Lincoln Myles - Part 1

Linc hefted his carbine a little as he made his way down the alleyway. Trash and debris had piled up in places, carried by day and night breezes, and the refuse of hundreds of thousands of people fleeing, fighting, and forgetting possessions, trash, and belongings. There were a few corpses in the alley as well. He kicked a couple lightly testing to see if there was any sort of unlife in them. There had been no reaction, so he moved on.

Now, ahead was the mouth of the alley with a street.There was a line of lush green vegetation, about knee high on the other side. Behind that was a short retaining wall and an iron bar fence, and what looked like perimeter fence a few yards behind that. That could be a decently safe place he supposed. Coming up to the mouth of the alley, he took cover at the corner of a building with stucco walls, that was an off white color, putting it on his right. He peered down the street to his left seeing grey asphalt, and an abandoned car. Another car was down a couple blocks more. There were palm trees in a few places, and a few more corpses, but nothing too heavy.

Peering around the corner of the corner of the building he was kneeling behind he frowned, finding a red SUV sitting there, blocking most of his immediate view. Moving in a crouch he eased up to the vehicle, then peered over the hood, then stood up, rifle held ready, sweeping the area. There were two women shuffling along the street. One was dressed in a pair of cargo shorts and a pink bikini top which had seen better days. Blonde hair had been pulled up into a tight bun and it had seen better days as well. The hair was grimy and filthy with wind-blown strings of hair fluttering in the wind. Linc could tell she was thin, underfed, sure. The one next to her was older, about the age of a Miami 'early bird'. She was dressed in a button down shirt, in an aqua tone. A little heavier set, she also had what looked like a sarong around her waist. She was missing a sandal. The wind gave a soft billow and the waft of decay hit him in the nose.

Softly, he whistled, sharp enough to get their attention. Both of them stopped, then slowly turned in his direction. The girl in the bikini had several chunks of flesh missing along her ribs, nose missing, and deep gouges of flesh torn from her face. The woman seemed mostly okay,e xcept for what was left of her intestines dangled from her abdominal cavity. Linc shuddered as they moaned and headed his way. Gunfire was a bad idea, so he sighed and reached back to pull out his fireaxe.

Moving carefully he readied for his first strike and swung, aiming for the neck. The shock of impact barely registered in his arms as the axe head sheered through rotted flesh like a knife through butter. It traveled on striking bikini girl across the cheekbone laying part of her face even more widely open and spinning her around, and sending her reeling, almost sprawling. The severed head dropped to the ground with a macabre popping sound, bouncing once before laying still.

The remaining one turned back and he waited, setting himself again and she reached for him, clawing in his direction, but he swept the end of his handle out, knocking her hands away. Continuing with the sweeping motion of his axe, he brought it back around to slam into the side of her head. The neck snapped with sicking crunch, and she fell over. Linc watched as she started to clamber to her feet again, head canting at a horrid angle, dangling almost by the muscles. Before she could rise he kicked her in the shoulder, knocking her over and onto her back, then brought his axe down until it hit asphalt, her head severed as well.

Quickly he rifled through their pockets and found nothing but lint in bikini girl's pockets. The older retireee had a calculator, a notepad, pen, and a sharpie in her pocket. Linc relieved her of them, putting them in one of his own pockets, then took a sip of water from his camelbak, getting almost nothing but air. He was out of water now. Standing up he eyed the fence for a moment when he noticed a pile of burned out bodies, which looked like someone had been disposing of infected corpses.

Deciding he didn't want to try to make it over those barriers just yet, he began heading down the street to the left, where he came to the corner of the fences after about a block. It was then that he heard the gunfire, two shots then a third. "Fuuuck," he groaned. People, sure... but noisy and loud guns. They might as well have run the dinner bell. He swept his gaze around then noticed the appearance of a couple biters.. then a few more. Time to think and act. These things acted a lot like a tide, and he didn't want to get caught by them, raised by the noise.

