The Pain of Survival

[Mammoth]

“--- The disease that has been contracted by these unidentified citizens appears to be extremely contagious. It is advised that people stay in their homes until absolutely necessary. If you have come into contact with an infected person, please quarantine yourself and contact emergency services immediately.”

The radio hissed silent after that chilling message had played. The door was swung open as a young man sat on the edge of the driver’s chair and smoked a cigarette. His blue eyes stared off blankly at the meter on the gas tank as it slowly ticked up, the clicking of the meter drowning out the chaos surrounding him. When the lurch of the handle broke him from his daze, the reality of the situation started to weigh on him.

Dozens of cars, filled with men and women in a panic. Each shout was louder than the next as they fought over who would fill up next. The attendant in the station didn’t even bother. He had locked himself in the bathroom hours ago. Jack sat and surveyed the chaos until a glass bottle whizzed by his head.

“GET THE FUCK OUT OF THE WAY, ASSHOLE!” The woman screamed, pointing at him.

Jack quickly put the nozzle back and locked his fuel cap on before he jumped in a pulled away. He was glad his truck had the extra fuel tank in the rear. He wouldn’t be filling up again until this chaos was under control.

“People panic far too easy…” He said, talking to himself under the hiss of the radio and the emergency broadcast system message, “Then again… That report didn’t sound good.”

Jack had spent the last 3 weeks with his best friend touring the country in his truck. A cross country road trip that they’d both wanted to do since they were kids. They only recently had the time. Jack hadn’t had an hour since he dropped off his friend until the reports started rolling in of an outbreak of an infectious disease. It was spreading fast. The symptoms were fever, headache, weakness, necrosis, and eventually loss of sanity. It was transmitted through bites, scratches, or contact with the infected. The terrifying part was that the people who caught it were attacking others and eating them.

Jack wasn’t sure how serious it actually was, judging by how the media tended to react to anything that might be a story that would bump their ratings. He’d do what the radio said. Go home, make a sandwich, and wait to this thing to settle down.

*** 4 Hours after the outbreak ***

“Hey, Rich! I’m home!” Jack yelled out as he walked in the door, shutting and locking the small home on the outskirts of south suburban Chicago that he shared with a co-worker. There was no response. Jack assumed that his roommate must be out and about. The guy was rarely around, anyway. Jack couldn’t help but shake. He had held it in on the drive back, but the scene at the gas station troubled him. He sat down on the couch and took a few deep breaths.

He hated conflict. He’d always had an uncanny ability to deal with it in the situation, but he never could keep his shit together afterwards. Hell, fights at work between construction workers could get ugly, and when they did, Jack could hardly work for about 10 minutes afterwards.

When his nerves finally calmed down, Jack walked out back to have a smoke. His roommate's car was out back, and there was blood on the door. “What the fuck is that,” Jack said as he moved toward the door. There was blood on the handle, on the door, and on the ground leading to the house.

His breathing shortened as a ringing started in his ears. He felt light headed and his hands slowly started to tremble. Pounding in his head was the sound of his heartbeat, like a drum that he couldn’t stop. He tried to slow himself down and take a deep breath. It didn’t work.

Dropping the cigarette from his mouth, he turned and ran into the house, heading up the stairs to Rich’s room, where he saw nothing but a bloody handprint on the bathroom door. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up as a cold sweat rolled down his forehead. His body shook as he reached for the door handle.

“Rich?” he said quietly as he opened the door.

The sight that he beheld he would never forget. Not until the end of his days. His roommate and friend stood there staring at him. Eyes glazed over and almost lifeless. Blood was everywhere. But the worst of all, was Rich’s throat had been ripped out.

“JESUS!” Jack said as he slammed the door shut and his roommate started pounding on the door, growling and snarling, scratching and biting. He could hear the teeth gnashing behind the closed door, and Jack fell back onto his butt as he backed away from the door. His breathing now was labored and rapid, and his vision clouded from the corners as panic set in.

“Aww man… What the hell, Rich.” Jack said, frantically as he got to his feet and quickly bolted out of the room and down the stairs. He noticed the drops of blood leading upstairs, something he had missed before as he nervously made his way up there. That was when he started thinking about what else he had missed.

Rich couldn’t have made it far before bleeding out with those injuries. “Oh fuck.”

Jack swung around and his back door was still open. He hadn’t shut it when he walked inside trying to figure out what had happened. That was when he heard the growl. Exactly like Rich, he turned and saw a man standing in the hallway, except this guy had his stomach ripped apart. Jack could do nothing but scream in terror as he backed away and the man grabbed for him. Jack fell over backwards and scrambled backwards on all fours.

The man in front of him had fresh blood all over the place, his guts were still spilling out of him as if it had just happened. Jack scrambled to his feet and grabbed the bar stool at their dinner table. He threw it at the man, knocking him over. Snatching up his keys, Jack bolted for his truck out the front door.

*** 8 Hours after the outbreak ***

“HEY! GET THE FUCK OUT HERE! WE ARE NOT STAYING NEAR CHICAGO!” Jack screamed into his phone.

