route 16 OOC

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Alisha Raimer had just fallen asleep after a 25 hour shift of watching the streets and the building that the quarantine team had held up in. Well, what was left of the quarantine team. The long shifts that were being rotated between the team was taking its effect on all of them. As their numbers slowly dwindled, the shifts became longer and more dangerous. There were more........."things" in the town than they had team members. If you got caught with your back against your wall, there was no hope for you. Back up wasn't coming because there wasn't any back up at this point. The monsters and scientists had slowly picked off the team. Each day, a few stragglers strolled into the town to soon be killed. With each body that fell, a new monster was created. It was a horrible cycle and one that would be the demise of the quarantine team.

Alisha's peacefull sleep was soon interrupted by the sounds of gun play in the air. A few screams pierced the night air and Alisha was on her feet. With a cold splash of water to her face, she headed towards the strong hold of their building. That's when she heard it.........A noise she had never heard before. The loud roar gripped the night air and things went dreadfully silent. No gun fire, no screams. Nothing. It was as if the world had just stopped. She checked her gun to make sure she was loaded and she was. Slowly, she stepped forward with heavy feet. The sight she saw was terrifying and a twinge of despair was sent through her. The entire team was dead, there guns laying about. Most of them had large claw marks on their mid-sections and others were missing limbs. Whatever had done this was still around and she was being watched by it. She could tell. "Better move quickly", she whispered to herself as she gathered the weapons and put a single bullet into the heads of her fallen team members. Alisha was alone and terrified.........Her odds of making it out alive were minimal to begin with and those odds had just dropped to 0% survival rate.
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BIO:

Name: Alisha Raimer
Age: 23
Height: 5'8
Weight: 135 pounds
Hair and eye color: Blonde (mid-back length) and dark brown
Body type: Slightly athletic

This was Alisha's third year on the special response team. She had been sooooo excited to get the promotion from field team to the special response team. The special response team was respected beyond belief. They did the hard jobs. The jobs that people died on but the mission that had placed her in this dreadful town was suppose to be a simple search and rescue with a quarantine. It was going to be the easiest mission of the year but the town had secrets that the team was not made aware of. The instance the team departed from the helicopters and made their way into the town things went downhill. They lost radio contact with the helicopter then watched at the helicopter flew off and crashed into the nearby mountains. Then the team was being killed slowly.......Now after being in the town for 2 weeks, the odds were stacked against Alisha.......

OOC: Ron Russell . Age 27, Height 6' 4", Weight 205 Lb, Black curly hair, Eyes Ice blue, Athletic well Muscled.
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IC: Ron was driving his Hummer and somewhere he made a wrong turn. He tried to get back on the same road with no luck. He couldn't see any signs anywhere that would tell him which way he was going. He got out of the Hummer to stretch his legs when he heard what sounded like gun fire. Heavy gun fire. He went off the road in the direction of the gun fire. He drove on higher ground so that maybe he could see where the gun fire came from.

Once he got on the top he could see a small town. "It's about time," he said softly. Civilization. He got back into the Hummer and drove toward the town. As he got closer to the town he started looking for a place where he could get a coffee and some directions so he could get back home. He spotted a place that looked like a coffee shop. He parked right in front and went inside. there were only four men inside seating together. He was about to greet them, when he noticed the strange looks he got. "I guess they don't like
stranger here, he said to himself.

The woman that looked like she was the server, was leaning over the counter but never made a move toward him.
"Lady." He called to her. Could I have a black coffee please. He got the same strange look from her as he got from the four men. "What's with these people," he thought. " Maybe I should give her a strange look to." He thought. He narrowed his eyes and said.
"Lady! He said aloud." Give Me Damn Coffee right now I'm not in a good mood. It worked, as she hurried andgot him a coffee.
He dropped two 1$ bill, grabbed his coffee and went out to seat in the hummer and think.

