Under the Fallen Arch [IC]

[Red Beret]

The St. Louis outbreak caught everyone off guard, largely because healthcare authorities had thought the virus to be contained in the southeast. The military managed to establish a safe zone underneath the Gateway Arch, and began the evacuation of persons with VIP status--doctors, community leaders, and other important personnel. The quarantine broke, however, as civilians attempted to escape the city, only to become stuck on the freeways. With all outbound lanes congested, most of the population was overtaken, still in their vehicles. The majority of the infected followed the survivors west, but a good bit still remain within the city itself.

St. Louis is now little more than an inhospitable ghost town, with small bubbles of survivors quickly being overrun by the living dead... but there is one beacon of hope in the darkness. A radio broadcast, transmitting on all frequencies, urges survivors to gather under the Arch, where they will be protected and cared for until the nightmare is over. Though there are not many left in the city to hear the message, it still plays, giving some survivors just enough hope to carry on.

Little do they know what awaits them...

UNDER THE FALLEN ARCH



OOC Thread

_____________________________________________

Sarah Schultz - I-44, directly northwest of Clifton Heights, St. Louis, Missouri

Hotwiring cars had never been Sarah's thing. Her older brother had showed her how to do it once, but that had been the first and only time she'd ever seen it done. That lesson had taken place so long ago... it was hardly going to be any use to her now. She'd heard the broadcast, it was being looped on all of the frequencies. There was a safe zone under the Gateway Arch... easy enough to get to, but there were miles of infested city blocks to go through before she could reach the Arch. It had likely been a few days since the broadcast had first started going out... but it was the National Guard. Surely if anyone could hold off the infected, it was the Guard. At any rate, the broadcast was still going out, so the safe zone had to be intact.

At least she knew that she could handle herself out here, though it was admittedly tough with a compound bow. She'd lost a lot of arrows by trial and error, finally finding that headshots kept them down for good, though it took some skill to hit a target that small. She found it was best to just avoid them. What worried her was that she might succumb to the small weight on her hip. The PPK would certainly be easier to use, but while the loud noise would spook an animal or other people, the infected were drawn to noise like moths to a flame... she only knew that because she'd seen a car alarm clear a street. The ghouls had heard it from a few blocks over, and they'd all run to find the source of the noise.

Right now, though, she was perched on a knoll overlooking the Interstate watching a lone shambler make its way through the cars on the out-bound lane. She'd spotted a pick-up with the keys hanging from the door, and didn't want to let the opportunity pass her by... but if the ghoul detected her, she'd be in deep shit. Their moan was as effective a draw as a car alarm, and she didn't want to be trapped in a boxed-in pick-up truck if and when they came. She had her bow up, an arrow nocked in the string, and it was pulled back and ready to fly. The thing about the compound bow was that it took less strength to use, and strength wasn't exactly something she had to spare. She could pull her own weight, sure, but she wasn't muscular by any stretch of the imagination.

As soon as the shambler stopped, she lined up her shot and let fly. The arrow hit its mark, lodging in the temple. The shambler just stood there, like it hadn't even noticed. Sarah let out a slient curse and drew another arrow. The shambler obliged her and stood still, and she managed to get one through its eye this time. The ghoul fell out of sight behind a car a few spaces away from the pick-up she was eyeing.

The rest of the Interstate seemed clear, both ways, but Sarah wasn't stupid. She left her backpack at the top of the knoll and made her way carefully onto the asphalt, then hopped the divider and immediately looked for crawlers. She wasn't one for horror flicks, but she'd seen the first episode of The Walking Dead, and the crawler was what stood out in her mind when she waded into the halted traffic. Nothing, thank God. There hadn't been any movement in any of the cars, either, nobody seemed to be trapped inside.

She found the shambler she'd dropped, jiggled the arrow in its eye socket to make sure the brains were good and stirred-up. If she'd had the means, she might've doused it in gas and set it on fire, but that would be dangerous here... not only would it attract more attention, but she wasn't exactly enthusiastic to start a fire around so many parked vehicles. She wiped her arrows off on the shambler's clothing and put them back in the quiver, then backtracked to the pick-up truck. It was empty, but the keys were right. Slowly, carefully, she looked around the cab, then climbed into the driver's seat and turned the car on. She didn't start it, just let the electronics come up.

The radio blared static, and she immediately twisted the knob until it was silent. She looked around, her heart hammering fast, hoping that there was nothing to attract. She didn't see anything, anyway. Still feeling the adrenaline in her system, she turned the radio back up aways, and then cycled through the preset until she found a frequency playing the safe zone broadcast. It was still going... thank God. She closed her eyes for a second, let her heart slow back down, then rummaged through the glove compartment and the center console. There was nothing in either, but she did find a pair of sunglasses in an overhead compartment. They were aviators, a bit too big for her, but they were nice, the polarized kind. Could come in handy, but what she really needed was sunscreen. She was already looking a bit red, but she'd managed to stay hydrated. At least it wasn't hot out, just cool enough to be uncomfortable.