“No, I don’t give a fuck what the TV said. Those people ain’t sick! They’re dead! Get the fuck out here and get in my truck… No… NO! I don’t care if you have your neighbors over. It’s time to fucking go! Trust me! How do I know? Because I was attacked by my roommate with his throat ripped out and by some fat old bastard with no guts! That enough for you?! GET THE FUCK OUT HERE!”

*** 1 Week after the outbreak ***

They sat out in his truck some 100 miles outside of Chicago in an empty parking lot for a hardware store that had clearly been looted: his best friend, a kid, and the kids’ father. Jack shook with fear as he listened to the radio. He had taken back roads and non-highway routes since a lot of other people had the same idea to get the hell out of town. Nobody talked. They just listened to the radio.

“Be warned that the disease is spreading quickly. Quarantine zones are being established inside the city. All cities within the immediate Chicago area are classified as a pandemic level 10, newly established to mean a mortality rate of greater than 90%. The infected hearts are stopping before they rise to attack the living. Currently, the only known way to disable the attackers is to destroy the brain... God help us all…”

Suddenly the voice over the radio became frantic as the sound of gunfire can be heard, “I’m being told we have to be evacuated from the station. It is this reporters opinion that it is best to stay away from hospitals or any high concentrations of infect---.”

“TIME TO GO! Soldier, bar that door!” another voice interrupted.

“James Mary, signing off.”

The group sat silently as static came over the local NPR affiliate.

[Squee]

"Sucks we had to come back, huh?" Harper grunted as she reached around Jack to the backseat of his truck, bending her back in a way that looked like it would break at the slightest push. The air tickled at her stomach as her blue tank-top rose with her stretch. If she had been with anyone else, she would have been more careful about that, but with Jack she didn't really care. They had been best friends for over twenty years and if she was going to be shy around him now, then there was something off in her brain. Her long slender fingers finally found the sewn handles of the bags she had carried on their trip, and she came back around to the front of the truck swinging them around absentmindedly. Harper's lips stretched across her face, the skin around her neck contracting as she watched one of the duffle-bags graze the top of his head.


"Sorry," she said with a laugh through gritted teeth as she threw the bags out of the truck and onto the sidewalk. " I'll catch up with you later. Maybe breakfast tomorrow? I'll buy." The woman turned from him, her hands pushing her off the seat and onto the earth below. She had always been short and Jack's truck didn't make her feel any taller. As she closed the door and bent down to pick up her bags, the engine of Jack's truck roared and he drove away. He had been low on gas, so it made sense for him not to idle waiting on her and it definitely didn't hurt her feelings in anyway. She looked over her shoulder, watching the truck turn the sharp curve just past her house until he was out of sight. Harper sighed, rolling her head on her shoulders, her long ponytail tickling her back.


There was something wrong in the air. It didn't feel... right. For such a warm day, the children in her neighborhood should be outside playing, but she didn't ever hear the sound of a bird. She didn't entertain the crazy thought, though, as it exited her mind as fast as it had entered. A smile tugged at her lips as she began to wonder why she had been standing on the sidewalk for such a unusual amount of time. The neighbors would begin to think of her as silly, if they didn't already.

As she made her way to the front door and, after a moment of fumbling with her keys, into the house, the telephone begin to ring. "Well good grief, it's like they're psychic!" she said with an exasperated sigh, throwing her bags on the couch and bounding for the phone that sat upon her fireplace mantel. She picked it up on the third ring as the Caller ID registered the number. Harper rolled her eyes with a small smile as the cold earpiece came to her skin. "Did you have Dad outside the house watching for me, Momma?" she said with a laugh.


"Harper! Oh, it's so good to hear you. Have you see the news? Are you alright? What about Jack? You two didn't have any trouble, did you?" The woman on the other end of the line sounded frantic. By her breathing, Harper could tell that her mother was definitely worried about something.


"What are you talking about? I'm fine, Mom. Jack just left; he's on his way home now." Her blue eyes scanned the couch and the coffee table, looking for the remote, finally spotting it underneath the decorative pillow her sister-in-law had given her for Christmas. Harper took the two steps to the couch and reached down for the control. In her ear, her mother was talking but Harper wasn't paying much attention. She had always had a hard time concentrating, especially when she was multitasking. "Hang on, Mom. I'm turning it on right now," she sighed into the phone as her fingers pressed the power button and then the numbers 4 and 5.


"--- The disease that has been contracted by these unidentified citizens appears to be extremely contagious. It is advised that people stay in their homes until absolutely necessary. If you have come into contact with an infected person, please quarantine yourself and contact emergency services immediately.”


"Harper? Harper? Harper Claire, answer me! Jeff, Jeff, I-"


"I'm here, Momma," Harper breathed into the phone, her blue eyes staring at the television. What had she just heard? It sounded completely terrifying whatever it is.


"Is anyone there with you?"


"No, it's just me. Momma, what's going on?"


Harper's stomach turned at the silence on the other end of the line as she listened to her mother's labored breathing. "Channel Ten has been talking about it for the past thirty minutes. I don't really know what's going on. I'm sure you'll be alright. You're healthy, you and your brothers. Whatever this...epidemic is, I'm sure you all don't have to worry. Just sit tight and don't go anywhere." The older woman paused for a moment, allowing Harper to hear her father yelling something in the background. "Your father says he loves you and to call us back later this evening. I'm going to call Thomas and Melinda now. Love you, Harper."