He shivered as the cold air hit him. Emerging from the sewers of the ruined town he looked around, his cold haunted blue eyes surveying the street ahead of him, ears listening for any noise that would indicate danger. Food. He needed to find food and soon. He hadn’t eaten in several days and would begin to grow weak if he didn’t find something to eat soon. Weakness he couldn’t afford. There was too much danger about. He hurried across the open street, his eyes darting in every direction as he ran. The sound of gunfire, not unfamiliar to him anymore, pierced the silence in the air around him. He ducked into hiding as a loud roar pierced the air, overpowering the sound of the gunfire and suddenly the air was quiet again.

Several moments later he emerged from his hiding spot wondering what had happened. He had been here since the trouble started… He had tried to flee the city, but the men with guns had chased him back in.. and the monsters, they hounded him. He groaned as pain like a sledgehammer exploded in the back of his head. The headaches.. why were they getting so bad? He groaned and forced himself to his feet, heading out again in search of something to eat.

There was a hierarchy to these things.

If you were a state governor and you hollared blue murder then they sent SWAT. If SWAT couldn't handle it, then some nice men from the Department of Defence would take over. They'd call out the National Guard and then use them for pizza delivery or perimeter security. Meanwhile the pyramid would unfold.

Initially you'd likely get Ranger trained members of the guard. If they couldn't hack it then the Regular Army would send Rangers specialised in Light Infantry. After that you might get Force Recon Marines or Navy Seals. The Airborne had some nice guys that were good at moving quickly. Eventually, if everyone packed up their balls and went home, you'd get the local SOG group turning up to take an interest.

That's when someone like Captain Davey would show up. He'd have a fatigue uniform with no unit patches or nametags. He'd wave an ID in your face and quote a little number that would check out in Washington and come with a "do what he says" flag attached. Then he'd assess your problem, fly in a small group of soldiers and achieve whatever objective was required.

And then just vanish.

What never ever happened was that the unit got cut to ribbons twenty minutes into the first engagement, and shot down their evac helicopter in a blind panic.

Captain Davey examined the flaming wreckage with disbelief as he and the few men who'd escaped the emasculating defeat in detail of his command gathered together. They had scant minutes before the... ...what the HELL were they?... things they'd been fighting for the last four hours caught up again.

They'd come in to rescue a Special Response team, but they hadn't even found a single body. Instead they'd been swarmed under by persistent and very ferocious ZOMBIES, god damn it! It sounded weirder than hell, but that was all that the shambling, feasting, figures could be. Zombies.

A guttural moan pierced the stillness and Captain Davey led the way to a defensible building. Tomorrow they'd find a way to break clear and discover what the hell was going on here. Their comrades deaths demanded it.

Karl 1

The engine cut out and Karl let the vehicle slide to the curb. He climbed out and surveyed the town. A couple of bodies in the streets. He went to the trunk and popped it open and grabbed a box of magnum ammo stuffed it in a lightweight duffle bag. He scrounged around and put a couple of MRE’s in as well.

There was a scuffling sound, Karl looked up and saw a corpse shambling towards him. He closed the trunk and sholdiered the bag walking towards the horror. A second before the thing grabbed him he raised his pistol and fired, sending the thing flying back.

“Zombies,” he’d seen zombies before and werewolves and other things that kept him from sleeping at night. He grinned as he replaced the shell in his gun and snapped the chamber closed. The company had sent him here, but he had personal reasons as well. Somewhere in this place was his brother and sister. Maybe the company knew this, maybe they didn’t care.

He had worked for DUEL for a couple of years. They had a funny idea of working, funny if you weren’t the guy doing the work. The company always sent in 1 man to solve the problem. Some times they had to send in an army of single operatives 1 at a time to get the job done but that’s how they worked and it always worked, but not always for the operatives.

Karl was lucky and he knew it. He knew that one day his luck would run out. He ducked into a store and surveyed the mess. He spotted a bag partially covered by some trash. He pulled it free; it was an unopened bag of caramel corn. He picked it up and smiled, his luck was holding.

There was a sound from behind the counter……

All of it... it had been a nightmare.

A living nightmare out to kill and devour everyone. A dark secret roaming the streets, in the guise of what had been human beings, seeking to destroy everyone and everything she had ever known. Rosa was not going to let it get her easily. She was determined to get through this, and find out what happened, who was responsible, and make them pay.

She owed them that much at least.

