We Survived - (Visit the OOC before joining)

[Ahren]

Mac gripped Jessa's hand tightly as he attempted to help her out of the car. There was a very dazed look upon her face now; a combination of shock and confusion. He couldn't blame her, especially after what she had just heard. He knew he'd be in the same position, and it was only his concern for her that was keeping him lucid at this point. That and the sudden scream that carried out toward him. The woman that had just fallen not too far from the store was getting back up and actually coming toward him...

A second later a loud bang echoes out and the woman falls flat to the ground. Mac ducked down instinctively, eyes wide at how quickly everything had just happened as he glanced over to the origin of the noise. Owen hadn't hesitated to raise the weapon he held to save him.

"Jesus Christ!" Mac finally uttered, immensely surprised yet relieved at Owen's actions. He had been a soldier, after all. How many people had he shot before...? Out of respect, the teen had never really questioned Owen on his service, but he was glad for now that the man had those skills. Now that he was over that initial shock, he resumed helping Jessa toward the shop. As they moved closer to Lara, yet another sound caught their attention. A truck swerving down the street, though it wasn't quite like the van from before, as the woman inside was distracted by the creature attacking her from above. Everything seemed to happen in slow motion as she eventually crashed right into Kipper's tavern, fatally injuring the thing on her roof. Or so they could hope...

"Mac, come on! Come with me! Lara, get Jessa inside! Try and cover us from the upstairs window!"

"...Wha?" Mac barely spoke in confusion as Owen started to race toward the wreck. Admittedly he really didn't want to go over there near those things, no matter how dead it appeared to be... Nonetheless, if that woman was still alive, she was going to need some help.

"Go with Lara, I'll be right there..." Mac ordered to Jessa before dashing off after Owen, eventually reaching the smoking vehicle spattered with blood due to the corpse above. Mac could only stare worriedly at it, unsure if it would suddenly jump back up at any time.

"See if you can get the driver out." Owen commanded. "Uh.. yeah, okay..." Mac swallowed softly but gathered his courage to rush over to the door and pry it open. The dark haired woman was still in her seat, mostly unharmed with her seatbelt still buckled. She had a few scratches from the shattered glass and seemingly was very dazed due to the impact, but... she was alive and not one of those things.

"It's okay, come on..." He tried to reassure her as he reached over to undo her seatbelt and lift her out of the car. As he took her arm and placed it over his shoulder, Mac began to guide her away from the wreck. He didn't know much about cars, but he couldn't risk being near it if it were to go up in flames all of the sudden. In addition to watching the vehicle, Mac glanced around in paranoia, making sure one of those things wasn't about to jump him and the woman...

"This is... not possible..."

 

[WaywardHeart]

Asha was unconscious for a few minutes, before a voice brought her hazily back to wakefulness. Her eyes opened to slits, blurry vision slowly focusing on a blood-spattered airbag. "It's okay, come on..." She blinked several times, a pained moan escaping her. It felt like her head was split in half. She could feel her forehead throb with each beat of her heart. Well... at least its beating... Nothing could explain what had been happening. Curiously, she wondered if anyone ever would. The seatbelt clicked, and zipped back into its home in the crumpled drivers side door.

A dark skinned man, perhaps just out of high school, helped her from the car. Asha wondered if, perhaps, she had a concussion. He looped her arm about his neck, and assisted her in walking towards a building. They were lead by a rather handsome man in a flannel shirt. More importantly, he held a massive pistol in his hand. He looked as if he knew how to use it. Gunshots rang all around her. Through the fog of her mind, she was aware and pleased that there were people who were fighting. The boy spoke once more. "This is... not possible."

Surprising herself by speaking up, she replied. "Oh, but we have gone to the moon, haven't we? Impossible is such a trivial word..." Normally when she said something like that, it was a display of unbridled optimism on her part. Unwittingly, she had performed a feat of irony she would never have pulled off on any other day. She barked a harsh laugh, her eyes still misty, her mind still half-asleep. The young man supporting her looked incredulously at her, appalled that she could be so callous. That look, and the sound of a firearm going off a few feet away, brought her fully back to the real world. She started at the deafening bang, pulling her arm from around him. "I... I'm okay. Thank you."

She looked around at the people, as they all headed for the entrance to what appeared to be a hardware store. "I'm awake, I am healthy. If there is anything... Anything... I can do for the effort, please-" Another loud bang silenced her, before she continue. "Please, do not hesitate to ask!" It was important that everyone do what they could, that was a belief that Asha clung to with all her might. Now more than ever, her faith in humanity would be tested. She wondered if they would make her look like a fool for such naivete. So many dead... She could not think about that now. Those thoughts would have to wait for some measure of peace before they could be allowed to surface. Perhaps not even then. Perhaps there would be no peace. Perhaps none of them would make it...

No! She shook her head, bringing another stab of intense pain roaring through her head. With a firm internal conviction, she silenced her train of thought. No. I will do what needs to be done. These people need everything they can get out of me... and I from them.

The sound of gunshots never ceased.

 

[Light Ice]

Lara Wilson was a guardian angel. The rifle cracked again and again from the window, dropping flesh-eating monsters in a wide arc around them. It helped, of course, that so many were still fleeing the streets and the buildings that lined them that the undead that hunted them were scattered, unorganized. He watched as one man sprinted towards a woman attempting to get into a small, blue Subaru parked outside the hardware store. The creature was wearing coveralls, mechanics blue, and would have surely caught her when a small group emerged from a nearby house and stole his attention. He veered crazily, reminding Owen like the rear-end of a firetruck as he drifted in wide arc before straightening out and arrowing towards them. His head exploded before he could reach the group, sending him tumbling lifelessly along the pavement.

Owen understood that mindset. He knew the feeling. Any soldier, really, dealt with loss in their own way when they were away from it all. But in the thick, in the midst, shooting a firearm became a ferociously rewarding and relieving activity. Killing your enemy, Owen had learned with chilling certainty, also came with a grim and nearly inhuman satisfaction that some had a hard time reconciling with their peace-time selves.

He worried, quietly, that Lara might struggle once the need for her rifle was gone and the reality of the day came crashing down.

The trucker had joined them as was armed, and that made Owen feel much better. He had six shots left in Lara's automatic, an unassuring fact. Had he been at home, he realized, he'd have had an arsenal of his own. But they were in town and he'd long ago taken his father's revolver from its place beneath the counter and stored it in the gun-safe at home.

He moved beside the others, allowing himself to stay just behind them. The pistol was a comforting weight in his hands and he tracked it steadily with his eyes, constantly looking around, constantly afraid that he would be too late to stop one of the blood-crazed creatures from taking Mac or the woman.

Lara missed once. A young boy, maybe eleven, exploded from the ice-cream parlor. His overalls were unbuttoned on the left shoulder, revealing a white T-shirt with red trimmings and a great big picture of Spiderman on the front. He was a snarling mess now, a shade of the child he had once been. Bits of blood and chocolate ice cream mingled on his lap, face, and arms. He had a solitary bite along the side of his head that had clipped some of his ear off.

Owen let him get close before he squeezed off a shot. The .45 roared, deafening, and the boy's head jerked straight back as one of his eyes went black. Dead legs stumbled before crumbling and the boy fell onto his belly, smacked his face on the pavement, and slid forward under his own momentum.

And then they were at the store. He followed the kids inside, waited for the Trucker to follow. The door drew closed and he locked it, exhaling. It was second nature to eject the pistol's magazine and drag the slide, clearing the round that was chambered there. His thumb pushed it into place at the top of the magazine and he reloaded, putting the pistol's safety round and not bothering to chamber the first round before he tucked it into the back of his jeans.

To Mac and the trucker, Owen said nothing. He didn't know what to say. Talking had never been a strong point. Instead, wearily, he turned and looked back out into the street through the door. Hoping, blindly, that others had seen them and would come.

 

[The_PG]

Brandon @ Honest John's with Owen, Lara, Jessa, Mac, and Asha. Lara and Jessa are on the 2nd floor.

"Well it ain't the army of twelve monkeys, but it'll do." Brandon commented as he glanced around the room. He hadn't missed the rifle fire from the 2nd floor either. It looked to him that at least one person in this mess of a city had their shit together, and that boded well for the rest of the town. In any of those big boy cities the shit would have hit the fan and never came back down, at least here you could get away from the smell for a few moments. The younger man had raised an eyebrow at him, the older one didn't seem to have heard him, and the woman seemed to be concentrating very hard on not puking her guts out, or giving birth, Brandon chuckled at the thought and leaned against the nearest wall. His evident comfort seemed to at least turn down the anxiousness of the younger two down a notch.

With a puff on his cigar he stated, "Names Brandon Durnham. I drive that big fucking truck out there, eh heh, you two look as wound as a geetar wire. Don't worry, whoever's got that shooter upstairs is a pretty damn good shot. They ain't gonna miss much. Now, ya'll got anythin ta eat in'ere? I'm starvin."