"Love you," Harper whispered into the mouthpiece, as a chill ran through her. Her eyes widened with realization that she had left the front door standing wide open. Hanging up the phone with a push of the button, she walked across the living room and entered the doorway, looking out across her neighborhood. Families were starting to leave their homes, some carrying suitcases. She swallowed nervously, forcing down the lump in her throat, as she closed the door and bolted it shut. They were insane. This was only like the Bird Flu or something crazy like that. It wasn't worth getting into that big of a panic over. But no matter what her brain tried to tell her, her gut told her that it might be more than she could handle. No, Harper didn't have a good feeling about this at all.


-[Eight Hours Later]-


"You'll have to see it one day, Aldo. Monument Valley is probably my favorite locations out of everywhere Jack and I visited. The colors were so vibrant and the landscape was so beautiful, it just took my breath away," Harper commented after giving her neighbor's the digital camera to look at as she talked about the trip. "I don't know about you, but I love nature. It's absolutely gorgeous. Nothing better than-" The sharp noise of the phone made her jump and after a brief nod to her guests, she stood from the couch and grabbed the phone. When the Caller ID registered the number, she glanced at the company on the couch and made her way into the kitchen, clicking the 'Talk' button as soon as she stepped through the doorway.


"Jack? Hey, I-." Harper nearly dropped the phone as Jack's voice pounded through the earpiece. Once his voice lowered a little, she placed it back to her ear. "What you do mean? I can't leave Chicago! The television said it was just a virus outbreak. It'll be over wi-. Jack, I don't think..." She put her hand over the mouth piece and peered out of the doorway, looking at Aldo and his father. After bringing her head back into the kitchen, she removed her hand. "I have company over," she whispered back, suddenly feeling like an impostor in her own home. Leave? Why? "How-How do you even know they're -dead-? How do you know that-." She was silent for what seemed like hours, her blue eyes widening as her long fingers came up to her lips, covering her mouth with the palm of her hand. Finally, she nodded. "I'll be there as soon as I can."


Harper looked at the phone as she brought it away from ear, pressing the 'End' button with hesitation. It suddenly brought up a whole new meaning to her. Her body shuddered, causing her to grab a hold of the kitchen counter. Inhaling deeply to regain her composure, she walked out of room and cleared her throat. How would she put this? Would they come with her? She bit her lip and exhaled, forming the words in her head. "I don't know how to put this, but.. this.. thing. I know you've heard about it. This.. 'epidemic'. Apparently it's more dangerous than the news is letting on. I am leaving to meet with a friend. We are going to leave the city. We can't stay here. You can either join me or stay here, but this is your only chance." She looked at Aldo's father, "I'll leave it up to you, but I am going to go pack and I'm going to be leaving within the hour."


-[One Week Later]-



Silence. Once, she would have found peace in the calm, stillness of the outdoors. At first, Harper never wanted to believe Jack. This wasn't a movie, after all. It's real. Things like.. this, wouldn't happen in real-life. Couldn't happen. But something did. Something fucked all of this up. She looked down at her hands, scraping at the dirt inside her left ring finger with her thumb. Her arms shook with nerves that Harper didn't even know she had. Scared? Harper? Never. Not truly. Until now. She brought the finger up to her mouth, nipping at the nail with her teeth, a nervous habit she had gotten over years ago.


"James Mary, signing off." Static.


A chill ran through the woman, causing her entire body to stiffen for a brief moment, another sign of her old-self that she thought she had left behind. Her stomach growled loudly, causing a blush to rise of her cheeks with embarrassment. At least she hadn't dully reverted back to her tom-boyish nature. She reached down under her feet to the duffle-bag she had never unpacked from the cross-country trip but had added a few more things to. Cliff Bars. There were only four more left, and then they would have to find something else. She opened one, the packaging crinkling under her fingers, and then tore off small pieces and began to hand them out to whoever would take it. It wasn't much, but it was better than nothing.

[Vulture]

Aldo Warwick


“--- The disease that has been contracted by these unidentified citizens appears to be extremely contagious. It is advised that people stay in their homes until absolutely necessary. If you have come into contact with an infected person, please quarantine yourself and contact emergency services immediately.”

Aldo Warwick groaned to himself as he leaned his head back against the headrest of his beat-up old Camry, smelling vaguely of General Tso's chicken as it always did. "Happy fucking birthday, Aldo," he said to his reflection in the rear-view mirror. "Just had to get on the 55, didn't you?" he said with a wave out his windows, taking in the bumper-to-bumper traffic. In boredom, and rationalizing he was unlikely to go anywhere, Aldo took a moment to look over the locked-in cars around him.

They seemed very heavily laden, full of people and with bags and trunks lashed to the roofs. This wasn't normal rush hour traffic. Aldo grimaced as he saw one motorist, dangling his hand out his window. The man seemed to be clutching a handgun. A warning. Back off. That was weird even for Chicago. Where the hell was everyone going? Did it have something to do with the announcement on the radio? Another scare like SARS or swine flu. Meant he was surrounded by the most paranoid and excitable people in the city. Fantastic.