Her Single Action Army's ammo drum whirled mechanically before Rosa pushed it into its place. The witnesses to its power were now dead... or at least peaceful. They called it the "Peacemaker" for good reason. A click, and the ammo was in. Another click, and the hammer was cocked. Rosa's dark eyes looked out of the window, the fire outside reflected in her pupils. Something had happened out there... something quite unusual.

Unusual, though, had died the very first day this began. Stepping off the windowsill, Rosa's lithe silhouette moved in the darkness and towards the door, opening it. A group of people, armed and armoured, were coming over with a horde of zombies on their tracks. Rosa stepped out into the street, checking her flanks, and rose both arms above her head to call for their attention.

"Over here! Over here!"

The shout was human. It was civilisation and it very nearly drew fire from the fleeing special forces team. Disorganisation warred with panic - there weren't enough soldiers left to cover all the angles and the woman was identified before shots were fired.

At this point Charles 'Chuck' Davey was simply concerned with the hauling of ass in the most expeditious means possible. Whoever it was had clearly lasted longer than two and a half hours, and that meant she probably knew where and how to evade the shambling tide on their trail. There wasn't enough ammo in the team to take out so many zombies - even with the double loads the soldiers were carrying due to casualties.

Local knowledge - escape and evade. The decision was easy.

Suddenly finding purpose, the team moved more like its' old self and less grabasstically. Nonetheless flight was headlong and total - no move and maneuver and no clever tricks - just straight running like hell towards the figure with her arms raised.

The team formed on the civilian, facing outwards - large weapons pointed outwards, downrange. Whereas they all crouched behind cover, their commander walked to the center, holding the G-36 assault rifle in one hand and offering the right hand to be shaken.

A medium sized man, normally, but with body armour, helmet, webbing gear and pack bulking him out. Pistol and knife strapped to his chest - a chest devoid of name, rank or unit, bearing only the stencil US ARMY. A serious expression, suitably sombre and grim, with dark blue eyes peering out from under black brows and hidden in camoflague makeup.

In movies he would have said "US Army, ma'am, what's the situation?" or something similar, but because this wasn't a movie and because he'd just seen men and women under his command eaten alive he actually said "Let's get the fuck out of here! Do you know where to go?"

Rosa didn't introduce herself. Obviously, this man didn't have the time to bother with that, and he did look intimidating with the huge load of equipment he and his men carried. From her place, Rosa could guess what was on fire.The hurry was understandable.

She did shake his hand, though. "Follow me." Rosa stepped into the house, and quickly headed to the backdoor. "Best to avoid the main avenues and streets. The central plaza is plain suicide."

That was where the main battle took place. Now... now it was just a blood-soaked postcard from hell. Although Rosa didn't believe in it, she agreed the image was probably appropriate. Corpses everywhere, some lying on top of the police cars with their guts out. Discarded magazines everywhere. A fire from a car hit by a lost burst. Nothing of that was visible here in the outskirts... and Rosa thought that was good.

"I have maps of the area in my house. We can decide on our movements there." So, this was the Army unit they had sent in. Bye bye to the armour rolling in to blast the monsters apart, apparently. But at least, now she knew that the government did have something to do with this. Holstering her revolver, Rosa took her other Colt, the M1911, out. It slid comfortably out of its place in her shoulder-holster.

"We'll be navigating a maze of back-streets and alleyways. Be ready." Opening the door, Rosa stepped out into the alley. It was dark, and every corner seemed to promise a nasty surprise. The moaning of the dead came from everywhere around, and the shooting... the shooting had stopped a few minutes ago.

"Watch the right side specially." Taking the lead, Rosa walked ahead aiming her Colt lazily at each corner she passed, hearing the boots of the soldiers brushing the floor, the broken glass beside the garbage containers... Rosa had never had any qualms about stepping in here before. It took an apocalypse to make one cross the line between normal and frightening.

They covered the angles. They scooted and waited alternately. Mostly they kept up with the lithe figure pacing along ahead of them. It didn't seem that she hurried - but she obviously knew her way and it was amazing the difference knowledge and not much gear made.

