Lost Days; Dead Days

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Lost Days; Dead Days

Post by Shadow Moonseye on Thu Dec 02, 2010 12:01 am

Prologue: Do Not Go Gentle


“Well shit.”

I sighed, trying to keep the disappointment from my voice, and passed the binoculars over to John. “No movement anywhere, far as I can see. Rain makes it harder to tell, but…” I trailed off, peering through the gloom.

“Could have evacuated.” He looked for a long moment before handing the binoculars back. I quickly returned them to my bag.

I frowned, working my lower lip with my teeth. Cold rain steadily poured from ominous clouds; my hat had managed to keep my face mostly dry, but everything else was gradually being plastered to me. A quick glance at John showed that he wasn’t much better off.

“We going in?”

I let out another heavy sigh. “Fuck, I don’t know. From what we heard, I didn’t think there was anywhere to evacuate to.” The area was silent, the rain dampening any sound. Still couldn’t see any sign of movement. “They did have planes though…and we haven’t had a radio for over two weeks.”

Maybe I was grasping at straws, but I had pinned all of my hopes on finding my family here. If I had stumbled upon word of the stronghold they would have too. I know my dad would have gotten them there one way or another. He knows the area like the back of his hand, so they could have easily avoided trouble. They might even have seen some of my signs and known I was looking from them. They could be waiting… I shook my head, forcing the thoughts away. I needed to focus on the immediate problem.

“Even if they did evacuate, there’s no way they could’ve taken everything with them. We’re way overdue for a restock.” A particularly cold and fat rain drop took that moment to splatter in on the back of my neck and race right down my spine. “Son of a!” I bit off the rest of my yelp, suppressing a violent shiver.

John shot me a look, a slight smirk twisting his lips. “Something wrong or you just trying to bring every fucking deadhead within a mile down on our asses?”

I stuck my tongue out at him. “The biggest, coldest drop out here just rolled down my back. Let’s see you take one like that without cussing.”

He chuckled and I grinned. Bad as things were, least we could still laugh. Thunder boomed overhead and as if on cue the rain thickened, becoming an outright downpour.

“Fuck it, even if it is deserted at least we’ll be able to get out of this rain.”

“Ladies first.”

“Good to know chivalry didn’t die with the rest of the human race.”

We both laughed one last time before falling into silence. Call it what you will, it was better to travel quietly into the unknown. Too much noise and we’d call every zombie within earshot right to us. And honestly, I wasn’t in the mood to be put on some zedhead’s dinner plate. Call me crazy, but I’m still pretty keen on this whole living thing.

The journey to the heart of the base was uneventful. There were signs of people--water bottles, abandoned articles of clothing, dropped picture frames, other bits of useless junk--but no footprints. Or bodies. The rain had churned the usually dry, dusty ground to swampy mud; destroying footprints, bloodstains, anything that could be washed away. We skirted the hospital--more from habit than anything else--and avoided the store. Getting out of the rain was our first priority, restocking and finding out what the hell had happened was secondary.

We made a beeline for the barracks. Those would have been used as housing, crammed full. Any scavenging there would be simple. Plus, I figured there’d likely be towels or blankets there that we could use to dry off. We weren’t too picky with the one we chose. As in, it was the closest one to us. I stopped just in front of the door; John a few paces behind me. I heard him ready his bow, the creak of the string pulling back.

“Ready?” My voice was low, cautious.

“Go.” His was equally so.

In one fluid motion I grabbed the handle and flung the door open, stepping out of John’s line of fire. A few breaths passed and no shot was fired.

“It’s clear.” He eased the string back from its taunt position and lowered his bow.

I was the first in the building then, with John hot on my heels. We both wanted out of the damn rain. He shut the door while I did a quick scan of the interior. It was messy--like everyone had been in a hurry to leave. It looked to be deserted, not a living or dead or undead being in sight.

“Watch out for landmines.” I trotted over to the nearest bed and carefully dumped my bag on it. The locker next to it was open and… “Bingo! We got towels!” Grinning, I pulled two out and tossed one over my shoulder to John. “Dibs on first change!”

The words were out of my mouth seconds before John opened his. I could hear him muttering, but couldn’t make out the words.

“Speak up, I can’t hear you complaining.” I shucked my dripping jacket, and let it fall to the floor. Took me a minute of digging to find my other pair of pants and thermal shirt. Even the end of the world hadn’t broken me of my organized sense of chaos. Spare clothes were lumped in a tangled pile before I turned to face John again. I pointed at him and made a spin-around motion with one finger. “Don’t peek, or I’ll kick your ass.”

“Wouldn’t be the first… of you kicking my ass, I mean.” He listened though.

Once his back was turned, I stripped. Goosebumps raced up my body and my hands shook as I toweled off. Times like this made me glad I didn’t have long hair that took forever to dry. One quick swipe of the towel and I was good to go. The towel was ditched and my spare pants were pulled on quickly, but I stopped short of grabbing the thermal shirt.

Piss. I don’t have a spare bra. Silly thing not to have a spare of, I know. But it’s the middle of the fucking apocalypse! I don’t exactly have time to go to my favorite department store and find the latest frilly fashion. Not that I wear frilly things. I wasn’t going to stand around all day with the girls hanging out, so I made a snap decision. I could afford to go braless for a while. Least until it was dry. ‘Tis better to go braless than freeze your tits off I say.

I laid out all my wet stuff and sat on the edge of the bed to start pulling on my socks and shoes. “Alright, I’m decent.”
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Re: Lost Days; Dead Days

Post by quakernuts on Fri Dec 03, 2010 11:50 pm

So let me get this straight.

My world has been fucked right, left, center, upside down, downside up, and possibly inside out because of some stupid virus that I never believed could ever happen. My family; my mother, brother, and father are all missing and most likely dead, and there is nothing I can do about it. I feel like shit, I probably look like shit, and everything around me is shit. Suicide had crept into my thoughts several times, but every time it did, I found a new reason to keep living. Would my parents want me to give up? Is that how I wanted my life to end? Am I really that much of a coward? Every time I found motivation, and it is the only reason that I have gotten as far as I have. To top it all off? I've went and somehow gotten myself in a different country with hopes of salvation.

I should really learn to keep my hopes down.

I had managed to keep my little car, a 2001 green Saturn, with me through my travels. Mainly through sheer luck that this thing hadn't caused me instant death in some cases, but I had built some muscle on me over the past year, probably been the fittest I ever had been. Too bad it took an apocalypse to get me off my ass and off the Xbox in order to do so. I drove through the roads of a foreign country, hoping to hell that my map skills were decent enough to get me to where I was going. Truth be told, I would have rather stayed in Canada. I knew it better, and it was definitely less populated than this place. Problem? Well, the Canadian government hadn't gotten it's ass in gear fast enough. Ottawa had been one of the first places hit, and word from the government had been cut off entirely. I hadn't heard from our Prime minister on any radio station for months, and I wasn't relying on some holy miracle to come and save my ass. So, once I had heard word of a stronghold somewhere in Idaho, I took it without looking back.

Sure, I met some survivors, stayed a bit with them, but it was always the same. Some guy thought he was top shit, that his word was law, and half the time they were idiots. It was only because they had the biggest guns, or were the strongest that they got to lead. I left most of the groups before they had a chance to be eaten. I didn't like being alone all that much, but in a world like this, it was probably for the better. I ended up talking to myself, or listening to the same music over and over again. By this time, I knew almost all of the Billy Talent songs by heart, and a few others that I can't be bothered to name.

I was beginning to think I had gotten lost, until I finally saw the faint outlines of the stronghold through the mist of the rain. I checked my gas, and saw that I was nearly empty. I hoped that they had some sort gas station or pumps so that I could fuel up and be ready to go if I needed to be, but as I pulled closer, it seemed that would be the least of my problems.

As the base started coming into view, I saw no signs of life. Lights were off, motion was zero, and the air seemed to press in on me. The base looked abandoned even from this distance, and it made me want to shoot myself all over again. I had jumped countries only to have my hopes torn from me and ripped to shreds like a dog chewing a slipper. Than, as if things couldn't get worse, my engine started sputtering. "Fuck, don't you dare...Don't you fucking dare!" My engine cut out on me, leaving me stranded quite a ways out of the base. I slammed my palm onto the steering wheel, and leaned my head against it for a moment. Taking some deep breaths, I started collecting my things. My backpack, my sleeping bag tied onto that, and my weapons of choice. My Colt and my bat, which had kept me alive all this time. I had yet to actually fire the pistol, since running was always my first option when dealing with hordes of the undead. My bat used to be my brother's, used during his years in the local Triple A baseball league. I clutched it tight, not wanting to lose a single thing that could link me back to my family.

I opened the door, and stepped out into the rain with my jacket flapping in the wind. It was kind of cold, and the rain was a pain in the ass, but I had been through worse weather. I would have to book it to the base though, so I wouldn't end up sick. I zipped up my jacket, and fumbled around in my backpack as I started to walk towards the base. I pulled out some small binoculars that I had managed to raid from a hardware store awhile back, and looked through the base. I didn't see any motion what-so-ever at first, then I thought I caught a glimpse of someone entering a door.

This was most likely bad, and probably not good. I had yet to run into any other zombies other than the mobsters, but I had heard reports of zombies that could run, open doors, and do other things that regular zombies couldn't do. If that was one of them, I might have my work cut out for me. I wanted to simply turn back, find another rumour of another stronghold somewhere and head there, but I couldn't. The only place with any shelter or supplies would be the base up ahead, and there was definite threat of deadies in there.

After a few minutes of jogging through the rain, glad this was one of the few things I was good at, I arrived at the gates to the base. My bat and my pistol were in my hands, gripped tightly and nervously. The rain was pounding my jacket and my hat, and a few drops had made it onto my glasses. I stood there for a moment, preparing myself for just what might happen when I enter this place. Get on with it you coward, at least act like you know what you're doing.

I walked at a brisk pace throughout the place, avoiding the hospital through experience, and making my way towards the barracks. Hopefully there would be a place to barricade, relax, and enjoy a good night's sleep for once. First though, I had some hunting to do. I saw something move into these buildings, and I wouldn't relax until it was dead, or I was undead. So, as I got closer to the building, my pistol held at the ready, I prepared myself to step through the door. Another deep breath, and I quickly opened the door and stepped inside.

Two people were standing just a few feet away from me, closer to the bunks. The man was the first one to say something. "Holy fucking shit!" The woman made a similar comment, and reached down for what had to be her gun. I pointed the gun right at her.

"Don't fucking move!" I couldn't believe this was me talking half the time. I used to be nearly all talk, and no action because of morality. Shows just exactly what an apocalypse can do to a person. Now I was swearing and pointing a gun at perfect strangers, and I didn't feel bad about it, but I felt excited. I had always been a sucker for adrenaline. She stopped halfway to her gun, and she slowly stood back up. She was still within arms reach of her gun, but if she moved, her brain would be painting the wall behind her. There was an awkward silence as we all stared each other down, them unwilling to move with a gun trained on them, and me working up the nerve to get them to answer some questions.

Finally I broke through my nerves.

"Where is everyone?" I asked in the most authoritive voice I could manage. The girl decided to speak first.

"The hell if I know, now put down the fucking gun down before you draw every dead head within a mile right to us." She had a valid reason, but I had learned that you don't trust everyone in this world, and also I was slightly pissed off at the moment about the whole base being gone thing.

"Alright, listen bitch! I don't take orders from you, and until I find out why everyone is gone, I ain't putting anything down!" There was a stare down right from some sort of action flick happening with my gun trained on her head, and her eyes throwing daggers into mine. Finally the man decided to speak up.

"Alright, listen. We just got here. We have no clue where everyone is, and you shouting at us isn't going to get you the answers. Shooting at us will only draw the zombies to you, and you really don't want that." His voice was a lot calmer than the girl's, and his reasoning was completely solid. I eased up slightly, but still had the gun trained on the two of them.

"Ok, so you just got here. You didn't see anything entering or leaving this place? You're absolutely positive?"

"Yes, because we would have just darted in here and dropped our guards had we seen one." I could tell that this chick would get on my nerves.

"I think you forget who has the gun pointed at who." I said through clenched teeth.

"No, the place is deserted as far as we can tell." She answered, although her tone was a lot more dangerous than anything.

"Have you mapped this entire place out? Have you been in every single building? Every single room? If not, then I expect a zombie to walk in here at any minute." There was a few moments where no one said anything, but finally I lowered my gun. "But it would be nice to get out of the rain." Everyone was still on edge, but at least no guns were being pointed now.

"We just got here, so no we haven't mapped the entire place. The idea was to get out of the rain. I'm going to get my knife and gun back in their proper place. So don't fucking shoot me." Part of me really wanted to, just to shut her up, but I decided against it. As long as they wouldn't stab me when I wasn't looking, then I would stand a better chance of survival with people watching my back. They continued what they were doing, sometimes talking in hushed whispers that I couldn't hear, and I walked over to one of the windows.

The world looked dismal outside, and I could have sworn I saw something move in the hospital window. However, it was a good distance away, and we weren't making enough noise to warn a zombie in the next room let alone a few buildings away. All I could really think was the distance I had managed to cover, and still I was no closer to being saved then when I had been in Canada. My luck sucked, and there was nothing I could do about it now. I had no car, and no way back to Canada. My only hope was to rest up, and hopefully find word of another base that wasn't abandoned that I could go to. As I looked back towards the pair that I had just threatened, I hoped that it would be soon.
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Re: Lost Days; Dead Days

Post by Loki on Mon Dec 06, 2010 2:57 am

The zombie apocalypse wasn’t working out like I had hoped. I was supposed to be behind the fortified defenses of my grandparents’ farm in the middle of nowhere West Virginia. Food, water, shelter, and materials are more than self-sustaining there, not to mention the low population density. Why the hell did I go in the entirely opposite direction? Because my brother decided to follow his friends and follow blind leads rather than listen to reason. Sure, I could have gone on my own, but wondering what happened to Andrew would surely drive me into a depression.

“I wonder how Andrew and Takun are doing…”

A lump formed in my throat as I was reminded about how alone I felt; a sensation that was only emphasized by the dreary weather outside. This has been the second day I had held up in the second story of a deserted barracks located in a ghost town to avoid the rain. Even though it was late spring, nights still dropped in the mid-to-low forties. Combine that with being soaked in even a light mist and you’re going to be hard pressed to survive the night without the warmth of a fire that would only serve to make your whereabouts known.

