love at the end of the world [zombie apoc, pm to join!]

[newbl00d]

love at the end of the world [closed]

Myra St. Pierre knew something was deeply wrong when her parents didn't return her phone calls; up until a few days ago, they were militant about calling every evening (and texting click-bait links to her iPhone at most inconvenient points throughout the day).

Manicured fingers dialled the memorized number over and over. She lost count after the fourth time, which marked the second hour of her trying to get a hold of her parents. It was Sunday - her allotted time to spend hours on the phone (or, more recently, FaceTime) with ma and pa - though for some reason, they still weren't around. At this point, worry had dissolved into misplaced frustration. Had they gone out of town without telling her? The young woman sat on her kitchen counter, legs crossed as she munched on strawberries and stared at her cell-phone, willing it to ring so she could drive out the sense of urgency deep within the pit of her stomach.

After some mulling and contemplation, she woman hopped off of her counter and decided she'd make the hour and a half drive into cottage country to pay her parents face-to-face visit. Myra could use some bucolic country air, the city seemed stuffier than usual. Myra had never been fully comfortable within the city limits, though her residence here was unavoidable; she worked and studied here, this was where she was carving out her life.

She worked part time in a clothing store that appealed to preteens who wished to dress risky, though she also taught dance at the local Y to an all ages, all girls class. Myra loved to dance, it had been her primary passion once and she contemplated pursuing it as a career, before she had bills to pay. Dancing paid off in subtle ways, though - it kept her in shape, which motivated her to jog every day and attempt at healthy eating, and maintained stamina. As a result, she was toned with subtle muscle, her core thin and lithe and interrupted by generously placed hips and chest. Myra shed her unflattering flannel pyjamas and replaced them with a pair of jeans and a bright yellow t-shirt, off setting her naturally sun-kissed complexion. Leaving her one-bedroom apartment, she hopped into her clunky pick up truck and began towards her parents home.

She found herself speeding without much justification, curiously eyeing emergency response vehicles as they whipped by. With concern vibrating inside her chest, she finally reached her parents' cozy home, the place that she'd grown up in. The lights were on, which was a good sign she supposed. Entering through the front door, she was alarmed to realize that there was blood everywhere. Her jaw unhinged, following a trail of entrails to the master bedroom, where her mother stood against the wall, blood and other horrible things dripping from her mouth. Myra held her breath as tears of pure fright spilled from her eyes. Before she had time to comprehend what was happening, her mother was shuffling her way towards Myra. "M..mom? Mom, what happened? Where's dad?" Myra choked out. Her mother growled in response, her expression inhuman.

What happened next was a blur. Myra felt herself being grabbed by her mother's fleshy hands, and the middle aged woman roared like a fucking animal. Myra ran, grabbing a cast iron frying pan and defending herself. She beat her mother's head in because that thing had not been her mother. Myra had been afraid for her own life. The dark haired young woman immediately ran out doors, fell to her knees, and heaved. What the hell was going on?! Just as killing her mother was a blur, her decision to get back into her pickup truck and drive home was vague.

Days passed, and Myra locked herself in her apartment. Chaos and death and warnings of apocalyptic proportions filled the media, but before any sufficient details were given, all power was cut. Myra was running out of food and water; she knew that she'd die if she didn't nourish herself. So, she went to her closet and employed the hand gun her father had given her before she moved out and braved the outside world. The streets were abandoned besides corpses - the scent of rotting flesh was stomach turning. The woman found the nearest grocery store, which had already been raided, and entered.

She wove through mostly empty shelves and broken glass. The smell of rot was overpowering - not only in this grocery store, but in the entire city. Putrid meat and sewage was a gentle description for the heaviness of the air. Myra's hiking boots were tied tightly, her straight legged jeans tucked into the shoes. On her upper half she wore a hoodie despite the oppressive heat, the sleeves duct taped around her wrists to keep herself shielded. Tumbles of long, thick red hair was piled atop her head in a tight knot.

Myra had once been a conventionally pretty girl with blue eyes, an enviable figure and lush lips - but right now she was pale, tired and so, so hungry. As such, she knelt with an open duffel bag and began to pile in cans of preserved fruit as silently as possible. Myra paused, hearing footsteps behind her. She cursed beneath her breath - the notion that it was a living person was just as terrifying as it being an undead thing. She swallowed hard and turned, coming face to face with a human man. He was bigger than her, and in her current state was likely much, much stronger. He could probably snap her neck and take her weapon and food if he felt the urge.