The panting breath. The white eyes. These signs were beginning to disappear and leave behind soldiers who were disciplined and tough. There was some shame after the panic - cutting and running left a bad taste in everyone's mouth - but there had been nothing else to be done. No breathing space to do more than grab ammo and frags from the wounded and push on. He knew some of the faces he'd seen today would haunt him to the grave - part of him was screaming in shock and shame at having been so badly schooled, part of him wanted out and gone, but the biggest part of him watched corners and windows for movement and kept up with the woman leading them. Leading them where?

He moistened dry lips and reached back for a canteen - checking the movement. He had three days water if he started rationing now, and until he got a chance to top up, he'd hold onto it. The thick tacky scum in his mouth made him spit to clear it instead. There'd been a fight here too, he realised. The whole town was probably a battlezone - more like something from Iraq or South America than any town in the USA had a right to be. He spotted torn shreds of flesh hanging from a window and took a good look to be ensure it was empty - it was. Whatever had been blown through the window having crawled away out of the room beyond, leaving more detritus behind it. He spat again.

"This place is fucked up..." he muttered thickly and quickly caught back up with the woman ahead of him. Luckily none of his men were out of shape - and none of the survivors was wounded. They could keep this pace up, but he was worried they were missing things in their hurry. He considered asking the woman to slow, but thought better of it as he remembered what chased them. Fast was good. Fast was life.

The moanings started to fade. Rosa stopped, and listened intently. After two minutes, she started to get worried. Until now, she thought the zombies moaned simply because they did nothing else. But maybe they actually communicated with each other? Perhaps there were no more preys on sight, and they had stopped talking to each other to point out their victims' location?

Rosa was worried not because she actually deemed them to be that intelligent, but because she didn't know enough about them to know for sure. One day in this, and she still didn't know enough. It was unnerving. Living in the wilderness, Rosa Willman was an expert survivalist. Here, she was a newbie. And newbies did not last long if they didn't learn.

Looking at the soldiers, she almost suggested they drop some equipment... but nearly all of it could be useful. Bulletproof vests, helmets, grenades... with a deep breath, Rosa continued walking. There was one place where the weapons would be necessary. Most definitely.

She stopped right beside a corner, and gestured at the soldiers to stop as she stuck to the wall. Rounding the corner, the alleyway opened up into Blockford avenue, and going across would get them to her house. But the avenue itself had seen heavy fighting, and now it would be quite the boiler for trouble. A trap for anyone not as well armed as the soldiers.

Rosa advanced nervously, and peeked around the corner, holding her weapon tightly.

"Damnit..."

The path was blocked by a van. Someone had parked a white van right in the alley, with its right side to the group's position, and the left looking at Blockford. Trying to break into the van would make noise that might attract the zombies, and going over it was impossible for heavy loaded men. The alternative... there had to be one safe enough for the whole group to go through and keep their equipment.

Crouching against the wall, Rosa took her time to think. The building the van was parked against was a restaurant. It would probably be open, but it was right in the corner of Blockford and Madison. In a chaos, the soldiers could get lost. Or the amount of zombies might be greater.

The noise of breaking glass alerted her. It came from behind... so Rosa didn't think twice. She knew what was happening. The zombie horde attacking the Army unit were breaking into the appartment block she was hidden.

"We are going through the restaurant right in front of the white van. Then, we run across the avenue, with you following me. Full speed, no stopping to shoot, go automatic if you need to."

Rosa cocked her M1911 and, crouching and moving a bit slower but more silently, she headed right for the restaurant's back door. Raimi's Sandwiches would, with a bit of luck, have suffered a great decrease of clients in the last few hours...

Charles pulled a face. Moving without cover was A Bad Thing. It was one of those things that got you dead, but then they'd played it by the book earlier today and that hadn't gone well either. Hearing the noise behind them he stopped to point a claymore back there - the new motion sensors didn't need timeconsuming tripwires. He hoped to hell the flesh it cleaved was already dead but, really, at this point he found himself not caring overmuch.

He caught his breath as the woman briefed him - his soldiers looking at him with raised brows. Was the old man going to take her orders? She was the local, she had a plan, so yes, yes he was, although he modified them a bit.