She took glasses from the truck, but nothing else, leaving the keys in one of the cupholders. Someone else might come through, and they might need the keys more than she did. She jumped the divider again, but rather than empty Interstate, she met a biker, who shot past her. She jumped backward to avoid being hit and nearly tumbled back over the divider. The rider seemed to snap awake, then lost control of his bike. He toppled over and the bike skidded down the asphalt.

The infected didn't ride bikes, as far as she knew... she approached the man cautiously. The bow was forgotten, at this range she was prepared to draw the pistol on her hip. He started to get up, but it wasn't the way a shambler would have... it was obvious that he felt pain. She remembered the way the shambler stood there after she'd put an arrow in its head, like nothing had happened, and decided that this guy must be another survivor.

"Are you okay?"

[Red Beret]

Paul "Paulie" Buscetta - Southbound on Highway 40, East St. Louis, Illinois

Paulie felt strange, having a gun in an actual holster on his hip. He'd always tucked it into his pants at the small of his back or carried it in a pocket... but it was hard to do that with a prison jumpsuit. Nothing to tuck in.

"I'm gettin' too old for this shit," he said to nobody in particular. He was, after all, alone on the highway.

He'd been walking along this particular stretch for a couple of days now, and it was all the same. The outbound lanes were clogged with traffic, the inbound lanes were almost completely empty. From what he could tell, everyone had gone fuckin' nuts. A bunch of angry assholes had even attacked the van he was being escorted in. At first he'd been afraid, thinking that it was the fuckin' mob, trying to silence him for good, but he hadn't recognized any of the bodies. Still, it had given him a chance to overpower his escort and get the fuck outta there. Now he was almost regretting his decision.

As he'd walked along, he'd seen some of the carnage that had ensued in the outbound lanes. There were still people in some of the cars. Some of them moved, some of them didn't. One creepy-ass sonuva bitch had actually pressed his face against a car window and started scratching at the glass, emitting a low moan... that had freaked Paulie out more than just about anything he'd seen during his mob days. He'd seen people down below him, too, just standing around, doing nothing. He'd been shot at, once, on an overpass, but when he looked for the source of the noise, all he saw was a bunch of people running, not from the direction of the shot, but toward it. He didn't know what was going on, but he didn't want any part of it.

All he knew was that he wasn't lost. He could see the Gateway Arch of St. Louis on the horizon, when visibility was good, and though he'd never been a boy scout, he didn't need a wilderness survival badge to know that the sun set in the west. The town he'd been seeing to the south must be East St. Louis. Generally, he wouldn't have been entered city limits while wearing a prison jumpsuit and a police jacket--the combination just screamed "loose convict," and he wasn't stupid--but the world seemed to have gone to shit anyway. There was nobody around, and something told him this wasn't an elaborate ruse by the St. Louis PD to lure him in.

"Gonna have to ditch this fuckin' jumpsuit," he muttered, peering into a nicer-looking car. He'd found the crowbar he was carrying in an unsecured trunk, and he'd been stopping to see if there were any other riches to be had along the abandoned stretch of Interstate. Of course, none of them had what he really wanted, which was a change of clothes and a god-damned cheeseburger. All in due time, though... all in due time.

Seeing nothing that he actually wanted, Paulie moved along, drawing closer to the Mississippi with each step...

[AYoungWarthog]

The static he’d fallen asleep had suddenly disappeared as the sun broke the horizon, pulling him from his light slumber. Sitting up quickly his head smacked the door handle of the Audi and he turned away from the seat, swearing under his breath lightly, before listening to the radio. A message, a transmission, was playing on the channel as he rubbed his head gently, trying to rid himself of the sudden shock of pain. The broadcast was short and simple, repeating on a loop: “Attention, this is not a test. An unknown virus has completely devastated over one hundred and fifty of the world’s major regions and is spreading rapidly. At this point in time we know of only one method of killing the creatures: destroy the brain. Be on the guard of any loved ones who may have recently been in any sort of contact with the infected, and if you find yourself out in a threatening position, please do not hesitate to act. Again, this is not a test, this is not a joke. We as a species are overwhelmed. We are outnumbered… All VIP personnel report to the Gateway Arch immediately for government evacuation. This message will now repeat…”

Shaking his head in surprise, he felt the weight of his pistol under his left arm as he sat up, pulling his tie loose and looking at the dashboard. The clock in front of him was blank as the car sat dead in the sea of metal on the clogged outbound lane. Staring down at the sterling silver Rolex on his left wrist he shook his head and lifted his messenger bag over his shoulder, it was only eight-thirty in the morning. Opening the door to the rear of the Audi and climbing onto the pavement he looked around to find he was alone momentarily and took the time to open the trunk of the car and lift his medical bag over his shoulder as well. The small red duffle bag with two straps allowed him to wear it as a knapsack, fitting snugly on his back, hugging his chest tightly. Pulling the Glock from its holster, he slowly closed the trunk, not wanting to attract attention like he had the night before.