"C'mon, this is ridiculous," he said to no one in particular as the traffic managed to crawl another four inches in the general direction of Saint Louis. Thank God he was done making deliveries, Mr. Han would tear him apart if he was late for any reason. Hong Kong Kitchen had a reputation to uphold, the old man was always saying. A reputation for providing cheap greasy food prepared in a questionably hygienic environment, Aldo always added sourly.

He realized he was being unfair. Mr. Han had been more than kind to Aldo, even taking the time out of his busy day to help Aldo prepare some of the paperwork he would need to live separately from his father and assuring him of a pay raise shortly after turning eighteen. Mr. Han was a bit of a curmudgeon, sure, but no one could deny he had a big heart. Aldo was glad there were at least a few adults in his life he could depend upon.

Like Harper. A very nice lady, always happy to lend a helping hand or a friendly ear. Aldo thought of her as something of a big sister.

Aldo abruptly remembered that Harper had invited them over later today, a fact pushed out of his mind by a long shift as a delivery driver. How could he forget? He had planned on dropping the bombshell at that little get-together, finally telling his father that he intended to move out. No way Dad would beat Aldo up in front of witnesses. Not that stupid.

Finally, moving out. A dream finally becoming reality.

If he ever got out of this traffic.

Aldo switched the radio over to the AM traffic station, a hidden gem that had helped him immensely as a delivery driver. He cursed as he discovered the 55 was backed up all the way to Shorewood, possibly further. He wasn't going to get anywhere, and Dad would probably slap him one for being late. Forget it.

Losing patience, Aldo abruptly turned off and drove a short distance along the shoulder to the first exit, ignoring the honks of outraged drivers. He knew the surface streets well enough to get home quickly. Might as well get there, get a little sleep before the get-together.

He failed to notice the figure stumbling drunkenly in the overgrown weeds along the highway, lurching purposefully towards the stalled traffic.

-[Eight Hours Later]-

Aldo nodded politely as he looked through the vacation photos Harper showed him. It did look like a lovely place, but his thoughts were elsewhere. Throughout the entire gathering, he had been looking for the right opportunity to make his announcement, to tell everyone he was moving out. But the right moment never seemed to come.

Or he was scared to come out and say it.

He jumped as the phone rang, realized how nervous this was making him. He had to just come out and say it. He had been waiting for this since he was twelve. Now, on his eighteenth birthday, he could actually act on it. As soon as Harper comes back, he promised himself. Just as soon as Harper comes back.

Harper returned, looking rather ashen, as though the news she had received had shocked her. "I don't know how to put this, but.. this.. thing. I know you've heard about it. This.. 'epidemic'. Apparently it's more dangerous than the news is letting on. I am leaving to meet with a friend. We are going to leave the city. We can't stay here. You can either join me or stay here, but this is your only chance. I'll leave it up to you, but I am going to go pack and I'm going to be leaving within the hour."

Aldo blinked, took it in, then jumped up. "Harper, I'm coming with you." He looked over at his father. "Dad, I'm sorry, but I'm eighteen now. You can't tell me what to do." With that, he turned and headed for the door, intending to go home and grab a few things.

-[One Week Later]-

Aldo sat on the bed of the truck, listening to the radio broadcast. By the sound of it, there wouldn't be another broadcast for some time. He rolled the steel pipe he had found in the back of Jack's truck in his hands. The cool metal felt good against his sweaty palms. Besides, the primitive animal part of his brain took a great comfort in clutching something heavy and hard. Fight or flight. Seemed like it had been all flight the last week.

It had been a rough one. Aldo's eyes were bloodshot and bleary. Even when they had managed to set aside a few hours for rest, Aldo had been unable to get much in the way of sleep. He was constantly looking around, cringing, waiting for someone to hit him or bite him.

"James Mary, signing off."

Aldo nodded to himself as static took over the airways. Of course. They were all of them fucked, why should the radio people be any exception? He looked up as Harper offered a piece of a Cliff bar, nodded a weary thanks as he reached out with shaking hands to take the morsel. Guess eating wasn't a bad idea.

"So what now?" he asked quietly.

[ClockworkDaisy]

Randell Warwick

For the most part Randy lived in a haze, he was barely able to make it to the bathroom most of the time and was far from being what the doctors called 'high functioning'. Randy just got on with it the best way he could. Sure, if that meant he had to stagger from chair to table to door frame in order to get something to eat then that's what he did. He'd long ago eliminated the need to walk to the fridge by purchasing a cooler he kept by his recliner and if the beer ran out or he was just in need of something a bit stronger, there were spirits of all sorts stashed around the place.

Randall flicked through the channels, focusing on nothing for over long and swigged on his beer until they came to reruns of Springer. Randy guffawed at the antics on screen before passing out.

-[8 hours]-

There was little Randy could do when the boy got it in his head to play happy families. So today he just went along with it. Randy had even put on a fresh shirt and sprayed some air freshener under his arms. There was a time when, despite the drinking and brawling, Randell James Warwick had been a good looking guy. Hell, the ladies had fawned and fussed over him and he could play 'em like a fiddle. These days though, well, Randy just satisfied those kind of urges with the porno movies. It was much less demanding of him and he didn't have to listen to 'em whine about how the lawn needed mowing afterwards.