"If anyone of you waste ammo by spraying around on automatic, I'll kill you myself, okay? Conserve it - shoot if you see a target, but don't hang around carving notches. Let's get to a safepoint, debrief the civvie and work out what the fuck is next? Hooah?"

There were low mutters in return. He didn't waste time getting them to hoot like sealions, instead he followed the woman, rifle held low to his chest where it didn't affect his running. The noise was getting worse behind and he wanted everyone through the restaurant and over the street before the damn monsters caught up.

Ron could hear the sounds of gun fire as he sat in the hummer drinking his coffee. He was thinking to start the motor and try to put distance between him the that sound. Then he thought better of it and decided to wait a little longer. Beside he had not clue where the hell he was or which way was the safe way to take, and his map couldn't tell him where he was. He reached under his sit and pulled out his 45 and placed it next to him. "You never know, he said to no one in particular.

Rosa barely heard the leader's words. They sounded awfully macho to her, and she had something else to pay attention to. The damn restaurant's lights were on. That meant someone had been inside when the shit hit the fan.

Rosa alleviated some of the heat she felt accumulate under her clothes shaking her t-shirt a bit by the neck. She had been nervous and on edge for a good two hours waiting for someone to come, and all she had received were a special forces team. That was no good, a whole division would have been better. Many people would die because the government would not react faster and in strength.

Rosa crossed the alley quickly, and leaning against the corner of the building next to the restaurant, she peeked around to the restaurant and the main street. Her angle of vision was bad, though. She couldn't look into the restaurant because the floor was elevated, so she would need to stand on her tip-toes and then some to look inside, but the back door was open, and it linked to the kitchen. And the main street looked empty from her position, but she knew better. Standing up, she relaxed her grip on her weapon, and tightened it again. There was no more time for doubts.

Turning to stare at the soldiers, Rosa made her best impression of authority and leading, with eyes narrowed sharp. She unholstered her revolver with her left hand, and re-cocked it. It might be bad for recoil, but accuracy would not be an issue, because she would be shooting point-blank if any zombie came close. "From now on, it's run or die. Through the restaurant, and across the street. There is an alleyway between the grocery store and the book shop."

Rosa took a deep breath, and prepared. Once the soldiers were ready, she ran into the restaurant with a soft kick against the door. The swinging of the door was stopped by something when it would have hit the wall. Looking around it, Rosa saw a man lying down there, dressed as a cook. He seemed to stir, but Rosa was not going to disobey her own advice, and kept running towards the front...

Rons thoughts went back at what he had seen from on top the hill. Something very weird was going on around here. He could've kick himself for not staying in a hotel overnight where he was, if he had he wouldn't be in this forsaken hell whole he stumbled into. He sipped on his coffee as he looked around and in the rear view mirror, for some sign of life.

The woman's nervous skip and jump as she went through the door keyed Charles to the possibility of something on the floor - indeed as he went in a white aproned body stirred.

Completely on automatic he put a three round burst into it, cursing as he targeted the bullets centre-mass, where he knew they would do no good. Damn reflex of habit. Likely to get him killed if he didn't start aiming for the head or the legs. He didn't stop to correct his aim - confident at least that the shots would give the rest of his people a heads up. The next two through the door also shot the twitching body.

The race through the restaurant was nightmarish. The dark corridors and kitchen were bad enough, but the eateries main room had three or four bodies inside that had been infected, and they stopped picking over the regular corpses to face the runners when they came through. Charles shoved his assault rifle muzzle over the shoulder of the woman in front as they reached the doorway - just this room and they'd be onto the street - from there he had no idea where they were headed next.

Rosa didn't notice the rifle. It was a good thing she turned left, because that way only the zombie in front of her got its lipless grin ruined. The sound of the bullets perforating flesh was squishy, and the gun report almost left her deaf. Shooting inside a building was not a good idea, specially when she didn't have any dampening device on her ears.

