"Damn it! C'mon already. How the fuck did that get there?" I yelled as I looked at the car laying upside down in front of me. There was a loud crash this morning and I woke up to the sound of a car alarm only to see that someone, had flipped a car from the parking garage next door right in front of the door that served as our exit from the building. Not only was the exit blocked but now an alarm was sounding letting every maniac out there know where we were. "C'mon someone help me push this off the roof."
"Push?" Taylor questioned. He was a couple years younger than me but still acted pretty childish at times. Guess he didn't get to grow up when the world went to shit.
"Yes push. Come on I don't have all day." I Began to push on the front bumper of the car. Which in it's current position, didn't accomplish much. The car rocked on its roof and scrapped against the cement. "Fuck!" I yelled in anger kicking the car as I did so. "Won't budge, let's just cut off that damn alarm before someone with the need for a battery comes and kills us for it."
I went in the hotel and returned with a crowbar which I used to smash the remainder of the window on the accessible door. "Hey Taylor, you're a bit smaller than e, why don't you crawl through and release the hood. The button should be in the glove box."
"Re..." I cut him off before he could say it.
"Yes release the damn hood." He hesitated but after a moment he was in the car with his feet dangling out. "Hurry up." I said.
"I am, just give me a minute." As he finished the hood popped free.
"Good job." I said and laid on my back crawling under the hood. I looked for the battery and then carefully removed the nuts and pried the cables free. The horn went quiet. "Alright that should be good." I crawled about the same time Taylor did, "Alright now help me spin it to get it off the door."
NO LONGER ROLEPLAYING...
I'll miss you all, have a great time and maybe someday I'll be back
Working on a story, hope you all give it a minute to read (give the first chapter a try if it doesn't grab you, don't continue) http://figment.com/books/635080-Eternity
Hearts and followers would be nice, I want a good, strong, fan base so that one day I can take this to kickstarter and get it published.
It was cold. This wasn't surprising, it was always cold in the mornings. It settled in overnight, seeping into the places that had once been kept shielded from it. All the little man-made bubbles of comfort, burst and gone. Ryan could hear the cold, most nights. The still machinery of the clocktower creaked and groaned above him, the gears and bolts contracting as the air sapped warmth away.
The folds of his sleeping bag rustled as Ryan shifted, turning himself on his side, a dull ache beginning to spread along his back. One of the many benefits of sleeping in an old office. Blindly, he reached out, his outstretched fingers probing forward until they found their destination. A cool, smooth surface of wood and composite. His rifle. For a few minutes he simply lay there, clutching what was now his most valuable possession, listening to the world outside. He'd learned to drown out the normal sounds; the ones that tricked you, made you think that maybe you were just waking up from a bad dream. Beneath the birdsongs and the wind, you could hear reality. The occasional gunshot, solitary, or in a flurry. The screams and shouts that often accompanied them. The groaning cry of something, off in the distance.
Today, a car alarm blared somewhere downtown.
He blinked a few times as he opened his eyes, wincing and siting up as the morning light stabbed into his eyes. A small swatch of sunlight streamed in from the small window on the East wall, landing squarely where his head had been. He glanced aside at his rifle, laying on a length of folded cloth. He'd kept the magazine attached, the trade of safety for readiness was one he'd considered worthwhile. He lifted it up as he stood, propping it up on the workbench nearby, as he perused the variety of boxes, cans, bottles, and other boxes that made up his food store. Half a box of crackers made a poor breakfast, but it was what he had. You couldn't keep anything around for too long after opening it.
The stair of the spiral staircase creaked as he stepped down onto it, beginning the short ascent up the tower. The handrail was cold to the touch, and he could feel a cold draft from the room above. He had wondered, when he had first settled there, why there was no glass in the upper windows. Now, he'd learned to appreciate the benefits. There was a loud, mechanical click as he chambered a round, and stepped forward to the window. The park below...empty, save a few birds. Time would tell if it would stay that way.
Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.
In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds and shall find me unafraid.
It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll.
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.
(Oh boy. First post. Here goes nothing!)
"Th'fuck was that?" John called from the tunnel's "Foyer".
"Car alarm. Just keep digging." K.C answered from the living room. It was John's turn to work on the group's rather ambitious tunnel project today. They had already cut a few floorboards out of their cabin in the rather large and wooded park they now called home. Now that they had dug a little foyer for this system, John had set to work on a northbound tunnel.
"Dammit, K.C. It'd be real nice if you'd take over for a couple of minutes so my arms wouldn't feel like they were gonna fuckin' explode." John griped from below.
"Ah, quit yer whining. I gotta keep an eye on you kids. Make sure you don't pop yourself in the face with that Nugget of yours." K.C. said, running a hand over the AR-15 in his lap.
"You and yer fuckin' crazy-ass schemes. Who died and made you boss anyway?"
"Jesus Christ, man. Do you kiss our mother with that mouth?" K.C. began. "And I became leader when I came up with our plan, gathered MREs, and armed you guys."
Meanwhile, Sarah tended a cooking fire just outside the cabin; Mosin-Nagant on her back, and Lindsey stood on guard with her M1A in hand. She scanned the woods, searching for any looters or their next meal of Venison. The woods around her stretched about as far as she could see. Granted, that wasn't far with how thick the woods grew around their cabin.
(Should I add anything?)
Cena groaned as light snuck through the curtain and into her eyes. For a moment she was back at home, in bed, safe and about to get up for a normal day. But only for a moment. She rolled over expecting to find Michael lying next to her. Instead she was met with empty space. Cena got out of bed and dressed, leaving the bedroom and heading up on to the deck. Water stretched out befor her with the city sat on one side;the open sea on the other. At the edge of the water Michael was sitting with a fishing rod in his hand. It started whirring as something caught the line but Michael pulled it in effortlessly. The catch was a fish about the size of her shoe. Considering the circumstances they were lucky to have a constant supply of food.
"Morning." Cena said draping herself over Michaels back. He smiled and pecked her on the cheek before getting up.
"Morning. I caught breakfast." He said carrying the fish back inside towards the kitchen. Snored could be heard comming from one of the rooms. It didn't surprise them. Samson could sleep forever if he wanted to and they had little else to do. They didn't even have anywhere to go. She needed to do something about that.
A few minutes later, and no doubt helped by the smell of food, Samson appeared his hulking body taking up most of the doorway.
"Mmm food." Was all he said as they started eating. Cena waited until they were finished before voicing her idea.
"We need to go ashore. This boat need fuel so we can leave and we going to run out of gas at some point."
There was dull agreement from the other two. However much they disliked it Cena was right, she normally was. For a bunch of teens in an apocalypse they had done remarkabley well. They had shelter, weapons, food and had thought they had transport. The boat had barely left the dock when the tank was empty. Now they were sat in the middle of the harbour stuck, albiet safe.
"So you want use to row to shore, find supplies, come back and repeat until we can leave right?" Michael said. Cena nodded. That was about the extent of the discussion. No use in arguing so they might aswell get to it. Cena headed back to the room to grab her snub-nose and pull on her finger armour or 'claws' as she liked to call them. They were so much better looking than a knife. The other two were already back on deck, Samson clutching a large hammer Cena doubted she could even lift and Michael holding a shotgun. That was another thing they would need - ammo. There was a splash as Samson pushed their small rowboat into the water and waited for them to get in. As they pushed off Michael readied his gun for any nasties on the shore.
"Ready?" He said.