It was terrifying, really. Exhilarating at the same time. It reminded him of tag as a kid, and tag was an awesome game... You never knew if you'd outrun the person that was it when they were right on your heels. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the danger growing stronger - fate inching closer and closer to Mark as he wedged his shoulder between a deep gash in the wall of the living room, trying to see if he could fit through it now.. But, could not. He reared back, tears streaming down his face as the dust from the busted up drywall made his eyes burn like the hot intensity of a thousand suns. It coated him now, in his nose and mouth, all in his hair. And let me tell you from experience, dry wall does not taste good.

He steadied his footing, blinking out the pain as he wrenched his arms back and heaved the cheaply designed vacuum cleaner clear through the wall. It busted through bits of broken wall, tore through some fluff of insulation, but stopped hard against a structural element within the wall of the condominium. It had to be some wooden beam, like a 2x4. He was lucky he wasn't hitting any electrical wiring, but... His luck only went so far.

Mark had the couch shoved up against the sliding glass door to the balcony of the second floor condominium, but it was barely an obstacle for the determined mob of walkers throwing themselves against the already pretty-much shattered glass panes, and going head first over the spine of the couch. Mark threw his gaze violently to the intruding zombies, glancing for only a moment before crying out and slamming the vacuum cleaner into the wall again. The vacuum was wrecked harder than a DUI crash, and stuck between a beam and part of the drywall. It didn't matter though, Mark wasn't a fatass and he didn't have particularly broad shoulders, so it would do.

He charged the makeshift opening, going shoulder first through the urban crevice into depths unknown... Not really, it was just another shitty condominium loft on the other side of the wall he could hide in. The only thing unknown about it was the raunchy smell that hit him. Uncoordinated as he was, he banged his head going through, and despite trying to keep calm he was flailing and writhing between the opening of the wall as he tried to slither through.

Fuck.

That's when the burning hit. Immediately, every exposed part of his body - specifically his face and hands - that were going through that wall were on fire. Not like, literal fire, no. He didn't freaking combust. I'm talking about something even worse. Fiberglass insulation. That shit was eating him away now as he brushed through the pink fluff that seemed so comforting, so cloud-like. He knew this feeling all too well.

Then things got worse. Something grabbed his ankle just as his shoulder wiggled through into the other room, and he was halfway through the wall. Mark let out a panicked scream, and tried to push off with his heels through the wall, growing more and more desperate with every passing moment. It felt like he'd been in the situation for hours, but really it was maybe thirty seconds and he was already about to piss all over himself. But in spite of all he persevered, although unable to turn his head back around to see what had grabbed him in the tight space. He knew all too well what it was though. Mark continued to kick violently, finally slipping free as he wrenched through and crashed on top of the coffee table in the center of the living room. It was hard to see, and he still was tearing up from the dust in his eyes. His cheeks burned from fiberglass splinters.

Mark rolled over onto his back, groaning from the obviously very traumatic experience; and leaned up on his elbow as he went to get on his hands and knees, stumbling up to what looked like a tall bookshelf at the other side of the room. He walked into the wall beside the bookshelf, hitting his thigh against the edge of an end-table as he did so, and gripped the side of the bookshelf. Hastily, he began dragging it across the room with much effort - knocking vases, pottery, pictures, books, and all kinds of stuff all over the room in his wake as he hauled ass to get that bookshelf across the room. He tripped as he finally got the corner of the bookshelf against the other side of the wall, hammering his nose against something in his fall - hands outstretched awkwardly as he came down against the wall near the crevice he had made. Instantly he was cupping the bridge of his nose - or should I say clasping his whole face painfully - as blood streamed down all over himself, and he struggled to get the bookshelf against the hole... Mark shouldered and hip bumped the shit out of it until it budged up against the wall, breaking the fingers of a walker that was reaching through against the edge of an exposed 2x4.