But she ran. Staying still, Rosa was more of a target than running. Down the aisle between the tables, a zombie dragged itself out from under a table. Rosa fired her 1911 right into its skull, double-tapping, and the corpse died again. That one almost distracted her from the fat woman that threw herself over a table, trying to catch her. Rosa dodged, spun around when she almost tripped on the dead corpse, and double-tapped the woman too. She was downright obese, so the soldiers might have a little bit of trouble getting past her in the narrow aisle.

Turning around again, Rosa opened the door there with a kick that sent the wooden frame crashing against the wall outside the restaurant, cracking the glass. There were dozens of corpses, some awake, some not, in the street. At least thirty monsters were on their feet, and started advancing towards the restaurant, but by the time Rosa fully comprehended that, she had jumped onto a car's hull and blown a corpse's head apart with her revolver. Even as the corpse that looked like old Bill Redkey, the mechanic at the gas station, fell over, Rosa jumped over it and kept sprinting for the alleyway.

The space was undead-free zone for a few more seconds...

She hadn't been lying when she said she wasn't stopping for stragglers - the woman vaulted a car, shot a zombie and then scrambled over to the other side of the street in the lull.

The team didn't have things so easy.

Every walking corpse for a block had been woken by the firefight, and they'd all been put on full alert by the woman running across the street. Although she blew a hole in the scattering of zombies, that hole had sealed by the time the team got around the obstruction in the restaurant and made it to the street. Firepower would have to clear the way...

And it did. Although they'd been badly mauled as a company in the open terrain of the parking lot, here there was a narrow frontage and plenty of guns to go around. One shredding application of precision firepower later - with grenades on both flanks to discourage any latecomers - and the team sprinted across the smoky, littered and empty street.

Charles pounded through the open doorway and towards the dark alley, searching for the figure of the woman in the gloom again. Damn her - if she'd left them...

Ron almost spilled his coffee on his lap as he heard the sounds of gun fire. Where the hell are they coming from." He wondered.
The sounded closer that the last time he heard them, he looked around through the Hummers tinted windows and again in the
rearview mirror, but he didn't see anyone. He was not about to get out and investigate. those sounds came from high power
weapons. his 45 wasn't any good to him outside of 125 yards.

The sound of gunfire was muffled, the rifles had almost left her deaf. Thank God (whom she didn't believe in, but had been accustomed to thanking) her ear was not close when the soldiers opened fire.

As Rosa stopped at the entrance to the alleyway, she checked her back. The soldiers were making a mess of anything coming near, so she had nothing to fear from that direction. Advancing a few more steps forwards, Rosa controlled her breathing, and tried to look further into the dark, narrow space. The lights at the restaurant had played tricks on her eyes, but she was slowly recovering her night vision.

Everything seemed clear. She advanced, using her revolver arm to balance her M1911. Passing by a wooden fence, she saw it. A couple of eyes observing from the end of the alley, low. A growl came at her... and then more.

Oh, damnit!

To her left, the wooden fence didn't look that sturdy. Rosa kicked at it, and a piece of wood was sent flying somewhere. But just when she was going to pull her foot back, something pulled. She lost balance, fell on her back, and hit her head sideways against the wall.

"Agh!" Rosa yelped in a mix of pain and surprise, and looked at the whole in the fence. Two eyes looked at her, as their owner pulled, growling and snarling with the effort. And then, fast, wet steps rushed in from her right. Bringing her revolver up, Rosa had just enough luck to fire blindly... and hit.

*BLAM!*

Something big, dead and stinking fell on her torso, knocking the wind out of her. "Ugh!" That didn't matter. Struggling with the dead... re-dead dog on top of her, Rosa aimed her semi-auto at the beast behind the wood. It was pulling fiercely now, shaking its head one way and the other. Rosa pulled her leg back to her, and tears of pain and the pain itself started to make her really angry... until she decided on kicking the wood again. Another piece of wood fell, and she saw the thing's body completely. A white pooch.

Goddamn Ms Stevensons... told her to put that thing on a leash a THOUSAND TIMES!

*BLAM!*

Off it went, yapping wildly. But it would come back when it recovered its wits...

Charles pounded around the alley corner, taking in the tableau in front of him. She was laid on her back, smoking gun in her hand and covered in gore. A body lay across her - canine in shape although it looked like no dog he'd ever seen.