Reaching back he pulled his hooligan tool off and set the tines in the bottom of the first fence. Backing up, he got a running start, then stepped up, still in a run onto the bar and leaped, catching the top bars while planting his feet on the brick, pusing with his legs, while pulling on the iron to keep him up, hauling himself higher until he got a knee on the flat top of one of the crenelations, then slipped off the other side. He landed with a huff and retrieved his tool.

Looking up at the perimeter fence he sighed. He'd lost his multi-tool days ago and hadn't been able to retrieve it. So cutting through wasn't really an option. Climbing it wasn't tooo much of a problem. Chain link could be done. The barbed wire at the top concerned him some. Stripping off his pack and weapons, except for the pistol, he tossed them over the fencing, then peeled off his dark bunker jacket and tossed it over the barbed wire. It was pretty much puncture proof. He just wanted it to keep himself safe in general.

Backing up he got a small running start then jumped part way up, and began climbing hand over hand, holding onto the support pole of one section while his boots put counter pressure on the fence to lock him in as he worked his way up, to the barbed wire. carefully he latched on, avoiding the barbs, then with a grunt of effort pulled himself up to chest height, then pushed his bodyweight up. Bringing one leg over he set his foot on the top support bar running the length of the fence, then began transferring his weight onto it. It seemed sturdy enough to hold his weight, so he balanced carefully up there. Making sure of the distance to the ground, he leaped beyond the second run of wire. The ground rushed up fast to meet him and his stomach rose up inside, but he made sure to stay relaxed, and bent his legs, but not too much, hitting on the balls of his feet. The shock brought his heels down and sent a reverberation of kinetic energy up through his legs while his upper body tilted forward at high speed. He raised one arm and touched the grass, which turned into a nifty forward roll, transferring the energy across his back and shoulders to his opposite hip, bringing him right back to his feet and spreading out all the shock and force so that he felt little of it. It wasn't any different from an ukemi break fall technique, or too much different than what he'd learned in the military about taking falls, and even some training with the civilian fire department. There wasn't much call for it for most of them, but it was helping protect his joints and stave off injury.
Retrieving his things, he headed around for the back side of the property. If he remembered right, it was a psychiatric hospital, which could be good or really bad. From somewhere inside he heard a deep thud. Another gunshot?

Making his way around toward where he heard the shot he encountered a young female... walker, wearing a blue bathrobe and what looked like patient pajamas from the hospital. He saw her in time before she saw him and planed his stroke on the run, giving a mighty swing, burying the head of his axe into the occipital lobe region of her head. With a grunt he peeled his weapon out the back of her skull and kept moving.

Lincoln Myles - Part 2

Linc came around the side of the building. Off to his right, about two o’ clock was what looked like a maintenence shed of decently solid construction. The area was flat grasses with some landscaped flower gardens and bushes, but mostly a manicured lawn, despite most places being abandoned for the last six weeks or so. And he also found almost a dozen walkers making their way toward him. He had about twenty yards back to the fence. He didn’t want them attracting attention, and drawing more. He also didn’t need them following him, and trying to break through wherever he found to take shelter. Too many to easily ignore.

He made a quick transition to his AR-15, bringing it to his shoulder as he backed up, peering down the iron sights. His first shot took the closest walker, snapping it’s head back and dropping it like a marionette with the strings cut to the grass. His next shot was to the next closest, and it dropped with similar results. The third one he squeezed off a quick shot at. It went wide somewhere. Taking a quick breath, he fired once more, feeling the gun punch his shoulder back. Another miss. He’d now spent four brass with only two hits. Linc could do better. Taking a few steps back he dropped to a knee and fired again. That one went through the nose and out the top of the brain, dropping the third.

He squeezed again only to get nothing. Frowning he noticed a casing was jamming the ejection port of the rifle. Backpedaling a little he pulled the bolt back and pulled the casing out, then pulled the charging handle back, racking a new round and tried again. Slow squeezing the trigger, his next shot blew through the bridge of another walker’s nose, again the closest one and out the back of it’s skull. Swinging to the next one, coming in on his left, now roughly twenty feet, he fired again. The shot took it just below the cheekbone and blew out the other side, but it kept coming, barely noticing what would have been a terrible wound on a living opponent. He squeezed another round off which passed through the far eyeball and blew out the side of the head, but no brain trauma. Growling under his breath he focused. THe next round passed through the ear and out through part of the braincase, dropping it as well.