It wasn't over just yet though, he had to take care of the balcony door of this condominium now. He stumbled and swayed to the crippled coffee table which had a fractured leg after hitting it coming into the room, and dragged it through the open glass door of the balcony. With his hand no longer cupping his bleeding nose, he heaved the table out onto the concrete patio and shoved it between the wrought iron railing descending down to the ground below. He was only outside for a split second, but even then he got a glimpse of the scattered group of walkers shuffling through the grassy courtyard of the gated condominium community - specifically the place where everyone takes their lap dogs to shit - and they were coming towards his building.

Mark hurried back inside, nearly whimpering as he went as he just wanted all this stress to end. He looked for something to barricade the stairs more with, and then went for an end table.. Mark grabbed it by the legs, tipping over everything on top of it over onto the floor in a tumble before waddling it over onto the balcony; and stacks it behind the coffee table...

[OOC:]
I'm going to stop here and post, then continue after.

"Fffsk!" Mark yelped, making one of those sharp inhalations through gritted teeth. "Ahhh..." He exhaled now, much like a scene in Family Guy, painfully rubbing his hands and fingers together as cold water washed over his red beaten hands. On the floor beside him was an empty bottle of soap whose top had been pulled off, and the whole thing of soap had been poured into the sink. Have you ever done that once? Got the water running in the sink and then poured a whole bottle of soap into it... Bubbles. Everywhere.

Bubbles were foaming out of the drain like a volcano, soaking through Mark's torn up long sleeves and swallowing his hands whole. It burned like hell, but he knew it was helping to remove some of the loose fiberglass splinters. He paused for a moment, grunting and brushing an itch at the corner of his eye with the back of his wrist. His face felt hot and heavy, but the cold water soak he had earlier did good to expel some of the annoying stinging. However that dry California air was pounding down on him in the tiny bathroom which lacked air conditioning, causing him to sweat bullets.

Bringing his hands back up to his face, Mark splashed some of the flowing water onto his cheeks again and gently rubbed away what was left of the dry blood from his lips and nose. He closed his eyes briefly at the bliss, his head dipping forward thankfully as he felt the cold seeping into his pores and washing away the blood, sweat, and tears. He then stopped, lowering his hands shakily into the flowing cloud of soap that poured out the edges of the sink bowl and he looked into the smudged mirror blankly. Mark thumbed a few strands of dark wet hair from his eyes, tucking the long locks away behind his ears as he stared at himself. There was still a miniscule amount of drywall dust peppering his face, mostly contrasting in the thick stubble he was mistakenly cultivating. The grey of the gritty powder made him look much older than he really was, giving his thinly beard a salty speckle.

He sighed, and Mark flicked some of the soapy bubbles from his fingers before raking his hand through his stubble briefly; dispelling the dust and grime before stepping away from the vanity. He looked at himself one last time before frowning, and turning on his heel out of the bathroom and into a hallway that was pretty much the crossroads of the compact condominium. Right off of where he stood was the living room, kitchen, bedroom, and front door - the front door which gave an occasional thump and muffled groan as cold bodies pushed up against it.

Mark stood there. Looking, and listening. There was an unending hum in the air, an orchestra of groans and stumbles that tumbled through the California suburban jungle. Every hour or so, there may have been an occasional scream or gunshot... But tonight it was relatively quiet.

He stared on through the living room, eyeing the blood smeared sliding glass door as he watched the jumble of furniture fidget and shiver as a shoulder-to-shoulder line of walkers tried relentlessly to walk up the blocked stairway. I didn't think even the dead could be that oblivious. Was there an animal on earth, other than maybe a fish in an aquarium tank, that was that stupid? Did it not see, or even understand for that matter, that there was something in its way...

But those thoughts as humorous as they were, terrified Mark. Deep down he was praying they remained oblivious to the world around them. It was ironic in a way; you know how people go about their lives thinking, "Why is the world so god damn stupid sometimes?" We all think that. Well now people were completely bat shit, and Mark couldn't explain how thankful he was that they couldn't pull together the brain cells needed to reach over and simply untangle the mess of furniture.