Whether they thought he was crazy or... Crazy, the older man pointed to where a stall of chilled sandwiches were sitting. With a nod Brandon moved his large frame between the three of them to stand in front of the stall. "Chicken salad, tuna salad, turkey salad, beets? Beets an'salad sammich? I never heard of a thing... Well fuck me sideways..." He picked up the red container and eyed it suspiciously, "Looks like poison." He dropped the container back into the stall and took a tuna and chicken sandwich out. He ripped open the packaging and began chewing hungrily, very similarly to the way some of the monsters were attacking people just outside their door.

He wondered for a split second, why everyone was looking at him, before raising a finger.

"Oh, ya'll hungry?" He reached into the and stall and laughed when all three looked away. At least one of them turning slightly green in the process. Brandon let loose a belly laugh and took another large bite of the sandwich while holding his still burning cigar between two fingers.

The two sandwiches were finished quickly, and Brandon pulled out his wallet. He took out two twenty dollar bills and laid it on the counter near the older man. "For the sandwiches," He explained, "And a drink." He added as he went back into the aisle's to search for something tasty... It was a general store, more hardware then food, but like any good Midwestern store it did have a few bottles of gin and whiskey. He picked a bottle of gin up, and cracked the seal. One sniff was all he needed before taking a pull.

"Hey," He said more loudly then he intended, one or two of'em startled.

"This is some purty good shit. Never had it before... Fucking excellent man."

Walking with heavy footfalls he approached the three of them. In a friendly gesture he slapped the young man's back and squeezed his shoulder, "So you the hero round here? Savin all the damsels in distress," Nodding with a wink towards the woman he'd rescued from the car. Finally, after another swig and gentle pull of his cigar Brandon asked to no one in particular.

"Awww shiiiiiiiit, ya'll gonna tell me yer names or not? Ain't like we're dyin anytime soon!"

 

[marauder13]

Gary & Paula @ Kippers

The woman walked out in a small could of steam and vapour. How much longer she would have been able to last in that freezer dressed as she was he had no idea. If he wasn't so shit scared at that moment, he probably would have stopped to look at the young woman more appreciatively. She was definitely worthy of more positive attention, but that came a distant second to survival.

"Hello, Miss. I'm Gary. Let's move before that crash brings more of them." He pointed in the general direction of the crash with the bloodied length of metal. He looked around quickly, afraid that one or more of them may have snuck up on them. He reached back to take the young woman's arm, guiding her away from the freezer. He noticed the leg of pork in her hand, stifling a chuckle. "That's clever thinking. It make a great weapon while it's frozen, and then later, we can eat it."

His eyes widened. "Food!" He dashed back into the freezer, looking at the various meats hanging about. "Fuck! Too big... way too big." He raced back out, taking the lead. "I hope you have got the key to that place, dear. There is lots of useful stuff in there."

The sounds of gunfire made him crouch reflexively. Fear coursed through him. Gunfire meant potential friendlies. Friendlies was good. More people. Teamwork - give the enemy someone to worry about than you. He dashed forward, still bent in half until he got to a vantage point. The wrecked truck was empty, and a small group were retreating to another building. They had a shooter on the upper floor if his guess was correct. The fact that there was a booming sound followed by one of the things falling made the guess a safe one. Still, he didn't want to fall to friendly fire. Yelling out was not a safe thing to do as it drew them like moths to a flame.

"Well, Miss, follow me closely. We have friendly folks near by. We're going to make a dash for it. If the things see us, start yelling and run for the building over there." Gary pointed out the hardware store. He firmed his grip on the starpicket as he made his move to the first point of safety. He hoped the young woman was following, but he was so focused on his task he didn't notice if she had followed him or not.

They had reached the last safe spot before reaching the building. Who ever was shooting was keeping most of the things at range, more more correctly, killing anything that got too close. This would be the dangerous part of the run. But luck was not fully with them. A small group of things came up one of the side streets behind them. The chorus of snarls announced their initial charge. They all were covered in blood, with some pieces of their bodies were missing, though that didn't stop them, nor slowed them down.

"FUCK! Run." He turned and started to run for the building. "FRIENDLIES COMING IN! DON'T SHOOT US!" Echoes of his training came to the for again. He was with a civilian, someone he was tasked to protect. "Go! Miss, run for the building." He started to swing the metallic club, getting it moving in preparation for the pending fight. Even though he faced them, he was stepping backward, inching closer to the building full of hopefully helpful people.

The lead monster lunged for Gary, and he slammed the metal bar into the shoulder, breaking bones. The old man fell to the ground, but soon started scrambling along the road to get to him. He swept the bar back, taking the legs out from under another one, before hitting the old man in the head on the return swing. Blood, bones and other stuff flew through the air as the old man lay still. But the others were closing fast.

"Miss, RUN!! Please, just fucking run!!!"

 

[Ahren]

"Oh, but we have gone to the moon, haven't we? Impossible is such a trivial word..." The woman Mac was assisting finally spoke up in response to his last comment. She even laughed briefly, likely in the absurdity of it all. Still he couldn't help but give her a disturbed glance as he continued to help her toward Honest John's. He decided against saying anything, but he definitely was not in the mood for jokes, at least not when they were potentially inches away from death. Another gunshot pounded through the air.

"I... I'm okay. Thank you." She managed to express, seemingly free from her daze. Mac nodded before rushing in to the store along with her, but not before witnessing a child, or what remained of him, get taken down swiftly by one of Owen's bullets...

"Jesus..." Mac whispered to himself, watching Owen and the trucker finally follow inside and bolt the door. There was a brief few moments of silence which Mac used to take a deep breath, leaning over his body to grip his knees, making any attempt to calm himself. The woman Mac helped out of the truck tried to offer assistance to anyone inside the store, however Owen said nothing at all. He never was one to talk much... Why would he start now?

"Well it ain't the army of twelve monkeys, but it'll do."

Mac raised an eyebrow at the long-haired, gruff-looking trucker. It'll do? What the hell could they do? Regardless, he was finally calming a bit just to hear someone speak that wasn't screaming for a change. With that, the dark-haired teen leaned against a nearby wall, sliding down until he was in a sitting position, sighing heavily.

"Names Brandon Durnham. I drive that big fucking truck out there, eh heh, you two look as wound as a geetar wire. Don't worry, whoever's got that shooter upstairs is a pretty damn good shot. They ain't gonna miss much. Now, ya'll got anythin ta eat in'ere? I'm starvin." He continued, puffing on his cigar. Mac just glanced over to him, still unresponsive, though his gaze showed he considered this man to be a bit off his rocker. Who could think of food at a time like this? He'd just seen people... eating each other. Mac wasn't sure if he'd eat again for a week... if he even managed to survive that long.

Brandon continued to talk to no-one in particular as he began to rummage through the food in the store.

Is this guy for real? Mac thought to himself, unable to comprehend how the man seemed so aware of their existence, yet so unaware at the same time. He continued to eat two sandwiches like it was nothing, placing some money on the counter, then claiming he was going for a drink next. Mac wanted to speak up. To mention that any food they have should be rationed because who knew how long they'd have to stay holed up in that store? He wanted to ask what good was money in a situation like this?

But he was never good at confronting people, especially someone that much bigger than him. Right now he just wanted every person possible to be on his side. Mac glanced down at the floor as Brandon walked off to look for a drink. A million thoughts raced through his mind. Now what? Mom is out of the country on business, but could this possibly be happening to her too? ...Natalie!

Mac quickly reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his cell. There wasn't a signal... Shit, she could be trying to call him right now and he wouldn't be able to get it. He'd have to ask Owen for his phone, but before he could do so, the large trucker returned, slapping Mac on the back rather suddenly.

"So you the hero round here? Savin all the damsels in distress,"

"Ow.." Mac uttered..

"Awww shiiiiiiiit, ya'll gonna tell me yer names or not? Ain't like we're dyin anytime soon!"

He had to give the man credit for optimism... but he couldn't say he believed those words. Nonetheless, he wasn't going to leave an awkward silence.

"Mac... and I'm definitely no hero..." He said halfheartedly, remembering how many people he saw go down in the Town Square and how he just ran... Before he could say anything else, however, a shouting could be heard from outside the shop. It wasn't just idle growling of those creatures either. They were alive, and seemingly were coming closer. Mac jumped up and looked out one of the windows to indeed see a couple of people rushing for the store. A middle aged man he didn't recognize as well as a familiar short-haired woman. She was a waitress at Kipper's, though he couldn't say he knew her too well. Her name was... Paula?

"We gotta let them in!" Mac shouted, moving to the door and looking at the other shop occupants. "I'm... I'm gonna open it... be ready." He said, trying to swallow his fear as he quickly unlatched the door and pulled it open, letting the two inside...