I spent the past few hours wrapped in the cleanest blanket I could find, sitting in the corner of the room that had a window that overlooked the base. It would be foolish to comb the base to secure it from the dead; if such a thing were possible then this place wouldn’t be as barren as it seemed to be. I have no doubts that there are at least a few zombies lurking in one of the neighboring buildings just waiting for a sound to draw its attention. Once I checked the nooks and crannies of the building to ensure it was empty, I moved up here to the second floor, closed the door, and remained as quiet as possible. Such a thing comes naturally to me; I was never much of a talker or required lots of activity to preoccupy myself. I have become quite skilled in the art of pen spinning since I began living my life as a recluse; a simple activity that occupies my mind without distracting me to my surroundings.

The presence of muffled voices traveling through the floor made me aware that I had dozed off at some point. I could pick up differing tones suggesting at least two people were somewhere downstairs talking in a casual manner, though I could not make out what was being said. This was not good. I wasn’t afraid of zombies, or at least the standard walkers that are everywhere; they’re dumb, slow, and predictable. I have seen a banshee before, from a safe distance, and watched through the safety of an apartment window as its shriek rendered some hapless person powerless to defend himself or flee as the dead descended upon him. I was at least fifty yards away and another ten yards up from the thing and I still felt lightheaded upon hearing the cry. Even that and the other fabled variants that I have seen written on various walls don’t worry me as much as the living. A zombie is a zombie, it wants nothing more than to sink its teeth into me; that fact will never change. People on the other hand, there is no telling what their true motives are; the fact that they have a fully capable mind just makes them unpredictable.

After a few moments a third voice made itself known, this one louder and more forceful than the other two had been. From the sounds of it, the newcomer was not part of the group below and I felt sure that there was some sort of standoff going on. Who knows, I might get lucky and they’ll kill themselves. Let them do the dirty work and present me with the opportunity to gather more gear. I winced at that thought, had these months really made me so callous? Not only was I wishing the deaths of complete strangers, but I was already planning on picking the remains while the bodies were still warm. It was easy to reason with myself that such a thought was a product of the times, but it did not remove the bitter taste that was in my mouth because of it.

The verbal exchange carried on for several moments, more than a few times I looked out the window for any signs of movement. Their conversation was anything but silent and I hoped that the rain was enough to drown out their voices, but I was not foolish enough to assume that. Damnit, just kill yourselves already before you draw every damn zed to this building. Eventually the exchanged stopped and I held my breath as I listened for any signs of a struggle, but none came. Then came the sound of footsteps wandering around below along with what sounded like opening and closing of doors. A wave of anxiety rushed over me as I realized what was going on. Fuck me. They’re searching the building.

I had freed myself from the confines of the warm blanket and ducked behind one of the many large piles of boxes that were scattered about the room. As far as I could tell, this room was used for storage, though there wasn’t really anything of value as far as I could find when I searched a few of them. Unfortunately, the stuff within wasn’t solid enough to stop a bullet either. The door squeaked ominously as it slowly opened on its worn hinges. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. What do I do? They’ll find me if they do even a simple search and it would be dumb as hell to do something reckless like jump out suddenly or make any quick movements. I gritted my teeth and snarled with frustration as I saw only one real option that I was literally gambling my life upon. My hand clinched tightly on my small caliber pistol, my thumb pressed against the safety to click it off if the need arises.

“There are no zombies here, but that will change if I feel that you are a threat to me.” I spoke in as level of a voice as I could manage despite my nerves. The footsteps stopped abruptly, clearly taken off guard by my voice. “I will tell you upfront that I have a gun, but I really don’t want to use it if it can be avoided. I don’t care about who you are, why you’re here, or what you have; I just want a place where I can wait out the rain. I have no problem with sharing this barracks, but if you get the idea of attacking me for my stuff then I will make sure I make as much of a ruckus as possible to attract every zombie within the base.”

I could feel adrenaline pumping through my veins as my body prepared for fight or flight mode. My hands trembled slightly, which would certainly ruin any hope for accuracy. Fortunately, my ultimatum relied upon making noise rather than being a great shot.

“So what do you say? Do we have a truce?”
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Re: Lost Days; Dead Days

Post by The Melancholy Spirit on Mon Dec 06, 2010 5:44 am

So far things had turned out to be quite the day. Walking for miles in the rain, finding the base but only to look down upon a deserted shell of what it had once been and was rumored to now be. Getting in out of the rain was a nice change of pace; dried off, into a dry change of clothes. Things had seemed to be picking up. Then some fucking prick bursts in with a gun and a bat, shouting like we truly were the only things in the god forsaken place. Most of the exchange was between him and Erica. Quite frankly I was surprised she remained as civil as she did. Likely the moron was just lucky she had been able to get dry and change before he burst in. Had she still been dripping wet the argument would likely still be going on. And if he’d managed to walk in on her changing, well… fuck. Zombies being attracted to the noise would have been the least of that sorry bastard’s worries.

Things calmed down well enough though. Not to say I trusted whoever the hell this guy was. But it was better than getting anyone killed. Besides, Erica and I long had a standing agreement that didn’t even require a look to confirm action on. Anyone that didn’t show an instant idea to kill us could be useful in the long run. Even if that met shooting them in the knee and using them as bait why we got the hell out there, so whoever this guy was, it wasn’t like he was useless. Still, I wasn’t taking my eyes off of him.

We had to look over the barracks though, see if anything useless was hidden away somewhere. Even if the place had been evacuated they would have likely left something other than towels behind. I let Erica take the lead, keeping my eye on the new guy.

It didn’t take more than her barely opening the door to the upper floor for another problem to be added to the already fucked up situation. I cursed under my breath, shaking my head as I listened to the guy talk.

“He’ll turn us into zombies? What's he got a fucking syringe with their blood or some shit?” I rubbed my forehead, my other hand resting on the handle of my pistol. “Well, at least he was considerate enough to give us an ultimatum. You know, one that is actually half-way intelligent. Unlike some fucking people…”
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Re: Lost Days; Dead Days

Post by Shadow Moonseye on Tue Dec 07, 2010 6:09 am

Holy hell, how many more people were we going to run into today?! First we get the asshole with a gun and now we’ve got some random guy huddled upstairs behind some fucking boxes. I squeezed my eyes shut, hoping the dull throb starting to form in the back of my skull wasn’t going to turn into a migraine.

“Wonderful.” I muttered, shooting a look over my shoulder at John. “I hope he’s not some kind of freak like that.” I turned my attention back to the stack of boxes I thought the guy was hiding behind. “Okay, truce. We’re not the shoot on sight kind. Keep your gun put away and get up nice and slow, alright?”

I didn’t have my gun out, but one hand was resting comfortably on it. If he tried anything, whoever he was, then he’d get a round through him before he blinked. He carefully stood, both hands in sight. No gun out either. Good. Least he was capable of reasoning with. I didn’t relish the thought of wasting ammo on him. Or the dinner bell shooting would ring.

“Now, how about we all go downstairs, and act like civilized people? We can pull some beds together, get some blankets and relax for a little bit. Chat, get to know each other, play cards or something since we’re all sharing this building until the rain blows over.”

We all headed downstairs; John and I were careful to watch the two newcomers. Truces could dissolve quickly, so we weren’t going to be caught with our pants down. It seemed the feeling was shared by everyone, as the two strangers were watching us--and each other--just as closely. Despite the obvious distrust, we did push some cots together in a half circle to use as seats. John and I took one, while the others each took one for themselves. Right about then the silence descended over us, that really awesome awkward kind where know one seems to know what to.

I could feel the throb pounding through my skull, not quite the chisel at the base of my skull that would signal a migraine, but enough to set me to clenching my jaw. Which would only make the headache worse. I wasn’t going to waste advil unless it got bad so that meant I either try to sleep it off or distract myself from it. I wasn’t about to sleep and leave John alone and outnumbered if these two decided to turn on us, so distraction was the obvious choice. Since no one else seemed to have found their voice yet, that left it up to me to get the conversation going.

“You guys got names, or should I just call you asshole one and two?”

So, it wasn’t exactly the nicest way to open a conversation up, but headaches make me cranky. So do most people. I always hated people, people sucked, and the end of the world only brought out the worst in them. I wasn’t really an exception to that, but you can’t exactly shot your best friend turned zombie or watch your neighbors be murdered for their gas and come away the same person.

I looked between the two, waiting for them to answer, and doing my best to keep from clenching my teeth.
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Re: Lost Days; Dead Days

Post by quakernuts on Tue Dec 07, 2010 9:41 pm

Despite the hesitation, and obvious distrust between us all at that point, we all decided to search the rest of the barracks to make sure that we were truly alone in this building. I holstered my pistol to my hip, and held my bat by my side. The other two had guns, and could handle the medium to long distance shots while I got rid of anything up close. We didn't want to be shooting anything right now, like ringing a dinner bell to a dozen starving dogs while wearing a giant steak on your neck. As we searched the building, I stayed close to the others for two reasons. One, so that I could push zombies off if they got too close, and two so they simply couldn't shoot me without me cracking one of their skulls first. It was weird being an actual violent person. I had always played at it as a sort of joke, but actually doing it was a different thing entirely. Like someone had written my morality on a piece of paper, and thrown it in a shredder, making it a puzzle to solve rather than guidance.

The first floor was clear, and as we moved to the second floor of the barracks, I had serious doubts there were zombies in the building. They aren't exactly the quietest things, well, most of them anyways. As we got to the door though, I thought I heard shuffling from inside, and readied my bat out of reflex. I waited for one of the other two to open the door. There was no immediate threat, but enough boxes that a body could be lying behind them. I was about to take a few more steps inside with the other two when a voice broke the silence. Well, it wasn't a zombie, which was good enough reason to not bash his head in right away, but I wasn't about to be caught off guard. As the man crawled out from behind the boxes, a sense of familiarity caught me off guard. I couldn't quite place it, but I was sure I had seen his face somewhere.

"He'll turn us into zombies? What's he got a fucking syringe filled their blood or some shit?" The guy of the first two said. I didn't bother saying anything, considering that anything was possible now-a-days. "Well, at least he was considerate enough to give us an ultimatum. You know, one that is actually half-way intelligent. Unlike some fucking people..."

"Yeah, I thought you were an idiot. Nice of you to finally realize that." A smirk planted itself on my face. If he wanted to fight with words, he was entering my favourite battle zone. Despite the tension that rose through the glares we gave each other, no weapons were raised and soon the other man had joined us. The girl decided that we should act 'civilized' in an uncivilized time, and head downstairs for a chat and cards or something like that. I wasn't paying too much attention to her words, but was looking out the windows at the other buildings. I was hoping that if there were zombies out there, I would be able to see them, but the rain made sure that even if they were five feet from the window, it would be nearly impossible to make the outline. I broke away from the view, and wandered back downstairs with the rest of them.

We managed to move the beds together without 'accidentally' killing anybody, and I quickly took a spot up on one of the beds. I laid down on it, placing the bat beside me, and pulling my gun out to rest on my chest. The safety was clicked on for the moment, but the past year of using it had honed my use with it, and it wouldn't slow me down should the need to use it ever arise. Everyone seemed to fall into a silence right about then, no one wanting to really talk and everyone not trusting each other except for the two that were already together.

"You guys got names, or should I just call you asshole one and two?" Part of me couldn't believe the words coming out of her mouth, and part of me admired her spunk towards potentially dangerous people. Still, attitudes accompanied by as big of a mouth as hers often got people killed. If she kept it up, that is what exactly would probably happen.

"I was thinking along the same lines for you two. Except for you..." I pointed to the girl. "I'd call you bitch, and call him 'Her Bitch'." I wasn't scared of these people, the past year of seeing some very unspeakable, and mind breaking stuff had insured that. I would rather die with a bullet in the brain than a bite in the neck. I could see the temper on their faces start to rise, but I simply shrugged from my laying position. "Don't get pissed when you start the pissing match." I waited for a few moments, and then decided there was no harm in letting my first name slip. I stared up at the ceiling, not really caring about this topic of conversation seeing as we probably wouldn't be together by even tomorrow morning.

"Name's Riley, yours?"
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Re: Lost Days; Dead Days

Post by Loki on Sun Dec 12, 2010 8:33 pm

“He’ll turn us into zombies? What's he got a fucking syringe with their blood or some shit?”

I groaned to myself when I heard one of them make that comment. I said nothing about turning you into zombies; I said that the lack of zombies up here would change should they force my hand. In other words, they attack and I make our presence known to anything within a mile, which will, as I mentioned: Bring. Zombies. Up. Here. It had crossed my mind to make this clarification known, but what was the point? If I had to categorize those two from first impressions alone, I would file them under cynic. At least they were the type to listen to reason. Or at least give the impression as such.

As per the parlay, I holstered my gun and slowly stepped from behind the boxes with my empty palms revealed, but not raising much higher than my waist. It wasn’t a surrender and it would be foolish to lift them above my head. To do so would simply provide them with an easy target. At least with them where they were, I would be able to dive back into cover and draw my weapon if they were not the type to keep to their word. Fortunately my concerns were unfounded… for now at least.

“Now, how about we all go downstairs, and act like civilized people? We can pull some beds together, get some blankets and relax for a little bit. Chat, get to know each other, play cards or something since we’re all sharing this building until the rain blows over.”

I could not hold back the exasperated sigh at those words. I was nice and relaxed in my blanket, enjoying my own little bubble of civilization up here before you three came along. The thought to return to my own little corner in the attic did cross my mind, but separating the group now would only make both parties paranoid about what the other was doing. Such suspicion would lead to sleep deprivation at best or a noisy firefight at worst. Seeing no other choice, I gathered my gear and took the time to make sure everything was tightly secured in its place in case any of the three had a knack for pickpocketing.

After a moment of consideration, I put on my pack and fastened the buckles as a means of securing it to my person. With all the noise that was made moments ago, should a need for a quick getaway arise, I wanted to make sure I could do so without leaving anything behind. I then grabbed my blanket and wrapped it around me, glad that it was still warm from when I was nesting in it earlier. A silence settled over the group once we arranged our little circle of cots and grabbed a seat. It couldn’t have been any more awkward and I got the impression that sleep wasn’t going to be happening for anybody tonight. Damnit.