The overpass above him from the north of Forest Park ran over Route Forty which he now stood upon, stretching himself out after having changed out of his business attire and into his more comfortable black Scrubs with his black jogging shoes he normally wore when he was on-call. Stuffing the dress shirt, tie, dress pants, and dress shoes into his bag he began to stroll slowly and ever so cautiously westward towards the Arch. It was slowly growing warmed in the sun, yet still bitterly cold from the night before. At least he had his black Prada coat that fell just above his knees draped casually over his shoulder. Lowering his head and pulling his beanie over his hair as a light breeze picked, he could not help but gag at the smell that was blown in his face from the west.

A sickening scent, that of death and rot, suffocated him as he stopped in his tracks, looking around for the source and found it almost immediately. Staggering out of some nightmare, Daniel watched as the shuffling corpse stumbled toward him slowly, barely able to lift its feet to manage a fast walk. Reacting in shock, the Doctor nearly tripped as he turned; flinging a sedan’s car door open and leaving the space for the walker to be caught in, he looked for something to defend himself with. However, he soon found himself cursing his own stupidity as he lifted the Glock in his hand and took aim on the creature now less than a meter from the door. Lining his shot carefully he squeezed the trigger and was surprised by the deafening crack that responded to his action. The back of the creature’s skull exploded as it fell to the ground in a now-forming pool of its own blood. Silence fell around him momentarily as he looked at the pistol and lowered it slowly, shaking his head before closing the door quietly. However, his attempt to close the door was to no avail as an ear-splitting scream drew his head level with the asphalt and caused him to wheel around violently, staring down another corpse that seemed to explode with speed, uncannily sprinting in the Doctor’s direction.

Swearing loudly, Daniel turned on his heels and bolted in the opposite direction of his assailant. Lowering his head into the direction he was running, he felt confident in his ability to outrun the creature for now, but for how long, he was unsure. Looking left and right for an escape, he saw the divider of the highway and climbed over it quickly, sprinting up the hill toward the overpass that led toward the old Jewish Hospital on South King Boulevard. Watching as the creature struggled to deal with the barrier; he continued to run, with only one thought in his head: “The Doctors in all hospitals received an order to destroy the brain of dead patients. A hospital should be relatively safe and free of the sick.”

Barrier or not, the hospital seemed more hospitable than the road to the Arch.

[Lupus]

“Colin, you've got to wake up. Colin, wake up. COLIN, WAKE THE FUCK UP, OR I'M GOING TO EAT YOUR FACE OFF!” Colin's pledge brother, Nick, was yelling him, blood spraying from his mouth. The zombie Nick leaned forward to rip the flesh off of Colin's face.

“AHHHH!” Colin woke with a shout, sweat covering his body. It was the second time he had that dream after leaving the massacre known as the TKE House, and Colin knew that it, or dreams like it, would continue if he fell asleep. The only option Colin believed was right, was to never go back to sleep. He could not handle the nightmares.

Shaking, Colin stood up and gathered up his belongings, putting them on as quickly as any sleep deprived person could. Using the bike as a support, Colin walked back to the highway, paranoid eyes watching for any “infected”. When he hit the asphalt, he hopped up on the bike and started pedaling on. Mile by mile past on uneventful, and Colin slowly began losing the fight to keep awake. He shot past an infected and was almost grabbed. Barely getting past, Colin snapped to full awareness and slammed on the breaks, skidding almost a foot. Kicking the stand down, Colin got off the bike, this was the first infected he had seen since Rolla, and, going against his own mind, he drew his trench spike and approached it. Anger rose as Colin neared the infected. The infected lurched towards Colin, doing its distinctive raspy moan. The thing almost got within grabbing distance when Colin nearly fainted. The voices of all of his friends and brothers in the house yelled at him, and Colin was hurled into chaos. In his turmoil, the infected grabbed Colin, and pulled him close, mouth open to bite him. Before the infected had a chance to bite, Colin snapped out of it, and reflexively punched the infected's nose with the brass knuckles part of the trench spike, forcing it back a foot, to break its grab, and to fall down prone. Colin, free, could have finished the infected off with a clean blow to the top of its head, but it still looked human. He knew he had to do it, but it would be more blood on his hands, another person who had a life. But, argued another voice, if this thing survived, then it would kill, and there too would be the end of a life. This was for the best. Colin sighed, tears forming for the first time in a long time, as he went to one knee, swinging the trench spike into the temple of the infected, killing it instantly.