He stepped through the space like a ghost, cautiously yet seemingly effortlessly as he droned into the kitchen and stopped at the refrigerator. Held to the face of the fridge by a circular magnet was a picture of some guy unusually close to another guy, arms around one another, sunglasses on at the beach and sipping Starbucks. He wasn't sure why he was coming to a certain conclusion, but maybe it was the offensive graffiti on the wall of the living room that said, "Burn in HELL faggot!". Mark glanced at another magnet on the fridge, which was the logo of the Philadelphia Eagles. He approved.

Opening the fridge, it was hard to see in the relative darkness. The smell was pretty bad. It was terrible actually. Anything good had been looted, and what was left was an open bottle of spoiled milk. There was a good amount of mold covering the packaging of everything else he could make out in the dimness. But one treasure was salvageable, the only beer he could stand to drink, which was a single bottle of Heineken. It's not half-bad when it's warm too, making it the perfect beer to store a bottle or two in your tackle box when you go out fishing for a bit.

He pulled it out of the shelf and shimmied it into the back pocket of his jeans, shoving it past his dead phone and some loose change. He immediately moved to the pantry, unknowingly humming to the buzzing tune of walkers shuffling around outside the building. But it really wasn't a tune, it was just random mumbling. Mark was too exhausted to search thoroughly, and it was getting harder and harder to keep focus and see. He did make out a small box of Slim Jims, or believed he did. With a dip and sway, he reached out for the box and stole away the greatest American snack - lucky enough, it actually was a box of Slim Jims.

Although he didn't feel hungry, he knew somehow that he was starving and running off fumes. He tore the box open as he walked to the couch, slumping down onto the comfortable cushions. The guy knew how to pick furniture. Not trying to be stereotypical, but it was true. Although the condominium was obviously small and meant for someone with a poor job, it felt homely and... Rich. Mark leaned back into the couch with a heavy sigh, staring across the room at the black flat screen as he chewed a Slim Jim slowly - relaxing beneath the "Burn in HELL faggot!" as he watched the blank TV.

Mark knew this was going to be a really long night, lack of sleep or peace. He was too on edge, it wasn't safe to close his eyes despite the exhaustion. But, at least he had his favorite show to keep him company.

I guess.

Maria looked towards Luke at his last comment saying the should wait for awhile or put it to a vote to be leader, he knew how she was acting back in Pendleton but she didn't care that much what he thought of her she simply just shrugged it off she was the one willing to make the tougher decisions unlike the others. Maria walked into the garage and found a mattress that wasn't being used and laid down on it going to sleep. Katelyn followed her older sister and got into the same mattress as her sister and quickly fell asleep curling up closely to Sophia.

The next morning Sophia woke up looking towards the others seeing that they were all still asleep, she quietly got out of her bed letting Katelyn sleep soundly they would be leaving once everyone was awake and packed. Sophia quietly headed up the stairs noticing that Marshall wasn't with them that night, she quietly knocked on the opened door seeing Marshall sitting by the window and approached him. "Hey, couldn't sleep" Sophia asked softly as she walked over an leaned up against the wall, her eyes looking down at Marshal calmly. "You should get ready and pack before we head out."

Conell awoke a few hours later with a stretch and a yawn that quickly turned into one of those weird stretch/yawn yells. He quickly pulled back the cover of the bed he had borrowed. Obviously he had kept his word and he was glad that he did. The apartment may have been one hell of a shit hole but the previous owner seemed to have decent taste when it came to beds at least. Although pretty much anything could be considered good compared to what he was used to. He got up off the bed and caught himself in a rectangular body sized mirror on the wall. He hadn't seen it last night because of the darkness but now it was pretty damn clear due to the morning light shining through the windows.