Dragging him next door to the good looking broods place so she could show them happy snaps, Aldo had been hovering just outside his father's rage for a hour or so. It wasn't like he didn't love the boy- sure he did, somedays he was even close to being proud of the kid - its just that he looked so much like his damn mother. Sounded like her too. It was the eyes though, those bloody eyes, looking at him with recrimination all the damn time. Wishing that he was a better man than he was. Expecting more of him then he could give. Randy remembered when the boy was younger, after Charlotte had gone, the kid standing at the window for a long while just waiting. It'd made it hard to enjoy the game and Randy had growled something, didn't matter what in the end, the boy just came and stood by his chair. Asking for something with that voice of his.... just like hers. The emptiness that had been consuming him since the moment she walked out of the door, blue suitcase in her hand - hell! He'd brought her that damn suitcase! - threatened to swallow him whole at the sight of the kids eyes. He'd hit him before he knew it, smacked the look of his mother out of his eyes, the woman had always been so sure of herself he didn't think he'd ever seen her scared. The boy's eyes were scared. It was better that way. He looked much less like his mother.

The bitter bile rose in Randy's throat just at the thought of it, the tightness in his forehead that signaled the start of his annoyance forced him to lift his index finger and rub the space between his brows in an attempt to relax. He was always so near to snapping these days, the drink did less and less to ease the ache inside. Randy was about to grunt at some comment from the woman but the boy cut him off, the disrespect of it bit Randell to the core and his hackles rose but the ringing of the phone broke through before his mean streak could surface.

Harper returned, looking rather ashen, as though the news she had received had shocked her. "I don't know how to put this, but.. this.. thing. I know you've heard about it. This.. 'epidemic'. Apparently it's more dangerous than the news is letting on. I am leaving to meet with a friend. We are going to leave the city. We can't stay here. You can either join me or stay here, but this is your only chance. I'll leave it up to you, but I am going to go pack and I'm going to be leaving within the hour."

Aldo blinked, took it in, then jumped up. "Harper, I'm coming with you." He looked over at his father. "Dad, I'm sorry, but I'm eighteen now. You can't tell me what to do." With that, he turned and headed for the door, intending to go home and grab a few things.

What bloody epidemic? Randy's thoughts were a tumble of cunfusion and his memories of the last few days, hell, years were a fuzz he could barely break through. The woman and the boy seemed concerned though and Randell had enough of a sense of self preservation to push himself roughly to his feet to follow the boy out into the street.

-[One Week Later]-

Randell was running low on alcohol. He'd rummaged every place they'd been, looking in all those spots that weren't so obvious to someone without a habit but which made perfect sense to a drinker. The back of the toilet, in the cistern. Behind books on the shelves. In the laundry hamper. Once or twice he'd struck it lucky and had even found some tablets that some Stepford wife had left with a bottle of red wine but he'd tossed them aside. That shit could mess you up.

Now as the boy sat beside him lamenting their fate, Randy was worried. The cooler was near empty and he could feel his muscles getting tight. He hadn't hit the boy since this whole damn journey began, it'd been good for him to take some of that anger out on those monster things and he hadn't felt the same irritation. Now though.. well the red haze of anger, the aching pit of pain in his chest.. these things were getting stronger.

"So what now?" he asked quietly.

Randy's voice was gruff in reply, the voice of someone unused to speaking often and when they did, doing so at high volume though it was now just as quiet as the boys. He answered the question he thought the boy asked, what he heard.

"We pray, boy. Your old man has a thirst and if it ain't met there's no telling how long it'll be." Randy rubbed his eyes and took a careful sip from a bottle of something brown that burnt. "Shits gonna get messy."

[Mammoth]

Jack's breathing was all he could hear, the gasp of his lungs pulling in air that he wondered why he even continued to breathe at this point. When the radio had gone silent, he hadn't moved. His hands clasped the wheel tightly like if he let go he would fall into oblivion to never return. His eyes bloodshot from exhaustion, he stared out the window. He hadn't blinked for a while, and he could feel his eyes drying out and starting to sting. His hands weren't shaking anymore, just gripping the wheel. He finally snapped out of his daze when Harper handed him some of a Clif bar.

He realized he hadn't had a full meal in days, just whatever junk they had left from their trip. The only time they stopped was to either clear the way on the road or to quickly search for anything that might help them out. The looting had already begun, and most people stayed well out of sight, fearing either looters or the dead. Randy had stayed drunk in the back, which kept him quiet, much to Jack's relief. Jack hated that man. He was the type that caused problems at his job, the type that his sister had married, the type that beat her when she didn't do exactly as he said. Jack knew that he may not be able to control his nerves, but when things get ugly he's capable of doing damage. He'd seen himself do it before. But, he knew he couldn't waste time on such thoughts. Things weren't the same right now, and the drunk had already proven himself useful when a couple of the walkers came out of a car they were pushing off the road.