Colin began breathing hard and slowly slid down to a seated position. It had taken a lot out of him. Colin used the time to rest for a couple minutes before getting back on the bike and continuing down to St. Louis, to the supposed safe zone.

Colin neared the area known as Clifton Heights, and once again, the weight of his eyelids was becoming too much. To his surprise, he almost ran down another person. He snapped awake and tumbled off of the bike, landing hard on his shoulder. Colin started getting up, pain in his right shoulder clearly evident. A voice called out to him, “Are you alright?” He looked to the voice, and slowly went for his crowbar and trench spike. The woman drew the pistol from her pocket. Before he could move for his weapons, she'd already thumbed back the hammer, "Look, I don't want to hurt you, but I will if I have to." Colin stopped what he was doing, knowing that he was beat. He was hurt, too far away, and too tired to get to the woman before she shot him dead. Shaking and favoring his right arm, Colin put his hands behind his head and got down to one knee. Seeing him relent, she lowered her weapon, but she didn't disengage the hammer. Not yet, "I'm sorry, I'm really glad to see another living human being... but I want to die here about as much as you do." She paused for a second. "I've got a first aid kit in my pack, up on the hill there, I could patch you up," she offered. Colin nodded his head, and stood up slowly. He picked his gear and walked with his bike after the woman. Colin believed the smell of fresh 'human' blood would attract attention, so it would be better to get some bandage from a stranger then go on without one. She led him up the hill and dug the first aid kit out of her pack, "Where're you hurt?" She asked if Colin was hurt. Colin just nodded in reply, slowly taking of his shirt to reveal his toned body and the large scrape on his right shoulder, the air stinging it lightly. She made note of Colin's build as she started to clean the scrape on his shoulder, and maybe thinking that if she hadn't had her weapon ready, he could have really hurt her. "There you go," she said, applying the largest dressing the kit had to offer. As she cleaned his wound, Colin slowly began drifting off to sleep. When she had finished, Colin had past out and his head fell into her lap.

[Rarity]

Marilyn scanned the area before tightening her grip on her bat and deciding to move forward. She had been walking for a while and was starting to get hungry she needed some food. Despite grabbing a few things that she would need to defend herself she had stupidly failed to get any food. Just a few days ago she was worried about paying the bills and now surviving was her number one priority. The blonde was staring at a gasoline station that looked as if it had been hit by a tornado. The windows were smashed and it seemed as if everything had been taken from the shelves. She grimaced, wondering if there was anything she could eat in there.

She walked into the gas station hesitantly knowing that there could be someone in here. Marilyn found out quickly that even the living weren't to be trusted, someone already tried to mug her but backed off the minute she pulled out her gun. Her eyebrows furrowed as she replayed the incident in her head. Her eyes scanned the shelves, trying to see if anyone had left at least a hostess snack or something.

She snarled, seeing absolutely nothing except a rabbit mask. Just when she was about to give up her eyes zeroed in on a can of peaches and she almost cheered in excitement. Her hand jetted forward and grasped the aluminum can when she heard a magazine rack fall to the floor. She instantly ducked down and grabbed her bat with both hands. The blonde woman stayed as still as a statue and slowly leaned her head out of the aisle. What she saw made her skin crawl, it was one of the infected.

The person… No the corpse, the corpse was shambling around aimlessly through the store. It's arm was missing and there was still blood dripping out of it. It seemed to have been a man before it died, it was wearing a bloody business suit and she could see an expensive looking watch on his remaining arm. This thing might've been human a few hours ago which probably meant that there were other infected around. Marilyn snatched the can of peaches and quickly took off her backpack, she stuffed the food in there before zipping it closed and placing it back on her back.

She silently counted to three before bursting forward at a blinding speed. The only sound were her feet hitting against the floor and then a dull 'CLUNK' as the metallic bat struck against the infected man's head. Blood splurted everywhere and the infected fell to the ground. Not wasting a single moment she lifted her leg up and smashed her boot clad foot into his head. She felt the skull crack under the pressure but not quite fully. She lifted her leg up once more before bringing down all her weight on the creature's head.

The mild resistance the object created before succumbing to force and squishing down make Marilyn's skin crawl but she quickly forced it out of her mind. She couldn't think of these things as human, they were more like animals. She looked around the store to check if anymore were around before grabbing an empty water bottle that was located on the desk and darting out of the convenience store.