Conell stared back at himself. The thing most of note was that he was stark bollock naked. He hadn't slept with his clothes on if he could help it since he had left prison. Back there he always had to be ready. He had absolutely no control over his life. At any moment his cell door could open and five men could rush in all with shanks to make Swiss cheese out of him. Out here he could nearly always be up and ready to take on a threat before they could get to him and he was using that fact to full advantage. It had been a dream to sleep somewhat comfortably again. So yeah, apart from noticing that he was in fact naked he saw his eyes first. It was hard to see in the low light but they were blue. Blue and bright. Bright and wild and cold all at the same time. He was actually happy about how his eyes looked, a lot of the cons back in prison had those dead, hopeless eyes. It was like all life had been drained from them. They had fought and they had lost, but instead of getting back up and into the fight they remained in that state. Permanently defeated. Or at least that was the tale their eyes told.

He then moved his eyes down and checked his body out for the first time in quite a while. He didn't exactly know how to describe himself. Lean would probably be the right word. He wasn't fat and he wasn't skinny. He was a tad bit on the thin side he guessed, but he had stocky shoulders and a kind of well built physique. He exercised regularly. Had done for many, many years. There were no diets in prison though. No protein shakes. Still, he was in good enough shape, good enough to kill a man twice his size toe to toe anyway. Though he imagined that was more to do with how violent he was. Very few surpassed him in that field.

Getting dressed he soon found himself in the kitchen once again, rooting through all the drawers. It didn't take him long to find the tin opener. Walking back to the bedroom he retrieved the can of beans from his backpack and ate them hungrily. He was going to save the spaghetti for a special occasion. Fed and ready Conell made sure his SMG was properly loaded and strapped his weapons and backpack on before heading off. He didn't really know where he was going, but he would find something. Out here you always did.

Marshall continuously watched the Walkers do what they did. "Man." He says under his breath. He goes downstairs, about 3 AM and opens the garage where everyone is sleeping. He is silent though, no one could hear him open the door. Everyone looked peaceful. It was as if the apocalypse never happened - everyone was sleeping, and looked peaceful. Looking around at the mattresses Marshall thought about maybe getting some shut eye. Walking back up the stairs he was thinking about how everyone would be going to his house - a nice thought, had there been no end-of-the-world. He lied down on the hard floor, attempting to sleep. He didn't sleep. After about half an hour of no success he simply sat up again, sat on the windowsill and dangled his legs out the edge again.

Marshall's thoughts flew from one end of the room to the other every minute. Amy, Noah, Luke, Katelyn and Sophia, the guy he shot. Maybe the Government will be successful and clean this shit up... What is there without hope? He thought to himself. The sun rose - looking over the houses it reminded him of how things used to be. Having to wake up early to the sound of little Noah crying - watching the sun rise with his beautiful sun in his arms. If it was Noah that the man grabbed instead of Sophia, Marshall doesn't know if he would've shot him twice. He would've probably emptied the whole 6 bullets in him. Marshall spits out the window - thinking about the rapist. "Asshole." He says.

He heard a knock on the door, turning around to see Sophia enter. Hey couldn't sleep. She stated - "Same here. I didn't really think I was going to get much anyway." He said, talking about rest. You should get ready and pack before we head out She said to Marshall. "Hmm. Didn't really unpack but I've got a few bits and bobs around. How's Katelyn doing?" He asked curiously.

Some time passed, and soon it was around 8:00 AM. "We should get down stairs and head out like you suggested. You know what's weird? I'm not even that tired. I feel awake completely. Odd." Marshall looked at Sophia's eyes and his thoughts flew. "I er... Uhm. Y-yeah, let's go downstairs. I'll be down in a sec' gonna brush my teeth." Marshall said, He looked at Sophia again, then left the room - walking across the hallway into the bathroom. Shower, Bathtub, Sink and a Toilet. Marshall sighed. He took out the toothbrush from his pocket and used the toothpaste that was at the side of the sink - brushing his teeth. "Mmm. Minty." He stated, as he left the room, walking downstairs. He leaned down next to Luke, shaking him gently. "Mornin' man. Get ready 'n shit, get people up and shit. Nice sleep?" Marshall asked Luke, with a friendly tone.