Harper and Aldo had been quiet for most of the ride. Harper's face was often ashen-white as she thought about the current situation. They hadn't talked much since they got back on the road, which was fine considering Jack didn't have a single thing to say. Aldo had been gripping that piece of pipe from the truck bed for a while now. He was a good kid, for the most part. Troubled, of course, but what the hell could you ask for with the kind of upbringing he had. Jack tried to help him out when he could, but he was no father figure. He only barely managed to get his life in order and he spent most of his time working. He figured that wasn't much of a concern now.

His mind was oddly clear for the first time in a week. Thinking about the people he was now stopped in a parking lot with sort of put his mind at ease. When he pulled his hands from the steering wheel, they weren't shaking.

"So what now?" Aldo broke in, snapping the silence that had gripped the group for some time now.

"We pray, boy. Your old man has a thirst and if it ain't met there's no telling how long it'll be. Shits gonna get messy." Randy replied, his voice sounding like it had been dunked in whiskey and left out in the sun to rot.

There was a short pause until Jack opened the door of the truck and swung his legs out, stopping to look back at Randy for a moment. "Shit's not gettin' messy. Not in my truck. We clear?" Jack said, the lump is his throat rising up as he forced it down again with a hard swallow. He walked back to the toolbox in the bed of his truck and pulled out a hammer with a hatchet end on it. He had forgotten it was in there, but it was a damn good time to have left it there. Jack walked back around and sat down in the driver's seat again. A small axe and a pipe weren't going to get the job done, even if Randy was wicked with a liquor bottle.

He sighed and started to come to terms with what he was about to do.

"Judging from the r-radio," Jacked stuttered, pausing to take a breath and calm himself, "this probably isn't ending any time soon. Two... Well, three if you count that cooler full of empty bottles, weapons ain't going to cut it. No way that store is empty. I'm..." Jack breathed slowly again, "I'm going to go take a look. There's got to be something we can use."

He pulled the truck up closer to the building, but a good enough distance that they could see things coming if they needed to. He leaned over and grabbed the flashlight from behind Harper's chair. "Whoever is driving... not you," He paused, pointing to Randy, "Keep it running and be ready to get out fast..." He paused to sigh and swallow the lump in his throat that nagged him as his hands started to shake again, "Who knows what I run into in there..."

"Someone want to come with me? I'm not exactly c-crazy about walking in there alone..." Jack said, re-thinking his plan. He turned around and looked at Randy, then Aldo, then Harper. Randy had proven he was capable of killing them, but he was so hammered at this point Jack wondered if he could even walk. But, nobody doubted his courage. The man didn't even hesitate when the two came from the car however many miles back. He really hoped someone would come with him...

[Vulture]

"I'll come with you," Aldo volunteered. He jumped down from the bed of the truck, took a couple practice swings in the air with his pipe. "Time I did something for our living." He raked his hair through his matted dreadlocks, smoothed them back.

Truth was, Aldo was terrified. It was still fresh after the past week of endless terror. It hadn't stopped being scary, and he suspected it never would. He tightened his grip on the steel pipe, hoping to hide his shaking hands and sweaty palms. He had to take control. For the first time, he had to take control of his life. Even if it just meant swinging a pipe at some things. Had to do something.

He took a deep breath, hoping to calm his nerves, and squinted at the shop. "I'd be worried about setting off an alarm, drawing in more of those things. Think the power is still on in this area?" He wrinkled his nose. "Where even are we?"

[Mammoth]

Jack nodded as Aldo volunteered to help out. The kid had guts, something Jack had lacked at his age, and still did to a certain extent. He slowly walked up to the doors, which were a heavy wooden make with small windows about head height. He was gearing himself up to look into the building when Aldo spoke, "I'd be worried about setting off an alarm, drawing in more of those things. Think the power is still on in this area? Where even are we?"

He stood there for a moment, looking at the door, and finally looking through the window, seeing the place had been pretty thoroughly tossed but a lot of items still littered the floor. He didn't see any Walkers from the door. "Alarm might be on, but these places usually use silent alarms, at least I think so. Who knows how much longer the power stays on," Jack said, rubbing the sweat beading down from his forehead. "I think this is Milford. Tiny place, clearly. Ain't nothing but corn fields around us for 40 miles or so. I don't really know, though. We'd have to check the map in the truck... Looks c-clear"

Jack nodded to himself, looked at Aldo, and sighed as he grabbed the handle to the store's front door, his hands shaking and sweat pouring down his face. He nodded to the kid and opened the door, stepping back as light poured inside the building, which was an old masonry building with no windows. The power was still on, but the building was very poorly lit, probably from the lights being shut off when they closed up as the chaos started. Jack very hesitantly walked inside, clicking on his flash light and carefully peering around. The place was a mess. Racks had been dumped, nails and screws and all sorts of various hardware items littered the floor. It looked clear inside, but as they learned from the Walkers in the truck, these things didn't make much noise unless given a reason to and tended to not do much until you alerted them to your presence, or so they had been assuming. "Look for a light switch," Jack whispered, looking around and slowly scanning the area with his flashlight as he moved into the building.