As he looked at her, laying on her back and swearing at something moving off fast - another dog perhaps - he half stepped forward to help her before stopping again.

His jaw set a little firmly and with the rifle held casually but not pointing away he asked her "Are you badly hurt? Did they bite you?"

Rosa pushed the corpse off her, conscious of the situation. If the soldiers were here already, the zombies would be closely behind. And the way he held his rifle worried her a bit.

"No, I'm fine... but these bastards are fast." Jumping to her feet, Rosa took a breath, trying to calm herself down. The damn things were fast indeed. It was a good thing she had two pistols just in case.

"My house is close now. It's over my office." Rosa walked off down the alleyway, her eyes darting from corner to corner, from window to window. A lot of people in town had a dog, sometimes for company, sometimes for hunting. Thankfully, those fo hunting were kept in the outskirts, but soon enough they would come in this direction looking for fresh prey... probably. Rosa of course hoped for the best.

Finally, across a street relatively deserted, the sheriff's office was visible. It was a small building, with a flat on top that the sheriff was free to claim as his own, an opportunity Rosa had taken for its proximity to services such as a hospital, supermarket... and it also proved a good fortress. Mostly...

Rosa gulped, and ran as she fished the keys out of her pocket. She opened the door in a hurry, and stepped in, a bit nervous. Once all the soldiers were inside, she turned on the lights...

"GRAAAHHHGGGGWWWWWW!!!"

*CLANK!*

A body threw itself at the cell's bars. A man in the uniform of the town's police, white eyes, drooling, and with his right hand bandaged but bloodied, clawed at the group from behind the cell's bars. His uniform had flesh-colored pants, a white shirt, and a leather jacket, as well as a brown cap. He, it, or whatever one dared call it, fought against the bars despite the futility that it was. The four big windows at the front and side of the ample room were equally barred, so zombies getting in would not be a problem.

Rosa didn't spare one glance at Jim. That had been his name. Jim Meyers. Jim was now dead, or at least as close as one could get without brain functions ceasing completely. She slumped on a chair in front of her desk.

The office had four desks placed together in a neat square, with three chairs free. That was a quarter of the room, while the other quarter was the cell. The third, through which the group had entered, had a comfy rug on the floor and its walls were decorated with newspapers that proclaimed the solved cases of special interest or notoriety, and a bear's disected head in a characteristic roaring pose. The last quarter of the room had a gun rack, empty but for a hunting rifle and a shotgun, a miscellanious pile of ammo (some of it on the floor), and the door leading to the stairs to the upper floor, where Rosa l... where Rosa used to live. Her eyes avoided looking there.

The office desks had two lamps latched onto its sides on two corners, and a myriad of maps covering the surface. The biggest map, in the center, was a general view of the city. The others were more detailed areas, specifically a natural reserve, the huge wal-mart, and the closest forest. There was no map of the facility in which all this had probably originated.

Rosa sighed, looking at the map, and then locked eyes with her ex-assistant, Jim. He seemed to calm down a bit. Just a bit. Enough that he was not beating on the bars constantly, but rather... almost rubbing himself against it as his arms kept reaching out to them.

"This is all we have. Now, what mission were you tasked with, exactly?" Rosa's dark eyes locked with the leader's. Just because they were here, that didn't mean they came to help, and although Rosa was easy on trusting people, she was not stupid enough to believe a special operations group would come to help the survivors. Chances were Rosa would have to deal with that herself, and didn't mind. She would need some more ammo, the shotgun, and/or the rifle...

The first respite in hours - it was shabby, but it was just what was needed. Charles addressed the remaining soldiers first.

"Okay, Lennard - you check the maps and look for anything we've not got marked on ours. I want three of you cleaning weapons and then sleeping - alternate with the others every four hours."

With the details settled he turned to the woman, dropping his rifle on a table with the safety on, he stepped to within a companionable distance of her.

"First up, I want to thank you for this help. It was brave of you to call attention to yourself under these circumstances. I'm Captain Charles Davey and I'm leading what's left of this mission. We were supposed to come in here and recon the situation, give a no-shit assessment of the threat and also recover a civilian Hazard Team who've become lost."