“You guys got names, or should I just call you asshole one and two?”

"I was thinking along the same lines for you two. Except for you… I'd call you bitch, and call him 'Her Bitch'."


I sighed as I rested my face in one of my hands in a way not to obstruct my vision. There was nothing embellished about it; it was my natural reaction to express my passive irritation towards the insults. End of the world or not, are these childish exchanges really necessary? In no way did I feel offended or feel a need to defend my honor; these were complete strangers that I would never see again after this weather rolls over. Why the fuck should I care about what they call me or what they think of me in these few hours? It doesn’t change anything in the long run and I wasn’t going to be pulled into a bitchfest.

“Asshole one, asshole two, Ben, Loki, whatever. I don’t care either way. It won't make any difference once we go our separate ways in the next day or two.”
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Re: Lost Days; Dead Days

Post by The Melancholy Spirit on Tue Dec 14, 2010 2:52 am

Huddled in a circle, tension moderate to high, insult-intending names being dropped like pennies into a fountain... it was like being in a fucking preschool time-to-learn-to-get-along-with-your-neighbor session. One guy was a smartass to the core, the kind that thought they were more funny than they actually were. Much more. The other seemed to be annoyed at being stuck with us. Not that I blamed him. Anyone aside from Erica was just a tool or a puppet to be used. But that was the way things were now. You give a shit for anyone and it gets you killed. Funny, really. Just admitted to having signed my own death warrant. Somewhere the reaper is grinning right now. But these days he’s always grinning. Lucky prick. If anyone came out on top of things it was him. No matter how metaphorical he might be, he was one lucky bastard.

So that was where I found myself. In a barracks with a smartass prick and a distant silent type, surrounded by pouring rain, lovely winds, and who knew how many dead heads. Fucking lovely. In some way I was thankful though. I’d been alone for a long while before running into Erica. Her company was salvation from the ever nearing madness. One silver strand of companionship to keep the fucking whispers of the dead back in the shadows where they belonged. Shadows, heh.

On the other hand, these people were strangers. Nothing is more dangerous than a stranger. Lie, cheat, stab you in the back… hell, that was just what friends were for. And those were in the good times. Before shit went to hell. Thinking about what strangers were capable of these days was sickening. The worse part was that it didn’t sicken me like it should. It made me cautious, and if they tried to pull anything it would make me pissed off. That was why having a friend was so important. One person you could trust with your life. That one thread that gave a reason beyond stubbornness to go on. Really, that wasn’t a friend. That wasn’t family. It was a fucking savior. A bond formed in the codependence of the co-savior.

I had let the comments from the wiseass pass by without rebuttal. Wasn’t worth commenting to, nor was I paying much attention to him outside of the motions of his hands and the looks from his eyes. Thoughts always wandered, they still did. Having someone else to watch your back made that not quite the downfall it otherwise would be. Distractions were like setting a trap for yourself. Fixing the plate and handing it out to a dozen starving, flesh-rotting zombies. Lovely thought, that.

When I thought back on it, I almost smirked at Riley’s comment. Her bitch. Better to be the bitch of someone that could keep you alive than to be the smartass that got his jaw shot off by an arrow.

“John the Bitch,” I muttered. “I think I like it, it’d quite easily piss off zealous religious fucks. Desecrate the name of their sacred John the Baptist. Yeah, I think I’ll stick with that. Might even sew it into the back of my jacket.” I glanced over at Erica and smirked. “Erica the Bitch, doesn’t quite fit. Shame, really. Could’ve been the Bitch Twins.”
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Re: Lost Days; Dead Days

Post by Shadow Moonseye on Thu Dec 16, 2010 11:12 pm

”I was thinking along the same lines for you two. Except for you…I’d call you bitch, can call him ‘Her Bitch’.”

The guy had guts, I’ll give him that. Didn’t stop me from scowling though. Of all the things I’ve been called in my relatively short life, bitch was the one I disliked the most. Still, he shrugged and spouted off a few more lines before introducing himself.

Riley. Now there was a name ripe with memories. Had a character with that name. And there was another guy from FOG called that. Funny guy, too bad he’s probably dead with most of the rest of the world. I flashed my darkest grin and laughed. This guy though, he could give as good as he got. That won him some points in my book. Not quite enough to forgive the gun in the face, but some.

Up next for introductions was the lurker guy from upstairs. He was obviously irritated by the insults being thrown around like candy at a parade. I shot a quick glanced at John; he had that faraway look in his eyes: he was lost in thought. One of the luxuries of us being together, you could afford to let your mind wander long as the other was paying attention. That meant that I was up for being attentive for both of us though.

“Asshole one, asshole two, Ben, Loki, whatever. I don’t care either way. It won’t make any difference once we go our separate ways in the next day or two.”

Now that was a strange coincidence. Another of the old FOG guys went by the screen name Loki. Couldn’t be him though, all the times we had discussed zombies and the like he had said his plan was to hole up on a farm one of his relatives owned. Or something like that. Funny, all those times I thought about and planned for the coming of zombies, and they still caught me off guard. Caught the whole fuckin world off guard. But, I needed to focus. Not start cussing out god, the universe, or whatever else could be responsible for this mess.

Our turn to introduce ourselves. I mulled over what to say, absently cracking my knuckles. First came the smallest knuckles, cracked one at a time with just the right amount of pressure. Then came the main knuckles, popped all at once, before moving onto the thumbs. It was finished with a quick flex of both hands to get any last cracks. A rather un-ladylike habit I’ve never been able to break. Not that I was ever much of a lady. Or that it mattered anymore.

“John the bitch,” John spoke up, seeming to come back from his reverie. “I think I like it, it’d quite easily piss off zealous religious fucks. Desecrate the name of their sacred John the Baptist. Yeah, I think I’ll stick with that. Might even sew it into the back of my jacket.” He shot me a glance and smirked. “Erica the Bitch, doesn’t quite fit. Shame, really. Could’ve been the Bitch Twins.”

I grinned and laughed. “Nah, we couldn’t of been twins anyways. I’m much prettier than you.” Still chuckling, I looked over at Riley and Ben. “Name’s Erica. If either of you two try anything I’ll cut your balls off and feed ‘em to a crawler.”

The threat might not have been necessary, but I’d heard and seen a few too many horror stories where girls get jumped and raped and all that shit. I wasn’t going to be one of those girls. It was another thing I counted on John for. I knew he’d watch my back. Warnings aside, I’d be interested in hearing news of where these guys had been, if things were as hopeless as I thought.

“So where you two from?” It was idle chat, but it could pass the time until night fell.
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Re: Lost Days; Dead Days

Post by quakernuts on Sun Jan 09, 2011 11:36 pm

I had managed to catch the exasperated sigh from the loner of upstairs, not like it was hidden anyways. Part of me wanted to say something to him, but the more rational part of me decided that it wasn't worth it. Starting a fight in the middle of a possibly infected base was not on the smart side. As everyone started introducing themselves, I couldn't help but feel a certain familiarity to them. The first one to respond after me was the Loner.

"Asshole one, asshole two, Ben, Loki, whatever. I don't care either way. It won't make a difference once we go our separate ways in the next day or two."

Loki definitely struck a familiar cord with me, and not because I knew of the Norse God of trickery and mischief. My eyes narrowed at him out of curiosity rather than disdain, but I still could not place where I had seen or heard that name before. Maybe a year ago, I would have remembered easily, but now everything seemed like a blur from such a long time ago. Next to say anything was Mr. Reason.

"John the Bitch. I think I like it, it'd quite easily piss off zealous religious fucks. Desecrate the name of their sacred John the Baptist. Yeah, I think I'll stick with that. Might even sew it into the back of my jacket." He then looked over at the girl. "Erica the Bitch, doesn't quite fit. Shame, really. Could've been the Bitch Twins." Now, I was no stranger to sarcasm, but I honestly couldn't tell if this guy was serious. It seemed like he wanted to actually do it, but I thought the real motive behind it would have been to mock me. I let the thought slide, I didn't care what he did so long as he didn't try to attack me. His attitude and his name seemed, again, eerily familiar. I couldn't place him, just like Loki, and it was driving me nuts. If I knew these people, it would definitely release tension, but for the love of me, I couldn't place where. Finally, after the girl added to his comment, she let her name be known.

"Name's Erica. If either of you two try anything, I'll cut your balls off and feed them to a crawler." Now my irritation was getting the best of me as I couldn't help but say something back.

"Figures you would go for the balls." I said, almost as a passing comment, still seeming to inspect my Colt. I thought that might be it, let the night fall into silence and hope to hell no one fired first, but I should have known that would not happen.

"So where you two from?" That right there, was a bombshell. I didn't really know if I wanted to reveal I was from another country, because that would end up with all the questions about how the country is doing that I didn't want to answer. I didn't know if these other people were from Canada, even though it was more likely they were from the America. I bit my lip slightly as I argued with myself on whether or not to lie, or tell the truth. In the end, truth won out. I never did like lying, and if they found out, the trust barrier would stretch even more.

"Canada." I said, not saying a thing more. Instantly Erica's head turned towards me, and that was the first sign she wasn't Canadian. If she was, her expression would have been of surprise rather than curiosity. I knew she was going to start asking questions, so I braced myself.

"What part of Canada?" She leaned forward a bit, eager to hear a response. I shrugged on the bed.

"Does it really matter?" I wasn't the kind to give out so much information, especially to strangers. Her stature, however, proved she simply wasn't going to give up on this.

"Yes, it does. which part?" Her eyes narrowed, almost daring me to tell her to back off. I had a feeling that was what she wanted, after all, she was the only one here to have someone watching her back. I gave an exasperated sigh towards the question.

"Saskatchewan...happy?" She didn't seem all excited, but I could see several questions start to rise in her mind and was dreading ever telling the truth.

"What about Alberta? What's been happening up there?"

"Look, I went East, not West. I tried to get to Ontario, see if there was some sort of government safe zone or something set up. Last I heard, nearly the entire western coast, including Alberta, had been overrun. BC went and got itself firebombed by the military, so I wasn't going anywhere in that direction." She seemed very taken back by this news as a flurry of emotion crossed her face from anger, to sadness, to grief, to rage.

"You sure?" Her voice was low and quiet, and it wasn't hard for anyone to realize that she had someone in Alberta. I didn't want to seem like a heartless bastard, but I didn't want to give out false hope either. So I stayed with the neutral answer.

"Listen, that's all I heard before all the radios in my area cut out. I haven't been there to personally see it for myself. So is it true or not? I wasn't about to head in the direction where everyone said zombies were just swarming." I paused for a second. "Sorry." I said, in a lower voice than normal.

"Fuck!" Erica exclaimed punching the bed she was sitting on. I remained quiet, not wanting to have any of that wrath shoved towards me. It's not that I was afraid, it was more to do with caution and not wanting zombies showing up on the doorstep. John leaned over towards her, and said something in a low tone of voice that I couldn't hear. I doubted it had something to do with 'We should kill him for that' so I really didn't care. She seemed to lighten up a slight bit, and I gave a half smirk.

"Don't go smashing shit, that's my job." Erica looked up at me fiercely, and pointed her finger at me. She made to say something, but stopped short, leaving all of us in an awkward silence. I raised an eyebrow, because she obviously was not one to stop mid-comeback. I was about to say something, when finally she opened her mouth again.

"Quaker smash?" Now there was something I hadn't heard in the longest time, and had to do with accounts I had made on several things before this whole zombie thing happened. I looked at her with as much confusion as I could muster on my face, and came up to a sitting position on the bed. Something was up, but I wanted to know exactly where it was she had heard of Quaker Smash.

"That depends, whose asking?"

"A Shadow." Was all she said, and a flood of memories seemed to enter my mind. I had been on a roleplaying site called FoG, and there had been a moderator and friend by the name of Shadow Moonseye. This was a weird coincidence, but I wasn't completely sure. So, to make absolute certain, I decided to voice one more of my common phrases back then.

"Well maybe I'll just load up my Quaker Cannon and get out of here then." She lowered her hand, and smiled as she looked up at the roof. She seemed on the verge of laughing, whether normal or manically, I couldn't tell.

"You've got to be kidding. Of all the times..." Everything just seemed to click in my head.

"Wait a minute...so you're..."

"Shadow Moonseye in the flesh." She said, shaking her head and chuckling to herself. Part of me was relieved at this sudden turn of events, and a part of me regretted it. I smiled slightly, but looked to the floor suddenly. I gave a slight nervous laugh.

"Ummm...sorry about holding a gun to your face earlier...and calling you a bitch...and pretty much calling you a whore...and I'm shutting up now..."
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Re: Lost Days; Dead Days

Post by Loki on Wed Jan 12, 2011 4:26 pm

Will there be no end to this pointless instigating? If they’re just going to go into a firefight, I would prefer to go back to my spot upstairs and let them duke it out like they might as well had earlier. I had only been paying partial attention as they continued their war of insults, catching their names for only a moment before forgetting them. Memorizing names was never my strong point before all this and now that the world is over it seemed even more of a pointless endeavor. A wave of annoyance passed over me when a question threatened to pull me back into the conversation regarding where I came from. Does it even matter at this point? All this chitchat is only noise that will draw attention to anything that wanders by. We should all just keep our mouths shut for the sake of maintaining civility and the security of their hiding spot.

Fortunately, the other guy answered first- What was his name? Randy or something like that- effectively disarming an awkward moment that would have come when I had not answered it. All that I cared about that information was knowing where I should not head for the sake of self-preservation and Canada seemed to now be on that list. Whatever it was that got the girl so worked up about the answer, I was glad to not be a part of it. Less attention to me. Just the way I like it. Then came the awkward silence, which was better than heated arguing in my mind.

”Quaker smash?”

Those words forced me to let out a few quiet laughs as I was thrown back into nostalgia. Oh how fun and calm those days were, especially compared to now. Wait… What the fuck? If they knew that phrase, then… My attention was not entirely focused on the conversation. I was in disbelief that two of them had been old friends on FoG. Not that it was too much of a shock that we didn’t recognized each other, it was over the internet after all.