Half of them were down, but he’d spent a good portion of his ammunition. Switching back to his axe, he slipped toward his right, moving down the fence toward the shed which was nestled in some large bushes and a small stand of trees. He moved just a little slower than they did so they could catch up. The first one he stepped up to and gave a mighty swing with a grunt, aiming for the general head region. The blow caught the zombie in the nose and blew out the back side, shearing the head off at about ear level. Keeping the momentum up he brought hte axe around behind him then up and over, slamming down like he was splitting a log. Only instead of the head he knocked off the seventh one’s right arm at the shoulder. Groaning it grabbed at him but he side slipped it, and then ducked under the next grab only to sweep his axe around, slamming it into the skull, wedging the axehead deep. Before he could pull it free, the cannibal corpse fell, wrenching the axe hard, but not out of his hands. He didn’t have time to pull it free, the other three were close. Close enough to almost touch him.

Reaching back he pulled his pistol free, then slipped under a clumsy grab and made his way away from the fence, taking a few running steps. Setting himself into a modified Weaver stance, he peered down the iron sights of his stolen Taurus pistol. He squeezed off a round, the crack of the shot louder next to the shed. The body dropped, leaving a pair of walkers coming toward him quickly. Taking quick aim he fired off two shots, but only tore out a few chunks of flesh uselessly. He fired two more shots as they closed back within arm’s reach. Backing up he caught his heel on a couple tree roots, sending him sprawling. Groaning he curled up on his back and kicked both hard in the chest, sending them staggering away.

There was a metallic rattling noise about that time and both turned toward the noise. There was the whistle of something cutting the air, then both biters dropped as a man several years older than Linc spun a long-handled and very sharp looking brush hook once before tucking it in the crook of his arm, then stepped close, offering a hand to help the fallen firefighter up. “That was pretty ballsy, but not too bright,” he said, then walked over to the wedged axe and pulled it free with a grunt, then tossed it to Linc who caught it and then gestured for him to follow him into the maintenance shed.

Marina/Docks Area
Christopher Williams - former UC Cop
Boat crew

Chris waited, watching the two men. One of them seemed to be an older gentlemen who made his way down onto the docks off to Chris’ left. He entered a cabin cruiser, out of sight for the time being. He turned his attention to the other man who had a kukri in hand. It was a good blade and was excellent for dealing with the geeks. Chris wished he had one, but the gear he had was what he had available. He could have been using a speargun but if he got into tight quarters it would be a liability in his hands.

It seemed the man wasn’t noticed much by the walkers near the marina, the seven or so that were left. Chris’ muscle car, dark blue, was parked in the marina lot and had been sitting there a while. That was the first thing he wanted to grab, was his gear that was in the trunk. It would increase his odds and give him and Zephy more options. There was also something psychological about having some armor and a shotgun, but then again getting macho probably wasn’t the smartest idea.

Scooting around behind the car he was taking concealment behind, his foot slipped, scraping across some loose gravel which dumped him to the ground. Cursing under his breath he picked himself up and scrambled away, working to stay quiet and low, out of sight. It was more for the geeks that he was worried than the two people nearby. Sure, people might not be as friendly and much more desperate these days, but they weren’t that close by. The walkers were, some of them close enough to smell.

Five of the closest ones slowly turned, hearing the noise. The began shuffling toward the sedan he’d taken cover behind. Chris moved carefully, circling around them. He stayed nearly completely silent as he moved, covered by the sound of wind, waves, and the suruss of the rest of hte city, buildings settling… the faintly carrying moans and groans of other of their kind, the slight bumping of boats in the motion of the water against the dock and each other.

Soon he was edging toward his car, fishing his keys out of his pocket, which he still carried. Reaching up he quietly inserted the key and turned the lock with a grimace. It was crisp and clear enough to carry through the air and a couple of the shamblers shifting around the spot he’d vacated a couple minutes ago stopped and turned then began heading in the direction of this new noise. The others began to follow, simply following the others.