She glanced at the gasoline pumps one last time before thinking about what to do next. Her stomach grumbled slightly reminding her that she wanted nothing more than to sit down and eat but she couldn't do it here. Marilyn walked away from the gasoline station and looked at a police car that was in near mint condition. The only thing off about it was the fact that the passenger's window was smashed open and that there was a corpse in the driver's seat. She never had learned to hot wire a car and from what she last heard the highways were too congested to even drive anyway.

However, there could be any number of things inside the car that could prove to be useful. She did another quick double check of her surroundings before opening the driver's door. The corpse immediately fell out and slammed against the pavement. Marilyn gave an audible groan of disgust before tapping the police officer's corpse with her boot. She seemed to be dead and not infected. Still, you could never be too sure. She lifted her metallic bat over her head before swinging it down on the corpse's head as hard as she could. The following splatter grossed her out more than the previous one.

Sliding into the driver's seat she was pleasantly surprised to see the keys still in the ignition. She grasped the key and turned, the engine immediately roared to life and the blonde woman jumped up a bit in her seat. That was really loud. Her heart started beating a bit faster, she had to get out of her soon. She turned on the radio and was surprised not to hear police chatter but what seemed to be a looping message to the public. Marilyn listened intently, apparently the VIP, whoever they were, were all gathering at the Gateway Arch.

The fighter sucked her teeth. Well, she was definitely a VIP now and if she wasn't, well… The blonde glanced in the passenger's side and grabbed what seemed to be a change of clothes. VIP included the police right? She chuckled a bit to herself before examining the rest of the car, there wasn't anything particularly useful although she did snatch some handcuffs and sunglasses. She opened the trunk and walked around the back to see what goodies were there.

When she reached the back she was somewhat disappointed. Instead of a fully stocked armory as she had secretly been hoping it was pretty mundane. She grabbed a a first aid kit and some flares in case she ever needed them and left the emergency blankets, and radio transmitter as well as the spare tire. She had to travel light.

Walking back to the car she noticed that the fuel was almost empty and decided against driving off in the car. Marilyn had different plans for the car. She leaned into it and took a deep breath, wincing a bit as she flipped the siren on. She flinched as the deafening sound pierced her ears. The familiar sound sounded ten times as loud as the last time she heard it. As soon as she flipped it she took off running at full speed away from the gasoline station. She knew where she was going now.

She ran at full speed, looking at the sign. She was S14th street and the arch was around 2nd. It shouldn't take her too long. Marilyn glanced over her shoulder and saw infected already in the horizon trying to get to the police car. Her eyes widened as she saw some of them actually running toward it. The fighter forced herself to look away and keep running away from the gasoline station.

[Red Beret]

Sarah Schultz - I-44 Eastbound, St. Louis, MO

And so there Sarah sat with an unconscious stranger's head in her lap. It had been roughly eighteen years since the last time it had happened, though it couldn't possibly end any worse than the previous one had. The guy was out cold... hadn't even dropped his name, but then again, neither had she. One of the perils of the end of civilization as we know it, she thought, sliding gently out from under him and easing his head onto the grass. She wondered how far he'd been going, or if it had been the spill that knocked him out... maybe a combination of both. The fatigue might explain his hostility, but then again, it might not. As glad as she was to have come across another living, breathing human being, it would be stupid to travel with someone she had to keep at gunpoint.

He was out cold, though, no doubt about that. Sarah decided she could wait until he woke up to decide what to do with him. There was certainly time... the area was relatively clear, and that had been the first shambler she'd seen in about twelve hours. Generally that would mean that there was a storm brewing, but this wasn't exactly a heavily-traveled part of the city. Neighborhood behind her, and nothing but industry beyond the Interstate. Things would get difficult as they drew deeper into the city... a refugee camp seemed like it would be a likely target for the infected, but the Guard could handle itself. Getting in would be the hard part, but there was plenty of time to think about that.

She kept herself busy by packing up the first aid kit and stowing it back in her backpack. It took up a bit of space, but she felt that it was worth it. Even with all the crap she'd managed to shove into the pack, she was still traveling light. The heaviest thing she was carrying was her water, and she'd managed to avoid canned food altogether by packing food that came in plastic bags or packaging. True, some of it required her to add water, but it wasn't like she was in the middle of the desert or anything, so she wasn't worried. She had enough to last her four days, and she thought that she could probably stretch it further than that if she needed to.

There were other bits and pieces, necessities in a battle for survival, but she was only interested in one of them at the moment. As she put the first aid kit away, she pulled out her map of the St. Louis area. She knew that following the Interstate would take her pretty close to the Arch, but one always needed a contingency plan... besides, the further she got into the city, the more ghouls she'd have to contend with. That's how things worked.