It didn't take long until he found it along the wall behind the cash register. He flicked the switch and the lights flickered on, illuminating the small building. There was a door in the back, and racks lining the aisles. It wasn't easy to see much down the aisles, but the front of the store was relatively open. Jack, finally coming a bit to terms with what he and Aldo were doing, started looking around for something they could use. "Weapons, tools, whatever you think we could use. Grab it and lets get the hell out of here," Jack said quietly, his voice quivering as his heart raced.

He flicked off the flashlight and searched around the cash register, checking the drawers and the counter space for anything useful. He was reaching around the safe under the counter, and he found just what he hoped he would: A .45 pistol kept by the store for protection. He was shocked that nobody had taken it, but maybe everything happened so fast that they didn't have time? He didn't know, but this place seemed oddly deserted, and would likely be the most secure building in the area besides the old church down the road. There was only 4 bullets in it, oddly fitting, as Jack's panic stricken mind considered what he had never thought he would. A bullet for each of them...

He shook the thought free as he looked up to see where Aldo had gone off to. To his horror, at least a dozen Walkers were streaming out of the hallway to the bathroom, some of which had clearly been eating one another, as the bloodied bodies and missing limbs were a sight none wanted to behold.

"ALDO! WALKERS! TIME TO GO! NOW!" Jack yelled as they turned toward him as he looked around for Aldo and started backing toward the door.

[Squee]

((OOC: Collab post between myself and Clockwork))
Randy hopped out of the truck then kinda grunted and let Aldo go. He hovered uncertainly by the truck a moment clearly uncertain what to do.

"Come on, Randy. You can keep watch with me," Harper said, leaning out of the open passenger door, before she scooted to the driver's seat.

She reached over for the Cliff Bar that she had laid down after Aldo and Jack started for the store. "You know, you might want to eat something," Harper muttered after watching him for a few more moments. "You look like you're going to break at the slightest gust of wind."

"Might be that I'm gunna.." Randy raked his hand through his dark hair, how the boy and he could look less alike he didn't know, must've been the boys mothers genes ran through him. "Thing have been mighty tense of late."

He slid into the front of the truck, glancing sideways to her a moment before looking to where Aldo and Jack had gone.

She broke off another small piece into her hand. One or two more pieces and she would have to open another bar. Harper held it out in front of him, hoping he would take it. She looked at her hands. They were filthy but a part of her felt like Randy wouldn't mind.

"Something tells me you might be talking about something other than these....things we've seen," Harper replied softly, raising an eyebrow. She put the rest of the Cliff Bar between them, putting Randy's piece on top of the wrapper for when he wanted it. She turned toward the wheel, flipping the key from just the radio to the engine. Her foot pumped the gas pedal for one a second, urging the engine to fully wake up. She had seen far too many movies where the vehicle failed to start in the time of need and getting it over with assured her that that wouldn't be her.

Watching as she broke off a piece of the bar, Randy canted his head dark eyes growing curious as she proffered it too him. She looked Down to her hands and his eyes followed wondering what she was thinking, probably that she would have to stand him touching her and he was curious to know if her flesh was crawling at the thought. He was hungry though, he could normally fight off the need for food with the burn of alcohol but it'd been a while now and even his broken down body need some sustenance.

He nodded, extending his hand to take the bar even as she set it down on the seat and felt something die a little inside of him. Well how about that. There was something left that gave a damn. . He picked the bar up and took a bite, savoring the flavours. it had been so damn long since anyone had touched him. Years even. Charlotte used to dull the ache in his bones, the emptiness would slip away.. Then she was gone too..

"Things ain't exactly been a day at the ballpark. That's fer sure." Randy studied the world beyond the windscreen, commending her starting the car with a nod of his head, the engine was running smooth as it could all things considered. "I've had myself some times, rough and easy. I expect we all have one way or another."

He turned his gaze to her, levelly, running his fingers along the stubble thick upon his jaw. When he spoke his voice was raw with something undefinable.
"Soon enough I'm going to have a day without the drink... The first in ten years.. I don't expect that will go too well."

Harper's blue eyes scanned their surroundings, keeping a close out for anyone, no thing, that could be near. She heard him take a bite from the bar and a small smile pinched her lips. About time he ate something instead of nursing the bottle he'd found. Her tanned hand went back to her hair, filthy with grease and dirt, and pulled her final hair tie from her wrist, twisting it a few times around a makeshift ponytail. After she tucked her bangs behind her ears, her hands returned again to the steering wheel.

Ballpark. Her thoughts immediately found their way to her parents. A knot formed in her gut and throat as her eyes grew dark. Had they made it out? Were they alive? Where they dead? Truly dead or not? She chewed on her cheek as she listened to Randy's voice and his words. She had barely noticed when he stopped speaking and came back to herself when she turned to see him watching her. "What? Oh," she said quickly. She nodded slowly. "Yeah, it might not. But with all of this negativity around us, I would try to think of something more positive. You could be..." One of them. She had almost said it out loud and for some reason that bothered her. She didn't wish it on him at all, no, but she didn't want him to take it that way. Her blue eyes scanned his face, trying to see what he might have looked like before the chaos and the drink had hit him. Perhaps he had been a good looking back, but she couldn't see it now.