Chris cursed under his breath. Five on one… he could do it. The terrain left him with some options. He could bottleneck them and make them come at him one at a time. At least with a pistol, he could set things up to be ideal. So it was then that he moved away from his car, only to stand up. Seeing food, they increased their pace some, groaning and beginning to advance in earnest.

The former undercover cop checked his surroundings and then began backing up as the followed him, then slipped in between two SUV’s parked next to each other. Raising his pistol he fired at the first, riding the recoil as the gun bucked in his hands. The first one’s head snapped back and dropped, tripping up the second one as he fired. The shot missed but hit the one behind it through an eyeball and blew out the back of the skull. The third one fell on top of the second, trapping it for a moment. Chris took a breath and fired again at number four, blowing the back of it’s head off, then cracked off one more round, taking out number five. It wa almost whisper quiet except for the tinkling of brass on the pavement. There was one still left, so he simply swiveled his weapon down and executed it with a coup de grace.

Chris glanced around checking for the two that had been ambling around. He spotted them near the driving entrance to the marina, still seeming to be oblivious to the fate of their bretheren. Chris ejected the magazine in his weapon which was empty except for the one in the chamber, and pulled out a new one and slid it in, switching the weapon back to safety and putting it away. The magazine went into his haversack.

backpack full of camping gear, including compass, string/cordage, small flashlight, pocket knife, and a bag of peanuts

Chris took a moment to check over the downed walkers. One of them had a decent set of hiking boots by the look, but they’d been worn down by weeks of aimless wandering. The next one had a couple bottles of water in a very small day bag. It looked to be a young man barely out of high school. He also had a towel and a pair of swim trunks. Chris found a small thumb drive in one pocket which he pocketed. Never know what was on one of those.

The next one he checked out looked like marina security. She wore a pair of capris, was missing a shoe and had on a light polo shirt. A baseball cap hung from a ponytail, tangled up with the velcro. The back of the polo read SECURITY in block lettering. On her belt was a walkie-talkie and in one pocket was a tazer. Pulling out he triggered it. Nothing. He looked it over, turning it this way and that. It only took a minute to determine that it was dead, but it could be recharged or the battery replaced. He took the walkie and the tazer and stuffed those into the day pack, which he slipped on his back.

The next one had a pair of gory sunglasses hanging from his shirt. A quick check of his pockets revealed a glasses case that was empty, and an eyeglass repair kit, along with an empty wallet. Chris kept the repair kit and tossed the rest. The kit weighed next to nothing, took up no real space, and its parts could be useful for his own gear and tiny precision tools could be of use for other things.

The last one, he pulled from the pile wore a backpack, a framed type of decent construction. Pulling it off, he opened it up to find a small treasure trove of camping supplies, couple lighters, folding knife, compass, small flashlight, some decent string, like jute twine, and a package of peanuts. Chris took a moment to strip the day pack off, then stuff it into the backpack which still had a fair bit of room. The former cop guessed the man had some training, or had thought it trendy… or perhaps he had been decently prepared, but just a little unlucky.

Glancing around, he looked for the two people he’d spotted, wondering where they went. He knew the older guy had gone into one of the boats… but Chris hadn’t seen him come out yet.

"Wait, wait, wait." Daisy said quickly. "So you brought us down here with no other way out? What is those- those things get down here? Then we're trapped!" Daisy's voice was slowly rising. "Then what!?" She shouted. Why in the world would this man lead them to a dead end. Things could go terribly wrong and they could all die if there were enough Walkers to break down the door. Or what if they never leave? Then they'd really be stuck.

Daisy took a deep breath and sighed, running a hand through her hand and pressing her back against the wall, slowly sliding down it until she was in a sitting position. She should have just tried to figure things out on her own and go somewhere else in the building. She was sure that she would have been able to find an empty room she could lock herself in until things died down. At least if she would have done that, she'd be able to have an easy escape out a window or something. Daisy hated feeling trapped and that's how she felt right now.

Deleted.

Accidental double post.