 

[Katamari Roller]

"Hello, Miss. I'm Gary. Let's move before that crash brings more of them." Paula nodded, not really having the strength for much more, and struggled to open up some room between her arm and her side so Gary could grab her and help her move. She was extremely pale, not that she had ever managed to acquire a tan despite her home-country´s weather, and was slightly blue in some places. Walking was difficult to her, her legs did not quite respond and even hurt a bit, which was a bit strange because she did not remember that from when she stood up to open the door.

"I hope you have got the key to that place, dear. There is lots of useful stuff in there." Paula nodded again, though it would not be strange for Gary not to notice. The keys were hanging from the side of the shelves behind the bar. They were easy to find, as long as nobody had knocked them off onto the floor with all the glass and the blood. Paula managed to see and pick them up feebly while being led away from the place.

"Well, Miss, follow me closely. We have friendly folks near by. We're going to make a dash for it. If the things see us, start yelling and run for the building over there." The temperature outside hit her like a hot blast of air when she stepped out. Paula heard the gunfire more clearly now, specially that of the rifle firing from the top of Honest John´s. Paula went fairly often to Owen´s store because it was close and well supplied, so it worked fine for her when running errands both for herself, and for Kipper. It had the kind of quirky name that Paula liked in a store... and the kind of owner, too. And yet, the idea of walking into sniper fire conflicted with her videogamer´s instincts.

Ok, think... this is not a war game... She thought to herself as she took slow steps forward, the pig leg in one hand, the key in the other. This is a zombie game... people with guns are good. She turned her head lazily to see Gary shout at her, but even though she heard his words, she couldn´t make much sense of them. Still, the urgency in them was as clear a message as she needed. Thankfully, she was thawing fast, but not as fast as she would have liked. Still, the store´s entrance was close. It was so close that if she had been able to, Paula would have reached it in no more than ten seconds, even with her heeled shoes on. Now it seemed like a long path, but blood was flowing again... more or less.

"Miss, RUN!! Please, just fucking run!!!" Paula winced. "I... I c-ca..."

Paula desisted from trying to talk. She was having enough difficulties. And she was at the door. There was a young man there, gesturing for her to hurry up. Above him, the loud booming of a rifle kept going. With a supreme last effort, Paula hurled herself into the store, almost slamming her shoulder against the closest shelf. Her legs cramped up completely there, and her body slid down to the floor and onto her knees. It was a strange feeling for her, as if her mind was left back up, a few feet above her crumbling body. Yet at the same time, she thought she felt her own heartbeat. It was very slow, but also very warm. Paula´s consciousness started slipping away as her eyes closed, and she barely managed to smile, thinking what a wonderful feeling it was, one´s own beating heart. The shadows of both people standing over her, and her surroundings slipping away into darkness, enveloped her.

 

[Alana_]

Lara would never have thought there was a huge difference between fear and terror. She found out though, as she reloaded and dissected her body's reactions to what she was doing, and drew the conclusion that fear was what drove her concerns for those she cared about..For Owen...family..friends..And you feared not making payroll in a bad season..You feared having people depending on you. It was the road worry traveled, with a few extra miles added on. Somewhere though, you passed worry, drove right into fear, then collided with terror.
Now terror, she realized as she watched two people racing, cutting a path toward 'Honest Johns' pleading for her not to shoot them, was a whole different journey in the cycle of emotions. It either left you functionally useless, or kicked in a level of blinkered determination fueled by adrenaline. And she was terrified. There was little to stop her just shooting , her jaw clenched, gritting her teeth as the rifle kicked back on her shoulder, with Lara settled down to pointing and shooting at what ever those things were that infested her home town.

Shot after shot she took, making as many as she could count. Taking aim at the heads of people she recognized was hard....; but she reminded herself these weren't people anymore. Movies..Movies called them 'Undead' or 'Zombies'..Both names just didn't sound as horrific as the blood drooling faces that screeched and savaged, hungry to rip into anyone's flesh..Anyone's.

Another couple ran toward the store..Lara recognized the girl instantly from Kippers. She looked like she was stiff be-it from cold or fear, but she moved, and moved as fast as she could given the height of her shoes with the stranger with her urging her on. Lara kept shooting until the sidewalk in front of the store was empty she felt it safe to let her fingers flex, the gun feeling like it weighed a ton in her hands.

Quiet..Somewhere along the run to madness, it got quiet. She leaned against the window frame taking in the upper street before the lower..Across the road the sight was enough to make a stomach experience its last meal again, and Lara swallowed, turning her back on the vision of body parts left abandoned like useless parts of someones bodily motor, with the blood congealing on the dirt of the street. It just didn't make sense that only this morning she had eaten breakfast, had a talk with Manuel, and gone into the city for a meeting with her bank manager. And now, all the plans for expansion, the money involved, the gamble that all expansions included, meant nothing. It made no sense to even think of the winery when she was looking down at the carnage of riddled bodies below, hearing the muffle of voices down stairs of people lucky to be alive.

She checked her ammo and saw she was almost out, and turned looking at Jess, really only seeing her despite time hazardous past minutes spent together.
Lara stooped down grabbed the half drank bottle of water by her foot the girl had given her minutes before..Her mouth was bone dry, and her stomach felt sick. She drank the remaining water slowly, her insides rebelling but her mouth needing the moisture, before she wiped her left hand across her lips and gave a smile far more confident than the tightening muscles in her stomach would indicate.

''I think we did Ok....''

Rolling the stiffness from her neck, Lara left the empty bottle down on the window ledge, took one last look out the window, before resting her hand on Jess's shoulder and giving her a friendly little squeeze.

''Lets go see who's down there. Hum? ''

Down stairs Lara paused in the back door way behind the counter that led upstairs, and looked at those present, searching out Owen, lowering her rifle tiredly as the activity at the door drew her attention and she saw him...It suddenly felt ok to admit to her body's exhausted need to relax strained shoulders and the persistent stiffness in her neck, but the girl from Kippers looked past it slouched on her knees..Her face was almost gray with fright and Lara felt dreadfully sorry for her, as the girls face took on the black expression of nothing as her body slumped..

''Ohhh some one catch her, she's fainted!...''

 

[marauder13]

Thomas Abrams

Thomas walked. It was how he dealt with any big problems. Let his body go from one place to another and back again. The mind was free to work through whatever bothered him, and come to a workable solution. This time, it was not working. The biggest problem in his life, and he couldn't think of a way to fix things up.

He gave up, and headed back to the apartment where he was staying with Emily. Just thinking of her made him wince. He wasn't entirely sure what was wrong, but instinct was telling him that he knew. His mind went blank for a while, until he saw the building come into view. His footsteps faltered slightly, before he resumed his walk at the pace he had initially set. He needed a plan, some framework to work within. He again tried to think of how to deal with the problem at hand but he was still not getting anywhere. The whole purpose of this time away was lost.

He found himself at the front door, wondering what reception he would receive from Emily. He allowed his breathing to settle before he opened the door. The only sign of his true feelings was in the way he put the door key away. He was frustrated at his inability to solve his problem.

"Our plane leaves in two hours. Call Allen and have him bring the car over." She was drunk, and she had been crying too. He kept his face passive as he sat down on the bed to take his shoes off. His feet needed the time out of them after the walk he just had. As he straightened, Thomas saw the shards of glass. He gave Emily a questioning look.

"I had a bit of an accident. Might have… broken a few things."

"You're drunk."

“No shit.”

Thomas watched as Emily lurched from the chair she had been in to the bed, grabbing her door key.

"Where are you going?" He couldn't believe that Emily was going to go out while she was so clearly drunk. It was not like this place was a crime capital, but someone as lovely as her wandering around in a stupor was asking for trouble.

"I’m going out for a walk. Make yourself comfortable, dear. I’ll… I’ll be right back."

He didn't even look at her as she left the room. The full weight of what he had been doing crashed down on him. In the week prior to their coming on this little vacation, Thomas had been approached by the fiance of one of the women he had been sleeping with. The man reminded him of Thomas' father in the way he spoke to Thomas.

"If I see you with Sara again, I will kill you."

The words were delivered in a flat, even tone just like he heard his own father use many times before. It was a simple statement of fact. There was no anger. But the words carried the weight of command. Of the knowledge that the words would be carried out. Thomas nodded, and retired like a smart man, rather than surrendering like a weak one.

That one encounter changed everything for him. He thought about how he would feel if Emily had an affair. He would feel the same way as Sara's beau would.