“What are the chances?” I said, finally sitting up, my demeanor now friendly rather than dismissive. “As I mentioned before, I go I Loki. Though I hadn’t expected the need to add that that is my alias on FoG as well.” I looked over to John, the only name I really remembered because of his long spiel earlier. So much time had passed that I could not remember clearly, but I could have sworn Shadow mentioned something about a brother. I think. The appearance and name didn’t ring any bells. And I am certain that it wasn’t Plague’s real name. Wasn’t he a red head? It certainly explained her need to know about Canada. Damn my lack of memory for names.

“Is she your sister?”
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Re: Lost Days; Dead Days

Post by The Melancholy Spirit on Sun Jan 16, 2011 3:07 am

The exchange was brutal. Not so much because of the tension it had brought up between the two of them, but because of the subject matter at hand. The moment it started I sank within myself, staring idly at the ground as they spoke. What exactly happened in those few moments are a blur, I don’t even remember what I said to Erica after she heard the news.

What happened following that was incredibly amusing. Still, I didn’t laugh. Not outright. A smirk at the dark irony of it all, for that is exactly what it was, a twisted and black humor irony. Four people who had discussed such a situation, a zombie apocalypse, online and never met in real life. Even involved in role-plays together about such a subject. And by the odd chance not two but four of them end up meeting in such a situation? The smirk turned to a chuckle and I shook my head.

Ben’s, or Loki, it seemed more fitting really, question got me to lift my head. At that I did laugh and ran a hand over my head. I looked at Erica for a moment, the turned back to him and shrugged.

“Biologically? No. But she might as well be. Much as I never figured I’d be one to say this, if you don’t have any family what is the fucking point to surviving?” The question was rhetorical. Even if they had an answer, I didn’t really care to hear it.
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Re: Lost Days; Dead Days

Post by Shadow Moonseye on Sun Jan 23, 2011 2:56 am

Quaker and Loki; Riley and Ben. The odds were improbable at best and impossible at worst; yet there they were, alive and kicking. Their presence combined with the crushing news of Alberta being overrun made for a confusing mix of emotions. I wasn’t sure whether to laugh at the dark irony of it or swipe the tears that prickled in my eyes away and fall silent.

Should reply to Quaker--No, Riley. Shit, its going to take forever to get used to calling him by his actual name. I still slip up and call John Mel every now and then. Responding to Riley took priority; he looked like he was feeling pretty bad for the insults.

“Bitch and whore I can forgive. Been called a hell of a lot worse over the past year.” I let out a half chuckle, half snort. “But the gun in the face…that’s a whole ‘nother story.” I grinned; stuck my tongue out at him to show I was joking. For the most part, anyway. “But, uh, I’m sorry too. For the threats and shit.”

I’ll admit it, I wanted them to stick around. Not that Mel--Shit!--John was bad company, but having two more bodies in the group could be good. Specially since they are people we can trust. Provided they hadn’t pulled a 180 personality shift since the FoG days. With four of us we could get more sleep, split up the watches better, carry more essentials, and maybe get some downtime to relax too. Okay, that last one might just be wishful thinking, but hey, it’d be nice. A larger group came with downsides though. More food consumption, more noise when traveling, harder to find good shelter and places to hunker down. Four people isn’t too bad though. I certainly wouldn’t complain about two people I know joining us. If they wanted to stick around.

“Biologically? No. But she might as well be. Much as I never figured I’d be one to say this, if you don’t have any family what is the fucking point to surviving?”

Opps. Lost in thought again. From John’s words though, I could guess that Loki--Ben’s question was if we were related or something. John slid into silence. His question hanging heavy in the air. Answers weren’t pleasant to think about. Even if he was right. Without someone to care for, to keep you afloat in a world that had been turned on its head, what was the point? Pure survival just didn’t cut it--no matter what all those books and movies used to say. When John didn’t say anything else, I looked over at Ben.

“What? Don’t tell me you don’t recognize his ugly mug.” I indicated John with a thumb. “He’s Mel. From FoG. I know, its hard to tell without the hair and musical commentary, but I figured his attitude would be a dead giveaway.”

Before I could stop it, a sigh escaped my lips and I looked away. Fuck. The forced cheer slipped and I slumped, feeling like a huge weight was pressing down on my shoulders. My eyes landed on a window, looking for escape, only to be greeted by hazy black. The tip of my tongue found its way between my molars and I clamped down on it firmly--enough pressure to cause pain, but no damage.

The guys talked some in low voices, but the words were lost to me. I felt that hated prickle start in my eyes again and bit down hard. It hurt, but the prickle stopped. I refused to cry, to scream or sob or sniffle. Not in front of anyone. Specially not in front of guys. Even if they were friends. No matter how much guilt I felt, how much the helpless anger and sorrow threatened to boil over, I would not cry where I could be seen.

My last words with Ethan hadn’t been kind. I had called to warn him, back when the phones still worked and the zombies were rumors coupled with conflicting reports and odd sightings here and there. Before those fuckers let their true nature be known. He didn’t believe me and we fought. For hours. Eventually, he hung up. I resolved to try the next day, maybe if he slept on what I said, do some research of his own, he’d agree. When I woke up…the phones were dead. Power outage. Had a large outbreak in Middleton the day after…and my family and I left. I never got a chance to call him back.

Biting down again, I used the pain to keep tears in check. Standing, I felt the guys’ eyes on me. “We should get some sleep. 's dark out now.”

A slight quaver marred my voice; I refused to meet anyone’s eyes in case they caught it. John suggested splitting up the watch between us all. I volunteered to go first. Not like I could sleep anyways. Riley said he’d go after me, followed by Ben, then John would finish the night out. Ben suggested we move upstairs, seeing as mobsters tend to have trouble with stairs. We all agreed to that and quickly gathered our shit and hauled it up, along with some blankets and pillows stripped off the beds. We shoved the boxes back, opening up the room a bit, and got comfy. Sleeping bags were spread, goodnights were said, and I took up my position at the front of the room near the door. Sitting cross-legged I kept my back to the guys and listened to them settle in. There were grumbles, some tossing and turning, but eventually everyone feel silent. I guess they were all tired.

Only when I was sure the guys were sleeping did I let a silent sob shake my frame. Tears came after cascading down my cheeks unchecked. Clamping a hand over my mouth, the sobs threatening to become vocal, my chest aching with every breath, I held myself still. No matter how much I wanted to punch the floor; punch it until my knuckles split and bled and I could cram the tears and the hurt and the sorrow into a dark corner of my mind to be dealt with later…I didn’t. I sat there, staring at the door; hating myself for this weakness and reveling in its release.

How long I stayed that way, I don’t know. My legs hurt though. I probably went over my share of the watch, but when I did eventually stand I felt worn out. Drained. As quietly as I could manage, I made my way over to the dark lump that was Riley. I squatted next to him and poked him in the arm or shoulder or something.

“You’re up.” My voice was thick with the remnants of tears. Hopefully he wouldn’t notice. He stirred and sat up; thankfully it was too dark for him too see my face. I’m sure my eyes were puffy and red. He mumbled something, I couldn’t hear and I didn’t really care to at that point. So I shrugged, stood, and moved over to where I had laid out my sleeping bag. I don’t remember taking my shoes off or climbing into the slick interior of the bag.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Something was rocking me. Nudging or something. I groaned, and tried to roll away. The rocking continued, and I sat up, grinding the heels of my palms against my eyes. “Fuck, what is it?”

"Your breakfast is ready, would you like it in bed or at the seaside terrace?"

I dropped my hands and snorted. Typical John. He must have been nudging me or something. I cast a quick look around, noting the pale light streaming in through the window. Morning already. It felt like I had only been out for a few minutes. I stretched, and pulled myself out of the sleeping bag. I took another swipe at my eyes, ridding them of the gunk that was trying to glue the lids shut again. “The seaside terrace sounds lovely. What’s being served?”

"Garlic and herb potatoes with a venison steak and a side of lobster."

I chuckled. “I fucking wish. Seriously though, What do we got left?”

"Can't you just disappoint yourself?"

“Yeah yeah…” To our sides, Riley and Ben stirred, our chatter either waking them, or they had been awake and decided to get up. A glance out the window proved that the rain had stopped sometime in the night and the light streaming in was a welcome change from the overcast gloom of the past few days. I dropped back down and grabbed my boots.

It was time to start the day.
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Re: Lost Days; Dead Days

Post by quakernuts on Mon Jan 24, 2011 3:09 pm

The whole thing felt a little more than awkward. Not only was Erica Shadow, but John was Mel, and Ben was Loki. This was an impossible situation I found myself in, and my head started to spin just thinking it over. In truth, part of me was glad, and part of me wasn't. I didn't want to start getting attached to anyone really, not until I was sure we were safe and the outbreak was over, but I had to face it, chances were that I wasn't going to make it. I had never been the fittest kid, nor a natural born fighter, hell, the only thing I had going for me was my wits and comebacks. Last time I checked, the only way you could burn a zombie was with a flamethrower. I was thrown back into a time when things were calmer, and life was happy-go-lucky for me. I wasn't the same person I was back then, nor were they probably the same people they were back then. My happy nature had been replaced by anger, despair, and silent contemplation. I had taken on an Emo persona, even if I hated myself for it. Ben asked John something, but all I heard was the answer.

“Biologically? No. But she might as well be. Much as I never figured I’d be one to say this, if you don’t have any family what is the fucking point to surviving?”

That sentence made me want to put a gun to my head and end it, because it was the fucking truth. My family was gone, and only my instinct for survival, and sometimes my own will prevented that very outcome. I forced a small smile on my face as I looked at the ground, refusing to meet their eyes for the time being until I forced my mind into the present. Unbidden, images of Moose Jaw, and my family entered my mind, and I held my palms up to my eyes, and pushed slightly. I had always told myself I was cold hearted, and on some level that was true, but not to the extent that I didn't feel for my family. The anger, the sadness, the despair, the guilt, the ever pressing hopelessness in my entire situation tried to overwhelm my sanity, so I did what I always did when this started to happen. I took a deep breath, and I thought of reasons for me to continue going. Maybe my family was alive, maybe I would help with a cure for this thing. In the end, I simply put down the thoughts through sheer force, and finally looked up at everyone.

Hushed words were spoken all around, and it wasn't until Erica said it was dark out and time for sleep did I even realize what time it was. John suggested the watch, and I took second shift. Second and third were the hardest shifts to take, seeing as you were woken up from sleep, and then had to try to get back to sleep after. I had always been a sucker for punishment when it came to taking the hardest jobs myself for fear of other people not doing it right or getting hurt. So, as I crawled into bed, I tried to immediately fall asleep, and was actually granted just that.

A couple of hours later I assume, I was woken up by Erica to start my watch. Her voice sounded...quakey. No, not as a pun, but as if she had been crying. I knew why, and didn't say a word or give a hint that I knew. I decided to stand for the entire duration of my watch, not wanting to give my body any reason to close it's eyes. I forced my mind to stay blank, and not think about anything other than watching for signs of danger. I looked out of the window into the darkness, and watched as my mind played tricks on me. Movement out of the corner of my eye every time, keeping me alert. Truth was, if a zombie were to smash into the window at this moment in time, I would have probably shit myself before firing. I was never good with sudden scares. I could deal with creepy enemies, surroundings, and the like. If anything jumped at me though, it always got me.

A few hours passed, and my watch was up. I walked over to Ben, and gave him a light kick on the shoulder. "You're up bud." Was all I said as I made my way over to my cot. I slipped my shoes, hat and coat off, and slipped into my sleeping bag. I was already tired, so the instant my head hit that pillow, I was out like a light.

I was woken in the morning to John talking to Erica, and groaned as I wished I had more time to sleep. I shoved my head into the sleeping bag, acting like a typical teenager on a normal morning. Seeing as everyone was about to wake up though, I sighed to myself, and threw off the sleeping bag. I had to get up slowly, or dizzyness always kicked in. I slipped on my shoes, hat and coat. Grabbing my backpack, gun and bat, which had been laying right beside me, I made myself over to the others.

"Now if only I trusted you to make something without poisoning it John, I would actually enjoy it." I let a mischievious smile spread across my face to let him know I was joking, and managed to take out a half bottle of water, and took a couple of sips before replacing it in my backpack. "So what's the plan then? No getting killed today?"
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Re: Lost Days; Dead Days

Post by Loki on Fri Jan 28, 2011 2:59 pm

“Biologically? No. But she might as well be. Much as I never figured I’d be one to say this, if you don’t have any family what is the fucking point to surviving?”

That statement brought out something that was a mix of a quick laugh and a grunt. It was that very reason why I headed west into the unknown rather than going for my planned refuge to the east. Hell, I would have been able to make it on a single tank of gas and would have had no problems keeping Takun at my side. A pang of regret surged through me as I recalled the act of parting ways with him. He was my only friend the two years we spent together in our barricaded house. To let that go for what I deemed to be the greater good hurt like hell. But the fact remained that my brother was out here somewhere and I had to find him.

It was then that Shadow answered the true aspect of my question and I couldn't help but laugh. The hair certainly would have been the giveaway. After all, the behavior from before was classic Mel. "No shit? Now this is just getting eerie. If Fate walks through that door, I'm going to need one of you to slap me just so I know I'm not dreaming."

After a while of reminiscing, we eventually moved back upstairs to settle in for the night. While the others settled into their sleeping bags, I returned to the corner with the blanket wrapped over my shoulders with my gear within reach. I had gotten so accustomed to sleeping in such a pose it seemed only a step in the opposite direction to sleep in a more vulnerable position. I looked forward to getting a sound night sleep again, without having to be jolted awake by even the faintest of sounds. It was a luxury I hadn't had since my trusted guard dog had parted ways. God I hope our paths cross again...

A nudge roused me from my sleep with a start. There was a moment where my gaze darted quickly around at my surroundings before my mind recalled what had happened the night before. "You're up bud." I took in a deep breath and rubbed the sleep out of my eyes before letting out a mumbled. "Right, I'm on it."

Once Quaker settled in, I stood and stretched before finding ways to keep me preoccupied to ensure I wouldn't be tempted to drift off again. After brushing my teeth and doing my best to straighten my hair in the faint reflection in the window, I proceeded to unpack and repack my gear to ensure everything was present, clean, and organized. It had nothing to do with distrust for my friends, rather it was an exercise I had taken up as a form of entertainment. I guess it would be on par with field stripping a firearm. The last half hour was spent sitting at the window with a pen twirling in one hand while the other held a tin can filled with warm tea that I had heated over my chafing fuel. I had companions again, that alone was enough reason to warrant a special drink while I watched the horizon lighten. Mel was the first to wake followed by Shadow then eventually Quaker.