Soon after, Marshall grabbed his back pack and walked out to the car. He opened the trunk, putting his backpack inside it - and a few other goods. He walked in and out the house, carrying whatever bags of supplies we had - though it may not be much. He wasn't tired or dazed. He was just normal. One Walker spotted him out the front of the house. Only one, he crouched down next to the car, after shutting the door - no other Walkers were following that one to the house. Once it got close Marshall kicked it's knee cap, forcing the Walker to fall down. He took out his hatchet and repeatedly bashed in its skull. Phew. He got up and looked around.

Shit.

He sprinted inside. "Everybody!" He shouted. He ran in to the garage. "Guys! Wake the fuck up! Now!" He shouted, looking around him as everyone looked at him confused. "Walkers. Lots of them. They are comin- "He stopped his sentence, as he heard bangs on the front side of the house. "They're fuckin' here! Too many of them. We gotta fight out way through them to the car!" He took out his Smith & Wesson. "Get your bags, get your guns, we gotta go!" A window smashed - one of the Walkers hands broke through it. Another - and another. There must've been around 30 Walkers outside. Marshall ran through to a room where they were breaking through some of the windows - they couldn't climb through obviously. He had no choice - they weren't taking out 30 Walkers with mellee weapons - no way. He aimed his revolver and aimed at one of their heads. Blam He started letting off rounds whilst shouting at people to start fighting their way to the car. "Cumon!" Marshall climbed out of the window and was now in the drive way. Axe to the head - two Walkers down.

He looked around him, seeing people letting off rounds and killing Walkers, helping each other towards the car - fighting off the infected. Marshall was the first to make it to the car -standing outside the drivers seat. He didn't mind driving or not. He was still taking out Walkers - he didn't get in the car. Not until everyone else was at it. He observed others fighting and what not - doing their best. "How did this all go to shit so fast." He said to himself as he watched the others make their way to the car. Marshall leaned back against the driver seat door as the Walkers were getting a bit close to him.

Luke flinched slightly as he felt someone nudging him but he woke calmly and smiled tiredly at the other boy, sitting up and running his hand through the hair, his fingers momentarily getting caught in the curls. “Morin’ man. I slept like a log, oddly enough, must be exhaustion catching up to me, still feel a bit tired actually.” He looked over to the others and nodded slightly, figuring he could wake up the others easily enough, though he took note that Sophia was already awake. Nodding as Marshall left he looked to Ash and gently shook her, the girl groaning sleepily as her eyes fluttered open.

“Time to get up, get your stuff, we gotta get going soon okay?” He said as he stood up, looking around at the other sleeping figures. He thought he’d steer clear of Maria for now; she kinda scared him a little. Sophia could handle Katelyn. Autumn. Approaching cautiously Luke eyed the spear cautiously as he knelt down, readying one hand to grab the weapon if Autumn didn’t wake very well. “Hey, wake up.” He said gently, his eyes not leaving the spear. Reaching out Luke carefully placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder at a place where he may be able to stop an attack if one occurred.

“Autumn, wake up.” He called again. “Look… about yesterday… I’m sorry okay? I was… probably out of line and there’s no real excuse for it.” He left it at that and got up, walking over towards Katelyn before he heard Marshall yelling and he looked around worriedly, Ash looked to him fearfully as Marshall said there were a lot of walkers coming in they house and they needed to get to the car. “The side door!” He shouted, running to Ash and helping her up grabbing his own bag and machete as he led her out the door to the side of the house. Most of the walkers were focusing on the main house, the side was fairly empty.

From there it was a fairly short trip to the front and into the car, where Marshall was already waiting. He lifted Ash up into the car and then looked around. “Now you stay here alright? I’ll be right here.” He looked around once more, trying to find Katelyn and Sophia amongst the chaos. “Fuck man… I just… fuck!” He didn’t have a gun, just the machete, even if he had he doubted he would have been much use with one. He had never really learned to shoot.