"Then why should it be different for me? Why should it be ok for me? Because it's not. What a fucking fool!" He threw himself back onto the bed, bouncing a couple of times from the force. "Of course, I should have stopped once Emily and I started dating, but... No, I couldn't stop. Having those women eagerly wanting me, why stop? It would not cause any problems for anyone else as long as I was careful." He snorted to himself. "Yes... of course. As if that would work." He sat up and groaned. "God!! What if dad finds out? Shit... I would be dead."

Thomas had been around enough military personnel to know a shotgun blast when he heard one. And the one he just heard was very close. Forgetting that he was just in socks, he raced for the door. He didn't bother with the elevator, he took the steps as many as he could on his way to find Emily. He skidded out the front of the building complex, looking around rapidly. He was deathly afraid that Emily had been shot, or was in danger of being shot. He saw her near the pool, and lost no time getting to her.

The sight of the old man with the shotgun never entered his mind when he saw that Emily was safe. He swept her into his arms, grateful for the chance to hold her again. Knowing that she was OK, Thomas looked over at the gun totting old man, then looked at what he was looking at. Thomas' eyes went wide as he looked at the mess floating in the pool. Shock set in as his mind processed what his eyes were showing him.

"What the hell was that thing?"

“You don’t watch a lot of movies, do ya?” The old man asked gruffly.

"Well, yes, I do, but..." He was still having trouble understanding.

"Well, son, what we have here is a classic case of zombie. Nothing that a good ol' shot to the head doesn't fix. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to get everything packed away for the siege. Good day to you both."

The old man cracked open the shotgun as he walked away, tipping out the empty shells as he headed off.

"Hey! What siege are you on about?"

"Hmmm?" The old man turned his head slightly. "Oh, you know. The one where all the zombies come looking for the last survivors. I need to get back home and get it all secure like before they come trying to eat me." He waved his hand and continued on his way.

Thomas looked at the old man, then Emily, then the body in the pool, before returning to look at his wife. His face had lost some of its colour and his eyes were a little wild looking.

"I think we should be leaving now, don't you darling?"

 

[Mephistophelily]

Jessa cringed with every shot of that gun. It was a noise that still frightened her- Not as much as the things that Lara was taking out with them, certainly... but still a noise she didn't care for. Her father had used a gun once. ONCE. She had been maybe 10. The sound of the shot echoing in that backyard. Her mother screamed at him for firing it, with Jessa sitting in the yard with him, Mister Donaldson standing there with his thumbs through his beltloops and chuckling. "Was a good shot, Rod. Maybe next fall you should come along huntin' with me."

"Like HELL he will." Her mother had snatched Jessa by the back of the collar, smacking her father hard in the back of the head. "Your daughter, less than five feet away, and you're shooting a gun?! What if she had gotten in front of you? What if you missed? What if you had shot her, huh? Don't you say a word to me, Mister Donaldson, not a word... I would never forgive either of you if you shot my baby..."

Another gunshot. Jessa winced, hunkering down once again.
All those kids. Other parents' babies.
*Don't think about it.*

Her eyes widened as Lara's hand found her shoulder, her face still pale as she looked up to the woman. A slow nod came from her as the lady started down the stairs, Jessa following after. More people, more real people, not all messed up and insane and trying to kill everyone.

The store was getting quite full.
But instead of worrying her, she actually smiled. Relief. Others.

She sat down on the wooden steps leading up to where she and Lara had been tucked away, cradling her chin in her palms. So what now? Hole up inside this place til one of three things happened? Either help would come, they'd try to get out of here on their own, or those things would get inside... She closed her eyes a moment, letting them snap back open at the sudden commotion and Lara's shout from the front of the store.

That waitress lady fainted.

"That bad out there, huh?"

 

[Light Ice]

There had been countless days he had stood, just as he had now, with his arms folded and his eyes trained on the street. Countless Fourth of July parades that he had spent right where he stood, watching instead of taking part, after the preparations were complete. He blinked and stared. Blinked and stared. Outside, beyond the glass, he did not recognize what he saw. The ruin of the UHaul lay buried in Kipper's Tavern, driven at a cruel angle and buried in the brick. A body lay crushed, only the arm visible, cocked at an unnatural and broken angle.

There were bodies in the street. Some were beginning to rise. A woman in a flowered dress lay face down on the asphalt, slick with her blood and broiling in a strengthening summer sun. He watched as her legs began to twitch, bouncing uneasily at first before convulsing violently. One of her arms had been gnawed to the bone and she reached, splaying both of her hands and hauling herself up. Bits of gravel were buried in her fleshy cheeks and her red hair was a wild mess. Owen did not recognize her. She must have been a tourist.

The dying had become the dead and were in the process of becoming the undead. A fire burned at Town Hall where a Subaru Outback had plowed into the side of Royal Oak's oldest building and burst into flame. Bright gouts of orange and crimson wagged into the air like tongues, sending a dark column of smoke into the air.

It was not his town. It was not the place he had grown up and attempted to abandon, to leave, and start over with the childish dream of making a difference and seeing the world. The smoke and ruin, the chunks of flesh and blood in the streets, reminded him more of war.

But Owen couldn't find that mindset. That clarity that he'd found on the battlefield was something of the past and this was something different. Outside, the woman in the flower dress had found her feet. He saw that her throat was a ragged hole lined in dark blood, remnant and ruin of a flabby column. For a moment he thought she saw him, standing there, her eyes gray and blank.

Then she turned and ran. No, she sprinted, down the street and out of sight.

For a moment Main Street was empty save the ruin, debris, and a dozen turned over picnic tables. It's red, white, and blue bunting seemed woefully and garishly out of place. Owen could not look away.

And then he heard Lara. Her voice snapped him from the window, broke its hold on him. Inside the store the group had assembled, all men and women he knew save the trucker. Owen watched him take a drink, unconcerned with the notion of a sale but deeply concerned with the man's attitude and the ease in which he seemed to pull from the bottle of liquor. He could be trouble.

But before he could go to Lara, to Mac, he pulled down the rolling gate. The stainless steel rattled as it fell into place. His father had insisted on it. "All the shopping stores have them in the city." He had said. Owen was glad of it now, let it come down and locked it.

But the sound of it securing under his hands was a chilling one. It did not inspire the feeling of safety or hope that he had expected. Instead, in his mind, he saw the waitress. He saw her running to his store, towards the friends within and a hope for shelter, only to find it locked. Only to find there was no hope. That he'd doomed them.

So Owen didn't leave the gate. Couldn't leave the gate. Even though he heard Lara and wanted to go to her, to Mac, Owen wouldn't lock anyone out. There was a chance, however small, that more would come. And that was all that mattered to him, preserving that chance that more of his neighbors would somehow be alright.

 

[marauder13]

Gary

She would have been a young woman when she died. She charged him with a rage that scared Gary on a level that was almost primal. The graying skin of her face was scraped on one side, the front of her floral dress was covered with blood. Her arms were extended and she had 7 digits left on her hands. Gary was dodging the other three coming for him, which brought him right into her path.

"Fuuuuuuuuck!" He smacked her arms out of the way as she closed, her blood soaked mouth opened almost impossibly wide. Gary blindly grabbed the other end of the starpicket, and managed to shove it into her mouth as she impacted with him. Gary had braced himself enough to stop from falling over, but he was pushed back a few feet. The creature bit down on the metal, breaking teeth with each bite. Gibbering, Gary lifted a foot and kicked the woman off him, but in the process, he fell back on to the road.

Pure panic driven survival instincts kicked in. Prone equaled dead in Gary's mind, so he got to his feet immediately. A young man, who could have been an athlete before getting part of his arm mangled, dashed at Gary with near blinding speed. Holding the bar like a staff in a Robin Hood film, he fought back against the grabbing hands. There was no skill, finesse or technique in his moves. Just sheer desperation backed by the need to survive. Each block Gary made saw him driven away further from the place where the young woman ran to. He heard the growl of another attacker just in time to avoid a raking sweep of the remains of an old woman. He snapped a quick blow to the woman's head. The sickening crunch of the skull breaking was totally ignored in his efforts to keep from being killed. Having a clear path, he leapt over the woman, running for another building, screaming in terror every step of the way. He heard the footsteps of other creatures running after him. He kept his eyes firmly forward as he ran, seeking somewhere he could defend himself from the legion of hell coming after him.

He ran, around the buildings, along the small back streets of the town, hoping he could find something that would help him in his time of need. He felt his legs start to burn from the running. The creatures were not slowing and he couldn't slow either. He didn't dare look back to see how many chased him. He couldn't loose his footing. He couldn't allow despair that last little bit that would kill his hope.