Positives, Harper. She worked her mouth into a small smile, taking her own advice. "I'll sure you'll make it. With difficulty, sure. But you'll make it."

Randy turned back to the windscreen, staring beyond it to the world that had so recently gone mad and nodded his head seriously.
"I'm sure I will. Shit floats." Randy took the last of the Clarke Bar in his mouth and chewed on it, ruminating all the while he masticated. He was just sinking into a thought about the day Aldo was born and the argument they'd had over his name (who named a bloody kid Aldo anyway? What was wrong with something good and solid like Doug or Wayne.. ) when he noticed movement in the shadows to the front of the building.
Leaning forward trying to discern just what he had seen, Randy lay his hand silently on Harper's arm and gave it a squeeze, raising one finger in a silent gesture of warning.

Harper stared at him silently, unsure of what exactly he meant. Was he mocking her? She felt slightly put down by what he had said. After all, she had only been trying to help and move a conversation along. She opened her mouth to begin to speak when he leaned forward and touched her arm. Her lips had started to form a word when her eyes caught sight of what he had found. A.. thing.

"Shit.." She moved her arm from her hand, placing it on the steering wheel. What was she suppose to do? Harper tried not to panic, especially with Randy. He was already better at remaining calmer than her, and he was the drunk. They both watched as the figure staggered closer to the entrance, another not too far behind. Her body shook as her fingers found the gear shift, and her foot found the clutch. She had only driven a stick-shift once in her life and that was years ago. What the hell was she doing now? She pressed the clutch and the brake, pulling and pushing the gear-shift and wincing at the loud screech of metal against metal that filled the air. She let up off the brake and pressed the gas as she finally got the truck into first and the engine roared. At least Jack and Aldo would have heard the truck, known that something was up. The truck rolled across the lot, the driver in a panic and the passenger all but forgotten by her.

One of the walkers turned to see what the commotion was behind it, only to be met by the front bumper. Harper squealed as the truck bounced over its body and hopefully it's head. She slowed the truck as it came to the entrance, the engine loud enough that Harper knew she wouldn't have to sound the horn. She turned to Randy only for a moment before looking back out of the windows. They would be lucky enough to survive her driving.

[Vulture]

"Oh, Christ!" Aldo cursed as he heard Jack's warning. He had knelt to examine the floor in the dim light, hoping to find something, anything of any use. You never knew when a handful of screws or a roll of tape might come in handy. Luckily, this left him in a perfect runner's crouch. Aldo was young and wiry, and lent speed by fear. He exploded upwards and sprinted for the front door. He even managed to pass Jack by a few strides.

Suddenly Aldo skidded to a halt, cursing to himself. His pipe. He had forgotten his damn pipe. He had yet to use it for anything, true, but it'd be suicide to wander around out there without something he could use to defend himself. It was almost a totem to him. He turned an about-face, raced back towards where he had left his pipe on the floor.

He turned around a shelf, then cringed as one of the creatures loomed in front of him, its one remaining hand outstretched, groping blindly through the air towards Aldo. Without thinking, Aldo jumped forwards, his stiffened leg extended. His forward momentum transferred into the sole of his dog-eared Keds, from there into the chest of the walker. It stumbled backwards, giving Aldo time to sidestep, duck and launch himself forwards.

He saw it lying on the floor, the galvanized steel glinting dully in the weak sunlight. Aldo could sense the creature behind him wheeling about, could hear it moan as it reached for him yet again with that abominable one arm. Grabbing the pipe off the floor, he swung in a wide arc. The pipe smashed into the side of the thing's knee with a wet crunch. It crumpled to the floor, as Aldo leaped over it. His Keds squeaked as he closed across the linoleum towards Jack. "Jesus, that was close," he remarked as he streaked past Jack out the door.

[ClockworkDaisy]

"Come orn, Boy!" Randy's gravel voice yelled to the front of the store, arm and head protruding from the rolled down window. He was risking it, taking a hell of a chance, but that was his kid and be damned if he was going to let anything scare him. It was easy to just pretend this was one of them video games that the kids played, that he was just watching from afar, for now at least. Flickering in the corner of his eye Randy noticed movement off to the side of the doorway, the very same doorway that his boy was going to emerge from any minute and he pushed open the car door, lurching forward bottle in hand.
Pausing a moment to take a large final pull from the bottle, the brown liquid burning its way down into his gullet, coursing through his veins like liquid fire and filling his limbs with that mind numbing peace, he nodded his head in agreement with his internal dialogue. Smashing the bottle against a trash can, Randy called out loudly.
"Come an' get me! I dare ya! I dare ya to come an' get me!" Randy waved his arms and made as much noise as he could muster, drawing the attention of two lingering infected once-somebodies. Matter o' fact, Randy couldn't help thinking and taking some joy from the fact, that one on the left happened to look a lot like his ol' parole officer..

As they came on towards him Randy caught sight of his reflection in the windows. The red flannelette shirt he wore open and his eyes bloodshot, the white singlet he wore stained yellow with sweat and the stubble darkening his cheeks all adding up to paint a portrait of a very unlikely hero.

You ain't no hero and don't think for a moment anyone is going to let you forget that. That's still your boy though, no matter what..