Surviving: The End (Season 2)

[Azseth]

Season 1 (closed)
Season 2 (open and looking)

Jon sat at an empty table for a few moments, sipping some orange juice with a splash of vodka while he waited for his contacts to show. He smoked, which he hated, finding it not only a disgusting and unhealthy habit, but also couldn’t stand the addiction people found themselves falling victim too. But, this area of Europe, you were more apt to draw attention NOT smoking, and this mission called for him to blend in well, not stand out.

The two men he was waiting for came into the patio and were looking for him when he reached up and snapped once loudly, as was a custom in this city, so no one really looked at him save for the two people. They walked over and sat down just as the waitress came over and took their drink orders.

Jon sipped his own drink and looked at the two, one man he was not familiar with while he recognized the other, Anthony. He smiled at the big man, laughing inwardly at the fact that he was often called “Ant” in spite of the fact that he towered over most men. They waited in silence for the woman to come back and set down the drinks and move on before finally talking. The stranger spoke up first, speaking a dialect of Slavic well, with very little hints of being learned. It wasn’t local, but it wasn’t a dialect that was so off as to draw attention. “Anthony, I believe you met Ken before. So no introductions are necessary.” Prick, probably some CIA mole or some other bureaucratic acronym that hating being out on missions because there was no air conditioning or room service.

“I’ve not met this man before,” he interrupted, seeing the slight play of a smirk on Anthony’s face. The suit cleared his throat and sat up, “I thought the file—“ he caught himself about to break and shut up quickly. Good, let the little prick sweat a little bit. Jon sipped his drink again and waited through the awkward silence a few moments longer as the suit started to get a little moisture on his face.

“You were going to introduce your companion, yes?” He threw the idiot a bone and he jumped on it. Games had to be short in this business, but they were still fun to play. The suit opened his mouth, but Anthony cut him off, extending a hand and saying “Ken yes? I’m Anthony. You’re here visiting, yes?” Jon nodded and leaned back in his chair, smiling on the inside as he could see the suit fussing at basically being of zero use in the situation. That’s right, shut up and drink your whiskey.

“My contacts told me you were looking to potentially procure some art work also, yes?” Another nod was given. “Good. I know just the man you’d like to see. I know his next appointment, you’ll be able to see him very soon and sit down with him and discuss any details and information you feel you need to.”

“Good mate, at least one of you came prepared, eh? Let’s go. It’s customary for the youngest at the table to pay, so have at it.” Anthony and Jon got up, finished their drinks and made their way to the street.

Then they stopped suddenly. Everything actually stopped. Him and Anthony were looking at each other.

“Jon.” He simply stared at Anthony.

“Jon, wake up.” Something wasn’t right.

“Jon, fuck. WAKE UP.”His eyes flashed open and he smelled smoke and mud and he was looking at Boggs. He looked over and saw Harris in the bench seats, awake, but bleeding from his nose and he was paler than an albino ghost. Then Jon realized the back of his head was throbbing intensely and could feel a small open wound.

“Jon. Shit man. Let’s go. There’s smoke. I’m not sure what or who is gunna see the smoke.”

“Too late,” Jon replied and pointed out the back end as three men closed on the bird.”

“OI. No one move,” one spoke up. There were two in front, one with a revolver and one with a shotgun. The other was further off and had an AR15 in his hand. They obviously weren’t killers, they could have just shot the three up and been on their way. Austin put his hands up a bit and turned slowly to face them. Harris just stared.

The second of the two spoke up. These two were very casual and careless while the third, the one hanging back had his weapon at the ready and never took his eyes off of the group. “What’s the hell’s going on here?”

“We got a in a fender bender. The other asshole left without giving us his insurance information,” Jon shot back. Although he was pissed and irritated and in pain, he kept his tone light and smirked slightly. He wasn’t trying to get into a shoot out, but he didn’t know what these people wanted. “What’re you about?”

The two laughed, Boggs smirked and Harris…he still stared. The first spoke up, “Wish we had the need for more comedians like you, but, not sure if you’ll see any job postings for one soon. I’m Danny. That’s Tom and the lurker, that’s Frank. You all ok?”

Boggs spoke up “well enough, considering,” he swept his arms in a wide arc, emphasizing they had just been in a helicopter crash.

There were a few chuckles. “Look, we’re not used to taking in strangers, and we dunno who you are or what you’re like. We’ll extend an invite to our camp if you give us your guns. At least til we can trust you?”

“We’re not extremely comfortable with that,” Jon answered, again keeping his tone mellow and non-threatening.

“I understand completely. But at the same time, it’s our camp. Our rules. And we’re not too comfy with random people coming into our camp. Could be murderers for all we know.”

“Likewise,” shot back Boggs.