She was still looking at the map when her new companion awoke a few hours later. She'd been busy looking at the easiest way to reach her destination, and she'd already plotted out possible contingency courses. Her favorite contingency was one that followed the rail tracks through town... she had only been here a few days, and hadn't been downtown, but they were generally separated from the rest of the area by tall fences, which wouldn't keep the infected out for long, but might keep them at bay long enough to escape an attack.

"Good morning," Sarah said, looking over at the young man as he sat up and ran his hands through his hair. He looked over at her, then much to her irritation, proceeded to ignore her. He began to start moving around, instead. She recognized that he was practicing forms of some sort--her brother did the same damn thing every morning when he came to visit--but she wasn't sure for which style. If that was the way he was going to be, that was fine. She folded the map and put it away, then hefted her bag onto one shoulder. Her bow was nearby, and she picked it up, too.

Her companion seemed to notice her now... she could see him checking his own things out of the corner of her eye. Either he was planning to travel with her, or he was going to vacate the spot and go his own way.

"Look," she said as he bent down to pick up something that had fallen out of his pack, "I'm heading for the Arch. If you want to come with me, that's fine, I don't mind the company, but if you're gonna be a dick, you can walk on the other side of the road. And as much as I don't want to shoot anyone, I won't hesitate to kill you if I think you're going to try to kill me."

She raised her eyebrows, slipped her arm through the backpack's other strap, then nestled the bow between the backpack and her back and started to walk back toward the Interstate. Her plan was to follow it as far as she could, and pray to God--if He was even still up there--that nothing happened...

[Red Beret]

Paul "Paulie" Buscetta - Somewhere in East St. Louis. Whaddare ya, a wiseguy? Get lost.

Paulie checked himself in the mirror. The jeans fit loosely, they weren't quite his size, but at least whoever had lived here knew what a belt was. Half the damn population these days, didn't know how to wear a fucking belt. Paulie wasn't big on jeans, but anything was better than that damn orange jumpsuit. The last thing he needed was to get taken in for being a fugitive... though it was entirely possible that nobody knew he'd shot his guards. The whole place was in some sort of turmoil, everyone gone fucking crazy or something. Paulie didn't know, just knew that now he maybe looked like a cop or something. Jeans, a polo shirt, a cop jacket, duty belt fitting snugly on his waist... it wasn't a respectable look, but it had its own appeal. Maybe in a different life, he could've been Officer Buscetta.

"Like that's ever gonna fuckin' happen," he said to his reflection, then turned away. He still had everything that he'd brought along with him, the gun, the magazines, the belt. He'd eaten one of the protein bars and the canteen was half empty. There was no running water, but water was easy enough to come by, and if he had to reduce himself to soda, he'd drink that, too. He hadn't had a cola or anything since he was a goddamn kid, though... beer, liquor, those were the things that had made him into a man. Some of the "officials" claimed that they made him violent and stupid, but he always corrected them, told them that he'd been violent and stupid before booze.

Jesus, I could go for a smoke, Paulie thought as he left the house, pulling on a pair of sunglasses he'd found. The Arch glimmered on the horizon... it was time to get the hell outta Illinois, that was for damn sure. He recalled an acquaintence of his talking about helicopter tours of the city. Surely there'd be something like that close by the goddamn arch. Maybe he could fly outta here. Wouldn't that be a fucking hoot? He'd be a fucking legend... but no, he wouldn't. He'd been betrayed by the people who would have made him a legend otherwise. Fucking no-good backstabbing sonsa bitches... but they'd get theirs...

And then Paulie Buscetta would be the fucking legend who flew a chopper out of Missouri and chopped up the whole goddamn Marietti family with the blades.

[Lupus]