Her gun was tucked into the waist of her jeans at the small of her back, her hoodie concealing it. The cool metal against her hot skin gave her some comfort. She blinked slowly, wide doe eyes meeting his dark gaze as her hands raised in a gentle gesture of submission. "Just looking for food, I'm alone. I really don't want any trouble." Myra declared, extending her leg and toeing her duffel bag toward him to show that she wasn't hiding anything and wasn't intending on attacking him.

ooc:; looking for a male character. please be an engaging, advanced writer. i'm looking for a multi-paragraph, detailed kind of writer. <3

 

[Se7en_]

How did it all go to hell? Joe was wondering as he got dressed, he wore all black and covered every part of his body, he had black jeans a black t-shirt and a black leather jacket. He had black boots and a black hat too. He put his backpack with a duffel bag inside it over his shoulders and walked down the stairs. Living on the 16th floor afforded a beautiful view of the downtown area and the river front, and now a nice bird's eye view of what's happening on the street, but now it was a pain in the ass without electricity.

He looked at himself as he went down the stairs and realized how dumb he looks in all black in the middle of the day, this would be great camouflage at night, not so much at midday, so he ran back up the stairs and changed to more neutral colors, more tan and brown to try and blend in. He still did not seem confident, but he was clueless what else to do. More than anything, he was trying to delay braving the outside world after what he had seen. He was an accountant not a soldier, he was not trained or prepared for this shit!

Joe walked down the street to the grocery store he had walked to dozens of times since moving to the big city to take a job a few months ago. He sighed as he remembered that fateful decision to take a job in the city meant he was leaving his tiny hometown behind and moving to the big city, something his parents did not recommend telling him that the big city was not for him. He disagreed and ignored their advice. He was now kind of regretting it, but not for the reasons they had, his parents did not want him away and did not want him to get lost in the hustle and bustle of the city. He was not regretting that, he loved that about the city, but not so much in an apocalypse.

Parents...... he thought, he had not heard from them in over a week since communications went down, but last he heard they were hunkering down in the storm shelter with enough food for weeks, so he knew they should be fine, and the fact they lived on a large farm meant their danger of running into zombies or other humans was minimal. They also had more sustainable food supply with some farm animals and produce. He really wanted to go check on them, but also knew the highway and other roads out of town were blocked with miles of stopped and abandoned cars, so he had no easy way of reaching them and had to just hope for the best. He was almost certain they were better off than he was, and for that, he was thankful, one less thing to worry about. He was still not going to relax till he knew for sure they were ok, that worry will be at the back of his mind until then.

While walking down the street, he was vigilant, not of being mugged, but of both zombies and humans which were equally dangerous and he was hoping not to run into either on the short trek to the store. People have gone insane and turned to zombies, or gone insane and started rioting and ransacking and killing each other. He had watched a lot of terrible things happen on TV and from the window of his high rise apartment overlooking the downtown area. He was lucky he was lazy and usually shopped for weeks in advance despite the grocery store being down the street. He was also lucky his father had instilled in him survival skills of stacking non-perishable food items. He thought his dad was insane when he filled his pantry with a ton of food when he moved in, but now he was extremely thankful for that overbearing behavior. That pantry and freezer will allow him to survive far longer than most others.

He was able to hunker down for the past few days and let the worst go. At least that was what he hoped for, but it quickly became clear that the worst was yet to come, so even while still having about three weeks worth of food at home, he decided to risk his life to get more before everything is looted.

It may be way too late, he knew that, but it was too crazy in the past few days to move, things seem to have quieted down a little. News of looting had filled the media before everything went dark, but he held some hope that something was left at the store. He walked slowly to the store, staying in cover, the cars piled up in the street as people tried to flee town was a visceral reminder of what had happened, but also provided for decent cover. As he was walking, he saw a young girl fully covered in jeans, hoodie and boots. She was not trying to hide as she walked towards the store, but at least all her skin was covered, so she may have been a little safe from bites. He wanted to warn her to keep low, but did not want to risk scaring her off or alerting zombies or other humans that may be lurking about.

Joe watched as her small frame headed towards the store and he frowned, she was going to beat him to whatever may have been left in there. He took a deep breath, trying not to throw up from the stench of rotten flesh in the street and the cars around him and he continued towards the store. He walked in carefully trying to see what the girl was up to and if she needed any help or if she was with a group, if she was armed. He was armed too, but did not want to shoot her or have her shoot at him either. After taking a few steps in, he saw her kneeling by a shelf in the canned foods isle.

The girl paused, having heard his footsteps. He saw her turn towards him, she was beautiful albeit clearly exhausted, terrified and not in the best condition, he felt bad for her, he felt bad for himself. In fact, he felt bad for humanity as a whole. Turning his attention back to her, her beautiful blue eyes met his and he saw her raise her hands to show she was not a threat. He was significantly bigger and stronger than her, standing at a towering 6' 4" compared to what looked like 5' 2" to 5' 4" and around 100 pound frame, it was clear he had the advantage physically without any weapons involved, but fighting or hurting her was not on his mind, but he knew he could overpower her if necessary and he hoped it wouldn't.