“True. But if we were off to shoot you, we’d have done it from the top of the hill. Frank there, he’s a pretty good shot. Trust us. The three of us, we have no intentions of hurting you guys.”

Something wasn’t right about the three. The two smirked at that last statement, as if sharing a joke. Frank, he just seemed eager. But they had little choice right now, so Jon nodded to Boggs, who then said, “fair enough. If you had some motrin and bandages, that would make up for it though. I’m Austin, this is Jon and that one’s Harris. He doesn’t have any weapons.”

“Sounds good. We have some hot food too. Glad to have you aboard.”

The group gathered whatever they could salvage, including a mounted first aid kit, and made their way off out of the bird, avoiding water and mud as best as possible. Tom and Danny didn’t bother to frisk them, so all in all they took one of Jon’s glocks, but the second one was tucked away in his back. They talked as they moved, Frank staying ahead about 10 feet while Tom and Danny kept Austin and Jon in front of them. They didn’t seem to give a shit about Harris, he just stumbled along in silence. Tom mentioned the camp was just ahead over a ridge, inside the treeline.

That prompted Jon to ask, “are there more of you?”

“Yeah, three more. I think you’ll like them,” Danny answered, noticing that again they laughed and looked away, trying to be casual about something that was meant to go unnoticed. The whole time, Jon tried to seem weak, dragging his feet and talking with a slight grogginess to his voice, moaning about his head on occasion. But he was noticing all of this, and something wasn’t right.

At that point, he stumbled and fell and kind of stayed down on his hands and knees. An annoying look flashed across Tom’s face and he stopped right over Jon. All of the mirth was gone from his voice when he roughly prodded Jon with his boot, “get up. We gotta make camp, I’m not carrying you.” Jon reached up and put a hand feebly on Tom’s waist to pull himself up. Tom brushed his hand away, not noticing that Jon had taken the knife from Tom’s belt and tucked it, hilt in his palm and blade along his wrist.

“Help him up man, what the fuck,” Boggs said as he moved towards the two, Danny put his hand on his revolver and his other hand out to block him. “Don’t,” was all he said.

Once again Jon put a hand up, this time, grabbing at Tom’s wrist, again trying to pull himself up, but this time as Tom went to shove him away, he pulled down with all of his weight while shooting up, stabbing the knife up into the bottom of Tom’s throat and into his brain. Never slowing, smooth as silk, he spun, leaving the knife there while pulling his handgun from the back of his belt and positioning Tom’s body between Frank’s and his own. He snapped off two shots, both taking Danny in the upper torso, mere inches from where Boggs stood and spun, firing at Frank. To Frank’s credit, he got off his own shot that hit Tom full in the chest a fraction of a second after he fired. One hit him in the chest, the other in the neck and he went down while his blood sprayed out from the wound.

“Jon, what the fuck are you doing?” Jon ignored it, walked up to Danny and calmly shot him in the face. He turned from Boggs and made his way to Frank, who was still kicking his feet and gurgling. “Jon!”

“Something wasn’t right.”

“No shit, the whole FUCKING WORLD is full of zombies. You don’t just shoot people because something isn’t right.” At this point, Harris just stared and was shaking and Austin, he didn’t know what to do, what to think. It was as if Jon was someone else. ‘Something isn’t right,’ he thought to himself.

Jon made it to where Frank laid, and stared down at him. He looked into Frank’s eyes, but spoke to Bogg. “Austin. An hour ago. You trusted me, right?”

After a few moments of silence, “yes.”

“Trust me now.”

And he fired a shot into Frank’s head.

[101 Scout1]

Austin still trusted the man, but there wasn't a doubt in his mind: Jon wasn't all that he had made himself out to be. The first red flag was the fact him being in that computer room, back at the CDC building, with the others dead around. That was explainable, they were there when he got there, simple, easy... The next was how easily he handled each situation. Of course, before, at the building, he would stutter and seem hesitant, but he wouldn't reject anything.

The pilot hadn't wanted to give up his pistol, but he hadn't had time to conceal one like Jon had, that was a bad move, he should have thought ahead. "Look, it isn't that I don't trust you, Jon, but with all of this shit going on... Y'know what? Nevermind," He raised his arms in surrender. The man took Danny's revolver and its holster, looping the belt of his jeans through it and shoving the pistol into it. He walked over to Frank's dead body and took the AR15, putting the strap over his shoulder.