Their talk of food caused my stomach to protest. What I would give for a plate of scrambled eggs. Fuck, what I would give to have a chicken with me. I remembered in my hiking class one of the students talking about how on one of their trips a friend had brought along a live chicken throughout their three day trip. And every day he would have a fresh egg waiting to be cooked for breakfast. If I find a chicken, I will sure as hell make it my new pet. I think I'll name it Cujiro. Oh how I miss playing video games.

"So what's the plan then? No getting killed today?"

"Nope, not on a Thursday. Thursdays are specifically reserved for not dying." It was a bit of humor I had taken up over the past several months. In truth I had no idea what day it was, but it felt like a Thursday. Not that it mattered, there is a very good chance that I would say the same thing tomorrow replacing it with Wednesday. Though it would never be a Monday. I never liked Mondays and as far as I was concerned Mondays were among the first casualties once the world went to hell.
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Re: Lost Days; Dead Days

Post by Shadow Moonseye on Mon Feb 21, 2011 7:48 pm

Boots laced tight? Check. Gear together? Check. Knife in place? Check. My mental checklist continued, hands brushing over each bit of gear as I listed it. All together, all ready to go. Just need to grab the bow, roll up the sleeping bag and stuff the spare clothes in on top.

“Now if only I trusted you to make something without poisoning it John, I would actually enjoy it.”

I looked up in time to catch Riley smile over a bottle of water at John. Heh. Its fucking fantastic to have other people around, I gotta say. Just hearing voices other than my own and John’s was nice. “Don’t knock it before ya try it. His cooking’s been keeping me fed for the past few months.” I grinned. “It hasn’t killed me yet, so that must be good.”

“So what’s the plan then? No getting killed today?”

Ben quickly piped in to answer Quaker’s question. “Nope, not on a Thursday. Thursdays are specifically reserved for not dying.”

“Ha!” I clapped a hand against my thigh. “I like that.” Gesturing to John, I stood. “Why don’t you dig some goodies out. I’m going to put my bra on. If we’re gonna do any running I don’t want to be bouncing around all over the place.” I moved over to a stack of boxes, snagging the slightly damp article of clothing off the top where I had draped it with my other clothes last night.

“Why not? Bouncing could be a good potential distraction for any male zombies. Probably any lesbian, or at least bi, zombies as well.”

I stuck my arm out to the side so that it was visible and flipped him off. There was no malice in the gesture; just loving fun. The snarky, sarcastic back and forth between us was comforting in its own strange way. It never failed to help put me at ease. A quick peek out showed John smirking. I stuck my tongue out at him, before ducking back behind the boxes to finish changing.

A short minute later I bounded out, fully clothed with bra straps pulled tight. I rolled my shoulders and cracked my neck. Back in business, I was ready to face whatever fucked up shit the universe decided to throw at us. Maybe we’ll get lucky. Find some good loot, maybe a melee weapon worth hauling around. Or a stash of chocolate. Dark chocolate. My mouth started to water just thinking about it.

“Calling this cooking it is a sin… more like just preparing it so it doesn’t kill you.”

I laughed, and we all settled down to eat a little bit. There wasn’t much sharing--part of the way things work now. Food is hard got, and unless you were really close to your companions it wasn’t something that was easily shared. The sharing, charitable nature that was so praised in people back before the dead came back was one of the first casualties.

Breakfast done and packed away--along with everything else--I cast an appraising eye over the guys. “Well, I think its time we sort something out. I don’t know about you guys, but finding ourselves thrown together like this, I’m not about to look a gift horse in the mouth, ya know? Way I see it, two pairs of eyes is better than one, and four are better than two. Specially if they’re people that can be trusted. So, what ya think of us joining up? Forming our own little…” I frowned. “John, what was that term those social scientists were slapping survivor groups with before they became a human happy meal?”

“Gang?”

“That’s it! Sheesh, that’s sad.” The last bit I muttered under my breath. “Anyways, why don’t we form our own gang? We’re a little rag tag at the moment, but I think a little time and elbow grease will fix that.”

I waited on each response, letting them all get their word in before I said anything else. Once all was said, I nodded. “Then its settled. We’re a gang until we get tired of each other.” I smirked. “John’s in charge of coming up with our name, Riley’s in charge of come up with a snappy catchphrase, and Ben…well, you can just look pretty or something.”

“Now what?”

“Next? We loot the shit out of this place.” The base had been deserted so far, and the opportunity to get some much needed goods with little hassle wasn’t something I intended to pass up on. “I say we tear through the barrack buildings, see what we can find. Other side of them we can hit the base store if you want to chance it. I think the library is right next to the store, but I can’t remember for sure. It’ll probably be safe, so if we want any reading material we can hit it last. I want to keep as much space between us and the hospital as possible--just in case. If we really need medical shit there’s a small clinic in Bruneau that we can hit. Town’s tiny and was mostly fill of old people so it’s probably deserted. That’s about…” I looked down at my hands, visualizing the distance and trying to remember what I could about the route. “18 miles south of here.”

I looked up from my hands, squashing down memories of a happier time. I couldn’t afford to be sentimental. I gave the inside of my cheek a quick bite to reinforce that. “So, what you guys say?”
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Re: Lost Days; Dead Days

Post by quakernuts on Wed Mar 02, 2011 12:17 am

"Thursdays? Is it even Thursday? It sure feels like a Monday to me." I said in reply to Ben's comment. Everything was shit today, and only the fact that I had found some friends had made this trip seem anything worthwhile. Erica mentioned not to knock John's cooking, but I already had my own food out and was ready to go. "Oh don't worry about me, I got my own stuff right here." In truth, there was still that slight amount of distrust. I had always liked these people when we were friends on FoG, but a zombie apocalypse can change you in a way that is often not for the better. I didn't expect them to shoot me in the back or anything like that, but if worse came to worse, I doubted they would run back to save me. I didn't blame them, in truth, survival instincts were a very hard thing to overcome. John and Erica swapped comments to each other about certain parts of the body 'bouncing', and simply smiled. At least those two were close, time would only tell what would happen with the rest of us.

Once breakfast was done, and I was all prepped up and ready to, baseball bat in hand and pistol in holster, Erica spoke up. She talked about forming our very own gang, and personally I was torn between the decision. Having people watch your back was good, but only if they could be trusted. In all my days though, these are the people I would trust the most. As she finished her little speech, I simply shrugged, giving off an air of casual indifference. "Sounds good to me, I've been talking to myself for too long anyhow." Everyone else gave their bit to the pot, and soon it was settled that we would be travelling together. Finally, an end to constantly having to have 360 degree situational awareness. John was placed in charge of coming up with a name, I was in charge of a snappy catchphrase, and Ben was in charge of being...Ben.

"Sounds like we got the short end of the deal on that one, huh Mel?" I nudged him in the side a bit, then looked to everyone else. "Hey, if all else fails, we'll just send him in first with a fedora, and watch him completely baffle the zombies with the moonwalk." I stood there for a second. "On second thought, let's do that first. I think the moonwalk would be fuckin' sweet." After that, John asked what was next, and I could have guessed it as soon as it was asked. So we were to loot the place, but that didn't sit quite well with me. Yeah, we could use the supplies, but there had to be a reason the supposed stronghold was abandoned. I didn't bother voicing this concern though, seeing as it seemed like common sense. Her plan was to tear through the next barracks over, and she started listing places that would have possible good loot. I don't know why she bothered with the library, seeing as I never had time to sit down and sleep, let alone read.

"Personally, I'm not too sure about staying in this place any longer than we have to." I could feel everyone's eyes on me, but I wasn't about to back down from saying anything else. "Come on people, this place was supposed to be a stronghold. Something drove them out of here, and I'd rather not find out what the army couldn't hold at bay." With that said, I looked to other people to hear comments on this, and Shadow was the one that piped up first.

"Technically they were airforce, and we don't know that they were driven out. They could have just picked up and left or something. Either way, now that they're gone this'll probably be a hot-spot for any roaming gangs." I had to mentally remind myself that by 'gangs' she meant other survivor groups, and not people like Hell's Angels sort of deal. Still, I wasn't entirely convinced, but decided to go with it.

"Well, if you guys go, I will too. I just don't like it. Something doesn't sit right." I wanted to add that if they packed up and left, they would have left something for any other roaming survivor, should they happen upon this place, to let them know where they were now. Deciding to go the path of least resistance, just a little irony there, I walked along with the rest of them out into the base.

Outside was a complete opposite of the night before. The sun was shining brightly amid a few clouds, and it would have been a nice day to simply enjoy outside if it wasn't for those damn zombies. I had to shield my eyes from the sun at first, stepping out from the confines of the barracks. The base still looked like an abandoned dump, but at least it was a brightly lit abandoned dump. Our target was the next barracks over, and as a group, we moved forward towards it. Our weapons were held at the ready. In my case, my bat hung limp in my right arm while my pistol was holstered on my hip. Not a single soul, damned or otherwise, was in sight, which was a good thing in this case. If even one zombie saw us, they would alert any nearby ones. I looked off down the road, and noticed something I didn't see the night before.

A semi lay on it's side just outside the fort's walls. Beyond that, I could make out the shape of a bus, also on it's side. From the looks of things, I could tell they were pretty messed up. I simply pointed to them, but said nothing. My theory of the people here getting destroyed by something had just been solidified by those vehicles. It also meant that anyone that had been in those vehicles could be a potential zombie by now, and given how many could fit into a bus and back end of a semi, that was not a good thing. That was the only sign of distress though on the outside, but as we reached the door to the second barracks, we stopped. No one had decided who was going to go in first. So, after a quick little thing of rock-paper-scissors and so much bad luck that I could cry, I was the one who was going to take a leap of faith.

Everyone fell in behind me as I held my hand on the doorknob. The other barracks I had burst into had contained my friends, this one probably not so much. I took a deep breath. "Ok, you've done this before...you can do it again." I realized I was talking to myself again, and looked back to the others. "Sorry, bad habit I picked up on my travels." So with one quick turn, I opened the door, and walked right in, bat held at the ready.

The inside of this barracks was nothing like the one we had just slept in. Papers were strewn everywhere, clothes could be seen lying on the ground, bed, and some even plastered to the wall by dried blood that caked the room. Beds were overturned, and I could see that some were in the shape of a makeshift barricade. All in all, everything was a complete mess in this barracks. I looked back at Erica. "Still think everyone bugged out?"

"...Ok, so I might be wrong."

I gave a smirk to the comment, but I didn't find it all that funny. I might be right, didn't mean I wanted to be. Then the stench hit me. It was sickly sweet, and a year of dealing with it had made me almost accustomed to it, therefore the delayed reaction to it. Rotting meat was never a good sign, and as I paused, everyone behind me did as well. There was slight shuffling from above us. I pointed upwards, and slowly made my way towards the stairs on the other side. I didn't know if it was survivors or zombies upstairs, but I wanted to make sure that we got the drop on them first.

I slowly made my way up the stairs, everyone following behind me as quietly as they could muster. As I got closer, I could hear other sounds. Dripping, something akin to tearing, and the sickening squish of something soft being either stepped on or otherwise crushed. I didn't think they were survivors then, and as I came up and looked into the room, my suspicion was confirmed. Two dead heads sat over a rather torn up looking body, enjoying their meal in peace. They were simple mobsters, nothing to fear. They were dumb, slow, and completely predictable. So, without telling anyone anything, I simply held up two fingers and walked forward.

At first, they didn't notice me. Then the boards started creaking beneath me, and they both whirled their heads at me with surprising speed. Something was not right, but I was too far in to back out now. Instead, I brought my bat to the ready, and watched as they opened their mouths and no noise came out. That was a bit strange, but didn't think anything of it until I heard Shadow yell something.

"Stalkers!"

"What are S-" I began to say, but was cut off as the first one literally leapt on me. I managed to get my bat between me and him, and shoved it into his mouth. Saliva and blood mixed as it poured out of his mouth as he desperately tried to claw at my vulnerable position on the ground, his decomposed face staring at me through lifeless eyes that betrayed the excited rage at which he attacked me. The second one made to attack me as well, but I got a leg free, and kicked it back, watching as it fell backwards. A litany of curses left my lips as I desperately tried to get the zombie off of me. His strength was far greater than I would have guessed, but he didn't need to use it if the second one got a hold of me.

"Any fuckin time guys!"


Last edited by quakernuts on Sun Mar 27, 2011 11:24 pm; edited 1 time in total
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Re: Lost Days; Dead Days

Post by Loki on Fri Mar 04, 2011 4:05 pm

I found it funny that we were forming a gang rather than any other synonym of the word. It did make sense though; there was little doubt in my mind that the gangs of old were the most adept at handling themselves in an urban environment during such an apocalypse. I wouldn't be surprised if there were some that had managed to carve out a small haven in the chaos that swarms the rest of the populouses... populi? populees?

"Ben…well, you can just look pretty or something.”

A grin spread across my lips as I began digging inside my pack until I found the object I was looking for. I hadn't needed it much due to the dreary weather, but now that the sun was out it was just as functional as it was stylish. I dusted off some of the dirt smudges that had accumulated and worked it back into shape before I adorned the black fedora.

"Done and done. Every gang that is worthwhile needs a member in a fedora to give it both class and credibility. I'll be sure to keep an eye out for a pinstripe suit."

In the days leading up to me venturing from the stronghold that was my home, I had debated whether or not to bring it with me. All novelty aside, it did have a weight and took up space, something that I was wanting to use efficiently. As a means of entertaining myself while still being productive, I went about testing ways to keep that pesky sun from disrupting my vision. At first, I tried just going without anything, but immediately noticed the problem of that small timeframe where my vision needed to adjust when walking in and out of a building. I considered that one of the most crucial moments where it is easy to be caught off guard or otherwise surprised and I wanted every edge I could get. Sunglasses were small, but easily broken or lost. Hoods obstructed the peripheries way too much. I never liked baseball caps. All of which lead to the fedora riding shotgun once I hopped in my car in search of my brother.

Where are you, Andrew?