Colin had just finished all of his forms when the woman began packing up. "Look," she said as he picked up the Zombie Survival guide. "I'm heading for the Arch. If you want to come with me, that's fine, I don't mind the company, but if you're gonna be a dick, you can walk on the other side of the road. And as much as I don't want to shoot anyone, I won't hesitate to kill you if I think you're going to try to kill me." Colin opened up the book, right to the page stating that groups should train together. Well, they were heading in the same direction, why not form a group. A simple thought for a normal person, but it took Colin a lot longer than a normal person.
"Um. . . *cough*, *louder cough*" Colin holds out the Zombie Survival Guide, thumb bookmarking the page he wants the woman to read. She paused and turned, looking up at him, then took the book from his hands. She read briefly, then looked up at him again. When she spoke, it was clear she wasn't quite sure about the message he was trying to send. "So... this means you want to... travel together?" Colin put his left hand behind his head, shaking yes. With his right hand, he pointed to the part saying that a group should train together if they are to survive. Basically stating that they should do some training right now to better understand each others skills. You... want to train me? With this? It's fiction. This guy probably never even saw this thing coming." Colin rapidly shook his head. Colin took a couple breaths to get settled before he spoke. ". . . No. . I want to . . .train with you. Also, this may be fiction. . but it has . . . alot of common sense in it." "Oh," she replied, raising her eyebrows again, "I don't know if I can teach you anything... I mean, I'm not a sensei, I don't really know anything about fighting. I'm a decent shot with a bow, but that's about it... and that takes a little more time than we, uh, actually have. I was hoping to get to the Arch BEFORE the National Guard pulls out." "I can teach you a couple melee techniques, . . . but . . I have to agree that we go to the safe zone asap. . . . . My name . . . Colin. Colin Greene.""Sounds fun," she replied, "But I shouldn't need them... we're pretty close to the goal, relatively speaking. If we follow the highway, it shouldn't be too long a trip... Sarah, by the way. Sarah Schultz."Colin nodded. "But, . . I have a bad feeling. I feel that, this may be a bloodbath." "If there's even a slim chance..."Colin looked into Sarah's eyes. "What if the chance wasn't worth it." Colin's voice becoming stronger and clearer. "More than likely, St. Louis has been overrun, and we're going to our deaths. I am going because I have hope, but I should know better.""It's certainly not going to be EASY," Sarah replied, "But the area's gonna be full of soldiers with plenty of training, plenty of guns, plenty of ammo. And the signal's still broadcasting, I just heard it over the radio, so there's at least someone there maintaining the radio. "Colin just shrugged as he put the book back in his pack. ". . .Lead the way. . . I'll walk the bike. . . so as to not get separated." Colin moved so the bike would be on his right, and his left hand moved down to his trench spike, just in case.

[howler01]

I-44 Eastbound, St. Louis. MO 0918 Hours

Command, this Alpha Lead, Beginning patrol of I-44, what are your orders? Sergeant Mason Daniels was using his authoritative, but quiet tone at the moment. He'd already lost his squad to "them" and he wasn't keen on losing his own life to the infected. The response was quick and decisive, almost pre-recorded in it's sound, Alpha Lead, find any survivors and bring them to the Green Arch. We will handle things from there. Command out. This message is to be relayed to ALL frequencies. All survivors are to the head to the Gateway... he clicked off his radio at that point. he'd heard the message repeated over and over again in the days he'd been on patrol. He uncocked the M4 he carried with a click-clack of the action and checked how many rounds he had left. The magazine indicated 20, not by a display, but by a visual count of the bullets housed within it. Mason looked up to gaze at the couple of infected who had taken note of the gun's sound and were searching for the source of it. So far, I-44 was deserted save for them.

The low rumble was what caught his attention. It appeared to sound something like a motorcycle, but he couldn't be sure. It got closer and louder and Mason crouched down behind behind a car for cover and let the biker pass him. The less he was noticed, the better. The rumble of the engine came and went and the infected seemed to follow the sound and head towards it. After some time, he heard the bike skid and come to a crashing stop. That can't be good. i should go check that out. he thought as he rose from his crouched position, bringing the carbine up to a shooting position, finger on the trigger guard; not the trigger. He began to sprint down towards the the sound of the crashed bike.

Dressed in military fatigues, with patches that indicated he was a Military Policeman, he had decided against the vest with the white MP on it, his fatigues were meant for jungle combat, green with brown. Then again, he wasn' national Guard, which surely had the shitty duty of manning the Green Arch. he was U.S. Army, which had sent out various "teams" to assist with the search for survivors. he was form the local Fort, so he had some knowledge of the area, but the local Guard briefing hadn't been much more than a map, which he'd memorized and the intuitions to save who they could and kill anyone that was either infected or "unwilling" to accompany them. Alpha Team had started out with five men, Mason leading. Sadly, they'd also started with a Humvee, but that had been quickly abandoned for being too noisy, which had brought more infected to them than survivors. They'd handed out high velocity lead therapy as opposed to food and supplies. They'd also lost their gunner. Gradually, the other squad members were picked off one by one. He'd barely survived an assault himself, using ten of his precious bullets just to ensure that he'd make it out alive.

As he drew closer to where he thought the crash site was, he caught sight of a young man and a woman, both armed or so it seemed, and both heading his way. Stepping out clearly into their line of sight, he waved. He thought about calling out to them, but that would only lead to him getting swarmed and dying before they reached him. Mason made a come on, come closer it's clear. gesture with left hand while his right hand put the muzzle of his gun down towards the asphalt. He waited patiently for them, figuring that they perhaps grateful, or relieved to see someone from the military out here, paroling. he waited patiently for them to arrive, and he tensed up and crouched down, muttering into his radio,Command, Alpha has found two I repeat 2 survivors. heading towards the green Arch now, ETA ...I..don't really know. 2 ...3 days at the least. Lots of ground to cover. Waiting for your orders on the route. But all he heard back, was static. He muttered a series of curses.

he tensed and brought his M4 back up to a shooting position and gave the approaching survivors another glanced, making a brief, keep it coming quickly gesture and glancing about for infected. Currently, he saw none, which was a good thing. He hoped one of them had brought along a map, so that he could plot out the best route for them all to take to the Arch.