"Look, Jon... He said there are three more, maybe their camp has something useful in it. I don't know what the fuck that was, and I expect answers later. I don't care how rude my approach is, if we're gonna survive this, I have to know everything. Now, if there are only three more, we can go take 'em. I'm a hell of a good shot, so I'm taking the rifle. Clearly you have more close-quarters combat training, so you take the shotgun," He said commandingly. Yes, it was blank; yes, it was rude; yes, it was reckless going up against somebody who could clearly kick his ass. He didn't care at this point, everything was beginning to bubble up. He'd kept a poker face while flying because he could concentrate on that, he'd been fine while they were with the suspicious trio because he had other things to think about, but now... His best friend was dead, his entire family was either gone or dead, he would never see his kids again, he'd just survived his second helicopter crash (clearly he was in the wrong business) and the world had, literally, come to an end.

"Cuz y'know what? Fuck me, right? For being a little bit stressed out." The man was scowling, but he didn't point his rifle at Jon or Harris, he wasn't going nuts, he was just blowing off steam, his voice wasn't at a shout, but it wasn't really an 'indoor voice' either. The pilot cracked his neck, the rifle nestled into his shoulder and pointed down as he took several deep breaths, a few moments later he spoke, more calmly.

"I'm sorry, Jon, I'm just a little overwhelmed..." The stress was slowly subsiding as the pilot began to realize that really, there should be less stress. The divorce was rough... She took just about everything, and but now... What was there? Nothing. Survival was the only part of life, which could be stressful in itself, but at least if you fail, then you don't have to worry about it, right? His mood became a bittersweet melancholy after that, he took another deep breath, "Alright, I'm ready..."

[Azseth]

(Jon Erikson)

Jon watched Austin and could understand the frustration. I mean, what he just witnessed in Jon would have threw him for a loop, but really, almost any other person on the planet would be at their wits end having just escaped death in an over run building, only to escape death in a helo crash. Throw in everything that had just transpired into the mix, he was surprise Boggs, or Harris for that matter, didn’t just shut down and have a mental breakdown. So he didn’t say anything and let Boggs go, let him vent and get his head right.

He did kind of feel for the guy, right now he know that Boggs felt like he had no idea who Jon really was anymore. And, well. He didn’t. He busied himself picking up ammo and gear from the corpses, while Harris…Harris just stared and stood around.

When Boggs came up and thrust the shotgun into Jon’s chest, Jon wanted to smile. It became obvious to Jon at that point that his old neighbor, his old friend was coming back down to earth and getting his wits about him again. He let him continue until finally, he said “alright, I’m ready.”

Jon walked up to him and put a hand on his shoulder. Austin was still somewhat stiff and tense, probably stress, but also his newfound distrust for Jon being the causes. “Austin. Look. This whole thing.” He motioned to him, basically indicating he was talking about the entire fucked up world, “This whole thing, I wasn’t planning on this. And yeah, there is a LOT you don’t know about me. And I’ll share some of that some time. But there will be a lot more you don’t know about me. But I’m still Jon. I may have two, I dunno. Two parts to me, but both are ME. I mean, not the stuttering dweeb maybe, but the guy you drank with, chased girls at the bar with. The guy whose pool you forgot to tend to when I was out of town so that I came home to a green, algae filled mess. That guy who got drunk and peed in your sink, threw up on the floor and passed out in your bath tub. It’ll take some getting used to, for me too. But look man. It’s for the better now. No more hiding.”

Boggs looked away, and was still frustrated, but seemed to relax some, also nodding slightly. “And hey, I’m telling you this. I have your back. You and Harris.” He leaned in and whispered “and that boy, he needs us. I don’t think he could find his way out of a paper bag. He'd fall out of a boat and not hit water.” The faintest hint of a smirk made it’s way to the Air Force officer’s face, and Jon shoved him in the shoulder. “We good?”

[Celestial]

Claire sat inside a ruined building as she overlooked the snowy landscape of the desolated city before her. After months of walking, they had ended up in Minnesota, her home state. Abandoned cars littered the highways as cold, frozen, decomposed bodies littered the streets like the vines that started to creep up for no one was left to tame them. All in all, this was one big messed up situation. SNAFU. That’s how she wanted to describe it. However, this whole damn situation was anything about normal. The last part ... well that was putting it very mildly.

She had been on the run for the last five months. She remembered that night at the USAMRIID center in Maryland. She remembered how they stormed past the gates and devoured the guards, how Robert saved her from that infected and died and was probably walking around as one of them now, and how the sky that night was a blazing orange as fires from afar lit up the sky. There were many warning signs that she should have seen. If she hadn’t been so close minded and foolish.

She leaned against the wall and closed her eyes. She wanted a bath so bad. As she drifted, she heard the floor creak. Her eyes flicked open as she thumbed the safety to her firearm off. She got to her feet as she eyed the door. Before anything could happen a voice called out from behind it. “Zach, coming in.”

Her shoulders slumped as she safetied and holstered her side arm. She stepped back as the Marine emerged from the door. He wore his field uniform with a grey parka over it. She had ran into him while she was still out east. It was in the later days of what had been dubbed ‘The Awakening’ that she met the fleeing Marine. Their first contact had been an iffy one as he initially thought she was infected. Shots were exchanged, but she was able to calm him down.