I listened to the game plan and couldn't help but feel a little unnerved. I've never raided a town like that before, mainly sticking to rural areas and getting what I could from the isolated farm houses. Though now that I had people watching my back, it didn't seem entirely suicidal to go after more lucrative ventures. "Fuck it, not like I had any other plans for this weekend. A night on the town might be entertaining." I had to put considerable effort in hiding my hesitation and unease about the plan, but I was tired of being alone.

We eventually packed up camp and set out to the task at hand. I couldn't help but smirk when I noticed Quaker shielding his eyes from the sun while the brim of my hat did that task for me. As we walked, I kept my hand on the hilt of my machete ready to draw it from its sheath in an instant. It also helped me to hide the light tremble it had to it. I didn't like the idea of investigating buildings; it felt too much like tempting fate.

After the game to determine who was going to take point, I took my camp axe in hand and stood in file behind Quaker. When it came to exploring interiors, I favored the small axe for its utility as a tool as much as a weapon. Whether it was killing a walker or breaking down a locked door to escape a horde of them, it provided options that my machete couldn't. My knuckles became white from how tightly I gripped the handle once I got a look and a whiff of the building's interior. This is a bad idea. I heard the shuffling just as Quaker pointed it out and made a gesture with my head suggesting that we should go elsewhere, but the point man had already looked away and began to climb the stairs. Fuck, this is a really bad idea. We should get the fuck out, whatever is up there can't possibly be worth the risk.

I repeated the gesture a few more times when he looked back, but he seemed too focused at the task to notice. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end as I heard the tearing of flesh and couldn't help but feel a strong sense of danger. I really didn't want to be there, nor did I want to venture deeper. When he signaled there were only two, I only felt marginally relieved, but nowhere near enough to make me feel any less on edge. I prefer avoiding conflict over confronting it any day, no matter how well the odds may be stacked in my favor. Before I could share my preference, Quaker already began moving forward bringing us past the point of no return. Fuck! What are you doing?!

A chill ran down my spine as I noticed the unusual behavior of the zombies, instincts yelling at me to get the hell out now.

"Stalkers!"

With that, Quaker was tackled to the ground leaving me with only one option as his backup. I dashed forward calling back without so much as a glance away from the two stalkers. "Take out the other, I'll help Quaker!" I just hoped they hadn't done the smart thing and bolted.

Using the momentum I had gained from the sprint, I brought the axe around in what could only be described as a Happy Gilmore golf swing. The blunt heel of the axe head smashed into the side of the stalker's head, robbing it of its balance and strength allowing Quaker to shove it away to free himself. An impact that would have sent a human into a coma only managed to stagger the stalker long enough for its prey to stand on his feet. I could have killed it just as easily had I used the bladed edge of my axe, but there was no telling what sort of unpleasant and infectious fluids would have spilled upon Quaker had I inflicted a gaping wound rather than blunt trauma.

I watched as the stalker had as much trouble standing as a college student on an all-night open-bar binge. I don't know if I had caused it brain damage or simply fucked over something in its inner ear, all I cared about was making sure it didn't have a chance to recover. With another swing of the blunt end, I caught it on the crook of the neck, forcing it back to the ground before turning the axe around and bringing the bit around to cleave the stalker's head in two.
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Re: Lost Days; Dead Days

Post by The Melancholy Spirit on Sat Mar 12, 2011 9:43 pm

“Fuck…”

The word slipped through my lips in a barely audible whisper in unison with the creaking floorboards beneath Riley’s feet. The pair of deadheads whirled on us, their faces a grotesque, disfigured sight that made the bile in one’s stomach punch through the esophagus no matter how many times you’d seen them. I steeled myself, forcing it down before it reached my throat.

Erica screamed into my ear. I winced and shuttered slightly. Whether from her scream of the creatures before us I don’t know. The closest was upon us before anyone had time to react. It had Riley down. Apathy rose up in an instant and I glanced to the other stalker. Ben was moving to help Riley, the other stalker pausing for just enough time for Ben to sprint to Riley’s side. Instinct was shouting to run. Apathy was shouting to run. If the stalkers went for them then we would have enough time to… it was too late.

Without thinking I slapped the butt of my rifle down at my side, flipping it stock my shoulder in a full spin in time to catch it upside down and slam the butt into the second stalker’s temple as it ran to my side, heading for Erica. The blow sent it momentarily off balance, caving in the right side of its head. Still, it wasn’t enough. The stalker regained composure in a matter of seconds, turning its vacant and silent stare on me. Mouth agape, it seemed to hiss a silent threatening breath at me. Liking my imagination.

I still had the gun raised as it came again, this time aimed for me. A quick thrust had the butt of the rifle making contact in a slightly upward angled approach on the stalker’s nose and jaw. Bone cracked, splintered, and shattered. On instinct I turned my head from potential blood spray. Leaning back, I looked over as the corpse slumped to the floor in a sickening sound. I lowered the rifle and looked behind me. Ben or Riley, likely been from the looks of things, had taken care of the other stalker.

I was suddenly wishing I smoked.

“Fucking one lovely god damned morning,” I cursed belligerently.

There was bound to be blood on the gun. I held it slightly away from me while looking around the room for something to wipe the blood on.
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Re: Lost Days; Dead Days

Post by Shadow Moonseye on Wed Mar 23, 2011 9:15 pm

“Stalkers!”

The scream ripped itself from my throat, warning Quaker an instant too late. The first of the pair was already on him. Part of me wanted to run. Hell, most of me wanted to run. I hate stalkers. More than hate. They freak me the fuck out.

Ben leaped to Riley’s defense and the second stalker made a beeline straight for me. Ah piss. I fumbled for my knife, backpedaling to keep the distance between me and the ruined face. The blade was a long shot and I’d only get one chance or I was good as dead--but it was better than nothing. The stalker rushed by John; who got his rifle ready and turned the butt into an improvised bludgeon.

Before I knew it, the fight was over. And I was about as useful as a fucking girl. Might as well have thrown my hands up and screamed like some helpless damsel in distress! “Fuck!” The curse exploded from me and I stormed across the room to where Quaker stood wide-eyed and clutching his bat. “You got a fucking death wish or something!? Never charge a pair of deadheads until you know what they are!”

It wasn’t that I was angry at him. I was just…afraid. Of the stalkers, of almost losing my friends. Its easier to turn fear into anger. Easier to put on the bitch attitude than accept that I was scared. So I got angry. At the stalkers, at almost losing my friends, at being fucking useless and having to be saved…I was pissed at the whole situation.

Riley glared at me, dusting himself off. “First off, I didn’t want to stay in this fucking base, you did. Second, I could have sworn I had THREE OF YOU watching my back. Thirdly, I have never seen a different zombie aside from the regular deadhead, and forth, fuck you, I got assigned point-man because my luck sucks!”

“Yeah? Fuck you too! Maybe if you opened you eyes you’d know better!” I glared right back at him, locking eyes with him. “There’s more than just mobsters out there waiting to rip us to shreds; there’s graffiti all over the goddamn place describing them.” I dropped my eyes, looking him over for wounds or blood. “You bit? Get any blood on you?”

He stepped around me, starting to walk away and end the yelling match. “I’m fine, let’s just get whatever you wanted to get, and leave.”

“Yeah. I get it. Whole mess is my fault.” I sighed, the anger draining out of me quick as it had come, and leaving me feeling shaky. Louder, I said: “We’ll give downstairs a quick look then go. Happy?”

Riley shrugged, his back turned to me. Well good. At least he’ll still acknowledge me. Guess I didn’t piss him off too bad. I let out another sigh and glanced over at John who was holding his rifle away from himself and looking around. Probably for something to clean it with. I jogged over to him.

“This is why I want a melee weapon.” I gestured at the bodies of the dead zombies. And caught sight of my trembling hands. Great. “And, uh, thanks. You okay?”

“Yeah. Fabulous.”

I managed a weak smile and patted his shoulder. “Come on. There’ll be something to clean your gun with downstairs. You can tell me what a bad idea this was once we’re gone.”

He glanced down at me and groaned, shaking his head. I gave his shoulder another pat before moving one. Ben looked okay, but I asked how he was just to be sure. “You alright, Loki?”

He caught my eye and nodded. "Not so much as a scuff on my Fedora. The Quaker meatshield never fails me."

“Good. Let’s head down and get this over with then.” I headed for the stairs, stepping past Riley and making a point to insert myself into the point-man position. Leading the way to the main room, I flexed my hands a couple time, cracking a knuckle here and there. A quick look showed that the building was still empty of zombies and I let out a relieved breath. The fight and argument was far from quiet. I was half expecting the to noise to have attracted attention.

“Alright, lets spread out and make this quick. Keep your eyes and ears open for anything odd. If you hear or see something, let us all know and we’ll get the hell out.”
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Re: Lost Days; Dead Days

Post by quakernuts on Sat Apr 02, 2011 1:50 am

This wasn't one of the highlights of my life at the moment. A stalker was attempting to bite my head off, quite literally I might add, and the fact that three people behind me couldn't deal with two zombies, one of them being distracted, was pissing me off more than almost being eaten. The one I had managed to kick away had bolted past me, and to my surprise, Ben came to my aid. He smashed the zombie on the head, forcing it off of me and allowing me to get up, before cleaving its head in two. By the time I had fully risen and regained my composure, the other zombie was dead as well, John having ended its non-life with the butt of his rifle. Adrenaline was pumping through my body so hard it was like someone had dipped a syringe into my neck and dumped a bottle down my jugular. My eyes were wide, and my hands refused to loosen their grip on the bat, at least, until Shadow decided she needed to play mom.

"You got a fucking death wish or something!? Never charge a pair of deadheads until you know what they are!” I simply glared at her, not bothering to offer a response until after all the dirt, grime, and zombie drool was removed from my coat and pants. It wasn't until after that that I decided to yell back. Rule number one when dealing with Riley: Anger is answered with Anger.

"First off, I didn’t want to stay in this fucking base, you did. Second, I could have sworn I had THREE OF YOU watching my back. Thirdly, I have never seen a different zombie aside from the regular deadhead, and forth, fuck you, I got assigned point-man because my luck sucks!” Looking on it now, I didn't know whether staying with these people was a good thing. I wasn't about to go and say it to their faces, but they were starting to strike me as the 'run first fight never' people. That wasn't a bad thing, but it wasn't my particular style. I fought when I knew I could win, or had enough backup that winning was almost entirely certain. She had wanted to search the buildings, I was point man, so the situation looked winnable and I took it.

“Yeah? Fuck you too! Maybe if you opened you eyes you’d know better!” I glared right back at him, locking eyes with him. “There’s more than just mobsters out there waiting to rip us to shreds; there’s graffiti all over the goddamn place describing them.” Her eyes dropped, looking me over for any wounds. “You bit? Get any blood on you?”

I moved past her, ignoring her words even before they came out of her mouth. “I’m fine, let’s just get whatever you wanted to get, and leave.” I was pissed off, and even though I could see the logic in her argument, and see that flight was often better than fight, I still felt like there should be something I could have said to help my argument. Looking over everyone though, I knew I would get no sympathy, and didn't bother. I never needed it before, why would I start needing it now?

“Yeah. I get it. Whole mess is my fault.” She sighed, and then quickly added; “We’ll give downstairs a quick look then go. Happy?” I shrugged, not bothering with a vocal response as I neared the stairs and waited for someone else to take point. They didn't like the way I did it, then someone else could lead. It was the most dangerous position, one that I hadn't taken willingly but did anyways. Someone else wanted to stick their neck out, that was fine by me. Erica jogged over to John, leaving me some time to simply lean against the wall, and mull over what could have possibly happened. I didn't like it, and took to not thinking of anything at all. It was what I was good at, and the others would probably agree if I asked them.

I heard Ben's remark about my being his meatshield, but I didn't even bother with a smirk. He had saved my life, for which I owed him, but contemplating being put into a situation like the one I was just in all the time just so everyone else could have time to sit down and think of what to do next didn't apeal to me at all. Once Erica was done checking everyone over, and her 'mom' impression was pretty much done, she inserted herself into point and led us back downstairs.

Coming back downstairs, we found that no other zombies had heard us and come to join the feast, which left me feeling a little more than relieved. Sure, I liked to kill zombies for more reasons than one, but I never fought when I knew I couldn't win. I wasn't stupid, despite what the others might have been thinking. So I moved myself around the room, checking anything that might hold value and finding nothing. I quickly moved into another room busying myself on looking at anything that looked important, intent on seperating myself from the others for a moment to let my anger flush out of my system before I said something else I regretted.
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Re: Lost Days; Dead Days

Post by Loki on Wed Apr 06, 2011 9:45 pm

I had just finished wiping off the gore that clung to the bit of my axe upon what was the cleanest section of the stalker's clothing when the harsh exchange started. I winced at the harsh exchange, doing my best to control the shaking in my hands. Whether it was from the excess adrenaline, residual terror from the encounter, fear that the voices would attract more infected, or uncertainty that a physical exchange was about to take place, I could not tell. Probably an even mixture of all of those things. Even amongst friends, digital in origin or otherwise, it seemed civility among the last remnants of humanity would still be in short supply.

I never did handle shouting matches well, regardless if I was directly involved or not.

When I was asked about how I was, I tried to relieve tensions with a joke. An attempt that failed horribly. I let out an anxious sigh and rolled my shoulders in an attempt to work out the stress of the situation. It helped, but not much and I followed the others down the stairs taking a moment to scan around the top room once more before catching up. The center of the axe's mass was gripped in my left hand to decrease the effort it would take to react quickly. I knew I wouldn't get any real power out of the weapon until I gripped it lower on the handle, but at this point I needed a shield until ready to go on the offensive.

“Alright, lets spread out and make this quick. Keep your eyes and ears open for anything odd. If you hear or see something, let us all know and we’ll get the hell out.”