As he ran, he saw the window ahead. Open. Not broken, open. Gary, swerved to make a run and jump. The window was a little high, but he could jump through head first. He prayed that the things chasing him couldn't jump. He made his approach, still hearing one of them hot on his heels. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the slower ones had not followed him directly, and his swerve had caused them to close on him. With one final push of speed he ran for the window and leaped. Hands clutched his ankles as he went through the window. His momentum dragging the creature through with him. Gary screamed in terror, blindly lashing out with the metal bar, hoping to break free of the horrifying grasp. Pain lanced through his body from where he hit the floor and where the creature tightened it's already formidable grip. Crying, whimpering and occasionally screaming on pain, he fought back. One hand lost it's grip and his leg fell free. He twisted to see the athlete trying to pull him out one handed, while others tried to climb through the gap. Gary kicked and flailed with the bar, trying to free himself.

His efforts paid off. His leg broke free after a kick tore off three fingers from the hand pulling him out. He got to his feet as the athlete lunged through the open window. Gary slammed the window on it. He heard bones break under the blow, but he saw arms blinding reaching through the gap. He jumped back from the window, blindly smashing everything that poked through the small opening. He screamed in anger and fear as he reduced what used to be body parts to little more than pulp. The remains of the body fell away from the window. Gary almost forgot about it in his need to destroy the creatures. He quickly shut the window, locking it as the creatures started to pound on the wire meshed glass.

He inched away from the window, visions of it smashing in and allowing the horde from hell to pour through filling his mind. But those images were soon dispelled by a sight that made his mouth water. A refrigerator. He walked to it, pulling the door open and gazing longingly at the contents within. Moment's later, he was stuffing his face with food, washing it down with milk. His face was smeared with the sauce of a curry that scorched his throat, but filled his belly. He tore mouthfuls of bread from the slices in the loaf, as well as taking noisy bites out of fruit in the near orgy of frenzied eating. By the time he was finished, there was little left in the fridge for any other scavengers to find.

"Now, how the fuck am I getting out of here?" His following belch reminded the creatures of his presence, their attacks on the window coming with renewed force.

 

[Ahren]

Mac attempted to react quickly as the new female arrival fainted nearly the instant she set foot inside. Wrapping his arms around her from behind, he managed to catch her fall, though he faltered a bit under her weight due to the suddenness and his overall lack of strength. How many guys would have normally loved to be in this position? But now wasn't the time to really be thinking that way... Nevertheless, he gently let her down, taking off his red jacket and placing it under her head, leaving him in just a black tee now.

"It's Paula from Kipper's..." He stated as if that wasn't obvious enough. Mac couldn't blame her at all for fainting. He had wanted to do it himself back during the initial... outbreak. All he could do was look at her and sigh, wondering how she'd react when she woke up. When the shock was over and the realization that many of her friends and family were likely dead... It was then that Mac had realized this was only one of the two people who had been heading toward the shop. The man...

The teen stood back up quickly and looked out the window. He was gone, but he wasn't among the bodies either...

"Where'd that guy go...?" He wondered out loud, knowing that the answer probably wasn't too positive.

"That bad out there, huh?"

Mac glanced over to Jessa on the steps and only managed a rather dubious look in response. It was then that a clang of metal caught his attention and he turned to Owen, noticing he had pulled down the gate.

"All the shopping stores have them in the city." He spoke firmly and with an eerie calm. That was Owen. It wasn't unlike him to be quiet and keep to himself, but his silence could also be interpreted as anger or frustration, and the small ticks in his mannerisms right now proved that. He was just as rattled as the rest of them but just better at keeping himself in control. Focused. Mac kind of envied him at the moment. He stood by that gate, waiting to open it for anyone else...

Mac didn't really know what to say to him... So he left the older man be as he quietly walked over to Jessa and took a seat on the step next to her.

"Hey..." He began, looking a bit nervous. "I'm.. sorry.. about your parents..." He attempted to comfort her. She probably didn't want to be reminded, but Mac couldn't do much, so at least he could let her know he was there for her.

"We'll make it, though... Help will come... or Owen will think of something..." He continued, though he sounded a bit more dejected and he knew it. He couldn't help it... He had seen zombie movies. It wasn't really common for a lot of people to survive... if anyone.

 

[Alana_]

She had worked and saw her father work around stress all his working life..The stress of keeping the vines free of desease...the worry of early frosts...the relief when the last of the grapes were picked, and preparations for the next season would begin again...She was used to stress..

What Lara wasn't used to was the tension that had surged up out of nowhere on what was to have been a normal celebratory day. Tension she wasn't used to. Tension that had everyone witness horrors that you just didn't think were possible..
It fed fear until the terror was almost numbing..It was shock, she reasoned as she watched the others in the store...The guy with the long hair that seemed almost nonpulsed by what was happening...to the waitress now resting having been cared for by Mac..He was a sweet kid..It didn't fit the moment to notice that, but Lara thought so as she watched him going back to sit with a silent Jessa.

Owen..Owen was being Owen....He was watching over everyone, absorbed in what was happening and saying nothing..The security grill was pulled down over the door, with the sun sending hundreds of little spotted ribbons of light into the shop through its patterned protection. Lara checked her ammunition again, patting the two breast pockets of her shirt, her hand containing a meager supply that would do nothing if the creatures returned..

She went to Owen at the front of the store...Stood silently beside him for a while, peering outside through the grill..The street was littered with the debris of the shooting , and the bodies of those that died twice that day.
It was exactly like a movie set frozen waiting for production to continue. One could almost expect some big shot producer to call out ''Action''.

''I'm almost out of ammo Owen''

She said it quietly, not wanting to panic anyone, and slowly she opened her hand for him to see her parched supply.

''I got to get home.....I need more ''

Slowly her hand closed, and she dropped the ammunition into one pocket on her shirt..she'd thougth she'd brought plenty....Plenty was never going to be enough now.
She looked down, closed her eyes and tried to be as matter of fact in her words as she possibly could.

''People were supposed to be coming out to the winery today as part of a wine tour.....And we were expecting a delievery....A semi-truck. ..What if they came...and ....''

She looked at Owen then, her eyes pained at the idea of strangers coming to her property for a nice time, a relaxing afternoon, only to walk in on a farm full of ...cursed freaks on a killing rage. Cursed freaks who had worked for her, and were maybe concealed in the acres of land surrounding the winery, waiting for .

''I got to go back to the farm....Just to make sure..And I can get more ammo..''

She was whispering, moving in close to him ,watching Owen's eyes, seeing how sad eyes could also be the warmest eyes a woman could look into. Rubbing his upper arm slowly, Lara let her hand linger there a little, feeling how tightly wound he felt, and how incredibly warm.

''I won't be long.....but I can't take the chance someone's maybe trapped out there...''

Lara bit her lip as a sudden urge to cry surfaced and she resisted it with a long quick inhalation of air, but still the panic was there in her continued whisper...Her hand remained on his arm, her fingers curling on the shirt fabric, as Lara heard her own confusion..She wasn't sure what to do..where was best to go...How to chose..
What a choice?....She needed to calm her thinking down.....A little trickle of fear driven perspiration glazed her brow beneath her bangs, her tanned face pale, her eyes looking tired.

''What...where.........Wh....We can't be the only ones...There has to be others.........

We should try find them....and what hell has happened. Maybe we should all go''?

 

[marauder13]

Gary

He took the luxury of two minutes to let the food in his stomach settle enough not to be too uncomfortable. Food would allow energy, but he was still trapped. He had no idea how long they would remain out there, either until distracted, or until they rotted, or whatever else could happen.

'Or the fuckers could break in somewhere.'

Gary's face paled at the thought, and he started to quietly move around to see what else the building held. It looked like it was once a shop, or an office building, going by the security measures, but the place had more of a home like feel to it. Nice homey furnishings in the lounge room, a home theatre setup that made Gary envious in another of the rooms. The huge, slim TV dominated the room, and there were several speakers distributed about the room too. The chairs in the centre were so inviting Gary wanted to sit down and turn it all on and watch.

The remainder of the ground level floors revealed little of use to him, so he headed up the stairs. He found an office with lots of flash looking gear. The computer was impressive to look at, again with two massive screens and a mass of attached peripherals. A thin cell phone that must have cost a fortune, along with other similar tech toys.

He found two bedrooms, again with really tasteful furniture and accessories that really told of how wealthy the owner was. Gary was getting lost in the exploration that he almost forgot why he was there. The sounds of renewed assaults caught his attention. There was a good reason for those attacks. He could hear the sounds of wood breaking. One of the doors to the building was loosing out to the creatures fighting their way in.

Gary managed to get on top of the panic before it got started. He let the panic out in a controlled manner. It took shape in the way he started to ransack the room. He looked everywhere he could think of within his sight. Deep down, there was hope for a gun, loaded with big monster stopping bullets along with a box full of even more of the same types of ammunition. But all he found was clothing; underwear, socks, shorts. Again nothing useful in the impending onslaught.