His story told a worser prospective of what she had barely witnessed. His whole squad was cut off as the infected tore through the quarantine parameters. All the soldiers panicked at first as the walkers never went down even though they put dozens of holes into their still fresh flesh. The tanks proved nothing more then mere walls as their shells tore into their bodies and ripped them apart, but they still kept coming. It was a damn mess. Maybe the brass should have understood that there was nothing conventional about the new enemy they faced. But it probably was unfair to ask soldiers, that have trained for body shots, score perfect head shots.

Zach sat against the opposing wall as he let out a groan of relief. He placed his rifle against the wall as he sat out. “Just came back from the block. Everything’s quite.” He took a very small sip from his water flask. “Seems they can’t live within this cold ass snow either. As long as they don’t know how to find coats, I think we’ve caught a break.”

Claire shrugged. “Their bodies are still human ... in nature. With an extreme exposure such as this sub-zero weather? It’ll probably have some sort of effect.” She looked out into the quiet streets, it was too quite for her. “Any survivors on your rounds? Anything?”

It had been some time since they had seen any survivors. Their most recent encounter were bandits and raiders. Zach made short work of the ruffians, but it did make them much more guarded against the living as they had to be against the dead. It was sad really. It was a damned shame that humanity still killed each other even after everything had gone to shit. It was especially bad down Ohio. There was practically a whole damn city of scum down there. They passed by two months ago and narrowly avoided capture by them. From what could be seen, it was very class-based. Original founders were the leaders, everyone else were slaves. They both wanted to wipe it from the map, but it would have resulted in their deaths.

“I found some dead bodies. Turned the corner and found some more,” he said as he kept looking outside. “I did see some movement to that building over to the south east.”

Claire shifted to look out the window herself. “Which one?”

“There. Look straight ahead. See that tall sky scraper right there? The small brown building that’s directly to the left of it. I couldn’t get a great look, but something is definitely there.”

Zach pressed the scope to his eye as he looked. He swore there was something, but with the night coming, his eyes couldn’t adjust quickly enough to catch the shape or image of the movement. “I wouldn’t get too hopeful. It could’ve probably been a stray. We can’t do anything about it tonight though. Too dark, too dangerous.”

“What if it’s a survivor?”

“What of it?”

Claire sighed as she rubbed her head with numbed fingers. “We can’t just leave them out there can we?”

Zach looked at her as if she were crazy. Didn’t she understand what happened the last time they tried to go help the survivors? They were freakin’ shot at, and it wasn’t something he wanted to repeat. “We sure as hell aren’t going out blind Claire. If you’re still wanting to go, we’ll head out tomorrow morning. We never travel at night if we can help it remember? Plus, those walkers - hell even the runners - aren’t the worst that are out there. There are those savage fucks. The ones that attack anything, walkers, us, everything.”

He knew he had her there. Even after all this time, Claire hadn’t broken out of that naive doctor’s mindset. Not everything was grand and dandy these days. Everything had gone to shit, and she had to deal with that.

“Look, when morning comes, we’ll go check it out. Alright?” He shrugged his shoulders as he positioned himself by the window and brandished his weapon. “I’ll take first watch. I’ll wake you in four hours. Got it?”

She nodded as she slumped against the wall. They had been traveling all day and had finally decided to stop. She felt the fatigue finally set in as her eyes closed.

Zach watched her fall asleep as he kept his eyes peered outside. The streets were quiet today. The snow kept falling as if the world was weeping for its children that ran from the sickness that had appeared on it. He chuckled as he warmed his hands. "Another fucked up night as a survivor."

[1DVSguy]

As soon as the doors to Dominick's cell slid open, he knew something wasn't right.
"What tha' hell?" Jevon, his cellmate, sat up in surprise.
A voice rang out from a microphone down below, "Inmates! Step out of your cells! Due to concerns of... disease, we are moving you down south to Texas!"
Dominick and Jevon stepped out looking around, all around the cell block, hundreds of inmates were doing the same muttering among themselves. Dominick saw his friend Joey step out from the cell next to his. "Yo, white bread! What tha' hell's goin' on man?"
Joey looked around before replying, “Bro, I heard that some asshole in C block started a fight the other day biting and clawin’ and what not. The guards got his punk-ass locked up in the hole but the guys he bit….” He shook his head in disbelief, “They ain’t the same man, started going around biting people… must be rabies or some shit I guess.”
Dominick looked down over the railing, down below in the middle of the block stood about twenty-five guards, dressed in full riot gear. A man in the front of the group held a microphone to his mouth, “You will be moved immediately! Any resistance or insubordination will be dealt with severely!” He demonstrated by holding a pistol in the air, “THIS IS NOT A DRILL! If you don’t obey us, you will be shot!”
Jevon muttered, “Authoritarian bastards… They wouldn’t really shoot us would they?”
Dominick took a moment to survey the guards, most were armed with shotguns or AR-15’s. Nothing out of place there, he thought to himself. But what was out of place were the looks on their faces, gone were the looks of bravado, the air of confidence… they were scared.
“I don’t know man, best not to find out,” he said quietly.