I looked around the mess that was the barracks. Whatever mattress frames weren't lined into some sort of hasty barricade had laid angled from the walls and mostly without the mattresses upon them. The metal footlockers were in a similar state. Some missing lids, others with their contents spilled upon the floor, and a few left unharassed by anything but time and neglect. I systematically began rummaging while ensuring I didn't stray too far from the others; using my axe as a prod to move stuff that had been scattered on the floor. For the unopened lockers, I actually took a bit more time with the scavenging figuring them the most likely to have anything of use. Instead of flinging the undesired contents aside in quick, flailing motions, I simply pulled out the items by the handful and set them in a relatively ordered pile next to the locker. Apart from the unneeded clothing and personal possessions, I managed to claim two pairs of clean wool socks, three unopened bottles of water, a mini bag of Dorritos, and a chrome Zippo lighter. It had been a few days since I've changed socks and felt it was nearing time to do so. Feet are important when wandering in post-apocalyptia and the last thing I wanted was some sort of infection or fungus. Well, perhaps not the last thing I wanted. There was a lot I didn't want. But it would definitely be in the low double digits on the list. I slipped the socks in the space between the small of my back and my backpack, dropped the lighter in my pocket, and balanced the consumables in my arms wordlessly offered out a bottle to the others as we began to reassemble.
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Re: Lost Days; Dead Days

Post by The Melancholy Spirit on Wed Apr 06, 2011 11:38 pm

I was the last to leave the room. Everyone had filed out; I remained staring at the bodies for a moment. Part of me half expected one or both of them to leap up and take me down before anyone had the chance to get back up the stairs. Eventually I forced myself to look away and join the others. They were sifting through the trashed barracks, looking for anything useful. I ignored them.

By this time they had all scrounged through most of the place already. I took a secluded corner section that seemed to have been discarded by the others. There wasn’t much. I managed to find a half empty pack of cigarettes, some matches, and a can of fruit. I tossed the can of fruit into my pack and pocketed the matches. What had caught my eye first, though, was the video camera. I didn’t go straight for it, deciding for whatever reason to look for anything else first. Having found all I could though, I knelt down and picked it up. The battery had been dislodged. Setting my rifle on the floor I looked around for the battery. I found it not far from where the camera had been.

I moved over to the wall and leaned against it, popping in the battery and messing with the camera until I got to the recording. What I started to see was disheartening, to say the least. The volume was low, low enough that none of the others could hear it from the distance they were to me. I sighed, running my hand over my head as I continued watching it. More than once I glanced over to where Erica was. A numb feeling came over me. The video shifted, the camera obviously having been dropped. Almost a minute continued until something hit it and everything faded. I assumed it had been kicked by someone, likely what had knocked out the battery.

Closing the camera, I titled my head back and stared up at the ceiling through closed eyelids. I didn’t want to show them the footage, but knew that I had to. I slammed the back of my head into the wall before leaning forward onto my knees and sweeping up the pack of cigarettes. Stowing them into my jacket, both actions having been an impulse, I took up my rifle and stood. I looked to Erica again.

“Lovely fucking morning…” I muttered under my breath before making my way towards them. I tapped her shoulder with the hand that held the camera. When she turned to regard me I handed it to her and moved to lean my back against the wall. A small rag was on the ground. I picked it up to quickly wipe the blood I had somehow managed to forget was on the butt of my rifle. With it clean I tossed the rag aside and slung the rifle over my shoulder.

“You need to watch that,” I said in a half-sigh, half-groan.
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Re: Lost Days; Dead Days

Post by Shadow Moonseye on Thu Apr 14, 2011 10:13 am

The place was trashed, to say the least. Looking around, I didn’t really expect to find much if --anything-- to salvage. Still, I wasn’t going to waste the chance. Even well used supplies are precious. The guys spread out through the building and I set to work kicking through piles of trash and unusable items on my way over to a set of unmolested footlockers. If there was anything worth finding, it’d likely be in those.

“Hopefully you aren’t locked.” I mumbled under my breath as I knelt before the first locker. Lady Luck, the fickle bitch, saw fit to grace me with a glance: the lockers were unlocked. I took my time going through them; I didn’t want to miss anything small or potentially useful in haste. Shifting through useless mementos I held back a sigh. We’ll need to restock soon. Maybe some of the homes out here won’t have been looted. I’d rather we didn’t backtrack into Mountain Home if we can avoid it. Hell, even Bruneau or one of the surrounding small towns would be much better than the city.

My pack was shrugged off once my search was completed. It hadn’t yielded much: A pencil, an unopened tube of chapstick--now that was a good find, I constantly suffer from cracked and chapped lips-- a small pair of nail clippers, and two Cliff energy/snack bars. I opened an outer pocket and zipped the granola bars, pencil, and nail clippers in it. The chapstick I pocketed for easy access. I had just finished pulling my bag back on and stood when I felt the tap on my shoulder.

“You need to watch that.”

His voice and the look on his face when I turned told me whatever it was, it wasn’t good news. A glance at the object he held out caused a frown. A video camera? I carefully took it from him and turned it so I could see the screen. A quick search located the play button, which I pressed, bringing the screen to life.

[The camera shows a booted foot for a moment before the video blurs and moves to land on the face of a young man. His blonde hair is cut short and brown eyes are underscored by purple bags--they are the only visible sign of fatigue. His chin shows the first signs of stubble--pale as his hair.]

This message is for Erica Ellington. Please, if anyone sees this, pass it on to her if you can. Erica, if you’re watching this…[He sighs.] I don’t know where to start…


“Alexander?” I breathed his name, eyes wide and locked on the tiny screen. He was alive! my little brother...and if he was alive then that meant Mom and Dad had to be okay. They had to.

We’ve been running hard since you played bait for those stalkers. We still have Rosie.

[The camera pans down and to the side, showing a black lab laying near his feet. The dog looks up at her name and her tail thumps on the floor as she wags it.]

Good girl.

[The camera comes back to his face.]

Dad’s still kicking. [He cracks a smile.] Lost his belly though. [The smile fades] Thor ran off. We spent a week looking for him, but…he never came back and we couldn’t find him. Dad swears he ran off looking for you. He was always your dog.


“You stupid dog…” I always knew that out of the pair, it would be Thor we lost first. Much as I hated to think it…he didn’t stand a chance without people. He was too big of a baby. “You should of stayed with them…”

Mom…[His voice drops with his gaze.] Mom’s dead. Landmine did it. She was the first out, thought it was just a body…[He swallows hard and his free hand comes up to dig the heel of his palm into each eye in turn.] We buried her outside of McCall

Tears sprung to my eyes and I pressed a fist to my mouth, swallowing hard as the first drop rolled down my cheek. Mom was gone...dead. Just like that. I didn't get to say goodbye. Or tell her I loved her. Or that I was sorry for everything. Nothing. She was just...gone.

The guy’s running the base have talked about relocating us all. There’s just too many people and we’re running out of supplies. There’s a huge gang that’s been testing our defenses and hounding scouts the past two weeks. We think they’re operating out of Mountain Home, but we’re not sure. Real nasty piece of work. Dad thinks whoever’s in charge of ‘em must of been a career criminal from before.

[A growl comes from off-screen followed by shouts from inside the room]

We’re being hit again!
Is that a truck?
Gary, get the gun! Someone
Hurry!
Bequiet!


[Alexander looks past the camera, forehead creasing with anxiety. His voice becomes hurried.]

We’re still looking for you, don’t give up. Keep an eye out on buildings--Dad’s been leaving messages for you. We’ve kept an eye out for your signs.

They’re through the barrier!
Oh my god, that bus is full of crawlers!
No, they wouldn’t that’s crazyjustlook


[The shouts grow more panicked, and the low hum of activity from before is replaced by the scramble of moving people and objects. A screech of metal on concrete causes him to wince.]

Dad sends his love and so do I. Be careful out there, people are turning out to be worse th--

[Barking cuts him off followed by a loud commotion and gunshots and screams.]

They’reinside!Shoot!Shoot!

Shit!

[The picture blurs, before bouncing once; obviously dropped. It continues recording for another minute: Shots and screams captured with perfect clarity before it cuts out suddenly.]


“No! Nononono! Alexander!” I rewound the recording part way and rewatched the final minutes of it. “You can’t be dead, no, you were just there!” I couldn’t see, my vision was too blurry and my eyes burned--but each scream and each gunshot I heard before the video cut out was a knife to my chest. “Bud, no, come on!” Every word was louder than the one before it and I could not stop myself; no matter how the tiny, rational voice in my head told me to stop.

“Nononono! You were just there!”
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Re: Lost Days; Dead Days

Post by quakernuts on Tue Apr 19, 2011 4:13 am

I had spent some time alone in the adjoining room. It was far enough away that I could separate myself from the others while still being able to hear them. My temper had subsided for the moment, and I knew that that was the one emotion that could possibly ruin me. Back before this whole outbreak, I had been forced to sidetrack my anger, be diplomatic about things, keep it inside and let it out whenever I could without hurting anyone. Now, the only outlet I really had was to take it out on someone, or something. I gave a deep breath, and stood back up. I had been stupid, in a way. While I don't believe I did any wrong in trying to take out what I thought were two crawlers, I was stupid for not thinking their were other kinds. After finding nothing worth salvaging, I returned to the main room to find Mel handing a camera over to Shadow.

"Shiny. Anything worthwhile?" It was a rhetorical question, for she started watching it immediately. We all stood silent as the video ran it's course, obviously Shadow's family by the way they addressed themselves and Shadow as the viewer. I got the feeling this was more personal than I should be allowed to view, and moved closer to the wall, keeping my eyes peered outside. While I could still hear the voice from the camera, I didn't bother to pay much attention to it. It wasn't addressed to me, and the only parts that would interest me would be any mention of what exactly happened here. I had my thoughts, which were probably right, and were all frightening. The video sounded boring so far, notifying Shadow of what had happened to her family, until near the end.

the sounds of people screaming, dogs barking, and shots being fired could be heard from the tiny electronic device. I turned my head towards Shadow, who was starting to get frantic. I didn't do anything at first, but as her voice started rising, I started to worry. No one wanted to seem to do anything, and seeing as I was already the sort of 'villain' type in the group, I did the hard thing. As Shadow gripped the camera to try and figure out what happened to her family, yelling while doing so, I quickly walked over and ripped the device from her hands. "Enough!" I said once to get her attention, then quickly lowered my voice. "It's a video...It doesn't show that they lived or died, so keep your hopes up and your voice down, got it?" I took the camera myself, and walked over to the window, closing the camera and shoving it in my coat pocket. Zipping it up, I looked out the window once more. Instantly, I froze.

Outside, maybe thirty feet away, a deadhead was standing there, staring at me through the window. It's jaw, decayed and broken, opened and let loose a low moan that seemed to carry on forever. Soon, it started shuffling slowly towards the building, and more moans could be heard from all around us. I watched the hospital as the windows lit up with activity, and was glad that I avoided them as a rule. My shoulders sagged, and I placed a hand up to my forehead and rubbed while closing my eyes and giving a sigh. I turned to the others, who had no doubt heard the moans, and shrugged towards them. "Soooo...We took on two and won. Anyone want to take on two hundred? No? Aw, I wanted to punch them all to death!" Watching the window, and seeing the hordes that started appearing inside, it was clear that we didn't have much time. I readied my pistol, made sure all my gear was secured, and held my bat tightly in my hand.

"Ok, so on a serious note, I highly suggest we get the hell outta dodge. I remember there being a small town or city near here according to my map...That has to be better than the way I came from." Looking back towards the door with a bit of a worried glare, I returned my face to looking at the others. "No way in hell am I staying here, that's for damn sure."
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Re: Lost Days; Dead Days

Post by The Melancholy Spirit on Tue Apr 19, 2011 4:41 am

I had watched the proceeding with a sunken, sickening, and altogether twisted feeling in my gut. I was leaning against the wall, right arm folded over my stomach with my left angled vertical to the ground, hand covering my jaw. Several sighs followed, mingle in with an array of emotions I hated for existing. I hated that they were getting the better of me. I hated that… at that moment, I simply hated the situation we were in. More importantly, however, was the sense of self hatred and overwhelming notion of unable to do a damned thing about, well, anything.

As the moans started to filter in from outside I lowered my arms, shaking my head. I sighed, licked my lips and moved toward the stairs again. There was nothing upstairs, I knew that, but I needed to get away from everyone for a moment. Moving up the stairs as quickly, and quietly, as I could I navigated my way to a darker corner while glancing out the windows along the way. There was definitely movement outside. It wasn’t a maelstrom yet, but it was still too much movement. Pressing my back to the wall I slid down into a seated position, pulling out the pack of cigarettes and the lighter.

I stared at them for a moment. Not once in my life had I smoked, even growing up around so many people who did. Friends and family included. In many ways though, I was always surprised that I never did. Now, things were a bit different. I swallowed hard, pulling a single stick from the pack with a shaking hand. Placing the filter between my lips I cupped my left hand over the edge and flicking the lighter on long enough to light the tip. With my hand cupped as it was there was barely any light, most of it illuminating my neck and chest. I drew in a shallow breath, quickly turning my head toward my right shoulder to muffle the slight coughs.

My hands were still shaking as I slipped the lighter and pack back into my pocket. By this point the moans were a white noise, an ambient portent of the numerous gods I’d always told to fuck off taunting me in their morbid theatrical of death. I drew in another breath from the cigarette, fighting the cough the best I could. My face twisted into a scowl despite the chill riveting my body. Pushing my forehead into my raised knees, I closed my eyes. The sense to pray to something, anything, was rising. With a gulp I lifted my head, staring out one of the distant windows.

Somehow, I smirked. “What is it my eyes, a piece of broken glass? Is this the time I should be on my knees for you? … fuck you.”
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Re: Lost Days; Dead Days

Post by Loki on Tue Apr 19, 2011 10:54 pm

I stowed the waters when nobody accepted them, taking a long pull from a bottle before doing so. It was about that time that Mel handed a camcorder to Shadow with a rather grim tone in his voice. Did it show what happened here? Would it tell of some survivors holding up somewhere? I didn't relish the thought of what that video may show, but information in this age could very well make the difference between life and death. When the speaker spoke Shadow's name, I turned and paced away out of reflex. If there is anything important on there, she would tell us. Right? Either way, I'm guessing she would prefer to have her moment. Friends and fellow survivors we may be, but I had no illusions that I even came close to belonging in with that level of private affairs.

Quaker had taken outlook at one of the windows, so I set about stashing my findings into my pack tightly and securely so things would remain balanced when upon my back. I considered taking a moment to swap out socks, but the more frantic sounds coming from the camera indicated there could still be a very serious threat in the area. Instead, I finished securing everything and rechecked the magazines to my pistol, making sure there was a round in the chamber before returning it to its holster. Once again I was aware that I was preoccupying myself to distract from the building anxiety, but at least I was being productive about it.