Autumn was passed out flat on his back completely bare-chested. He woke up to the sound of someone talking, shaking his shoulder. "Chloe leave me alone. Just five more minutes and I promise I'll play with you." Blearily he opened his eyes and saw that it was Luke. "Oh shit, I was still dreaming. Thanks for waking me up." It took him a good minute to fully compute what Luke was talking about, "I'm sorry too man. Let's just... start with a clean sheet, alright?"

Pushing himself up he looked around for his bag and clothes when he heard a yell come from Marshall. "Walkers!" Snatching up his spear, Autumn turned to stab the nearest one when he heard a smashing sound and they began to break through the door. Slowly moving back Autumn looked around him and saw Luke and Ash make their way out the side door. Turning towards Sophie and Katelyn he shouted at them, "Come on quickly. They're going to get through that door quickly!" Before he had even finished his words the door busted open and the walkers poured through.

Autumn moved up to the closest one and thrust out with his spear using both hands for extra power. The tip of the knife burst through the front of it's chest and clean through the back of it. But the things didn't die, moaning it attempted to come closer to him and bite his hands. In it's attempts it pushed itself farther and farther down the shaft of the spear, more of its guts and dirty blood splattering out the back. Rearing back Autumn kicked the walker in the chest powerful enough to shove it off the end of the spear and onto the ground. He moved in close and holding the spear close to the edge, shoved it in the walker's eye. Blood splattered out spraying across his bare chest.

Straightening up he saw a walker moving in on Katelyn and Sophie. He tried to move to take it out, but before he could get close enough to stab it something on the ground grabbed his ankle. The spear landed on the ground with a clatter and he flipped over to see a dead woman trying to bite him. Kicking with his bare foot he forced her back enough to grab something nearby. A small wrench, Using it he quickly shattered the walkers head and reached out for his spear still thinking about Katelyn and Sophie. The spear was slippery with blood from the walker he had stabbed before and he couldn't get a good grip on it. Helplessly he watched as the walker got close and closer to Katelyn and Sophie.

Sophia looked at Marshall and nodded at him, she headed back down the stairs to the first floor and towards the garage she grabbed their packs and shook Katelyn awake, she lets out a soft groan her eyes slowly started to open. Sophia watched as Marshall headed towards the garage door he was busy grabbing supplies and loading them into the car, that's when she heard Marshall yell walkers she quickly got up and ran towards the window that was in the garage seeing a large horde of walkers coming towards the house. "Lets go!" Sophia yelled Katelyn quickly nodded grabbing her things and started to load them into the car. That's when they started to break into the house, Katelyn watched as they broke through, Maria was holding a baseball bat and was outside making her way towards the car hitting them in the skull that got close to her.

Sophia watched as Autumn was holding back some walkers with his makeshift spear, when they were getting closer Sophia took out her 1911 and fired a shot right at it's head, when another walker was getting closer to Autumn Sophia fired it again shooting it in the head. "Lets go Autumn!" Katelyn yelled as she ran over towards him offering a hand to help him to his feet.

When everyone was in the car Sophia quickly started up the pilot and quickly pulled the car out of the driveway and made their way towards the San Diego Freeway, she remembered Marshall lived in Fallbrook which was about an hour drive or so from where they were however Sophia knew that the larger freeways would be full of cars having experience it on their way towards Pendleton. Sophia didn't realize that they were running low on fuel until about five minutes they were well away from the town of Dana Point and the car came to a stop.