She'd earned the truth and so he laid the woeful tale of the past hours out in front of her.

"We dropped into the shopping center carpark. It went wrong straight away - most of my men were swarmed while they were still getting out of their parachute harnesses. It was total carnage, we never stood a chance. Recognising a totally lost cause when I saw one, I ordered an evac, but one of our heavy weapons guys freaked out whilst he was being eaten alive and put a LAW round into the underside of the helicopter, destroying it. We made a run for it on foot, and got away thanks to you, but we lost our last remaining radio during the run. So we're cut off and isolated - just like you. The Army will eventually send another recon force - but after losing sight of us, and given the loss of the helicopter, it'll be some time before they decide what to do and how to do it."

He stuck a hand out to be shaken again.

"So, I'm pleased to meet you. I guess we'll be holing up for awhile."

"My condolences on your losses. I'm sure being in the Special Forces does not mean you care little about a colleague's death."

Rosa spoke completely seriously. At the same time she straightened up and shook the soldier's hand with a bit of feebleness, her other one grabbed a red pen and marked the shopping center with a red circle. There were two more red circles at the plaza, and the hospital.

"Rosa Willman. Town sheriff. Nice to meet you." Rosa moved her chair closer to the desk, and surveyed the maps. "As soon as we are done making the situation a bit clear, I'll accomodate your men upstairs. Even if they are trained, they will have some difficulty sleeping with him there..."

Rosa pointed at Jim absent-mindedly, still trying to reach them with only the ruffling of his clothes indicating he was there. He didn't moan, or move that much, he just was trying to glide through something un-glidable.

"Also, it was no problem helping you. The zombies are no good at tracking people, only at overwhelming them as soon as they are within sight, and reach. So, what was the Hazard Team's latest location?"

Charles forced himself to eyeball the zombie closely.

"If you don't mind me asking, Sheriff Willman, why in the hell have you got that thing locked up in there? You gathering data on them, or something?"

He resisted the impulse to shiver the skin right off his bones. Damn Zombies were creepier close in than they were at a distance.

"I'm afraid we never got a good location on the Team's position. We figured that by now they'd have a triage set up somewhere with whoever was handling the situation locally. We had no fucking idea at all that the whole town had been overwhelmed to this extent. Luckily the General in charge of this fuck up is restrained and cautious, or he would have sent a division of National Guard in here to get eaten up. And THEN we'd have problems.

My men will be grateful for a break. And some coffee if you've got it. We'll also need hotwater for washing and sprucing our gear up a bit."

"Gathering data... yes. I figured that would come in handy."

That was only half the truth. There was also that Rosa had the vague hope that zombies in real life were not like the ones in movies, and could actually be healed. Or maybe it was because she blamed herself for not shooting the thing that bit him, even if she risked killing him. But she didn't know this would happen... things had happened too fast.

"I have coffee, yes, as for hot water I don't know. There should be some in the deposit yet, I never quite figured out how that thing worked..."

Because Harry took care of it. Rosa's eyes narrowed, glaring at Jim. It was her fault. That was the worst of it all. It was her fault. Not Jim's, because he couldn't be sane. Not Harry's. Only hers. And it was difficult to admit it. Her lips shifted as she sucked them in against her teeth.

"We can heat it in a stove, at least. Or in the chimney, if we really are down to that. About the Hazard Team, I'm sorry to say but that is out of the question. This is not a situation where we can wander around aimlessly. We need to know where we are heading, trace a path through the map, and go. Wherever we go, we leave a trail of zombies behind, so going through the same path is suicide. Have that in mind."

Rosa grabbed a small notebook from the table, and read it as she spoke. "I do know something about these things. They are your usual zombie situation. Persistent, slow, dumb, eat live flesh."

Rosa grabbed an plastic cup with dry coffee at the bottom, and threw it nonchalantly at the cell, to Jim's right. It crashed against the bars, then inside, and shattered. The zombie stopped moving, and kind of leaned towards where the cup fell... before leaning against the bars again.

"They seem sensitive to sound, too, and you can see they seem blind. So I guess they smell us."