***

After gathering all the prisoners, the guards marched them out to the yard, guns pointed everywhere except the convicts. As they entered the yard, gun fire could clearly be heard in the air. Dominick glanced at Jevon as if to say, “What tha’ hell is going on!?”

A man rushed up to the guard with the microphone, “What the heck are you doing here?”
The guard replied clearly confused, “I thought the situation was under control?”
The man gestured wildly behind him, “Does this look under control to you!?!? The fucking bastards have broken through! THEY JUST WON’T DIE DAMMIT!!!”
Dominick craned his head to try and see what was happening, behind the man stood almost all of the guards from the prison, all armed to the teeth. Standing among them were about thirty men from B block armed with shanks and surprisingly, guns of their own. But their attention wasn’t focused on each other, instead they were firing intently into a wall of men made up of men from C and D block. But there was something wrong with them, Dominick could see blood as bullets found their marks, yet the men didn’t go down. Instead they stumbled forward like a bunch of drunkards, making a strange noise from deep within their throats, UHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.

“We got to fight them off before we can bring everyone on the buses!” The man shouted above the noise, “Get the hell in there convicts and fight if you wanna live!!!”
The convicts surged forward with cries of, “YEAH!” and “LET’S GET ‘EM!!!!”
Dominick felt something get pressed against his hand and he looked down. Jevon had passed him a prison shank, crudely shaped out of a vent. Dominick gave Jevon a nod of thanks before turning toward the wall of stumbling men. A guard near him pumped his shotgun furiously as he fired buckshot into a man sprinting toward him.

BOOM! A chunk of flesh and blood flew out of the man’s back.

BOOM! The man hardly slowed down as he bared his teeth.

BOOM! The man was on top of the guard now as he screamed in terror. The crazed prisoner took a chunk out of the guard’s neck as the screams turned into gurgles.

Damn… don’t want to end up like him…

Dominick yelled with the rest of the convicts from A block as they crashed into the wall of bloodied men. Now that he got a closer look at them, Dominick wasn’t sure that they were alive. For the most part their eyes gazed into the distant, and some of them had bullet holes in the chest and stomach. The ones blasted with buckshot were trailing long entrails, and what was that god awful smell?

Dominick stabbed a man with his shank, the zombie just moaned and lunged forward with his arms. Dominick could feel his fear grow as he shoved the man back. Three other inmates converged on the zombie throwing him on the ground and beating him with fists and homemade weapons. Dominick kicked the corpse in the fork of the legs but it seemed to have no effect whatsoever. Finally the man standing near the zombie’s head succeeded in stomping his face in with a sickening CRUNCH.

Dominick panted as adrenaline coursed through his body, above the chaos he could hear a guards voice on the microphone, “There’s too many of them! Run for your lives! SAVE YOURSELVES!!!”
Dominick didn’t need to be told twice as men all around him turned around and sprinted for their lives. The ones who stayed were almost instantly mauled by the advancing horde.
Finding himself in the parking lot with Jevon, another inmate he didn’t recognize, and a guard, Dominick looked around wildly. All around him inmates and prison guards were getting crammed onto prison buses or taking their chances on foot.
The guard he was with shouted, “Follow me!” he ran to a nearby police cruiser with the three inmates only steps behind him. The guard fumbled for his keys muttering, “C’mon, c’mon, c’mon…” He finally found it holding it up in triumph before unlocking the car, “Get in! Hurry!” Jevon and the other inmate complied as Dominick walked up to the guard and tapped him on the shoulder.
The guard turned and Dominick punched him in the nose, taking his keys as the guard fell. “Sorry dude!” Dominick called out as he got in the driver’s seat, “Old habits die hard!”
Revving up the engine Dominick surged forward with the guard running behind them, waving for them to stop. Dominick felt a twinge of guilt, but a voice in his head screamed, Get a hold of yourself! He’s a cop!
Dominick drove the police car like a madman, out of the place he called home for three years of his twenty two years of life.

He didn't look back...

***

Dominick sat up, heart still pounding from his dream. He calmed down quickly as he realized he was still in the gas station he broke into last night. He yawned stretching out his arms as he stood up from the floor of the gas station. He shopped around for breakfast before settling on two cans of Star Buck's "iced" coffee. He popped the tab on one and sipped the lukewarm liquid, of course there was no electricity so no refrigeration. He checked on the corpse behind the counter, a bullet hole in the temple dripped out a mixture of black blood and brains.