All that changed when he opened the wardrobe. Gary came close to pissing himself again when he was confronted by the tall, black figure lurking on the other side of the sliding door. When he calmed, he saw that it was a complete profession motorcycle rider's leathers, including the helmet, boots and gloves. Good solid leather, with reinforcing in key areas to protect the rider from any falls. He wasted little time. Shedding any bulky clothing he didn't need, he donned the suit, securing it everywhere it could be secured. He was smaller than the person who owned it, but it meant that he was well protected. The boots went on over two pairs of socks, followed by the helmet, which was also held in place with the aid of further socks about the top of his head, held in place by a pair of jocks. Finally, he put on the gloves, locking them into place too. Over that, he put his photographer's jacket. What little stuff he had left, he wanted to keep, just in case.

Hefting his steel bar, he left the room, and got to the stop of the stairs as the door finally gave way. He slammed the visor down, took the metal bar in both hands, and walked down the stairs to join battle, and get over to where the other survivors were. The creatures poured into the building, trying to outrace each other to reach Gary. He had a moment of doubt about how well the leathers would protect him, but he pushed it aside as he met the first attack.

The old fellow had lost one arm at the elbow on or after his death, but the remaining one was more than capable of reaching for Gary. Gary didn't have much room to swing, so he batted aside the arm, and kicked the in the chest. The dead man toppled backward, taking three others with him to the bottom of the stairs. Gary smiled until one of the monsters closer to the door simply walked over the top of the fallen ones to get to Gary. The desperate man swung the bar around and straight down, smashing the head open. Like a puppet with the strings cut, the body just fell to the floor and didn't more of it's own accord. He remembered the move as more came through the door to get to him. He was aided by the fallen trying to stand up. Each time a head came into range, the bar swung around and smashed it like a mellon.

He panicked again when the first of them managed to grab him around the booted ankle. But his fears receded when the bite failed completely. Gary kicked his leg about, freeing it before stomping the head that had just tried to bite him. His confidence started to rise as he knew he could take some more risks in getting out.

He was sweating badly when there finally was a gap for him to exploit. The monsters that were around the front door were finally destroyed, and there were no more close by to notice that he was there. He slowed his breathing, taking deep breaths of the foul, putrid air.

"It's now or never," he spoke softly to himself. His grip tightened on the metal bar as he approached the doorway. He could make out the wrecked truck that the survivors plucked a woman from. He knew where he was and where he needed to get to. He knew that he could run there easily, even in the heavy leathers and hard soled boots.

He ran.

The moment he entered the street, the monsters started to converge on him from all angles. His limited scope of vision was set on the building where he knew people were. Even through the smears of blood and worse, he saw enough to know where he needed to get to. He ignored those outside his field of vision, focusing on those that threatened to block his path. He blocked swings, he pushed aside bodies, or smashed them as hard as he could. He never slowed himself down, nor changed his course much. He hoped and prayed like hell that the people inside would recognize him as a fellow survivor and hopefully help him. Gary knew that if they caught him, he was going to be dead. The leathers wouldn't keep him totally safe, but safe enough get inside.

 

[Mephistophelily]

Jessa: Upstairs in Owen's Again.

"They were fighting the last couple of weeks. Thought they were gonna get a divorce for a long while there." Jessa sighed, running her fingers through her hair to push it back behind her ears. "It wasn't until this whole parade thing started that they were getting along again. I really thought everything was going to be okay again. That they'd finally get back to normal." She shook her head, letting her hands flop into her lap as she stared down at her nails, the polish she had put on them a few days ago already starting to chip. Not a big deal anymore, it seemed. "At least... At least I know he still cared about her..."

The sound of Owen at the doors made her glance up again, frowning as she reached one arm up to wrap her fingers about her left shoulder. So this was what it was going to be, then? Everyone trying to cram into this store until either help showed up- a doubtful thing... Or those abominations made it inside- the more likely scenario?

"...This is insane..."
She sighed again, a harder, more frustrated sound to leave her lips as she stood up, glancing to Mac. "We can't just sit in here. We're like a fucking happy meal to these things. Once they figure out how to open the damn box..." She grit her teeth, looking back up the steps. "There's gotta be something we can do. Some way to at least make things harder for them. A gate? One damn gate? No offense, Owen, but I don't have much faith in that."

She started back up into the upper floors of the store, peering out the window to the creatures mulling about in the streets. Her stomach twisted at the sound of them, fighting the retching feeling inside her at the sight of them. This wasn't right. These people should be dead... Not wandering about like this.

Another group of them was moving into the center of town, taking those routes so engrained in their minds while alive. Jessa shook her head, remembering her father's jokes on how he could drive anywhere without even realizing it anymore.

Dad.
Holy shit, that was... That was her dad. Right there, still in his suit for the parade, the right leg torn and covered in blood. He was limping, dragging his leg... but- but he really seemed to be okay. She was sure of it. He didn't look anything like that Farmer, no sign of having bitten anyone else... He was pale, sure, but- look at what he was tredging through... He was alright, she was certain.

"Dad?!" She leaned out the window a bit more, tears in her eyes. "DAD!!! DADDY, UP HERE!! Oh god, oh god, you're okay-" She halted in her screams to him as she realized the other wandering bodies were taking notice of the noise, looking about wildly for a way to get to him. She could help him. She could do something....

"Dad, hang on, I'm coming, I'm coming..." She was muttering more to herself, a haze of tears and fear making it hard for her to focus.

Fire escape. It was there, a bit rusty, but if she could get out onto that, maybe she could get herself to the roof of the store next door, help him up with some rope or something and- yeah. Yeah, that would work... He would know what to do. He was always so level headed in a crisis. Look at him now, handling it so well. She just needed her dad. He could keep her safe.

Shifting out through the window, placing her sneaker onto the rickety fire escape grate and trying to keep her balance, Jessa tried to force her own fear out as she looked to the building across. Oh, that looked a lot further from here... No. No, she had to try. "I'm coming, please be okay..."

 

[Ahren]

Mac frowned to himself as he listened to Jessa's thoughts on her parents. There wasn't much he could say at this point, but at least he could lend an ear. While he did place a hand on her shoulder in a comforting manner, it didn't last long when she suddenly stood up in frustration.

"We can't just sit in here. We're like a fucking happy meal to these things. Once they figure out how to open the damn box..." She grit her teeth, looking back up the steps. "There's gotta be something we can do. Some way to at least make things harder for them. A gate? One damn gate? No offense, Owen, but I don't have much faith in that."

"But Jessa..-" Mac called out before realizing she wasn't really listening anymore, climbing the stairs again to return to the second floor. What did she expect them to do? Where could they go? At least here they had shelter and some food. Maybe if they waited long enough the things would leave or more help would come. Either way, they had a better chance staying quarantined from those things rather than risk going outside with them.

Mac hurried after her, wanting to explain this, but it would soon be no use, as his former classmate had seen something out the window that fully captured her attention.

"Dad?!" She leaned out the window a bit more, tears in her eyes. "DAD!!! DADDY, UP HERE!! Oh god, oh god, you're okay-"

No, that wasn't possible... Mac had heard the phone call...

"Dad, hang on, I'm coming, I'm coming..." She was muttering more to herself, a haze of tears and fear making it hard for her to focus.

"Jessa! Stop shouting! You'll attract them! Are you crazy? That's not him, it can't be! You saw the things out there! There's no way he could just be walking around! Please stay inside!" He pleaded as the young girl was attempting to leave the window to the fire escape. He tried to grab her arm, but she wrenched it away. Looking out the window as well, Mac also saw Jessa's father limping in the streets. He was easily recognizable seeing that he was a well-known TV reporter, but chances were he wouldn't be going back to that job anymore...

Mac knew following was a terrible idea, but ever since he saw Jessa on the side of the road he now felt like it had fallen upon him to protect her, and if she were to die now it would be his fault... So with trembling hands, he too climbed out...

--

A black Mercedes zoomed down the country road with little care for speed limits. The streets had been completely barren for miles. If it wasn't for his GPS, the short brown haired man driving would have thought he had taken a wrong direction. The upcoming town sure was small... He couldn't really blame his colleage for moving there. Certainly was inconvenient for him though.

With a sigh, the man reached into his jacket pocket and withdrew his cell phone. Still no signal. What a surprise. His service was supposed to work just about anywhere. Was this some sort of nexus of nothingness out here? He'd been driving for what felt like weeks now, and he felt that if it got any quieter that he may drive straight into Purgatory. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered but getting to his destination. Arthur Maddox was here and the only one who could help him now...

Trying to break the silence, Jayden Bennett flipped through the radio stations. A few were too fuzzy and the rest just had the emergency broadcast signal... 'Jesus, not even the radio?' He thought to himself until he looked up back to the road. Suddenly his eyes shot wide open as he swerved dramatically to avoid a car parked in the middle of the road, leading him directly into a ditch and his face straight into the airbag. After a minute to compose himself, Jayden exited the vehicle to survey the damage.