Sitting shotgun, Marshall just looked around whilst they were on the move. Walkers, cars, buildings. Lots of damn trees. He looked back and saw Ash sitting on Luke's lap. Marshall nodded at Luke - reassuring him everything was okay. A few minutes in to the drive, Marshall unholstered his gun - checking the rounds in it. He reloaded 4 more, so that there was 6 ready for the next encounter. He holstered it - and moments after - the car stopped. "The hell?" He said, as he looked at the gas levels. "Damn shit." He opened his door, swinging it round, then stepped out. He looked around but didn't see much. He approached Sophia. "Should've considered gasoline - damnit. Okay. Me and..." Marshall stopped and looked around the group members. "Me and Luke will walk up ahead, I remember this road. Should be a gas station up ahead... Not sure if we'll find any gas though. Maybe some cars we can siphon gas from though. We won't be too long. Take care for now." He said, as he left Sophia's side and headed towards Luke.

"Hey, Luke. Hold up a 'sec. Need a favour." Marshall stated, as he stopped beside Luke's side. He looked down at little Ash, giving her a genuinely friendly smile. Marshall turned back to Luke. "It's not fair of me to ask, but up ahead, about 10 - 15 minute walk is a gas station, cant see it from here. I'd feel safer going with some backup. Fancy it?" He asked. "Bring the girl if you want buddy - just don't fancy going without you by my side to stop me from bein' eaten' alive." Luke agreed, and with that, Marshall approached the pilot - opening the trunk and taking out an empty bag. They started walking towards the gas station, turning back as they left to walk - "Be back soon everyone. Keep safe." He stated, as he turned around and began to walk up the road.

They took one of the turn off's, a side road leading to the gas station. Shortly after - they made it there to the gas station. Only one Walker in sight, at the entrance to the gas station shop. There were a few cars around - all of which were abandoned, dusty and muddy. Few dead bodies - blood stains, rubbish on the ground. The windows were dusted up so they couldn't see in to the gas station unless they entered - which would come soon. Marshall looked at Luke, signalling to stay there until he had taken that one out. Looking around, Marshall picked up a few stones, throwing them at the Walker. It turned around and began to groan - as it stumbled towards Marshall. When it was close enough, he kicked it in the knee, it fell and he sunk his hatched into it's skull - killing it. He turned around, looking at Luke again - giving him the all clear. They all walked up and entered the store part of the station.

No Walkers inside. Not many supplies, either. He passed Luke the bag and asked him to help Marshall put whatever's left in the bag. Marshall found a few candy bars on the floor, half a bottle of water behind the counter. "Find much?" He asked Luke - as he passed him his findings. Marshall walked back to the counter, kicking in the door that led to the back. "Score." He said. Two jerry cans and a fuel siphoning tube. "I've been thinkin'. Maybe if we split up in to two cars, give people more room and shit. I appreciate you comin' with me buddy." He stated, as he put his hand on Luke's shoulder - nodded, and exited the gas station store.

"Don't think there's gonna' be any fuel left in the pumps. But there's a few cars around, maybe we should pick one, and siphon the gas from the rest." He said, as they begun to look around the cars. There was only five, but at least they got a choice. He noticed something that appealed - a Nissan pick up, 2011 model. "Not sure if it's got good mileage on the gas but I guess we'll find out." He stated, as he grabbed the cloth from his pocket and wiped the dust and dirt off the windows. "We can put the supplies in the back." Marshall said, walking to one of the near by cars and begun siphoning fuel into the jerry can. Once he did that from one car, he put the fuel in the pick up - and moved on to the next car to siphon from that.

Conell had been walking for quite a while now and apart from the few walkers he had come across there wasn't all that much to see. He had definitely grown tired of this part of the county. It was time to move on once again, and for that he would need a vehicle. First though he had one more place to have a quick look through. It was a small convenience store, but who knew. Maybe it hadn't been thoroughly looted yet, or maybe whoever owned the place before the goodness hit the fan liked to keep a revolver behind the counter. Conell certainly wouldn't mind finding a little side-arm. That was enough premeditation for him, it was time to loot that shit.