Yup, you know he dead.

Dominick placed the other can into the zombie's dead hands, "Care for a sip Bob?" The dead clerk did not answer, if he did, Dominick probably would have pulled out his Glock and put another bullet in his head. Dominick sipped his coffee as the sun started to rise over the farmlands of Missouri. Ever since his other two companions had turned into zombies in the middle of the night, Dominick had traveled alone, stealing gasoline from cars he came across to fuel the police cruiser he jacked all those months ago.

Dominick mused on his breakout from jail as he watched the sun rise over the land...

[Rarity]

Nuclear War. Some people believed that was what had caused the dead to rise up and walk again. That a nuclear test gone array had bathed corpses in radiation and caused them to reanimate. Just one of the many speculations that the people hypothesized. Some people said it was an act of God or that aliens were held responsible. However, it was because of Nuclear War that Scarlet was interested in getting to Missouri. There were over 150 inactive launch facilities for Minuteman II missiles. If she could get to one she could repurpose it into a housing facility for herself and make it through this apocalypse. They were perfect, they had adequate space, security, and usually had access to a considerable amount of generators.

She brushed her hair out of her face as she continued to trek through the hot sun. It was about dawn, the sun was slowly rising from the east. The blonde woman had a determined expression plastered onto her face as her boot clad feet hit the pavement one by one. She had on a blue jumpsuit that was tailored to fit her just a bit snug. Under that was a white tank top and red gym pants.

The former CEO kept her eyes facing forward, trying to focus on the prize. Her body ached for her to lay down, eat, and sleep but her mind was more resilient. She had been walking for the past 3 hours after taking a 2 hour nap in an abandoned car. If anything she wished she had learn how to hotwire a car, if it had occurred to her that she might need that particular skill before the dead rose from the ground she would have taken several classes on it.

The woman scoffed at the idea of a class on how to steal a car before she continued to walk forward. She looked in the distant and thought she saw movement which caused her tense up. She grabbed the gun of the flamethrower on her hip and held it up in defense. The large device on her back had the signature "Hale Enterprise Inc." logo on the side of it. It resembled four tubes and it was constantly making a faint hissing sound.

It was constantly taking in and releasing air and using the same elements in the atmosphere to make flammable liquid and compressed gas. It took about a continuous three days to get the tank back to full, long but worth it. It was a prototype for a weapon that her father was trying to get the US Military to buy before he... passed away. Still, it was incredibly useful and she always had it strapped onto her back. At her left side she had her messenger bag and on her right she usually kept the barrel of the flamethrower.

Walking very carefully she kept the gun raised and thought about whether or not to raise her voice. She knew that by now almost everything was a threat. Alive, dead, or undead. Scarlet lifted her chin up and slowly walked toward the source of the movement. She kept her figure close to the side of the building before suddenly moving forward and waving her gun around in front of her. She saw a cat lick itself before noticing her and running away. The woman gave out a sigh and looked around at her surroundings.

She was at a gas station. There was bound to be some sort of food inside and possibly more supplies she could take. She was running low on water. Rolling her shoulders, she walked forward and looked at the convenience store that was part of the gasoline station. The front glass door was smashed in, people must have looted it as soon as the panic started. She walked forward and placed her hand through the gaping hole in the front before opening the door from the inside.

Brushing her hair out of her face once more she thought for certain she had heard someone moving about. She suddenly froze still and her finger hovered over the trigger of the gun, wondering if it was just her mind playing tricks on her, another cat, or an actual threat. She quickly rotated in spot, taking absolutely no chances. Her eyes widened a bit and she gasped silently at the corpse at the front desk. It appeared to be the clerk of the store and he had a gaping bullet hole in his head, she wondered if he had turned before he met his demise or if he was a casualty of the panic before the actual awakening.

Not letting her guard down she walked forward, slowly waving the gun in front of her back and forth. She glanced across the aisles and was disappointed to see that most of the food was gone and what was left didn't look that appetizing. She heard more movement and this time she was sure it was not her mind.

"Who's there?" She asked, sounding more like a demand than a question.
"Show yourself, I won't hesitate to kill you." Scarlet stated. Wondering if there was an actual person or a walker in the convenience store. She reached to her left and grasped an empty can of beans. Rearing her arm back she threw the aluminum can as far as she could and hit the empty soda display.