The entire front of the car was smoking and the fender was crumpled into a mess. "Perfect. Just fucking perfect." He muttered, glancing behind him to the car he barely managed to avoid. His expression turned to sheer anger as he approached, only to find the vehicle abandoned. The doors were wide open, and the keys were even still in the ignition. Curiously, Jayden sat inside and turned them, only to be greeted with silence. The battery was dead. Well that was no help.

Sighing, the man returned to his own vehicle, popping the trunk and gathering a black bag and slinging it over his shoulder. He then went back to the front seat and popped open the glove compartment, taking out the handgun inside and placing it into his jacket pocket...

With everything set, he began a hike down the road. Thankfully it was only about fifteen minutes until he came upon a small motel on the outskirts of the town. At least here there'd be a working phone that he could call Arthur with... Still, as he looked upon the old building, he got a strange feeling like he was about to enter the motel from Psycho or something.

With a sigh, he grasped the doorknob and went inside. The initial room looked nice enough, albiet very empty. Perhaps the owner or whoever was supposed to be behind the desk took a break with such a lack of activity. His eyes then caught sight of the service bell. With a press of his palm, the ding rang throughout the room and subsequent stairwell. Jayden then felt something strange, and glanced upon the hand he had used to ring the bell. Blood...

"...Christ..." He whispered, reaching into his pocket to grab his gun. For a moment, he thought he heard movement decending the stairs. Holding the weapon out, he hid behind a nearby wall, waiting for whoever it was to come down...

 

[Light Ice]

It was not something the average man could understand. At first, they ripped everything out of you. It wasn't so they could take it away or remove it. It was so you could see it. They wanted you to see yourself for what you were, without shades coloring your character in any particularly flattering way. This took the better part of Basic Training and was nearly the point of it as it had been designed. It was hard, damned hard, to make most people see their own faults for what they were and work to become strong. Most, under the strain, simply broke down. The scary truth of Basic Training was that it was partially designed to weed out the men and women who weren't mentally strong or adaptable enough to get through it.

But that was only the first part. The rest was putting it in you. Instincts. Behaviors. They drilled you until it became automatic. A lifetime couldn't erase the programs they implanted.

Until now, Owen had operated on the civilian level. His fear, powerful and real, had been the first of his natural responses to take root. A part of this, he reasoned suddenly, was the abject horror of the situation. It was unfamiliar. It was raw. There had never been training for the mind-wrenching terror he was experiencing now. And so, in absence of a tape to readily play, his subconscious had dug deep to find that primal fight or flight in order to stay alive.

He'd needed the break. A time to gather himself. Lara could have used one. He saw it in he face. The words that left her lips were uttered with the conviction of someone fighting the onset of shock. How she'd managed to steady her hands enough for shooting escaped him, even now, but what she was saying was suicide. If there were survivors they'd be holed up, like they were, or attempting to make the desperate run out of town. The idea that this group could suddenly go out and do anything other than get at least some of themselves killed was not one he could make out as reasonable. Panic touched it's way across her face, sharpening the otherwise soft lines and angles.

Owen meant to tell her, gently, that she wasn't thinking clearly. He'd meant to explain to her with utter calm, assertive calm, that they needed to stay together inside and wait for help. They had food. They had water. They were safe so long as they stayed inside.

But then she touched his arm and he felt her small fingers curl against his shirt, grounding herself against him and the strength necessary to do what he thought he must evaporated.

"Alright." He said. "We'll go together."

The cage rattled as he unlocked it, fighting with the key. All of a sudden his hands forgot how to wiggle the small brass token the right way, the right speed, for the lock to slip. He could hear the metal jiggling, twisting, rattling before finally the lock sprung and he began to roll it up.

And then it happened. His training finally clicked.

He didn't know the man attempting to get to the shop. Not that it would have mattered. What he recognized was the panic on his face and the long strides he would have to make before the crowd got to him. It seemed impossible. It seemed like there was no way he would make it.

A part of Owen wanted to let them catch him. That small, opportunistic part of him that recognized even if he did attempt to help the man make it he would most likely not make it demanded that he let him be the distraction that allowed he and Lara to slip away. But the soldier in him wouldn't allow it to happen.

Owen went on autopilot. His hand extended, thrusting keys from his pocket into Lara's small hand as she stood beside him. For a moment their fingers touched. Her soft digits brushing the tips of his own.

"Right outside, to the right, is my truck. Get in and get it started. I'll be right behind you."

And then he stepped outside.

Owen hit the heat like he hit a wall, felt it saturate him and suck the air from his lungs. The man had ten feet still but only a foot or so before they caught him and Owen only had five more bullets in Lara's Colt. His hands drew the pistol up with practiced ease and he sighted them.

-CRACK!-

-CRACK!-

-CRACK CRACK CRACK-

Each shot was clean, crisp. They were bunched ontop of one another in a rapid fit of bursts. Adrenaline arched its way through him, lit his senses up like a tree at Christmas, had him sharpened from the intense high it pushed upon him. Familiar. Like his training. The man burst through the door, leaving it wide. Owen tossed the keyring and the empty pistol in after him before it shut, only to turn and make for the truck. He hoped Lara had gotten it started.

He hoped he could keep her safe.

 

[Alana_]

Lara to Ice, re Mac and Jessa

She did exactly as Owen told her to..Lara braced herself for the dash as the rattling gate crunched its way upward, exposing the store front, and the shop door swung open as Owen stepped outside.

She didn't think after that. She just functioned.

There was a guy in a full sprint making his way to wards them, and Lara ducked out behind Owen, her rifle being reloaded as she ran toward his truck..The guy in the helmet and leathers was out of her line of vision by then, but the gun fire from the pistol Owen used vibrated on the street with cruel efficiency..
She was in the truck in seconds behind the steering wheel, but then Lara heard a voice from somewhere..She turned on the ignition...the truck revved, and Lara slipped across to the passenger side..From there, she got a side ways view of the front of the store...and saw Jessa, the source of the voice...And Lara heard her voice again..calling for her Dad.

Lara looked out onto the street again, saw the well known figure of Jessa's father struggling with his injured body, hobbling down the street. His face was contorted , so it made it impossible to gauge if he was still the man the town knew, or one of those wretches lumbering and screeching behind him..They were everywhere..Coming up from side alleys, all focused on him...until they heard Jessa's plaintiff cry..
Lara opened the door, stepped out, and aimed down the street, picking the gray faced female closest to Jessa's dad off with one shot..

''Jessa get back inside''!!

The young girls intentions were that of any one wanting to protect a loved one, but it was suicide..Her father paused, unaffected by the gunfire, and spotted his daughter.. And then his own shriek erupted, ..the tell tale sign that Jessa's father was not the man his daughter had known.

''Oh Jesus Christ Jessa, get the hell back inside!''

There were two of them now, out on the fire escape, Mac having joined Jessa, and Lara could only continue firing from her meager supply of ammo..She kept yelling, stepping a little further from the ticking truck. The father turned, looked at those gray things directing themselves toward Jessa and Mac.
He screamed...and screamed, waving and edging closer to the store front. Lara screamed at Jessa , panic in her voice as the only option left was obvious. She aimed and fired one shot, connecting with bone and tissue, the white and bloodied substance exploding from the news mans head.

Lara's gun clicked empty!..She looked at it, then Jessa, then back to her father, Lara's voice quietening to an almost whispered plea, that no one probably would hear.

''Jessa go back inside honey...Jessa go back inside.''

She closed her eyes tight, turned away, flinging her rifle into the back of the truck in disgust at its now uselessness, and covered her ears with her hands. She stumbled blindly into the truck, sickened at the loyalty a daughter displayed for her father, and the lack of humanity left in those undead.
She didn't want to hear the sounds of screaming...be it the creatures or a human crying for a parent..Thankfully the throb of the truck, and her hands blocked out all possible sounds..

''Owen...Owen come on....Owen!''

Gritting her teeth, she almost chanted her plea that Owen be there, be safe..be close..be with her. It was selfish, she knew that..But she just wanted him...At that moment she could only think of him not being that father.., not being one of those things..
Looking back quickly when Owen's gun shots silenced, she saw he was coming..running to the truck! She leaned across, pushed the door open for him, shifting to sit sideways, so she could see him clearly.
She couldn't see if Mac and Jessa had gone back inside. She didn't want to see..She just hoped they had.
Her focus was blurred..She knew then she was in tears, and quickly hugged Owen, pressing a kiss to his temple. He was safe..She felt guilty for that relief. It was a horrible feeling. Jessa wasn't so lucky. She slipped back to her side of the truck, but kept one hand on Owen's forearm, unwilling to let him go.