He then heard her voice "Just looking for food, I'm alone. I really don't want any trouble." Her voice was low and soft as she pushed her bag towards him. He looked in and saw she only had a few cans of fruit in there. He looked around the store, careful to also watch her. He did not trust her, but felt bad for her, she was obviously not a zombie, but looked like she was also not one of the 'bad' humans left alive, so this felt like a good chance to make a friend, someone to go out on supply runs with as he had seen in all those dumb post apocalyptic movies and shows, but as dumb as they were, having someone to watch your back had to be the right thing to do, not to mention a potential love interest. He had not had sex since he moved to the city and seeing the first female in over a week the first time he stepped outside of his home was a pleasant surprise.

Clearing his throat, and snapping himself out of his day dreaming, he said "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you miss. I'm also here looking for some food and supplies" He looked back down at her duffel bag and then into her eyes noting her skinny figure underneath her clothes "I don't think you'll survive long on those fruits. I'm not going to fight you for them, so how about you keep those, and we split whatever is left in the store........... IF there's anything left?" He said really debating whether to tell her he had a nice stash of food at his place, meat, rice, frozen fruits, fries and vegetables and a lot of canned meat too. He figured if they explore the store together, he would have a chance to get to know her a little more and then decide if he wants to share that information with her if he feels he can trust her enough. "What's your name miss? Mine is Joe." He said and forced a smile, not because he did not want to smile at her, but because the state of this world left little to smile about...

 

[newbl00d]

The woman remained still, straightening her spine and appearing as tall as possible as though she had encountered a bear in the woods. Her hand remained in wordless surrender, raised to show that she wasn't concealing any weapons in her palms. Her eyes were focused only on him, hyper-focused on his body language to assess any acts of aggression. "You didn't scare me." She corrected him. It was mostly true, but she also wanted to make it clear that she was not a damsel in distress - she was an asset in this moment. She swallowed hard, summoning the will to let her bravado keep her brave-faced and take the wheel of her personality.

A deviant smirk touched her lips, prompting a shallow dimple beneath one of her aristocratic, freckle-peppered cheekbones. "I'm relieved to know you aren't going to fight me over my canned peaches and pineapples. There's plenty to go around." She took a step aside and nodded her head toward the shelves she had just been scavenging; these were some of the last items to go. It wasn't that she planned on sustaining herself on the cans of fruit, she just thoroughly enjoyed them.

And at this point, encountering any kind of joy was the kind of morale boost she needed to fight another day. Even if it came in the form of nameless, store brand pineapple chunks.

She bent, grabbing the strap of her duffle bag and slinging it over one of her shoulders. She planted her hands on the curve of her hips, all of her weight on her left leg as she looked up at him while she listened. Her eyes broke from his features and swept the interior of the grocery store. The front windows were broken in, cash registered were demolished and broken open (not that hard currency meant anything anymore), and many aisles of shelves had been tipped over. Bits of rotting meat in the deli and meat sections remained, the stink of it hard to differentiate from rotting people.

Her head shook, dislodging a tendril of red hair from being tucked behind her ear. She made no effort to return it, allowing the strand to frame her face. "I don't think there's anything here, to be honest. I only came in for the fruit because I like them." She paused, readjusting her duffle bag on her shoulder. "If you want to do a quick sweep, I can watch your back for a few minutes. There are some dead bagging boys locked in the back freezer." Myra told him, insinuating that they were in a minimal amount of danger by even being there. She had discovered the undead high school students by accident about two weeks ago after trying to break into the freezer, hoping to find secret stashes of boxed foods.

At the question of her name, a brow arched. The formality felt like it was an ancient practice, a custom that felt just as near to her as curtsying in another era. From the outset of this strange hell-scape, nobody had asked her what her name was, and she certainly never asked anyone else's. Another smile, this one lighter, returned to her face. His question reminded her that she was a human - alive - with a name. She indulged on a curiosity, extending her touch hand toward his to shake. Her hand was cool in his palm, fingers delicate. Regardless, her handshake was firm and purposeful.

"Hi, Joe. I'm Myra." She let go of his hand and dropped her hands to her sides. "Good to meet you."

In the distance, Myra could hear trucks moving through blocks. Other scavengers, no doubt. "So, Joe. Do you want to do a quick sweep for supplies while I watch your back, or is this where we go on our separate ways?" she questioned, wondering whether this interaction served a greater purpose. Eyes flicked from his face to over his shoulder, hearing the vehicle again without letting her incoming worry touch her face.