I simply watched without expression as Quaker snatched the camera from Shadow's grasp and reprimand her in an attempt to bring her back to their current situation. I'm glad he was the one to do it; I know I wouldn't have been able to and it was something that needed to be done. We were not secure enough to allow ourselves to grow sentimental or become distracted by emotions. As if summoned by that thought, a low moan from outside sent a harsh chill down my spine causing the hairs on my neck to stand on end. I edged over to the window and looked at what Quaker was observing. "Shit."

"Soooo...We took on two and won. Anyone want to take on two hundred? No? Aw, I wanted to punch them all to death!"

I wanted to chuckle at that remark, but I couldn't even force one as the weight of the situation had already settled upon my shoulders. We had to get out of there immediately. I removed the machete from my pack and fastened it to the hip opposite of my pistol before securing the rest of my gear to my back.

"Ok, so on a serious note, I highly suggest we get the hell outta dodge. I remember there being a small town or city near here according to my map...That has to be better than the way I came from."

I recalled the small section of my atlas I had committed to memory the day before. Quaker was likely referring to the town Shadow had mentioned earlier, Bruno or something like that. It was the best chance of survival in my mind, staying in the wilderness with a horde on your trail left too many vulnerabilities. There was no way in hell I was heading to a larger city, but would certainly do that before even considering trying to defend this position. There was nothing even remotely worth defending.

"I'm with you, Quaker. That town is definitely our best option now."

I noticed motion out of the corner of my eye and watched in disbelief as Mel headed toward the stairs. "You can't actually be considering standing your ground?! It's suicide with those numbers!" My protests went unanswered. I looked to Shadow. "Is he serious? We can't stay here. We need to go, now!"

"No. And we're not leaving him."

I could only grit my teeth in frustration at Shadow's answer. We didn't have time for this, but it also wouldn't help to react blindly. Rule number one - no thrashing. I took in a deep breath and went about the rest of my rules for problem solving; if nothing it would buy Mel a few seconds to realize he was making a mistake and climb back down the stairs.

Rule number two - seven to seventeen seconds. Assess the situation, find options, and determine most effective strategy. I surveyed the room and gathered all the information available to me. Too many weaknesses within the defenses, staying is definitely not an option. Escape routes. Front door - way we came in, known route. Line of sight to zombies, they would see and follow. No good. Back door - barricaded, would take too long to open. Viable, but not preferred. Windows - facing the back of the building, zombies won't see us slip out, glass already broken out of some, even better. Best chance of sneaking out without being pursued.

Rule number three - baby steps. First step, ensure window is clear of zombies and escape through it. Step two, attempt to sneak away without drawing attention from zombies. From there, determine next step to ensure survival.

Only a few seconds had passed once I was done, so I was not surprised Mel had not yet returned. I loosened the clasp of my machete and drew the blade from its sheath before moving towards one of the broken out back windows. I poked my head through the frame and ensured the coast was clear before looking back towards Shadow. "I'm sorry, but I can't wait any longer. Our opportunity for a clean getaway is fading. We're going to that small town you mentioned earlier in case you decide to try catch up. Good luck, and try not to bring too many of those deadheads with you."

I put my foot on the windowsill and glanced back to Quaker. "We're moving quietly, so only use your gun if absolutely necessary. Ready?"

With a step, I dropped through the window landing in a crouch to reduce the noise I made before sprinting low to the building directly behind the one I just left. I rounded to the back of the building, making sure the horde behind never had line of sight and that I was always below the window line in case the building I was moving around wasn't empty. Once done, I looked at the compass tied to my belt loop to get my bearings and immediately began jogging towards Bruneau putting as much ground and obstructions between me and the horde as I could.
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Re: Lost Days; Dead Days

Post by Shadow Moonseye on Wed Apr 27, 2011 10:24 pm

“Fuck!” I turned and slammed a fist into the wall, blinking away tears that continued to spill. Loki was gone, out one of the windows. John was upstairs--doing who knows what. Quaker was looking uncertainly from me to the window Loki had left through. And I was standing around crying like a fucking girl. I coughed hard to clear my throat, then turned my head and spit.

“Go. I’ll get John and we’ll catch up. Stay close to Loki and be careful.” I turned and locked eyes with him. “Don’t stand around, go!”

Quaker didn’t say anything. He looked around, clearly hesitating. Buying time for John to come down? A few more seconds passed and he gave me one last look before following Loki through the window and disappearing from view. The moans grew louder, rising and falling in a bloodcurdling melody, and for a moment I felt more alone than ever. I shook y head violently, dispelling the gathering demons. “Get your head on straight, girl.” I muttered and flexed my hands, just beginning to register the sting across my knuckled. “You’re not dying here. Not like this.”

A glance at the window facing the oncoming horde showed more than a few grotesque faces looming closer. Shit. I shuddered, choking down rising bile, and spun; making a beeline for the stairs. By the time I collected John the first of the deadheads would be inside. The stairs were taken two at a time, speed meaning more than caution at this point. I threw the door open at the top and rushed in. The door slammed shut behind me. Too loud. Fuck it. John sat in a corner, back pressed against the wall, a cigarette between his lips. Long strides carried me across the room to his side.

“Get up, we’re leaving.”

He looked up at me, quietly regarding for a moment, before putting out the cigarette. Getting up, he walked over to the window, looking out at something I couldn’t see. Maybe it was the retreating backs of Quaker and Loki? I followed him over and looked out as well, but the only thing of real interest I could see was an overturned truck. John glanced at me and spoke: “I have an idea…”

“Talk fast then.” I glanced over my shoulder at the door. “We’ll be up to our necks in deadheads soon.”

“It looks like the truck is angled so one could remove the gas cap and spill what remaining fuel is left in the tank. You go ahead with them, I’ll get the cap off and try to lure as many into the spill as I can.”

“Fuck that. It’s suicide alone and I’m not leaving without you.” I frowned at him and reached up to scrub away a stray tear that escaped my left eye; silently daring him to say otherwise. “You’re not allowed to die unless I have to put you down myself. Not by playing hero.” I looked away, voice dropping. “I’m not losing you too…”

He glanced over at me. “Dying wasn’t part of the idea…Just a worthwhile risk.”

I snorted, shaking off and forcing down unpleasant thoughts and feelings. “Worthwhile my ass.” A thump echoed up from below, moans rising in pitch. I scrubbed at my eyes again, wishing the damn tears would stop, and shot a nervous glance at the door again. “Either way, we need to book it. Unless the thought of a toothy crawler hug makes you warm and tingly.” I smiled weakly. It was a bad joke. I knew it, and I know he knew it, but I was one wrong move from losing it. If I thought too much about…If I thought about anything other than surviving our present predicament I’d break down right then and there.

John smirked. “Pretty sure it’d be tingly at first, then warm with the rush of blood.” He chuckled. “All right, lets go.”

I sucked in a deep breath. “In that case I hope you’re not afraid of heights.” I stepped back and motioned towards the window. “Put those muscles to good use, I don’t have anything to break the glass.”

He smirked again, lifted his rifle, and slammed the butt of it into the glass, breaking the window. A few quick sweeps of it cleared the remaining bits of glass. I winced when it shattered. It was loud, and would attract more attention. Hopefully we’d put enough distance between us and the building before any deadheads made it upstairs or around to this side.

“After you.” I cast one last look at the door before looking back to him. “I’ll be right behind you.”

He glared at me. “To hell with that.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, fine. I’ll go first.” I have his a light shove to move him out of the way. “Just being polite.” I grabbed the edges of the frame and set a foot on the sill. “Don’t make me wait.” Not bothering to wait for a response, I jumped. I hit the ground and rolled, hoping to avoid injury. Thankfully, the ground was still soft from yesterday’s downpour. I jumped to my feet and took a few steps back and to the side--stepping around a mud puddle-- and looked up to see John jumping out. He landed in the same fashion as me, and I helped him up. I gave his arm a tug in the direction I wanted to go before letting go and starting off at a rising jog. I didn’t want to risk words out here. Once we got around the barracks we might be okay to talk. If we weren’t busy running.

A quick glance back showed John to be following after me. Moans still filled the air, but they seemed focused on the building we had just left, rather than following us. As long as Loki and Quaker weren’t too far ahead of us, all we had to do was catch up and keep pushing hard and maybe we’d get lucky and make our escape free and clear.
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Re: Lost Days; Dead Days

Post by quakernuts on Sat May 07, 2011 11:39 pm

I didn't like this. Sure, we had only been together for half a day, but my gut still wrenched with the feeling of betrayal that I was about to commit. I didn't want to leave them, but at the same time, the only way to survive in a world like this was to look out for number one. My eyes kept switching between Loki and Shadow as they spoke after I had laid down the news, and a sigh escaped my lips as it became a little too evident as to what I would have to do. Sure, I would be with Loki, but I was still leaving two others behind. John heading upstairs by himself seemed pretty clear what his intention was, and for the most part, I didn't have time to play comforting friend. As Loki made for the window, I followed with an obvious slowness to my steps. Maybe Mel was simply getting something, or taking a breather. As I reached the window, Loki looked back and made sure to spell out things for me, as if I couldn't tell what they were already. I simply nodded, not wanting to get into an argument that the 'real' me and the 'internet' me were not completely the same people.

Loki went through the window, and started moving. I hesitated, waiting and trying to buy time. Shadow told me to go, that she would catch up. I looked to her, stalling for as long as my survival instinct would allow me too, then quickly stepped out the window and hit the ground running after Loki. The feeling in my stomach made me want to throw up, but I quenched it just like I did the other times. I never wanted to lose the feeling, but I also didn't want it to control me. I felt that if I ever did lose it, my entire being would soon follow until I was nothing but a hollow husk that survived, and nothing else. I managed to catch up to Loki quite quickly, and followed him as we made our rather sneaky escape.

I prefer one with explosions and gunfire, but this will do...I guess. I thought to myself as we continued to jog towards Bruneau. I looked over at Loki, but his expression was unreadable at the moment. I kept mine neutral as well, although I let my emotions pass through on the inside unchecked. It was the only true way to let myself know that I had not passed beyond that point of no return quite yet. Finally I broke the silence, after we had managed to create a decent distance between us and the mobs, and looked over at Loki. "This doesn't feel right man. Leaving them there to die..."

"It would be suicide to hold the position. If they're smart, they'll jump ship while they still have the chance. The only thing that would have changed if we stayed would be to make the escape more difficult, if not die needlessly beside them if they opted to stay."

"I know that." I responded, keeping my eyes straight ahead, and my strides even with his. "Is it the right decision, definitely. Is it the right decision? I don't know anymore."

"Right is a matter of perspective. From a survival aspect, without a doubt. From a teamwork aspect, it's a grey area. Had we stayed, we would have delayed the inevitable by mere moments. By going ahead, we can at least assure the route ahead is clear should they choose to follow. I personally think the latter is more beneficial to the team in the long run." I let this thought sit for a moment, realizing that a lot of people had resorted to this sort of attitude. Letting emotions sit behind caged walls, scratching at the bars but unable to break free for fear of losing all control. Loki continued. "It's cold, emotionless logic, but I find it a better of the two extremes given the circumstances."

"That's where you and I are different." I started, peering over at him slightly, but keeping my eyes mainly on the road. "I don't let my emotions control me, but I don't hide them either. Logic has it's place, so does sadness, happiness, and anger even in a world such as this. The moment we stop feeling, is the moment we might as well join the deadheads, cause we will no longer be human."

"Don't get me wrong, I don't completely shut out my emotions. Hell, the entire reason I'm out here rather than my planned stronghold is because I'm trying to find my younger brother. My rational side tells me I am a fool for taking this risk without knowing where he is, or if he is even alive. But he's my brother. That's also why I couldn't remain behind, I'm not going to make foolish decisions that will only serve to put m in needless peril, jeopardizing any chance I have of finding him. I couldn't do something that hurtful to him as I'm sure he couldn't do to me." Loki answered me with a reason for everything really, for which I didn't have a response. He was out here, searching for his family. I was out here, trying to save my own life. Just thinking about that made me seem like a hypocrite for what I just said, but on the flip side, I didn't have a choice.

There was a silence that hung in the air for a moment, me thinking a little too hard on what to continue on, and finding nothing worthwhile saying. He at least had hope of a family member being alive, while I had to simply block them out of my memory in order to not totally cave into despair. Instead, I did what I did best, and I put on a face. I smiled, looking at the road ahead, and gave a small laugh. "Well, you're teamed up with the Quaker now. I find trouble, trouble finds me, and trouble often gets its ass kicked!" It was about this time I noticed just how long we had been jogging, and I wasn't out of breath but me feet were starting to hurt from pounding on the ground.

"And I really wish my car hadn't run out of gas..."
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Re: Lost Days; Dead Days

Post by The Melancholy Spirit on Fri May 27, 2011 2:01 am

Sometimes it was funny. The things the apocalypse, a zombie apocalypse at that, changed about you. One would expect that it would break someone of their foolishness, or it would get them killed early on. With me, it didn’t change. Yet I was still alive, by some grace of luck. As fate would have it, or merely the foolish biological-mechanical workings of my mind, I was hanging back as Erica pressed on to catch up with Quaker and Loki. Of course there would be a scolding if she noticed, one which I was willing to endure if it ensured we, at least she, had gotten out of the base alive and intact.

I stopped at one of the other buildings, back to the wall while glancing behind us. What glimpse I got was an overwhelming force of moaning deadheads dragging themselves toward where we had taken momentary refuge. I groaned a grimace, part of me wanting to disobey Erica and go through with the plan. A quick glance back in her direction stilled the thought and I pushed away from the wall, sprinting to catch up to her.

“You ok?” I asked, glancing to her. She looked at me and gave a forced reassuring smile with a nod and a sniff. I returned the nod, not pressing the issue. “All right, come on, they aren’t following us. At least not yet.”

I stayed a step behind her, cautiously glancing over my shoulder every few strides. Looking ahead showed the guys not far in front. I breathed a sigh of relief during a moment’s stop as I looked back to the base. Erica stopped and scolded me, something I didn’t quite catch but I knew it what the intent was. I gave her a nod and started moving again. Another couple minutes of hard pressed running and we caught up to the others.
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Re: Lost Days; Dead Days

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