Now, just to keep watch and wait...meet these two..see what he could learn from them, and begin their journey back towards the Arch...

[Red Beret]

Sarah Schultz - I-44 Eastbound, St. Louis, MO

"It's certainly not going to be easy, but the area's gonna be full of soldiers with plenty of training, plenty of guns, plenty of ammo. And the signal's still broadcasting, I just heard it over the radio, so there's at least someone there maintaining the radio."

"Lead the way... I'll walk the bike... so as to not get separated."

As they walked along the Interstate, the two of them lapsed into silence, as if there was simply nothing more to be said at that point. Sarah was feeling kind of guilty for assuming that Colin was a dick--it turned out that he was just shy, or maybe whatever he'd experienced out here had just fucked him up that much. It was hard to tell, and though she hated to keep on assuming, she was going to venture a guess that he was just shy, maybe not quite used to strangers. Sarah had to admit that even she was feeling a little wary of them right about now... it didn't excuse her own behavior, of course.

She didn't know what had come over her back on the hill. Normally she wasn't the kind of person who was easily exasperated, and she didn't like to come off as sarcastic, or as a bitch... mostly, she felt that she hadn't quite been fair to him. She didn't know his story. She hadn't had it easy, herself... the infected had attacked her at her friend's house, and she'd been helpless to do anything. Her bow wasn't the best tool for close quarters, and the infected had shrugged off the damage she'd tried to inflict with anything else. She'd narrowly escaped with the bow and the PPK. She'd grabbed her coat and the backpack from her Explorer--she never went anywhere without a survival pack--and then she'd run. The first day and a half was a blur, but she'd finally ended up following the Interstate... from a distance, of course.

His story could have been worse... he looked young, and the fact that he was toting a book called "The Zombie Survival Guide" made her guess that he was college-age, if not in college himself. The way he'd teetered off his bike was a sign that he'd been riding well past the state of exhaustion, perhaps trying to outrun something, put as much distance between himself and whatever had happened to him as he could. The way he'd turned on her when she first approached him... perhaps he'd been attacked by someone he cared about. That was one advantage to being in a place she didn't know--Sarah hadn't had the opportunity to see someone she knew turn yet. She hoped she'd never have to...

She hesitated, not sure whether she should pursue the line of questioning she was getting ready to pursue. Did she really want to know what had happened to him? Would he turn violent or resent her for it? She didn't want to lose this last bit of humanity just after she'd found it... she'd made her way alone through this ghost town up until now, and she wasn't exactly eager to have to do it again. Of course, sometimes talking was a great way to relieve stress and cut down anger--she'd learned that when she was taking a course in de-escalating conflicts. As a game warden, you never knew when you were going to have to talk down a man with a gun. Most of the hunters she'd come across were decent people who were just out to have fun, and most of the offenders she came across were well-meaning individuals who didn't have a lick of common sense, but were nice enough anyway. She hadn't yet had to talk down a guy who was dead set on killing her to escape a fine or an arrest. She glanced at him again, and then she was decided. She'd at least try to open up to him... if they were going to travel together, might as well not be isolated from each other the entire trip.

"So," she asked, somewhat weakly, "What's your stor... shit."

Before Colin could reply, she saw movement up ahead. She tried to calculate whether she had time to draw her bow, but it dawned at her that the person was wearing camouflage and gesturing to them to move closer. The soldier was also keeping his mouth shut... Sarah knew from experience that if there was one thing shamblers couldn't do, it was keep their mouth shut when they saw potential prey. She should have known by his posture, anyway.

Despite having his rifle at the ready, the soldier allowed the two of them to approach. The armband signified that he was an MP, and she couldn't help thinking that he was a little far from a safe zone to be doing any real policing duties... maybe he was here looking for survivors like the two of them. The thought that the safe zone at the Arch might be doing well enough that they could afford extra manpower for search and rescue gave her another boost of hope.

"Chirst, I'm glad to see you, Sergeant," she said quietly, identifying the rank insignia on the soldier's uniform as they drew near. It wasn't that different from the insignia the cops wore, though she had never quite aspired for promotions within the Department of Natural Resources. The next thing to come out of her mouth wasn't quite intentional on her part... she supposed later that it might have been the simple relief of seeing an armed soldier out in the middle of all this chaos... whatever it was that made her ask, she couldn't stop herself.

"How many people survived?"