[1DVSguy]

Dominick finished half of the coffee in his hand before he decided to pack his belongings for the journey south to Texas. He pulled on a black sweater over his white tank top and black and white basketball shorts. Rolling up the blankets he had slept on last night, he went into the bathroom to put it with the rest of his supplies. After stuffing the blankets into a back pack, he stood to take stock of what else he had. Two black duffel bags sat on the floor with most of the items he had looted from last night. Since this gas station was in the country side in the middle of nowhere, it contained a surprisingly large amount of food... or at least for a post apocalyptic situation. The store was still only about half stocked when Dominick broke in.
Looking in the mirror he made sure his red cap was on correctly, tilted just slightly to the side over his white bandana, just the way he liked it. He grinned and went outside planning on going back for the supplies after he had finished breakfast. Dominick grabbed the can of coffee as he shopped around the near empty store for something else good to eat.

Dominick heard a sound from outside and quickly set his coffee down, That didn't sound like no zombie...
Dominick had been in enough fights to know when someone was sneaking up on him. He ducked behind a shelf and drew his gun, a compact dark Glock 17. He flicked the safety off then chambered a bullet with a loud, metallic CLICK CLICK.
Taking a breath he readjusted his grip on the gun as he waited for the unseen invader to show himself.

"Who's there?"

Dominick blinked in surprise, that's a girl talking!

"Show yourself, I won't hesitate to kill you."

Something flew across the store and hit the empty soda display. Startled Dominick yelled, "Dayum! What tha' hell is wrong with you? Calm the hell down girl before I light you up!"
He stood and aimed his Glock at the woman in question, a blondie in a blue close fitting jumpsuit.

Damn she's fine! Thought Dominick, then he noticed the large flamethrower aimed straight at his face, "Ohh... Shit?"

[101 Scout1]

Captain Austin Boggs

Austin eyed Jon for a moment and sighed. "Fine, but you owe me some information later," He pointed out, readjusting his new AR15. The man ejected the magazine and looked inside, trying to get a feel for how much ammunition was inside. He sighed and shoved the magazine into one of the slots on his bandoleer while putting in a fresh magazine, just in case the other was empty. He looked to Jon, "Take the lead, I'll cover you from behind."

The Air Force officer began to walk with Jon, looking down the iron sights of the AR, turning back and forth as they moved through the woods. He kept his eyes on the perimeter. He had 20/10 vision, it was like he had legitimately had the eyes of a bird. It was also the reason that, once he proved he could handle himself in the military, the Air Force did everything but kidnap him to make him a pilot.


Martin Johnson

"You gotta be fuckin' kiddin' me," The West Virginian muttered as he walked up and down the aisles of the grocery store. The place was looted, long-since empty. He was hoping that maybe, just maybe, somebody was kind enough to leave something behind. He had found a six-pack of beer, which wasn't as good as water, but it was all he could get his hands on. Along with that, he found a single can of Chef Boyardee Ravioli and a box of Velveeta Mac & Cheese, but it wasn't as much as he had hoped for. His gun bag was back in his truck, his crossbow in his arms, and his pistol at his hip. The truck was locked, and he would know if anybody tried to get into it without his permission. It was going to be dark soon and he was almost done searching the aisles. He wanted to get out of the city before going to sleep.

He was just a few rows away from the end when he heard a groan. Shit... He thought to himself, shouldering his crossbow and holding it up as he stalked around the corner. There were two of them, but they were limping to him as they moaned angrily. Oh, they're only Unos... He thought to himself with a small smirk. He actually had time. His heart didn't even pound, he'd been in this situation many times. A moment later, one of them had an arrow sticking through his eye, but at that point, the other began to sprint. He'd interpreted it wrong, it was a Two, and he cursed under his breath as he ran. He wasn't ready for it and he scolded himself for not even thinking of it as an option at first. The bastard... He'd have moved to pull out his pistol, but it was on him. The man did the first thing he could think of and lifted his crossbow, stepping forward and smashing its face with the butt of it.

The thing staggered back, but only slightly, before regaining its bearings and running at him. Martin put his crossbow on the shelf right beside him, for only a moment, and drew his knife, meeting the beast head-on. He turned with it, its teeth narrowly missing him and, as he pushed it to the ground, he shoved his knee into its back before his knife came down into the back of its head. A moment later, it fell limp beneath him, his breathing was heavy, "Fucker... Jesus Christ," He muttered, standing up and wiping off his knife on his dark, forest green cargo pants before resheathing it. He grabbed his crossbow from the shelf. There was nothing left to do there, his sling had the few things he found in it, the beer was taken out of the plastic in order to make it fit more easily, and the Ravioli was at the bottom.

Night was coming on very quickly, and he made it a point to start on his way out. He opened the door with a small ding as he stepped out. His eyes froze on the building across the way. Something glinted in the window. He wasn't sure whether he should head inside, or sleep in his truck. However, getting a jump on whatever was up there would be better than letting them get him. He went to his truck and opened the front door before pushing the seat forward. On the floor behind it was the hiding place for his weapons' bag. He opened it and put his crossbow in it, having retrieved his arrow from the dead zombie in the grocery before leaving. He did, however, unload it. The Crossbow was only kept loaded when he was carrying it, to keep it in better condition.