Looking ahead, staring down the street two more appeared;..dragging broken limbs with them, clicking and shrieking in an ear splitting spree of horrible sounds. If she and Owen didn't either get going, or go back inside to the store, the two would be on them in seconds...and neither now with a bullet between them. Her voice broke into a flat emotionless whisper, drained of strength as Lara recognized one of the things coming closer.

''Owen....I think we need to get going.''.

 

[Lady Reiha]

The floors moaned in protest underneath her stocking feet as she dragged the last of the headless bodies over to the door-less bathroom. Nodding once to her completed job, the pale-haired girl walked over to the mirror, examining her nude body. " Just a few splatters to the face.. nothing bad." She told herself, reaching over to turn on the tap before wiping her face and hands of any evidence of what had happened earlier. Staring at the jagged scar across her neck, her mind searched deeply for any explanation. Yet, nothing came to mind.

Putting her hair up in a loosely- made ponytail, the young woman proceeded to dress herself, before filling up cola bottles with murky-coloured H2O, stuffing them quickly in her gothic lolita purse. Glancing up, she saw the dimming sky. If she had to guess, it'd would be around dinner time, maybe an hour after.. night time was always the worst to travel in. That's when they were most active...

Taking a final glance at the blood-stained room, she noticed a picture lying face-down on the beat-up looking rug. Reaching for the image, she picked it up; glancing at the photo that she couldn't place. Staring at the photograph..at the girl cuddled up next to a faceless man, she wondered why this picture stirred up a strong feeling within her. No. She couldn't have feelings- she was unemotional now. Yet..the image compelled her..

Stuffing the picture in with the water bottles, and a special silk package, the white-haired girl equipped her weaponry before descending down the staircase. That's when she smelled it...

Impossible.

A human?

" ding!"

Her pale, lavender eyes scanned her surroundings. She didn't see anyone; yet, she could smell a musky scent, followed by erratic breathing. "Poor thing" she thought to herself, pulling out her her trusted twin blades from beneath her petticoat. The weight of the crossbow behind her back steadied her stance, walking down the staircase prepared. If all else failed, her shiny new toys strapped to each leg would finish the job... blow a clear hole right between your eyes.

Of course, the person would have to be bitten. Most likely they were. Shaking her head at the thought, her gaze fell upon the bell at the counter. A bloody fingerprint smeared across the counter top. She wouldn't of left such a mark on the counter. Maybe one of the infected did. No.. they were all fought upstairs..

"Hmm.." her voice scratched as she walked down the remaining two steps before investigating the print. The line was thicker across...A male? An obese female? The first option seemed most likely. An obese female couldn't of made it this far. Unless she possessed the same capabilities...not likely. She was the only one..the only half-human in a hundred-mile radius. She sighed, burying that thought.

" I'm human..I'm human..." she told herself, bending over the counter to find the hiding individual. It would be much more easier if she could talk, call out to the person to prove she was alive, able to communicate..but the evidence..in the mirror sealed her suspicion. Her vocal cords were damaged beyond repair..a mystery that may eventually come to life, if she could find the man in her dreams.

"crrrrrrreeeeaaaakk..."

The girl turned around, her body in a defensive pose. Her eyes facing the wall before her. Taking a fake breath, walked forward, only to be greeted by a man...with a gun. Her eyes lowered to the ground, watching the knives that were grasped so tightly in her hands fall down with a loud "clang" in front of her. There was no sense frightening the human, better to show that she isn't a threat rather than provoke an unnecessary injury.
Dropping the crossbow from behind her back, the white-haired girl began to strip in front of the gawking man. Had he never seen a young woman naked before? Isn't this what he wanted? "Proof" that she was un-bitten then use the excuse " I need to make sure your "pussy" isn't "infected"..so c'mere.." That's what the last man did in the previous town.. a professor at a local university. He had his way with her, until she noticed it. The bite on his left shoulder. Needless to say her old traveling companion was no more.

The girl held her breasts, trying to hide a little decency from what looked like a doctor-type of profession. Glancing at him once again, she noticed the tag... that tag..

The girl started panicking, reaching down to grab her purse. The click of the man's gun made her freeze for a moment, before shaking her head, snatching the purse, dumping the contents on the floor. Numerous water bottles rolled away, the silky wrap hitting the floor with a loud "clang". She ignored it, throwing wads of cash aside as well. Grabbing the picture, she reached out to him, her eyes pleading an answer. Her finger tapped rapidly across the glossy film.

"...I..Is....t...t...his...Ja....a...n...n...a?"

 

[Ahren]

Jayden listened intently as the footsteps grew louder. A sudden creak in the steps caused him to become especially jumpy as he pushed off the wall and held his gun out toward the figure that had decended. The man's eyes widened as he wasn't sure what oddity to focus on first. That it was a very pale, nearly albino girl in front of him with ivory white hair, or the fact that she had just dropped two strange looking daggers at her feet, seemingly fearing his presence.

He didn't really know what to say. Did this odd girl kill everyone in this place? Or was she an employee protecting herself from possible intruders? If so, what was with the strange weapons... As he was thinking, the girl remained silent as she quickly dropped her purse and what looked to be a crossbow... then began to strip naked right then and there. Out of pure confusion, Jayden remained still and didn't even lower the gun. Was this some sort of weird dream? Did the crash give him a concussion? He swallowed softly as his eyes still locked onto the naked girl, trying not to stare at the more private areas.

"I don't-" He began, only for her to suddenly rush into a state of dismay after noticing something. She reached for her purse, causing Jayden to cock the gun in case she was reaching for one of her own. She only paused momentarily before continuing her rummaging. Jayden's silent threat obviously having been idle. He watched as the bare woman tossed aisde the contents, which seemed to be a large sum of cash and water... then, a photograph, which she presented to him and gestured quickly. There was a girl, one that looked a lot like the one before him, though with normal skin and darker hair... There was a man beside her, but his face had been removed from the photo. This was all like something out of a murder mystery book...

"...I..Is....t...t...his...Ja....a...n...n...a?" She stuttered. It was then that Jayden noticed the scar upon her throat. She likely couldn't speak properly. Still, he barely made out what she tried to say. Janna? Jayden lowered his weapon and looked between the photo and the girl.

"Is that... Janna? I'm sorry, I don't know anyone by that name... She resembles you. I.. this is very strange." He interrupted himself as he removed his jacket and placed it around the girl's shoulders. "That was getting a bit distracting. I'm not sure who you think I am, but.. undressing was not necessary."

Jayden slipped the gun into the back of his pants and sighed softly before glancing down and remembering he still had his ID badge clipped to his belt.

JAYDEN BENNETT
MESSIAH PROJECT - LEVEL 1 CLEARANCE
PSICOM INDUSTRIES

Right. They had been in such a hurry to eject him from the premises that they didn't even bother taking it. Though his clearance was gone, he knew that much. So was that what she had noticed?

"This?" He gestured to the badge. "Do... you know me?" He inquired. That seemed unlikely. It seemed very unlikely that anything on that badge would be familiar to her. It was all top secret... He was lucky they hadn't killed him back during his... retirement.

"What happened...?" He finally asked, not really specifying whether or not he was talking about her or the fact that the motel was empty, but any answers at all would be good right about now. Jayden had been driving a while. He listened to music rather than the radio, and rarely bothered to turn the TV on if he stopped at any motels. He truly had no idea just what was out there..

and the fact that he caused it...

 

[Mephistophelily]

At first, Jessa barely heard the words coming from behind her, focused only on the fact that her father was approaching. He was coming to get her, be safe, make everything better- that's what Dads did, wasn't it? It wasn't until she realized that she was gaining company on that creaking fire escape that she glanced back, her face still pale as she slowly shook her head. "No... No, don't do that, Mac... You shouldn't, Dad will-"

Someone screamed her name.
"...Mom...?"
No... That was the lady with Owen. Lara... She was yelling at her, demanding her to get back inside. Jessa just stared at her for a moment, then looked back to her father, a whimper in her throat. "I-I can't... I- Dad, please..."

He was coming. She had to get to him somehow-! "Mac, help me with that ladder, please... PLEASE! I have to help him, you don't understand..." She was gushing the words around her tears, clawing at the raised ladder and trying to work it down. It wasn't cooperating at all. Lara yelled at her again, only fueling Jessa's frustations. She didn't want to listen. That was her father down there. She needed him so badly right now... All she had to do was-

The gunshot.
Jessa screamed.

No. No, no, no-
He fell before the passage, Jessa choking on her breaths as she stared down at him. Lara had just shot him. Just- just flat off... She dropped on the escape, sobbing. She had thought this was a glimmer of hope. That everything could be okay... Everything could be fixed, somehow. But...

Now all she could see was that, when she closed her eyes. She felt like she was going to be ill. He really was gone now, in either case. She tried to get up, but her legs simply refused to cooperate once again. "Mac...," She whispered hoarsely. "Mac, I... Help."