He pulled the M-2 shotgun out of the bag and slung it over his shoulder before putting the bag over the other shoulder. He was seriously encumbered in his objects, but he knew how to handle himself. Martin held the shotgun at the ready, looking around before locking his truck and heading for the building across the street. He looked around once more to make sure the coast was clear before slowly opening the door and stepping inside, holding the shotgun up at eye-level. "Hello?" He called out, unsure whether anybody would hear him from the bottom floor. He wasn't sure what the building was originally for, or how it was laid out, but he supposed that if the floors weren't too thick, his voice could carry through them. He didn't want to 'get the jump' on a pair of un-expecting, good-hearted survivors, but if they didn't seem to be trustable, he could easily hide himself, or hold his own.

[Celestial]

Zach noted that Claire had already passed out as he reached into his pocket. He had managed to find a pack of gum at a gas station about three miles from here. There was one pack, so he made damn sure to make it lasting. It was a tangy orange flavor too. He unwrapped the wrapper and smelled the flavor as he popped the piece into his mouth. I do love the smell of oranges ... Shit, wonder if they're any more in this shit hole of a place. Maybe down California ...

His eyes perked up as he tossed the wrapper on the ground and picked up his rifle. "Well I'll be fuckin' damn," he muttered under his breath as he saw a lone man with shot gun coming towards them. Silently, he moved to where Claire was asleep and shook her shoulder. He brought his fingers to his lips. "We got a normal. Coming our way. Shot gun it seems."

Claire still dazed only nodded as she processed what he had said. "Do you think he's a bandit."

Zach shrugged. "Not sure, we'll have to greet this wanderer though. Stay on the second and cover me. There's an walkway that circles high above the first floor. Stay there. Also, I haven't cleared the other rooms yet. So be fucking careful, got it?"

Claire nodded as she reached for her rifle. She had taken it off a dead Army Rifleman back when she was still in the thick of the east coast madness. She hated to do it at first, for it felt disrespectful, but she thought the man would understand since he no longer had any use for it. It was necessary.

Zach looked at her and gave a smile. "Lets roll out the red carpet then."

The two slowly edged out of the room as Zach headed for the stairs. He heard the man say hello. Because of the openness of the building, Zach heard it as an echo. He crept down the stairs and checked to his left then his right. He hugged a corner then he saw him. He was normal-looking, if you were talking about pre-panic, and seemed to know how to handle that cannon he held in his hands.

Zach sighed. Hopefully Claire was in place and this man wasn't happy with the trigger finger. He aimed directly at the man's chest. "To your right. Easy now. Go crazy with that thing, and you'll draw every walker within earshot." He kept his position as he saw the man turn towards him. "Lower your weapon then I'll lower mine. Easier to talk without an unsaftied weapon aimed straight at you right?"

[Arlear]

Will rubbed the back of his neck with a sigh, shifting to she side quietly. The roof of the store was uncomfortable, to say the least, and craning his neck to see the door beneath him didn't make it any easier. He'd been there for a while now, waiting for the man who had gone in to come back out.

He tried to think back, remember why this place was the hell it was, but all he came up with was a blank. His name was Will, and he had woken up a week ago, surrounded by dead, with a bow in his hand. That was the longest back he could remember, no mater how hard he tried. This just figures... a world full of deaders and I can't remember a damn thing of it. He thought to himself, glancing skyward briefly to check for his companion. He was stopped before he caught sight of her, however, as the door beneath him chimed again. The same man as before walked out, heading for the truck in the parking lot. He didn't seem like a threat, not really, but Will wasn't planning on shouting out just yet.

The man had just crossed the street, heading for a building Will had thought to be abandoned, shotgun in hand. Will waited until he was inside before getting up with a soft grunt, cracking his back and jogging to the rear of the building, where he had left his stolen motorcycle. He was pretty sure he was to young to drive it, but he also didn't think anyone would care at this point. After checking there were no deaders roaming behind the building, he slid onto the ladder, and down to the ground, sneaking over to the mini trailer hooked up to the bike and opening it, grabbing his bow, and a quiver before shutting it and locking it back up.

Will was running in a low crouch, sticking to the shadows instinctively as he crossed to the building he had seen his target enter. He drew an arrow, pressing his ear to the door just in time to hear an exchanging of words. "Easier to talk without an unsaftied weapon aimed straight at you right?" Was all he caught before twisting the door latch slowly, holding the arrow to the string of his bow with his index finger, the bow still nestled in his hand.