Walking in through the unlocked front door he started working his way down the two rows that the shop had. It had been pretty thoroughly cleaned out already unfortunately with most every shelf standing empty. Conell's eyes lit up when he saw a few jars of baby food still on one of the shelves however. Those things were invaluable in a situation such as the one America seemed to be in. They held all sorts of nutrients and shit. Didn't taste half bad either. With the actual store scavenging done Conell headed behind the till and into the back room. Hopefully there was something half decent hidden back there. He didn't get a chance to look however because as soon as he walked in some asshole was swinging a golf club at his head like he was Tiger fucking Woods or something. It was violence time. He wouldn't be able to draw his weapon up before the man took another swing so he would just have to put him down as quickly and as brutally as possible. Conell reacted with lightning speed, ducking under the club and throwing a powerful punch at the right side of the man’s ribs before coming back up and wrapping his hands around the left side of the man’s head, using his body weight and pulling it as fast and as hard as he could towards the door frame and cracking the blokes head on it. With that the man fell but Conell wasn't done. He could still be dangerous. As he fell onto his back Conell followed up, raising his foot up and bringing it down on the man's face once, twice, three, four times. His face was battered and covered in blood. His nose was definitely broken and his jaw may have been too. As long as his skull wasn't cracked by the door frame he should probably end up surviving though.

He was making this really horrible, hard to breathe, in extreme pain noise as well. It was kind of like the sound some walkers made but more intense. Conell had heard it before though, once or twice. It was the sound some men who had been really badly beaten and were having trouble breathing made.

“Yo, prick, in your nose and out your mouth.”

“Uuuuunnnttth.” The dude wasn't getting it.

“Breathe in your nose and out your mouth!” Conell yelled. He was starting to lose it a little, but then the man started doing what he said and quieted down, getting whatever fucking state he was in under control.

“Good lad.” With that Conell started looking around, there wasn't much to take. Or rather there wasn't anything to take. Whoever had owned the store probably took all the shit that meant anything when they left. With that done Conell started searching the floored man, his blade in his hand.

“Move and I'll finish the job.”

He didn't have anything on him really, a small Glock made handgun. A Glock 19 maybe. Conell checked the chamber and magazine. Four rounds. He then tucked it into the back of his jeans. The man looked to be around thirty. He had what seemed like black hair and a goatee, though the colour was hard to tell in the dim light.

“Right. I'm going to leave now. I'm taking your handgun but I'm gonna leave you this one jar of baby food here. Eat it when you're feeling up to it. Now, I'm sparing you because you didn't try and shoot me, but if you come after me I will kill you, do you understand? Good.” Conell smiled, getting to his feet and walking to the door.

“In the future mate, try and use brains before bullets, so to speak. Trust me, this lone wolf shit ain't that fun.”

---

About an hour of walking later Conell found himself coming up on a gas station. He needed a reliable vehicle to travel in and this would be the place to find one, or so he thought. As he got closer though he spotted people and went into a crouch. He really needed a car, he didn't want to walk and scavenge for who knows how long. He needed to move fast and quick. He couldn't risk taking down three people though. There could be even more that he couldn't see. The only thing to do was to approach. He tried to make himself look friendly, but with even more blood now staining his white t-shirt and carrying three weapons it was a feat a little hard to pull off. Still he tried. There were two men and a little girl. Maybe they were fairies? The men he meant. Whatever they were the girl was a good sign. He doubted they would outright execute him him in front of her, but there was always that chance. He hoped this wasn't a mistake.

“Yo!” He yelled. “You lads friendly?”

----

Six Humvees sped out of the entry control point at Camp Pendleton, and moved eastbound down Ammunition Road. Each truck was outfitted with several water-filled jerry cans mounted on the back in addition to a spare tire. Camo netting was tightly rolled up on each side of the vehicles, and peeking out from the hatch at the top were four Marines manning crew-served machine guns. These crew serves consisted of three M240B’s and one M2 Browning .50 cal, which was mounted on top of the lead vehicle.

Lieutenant John Hartstock commanded the lead vehicle. He sat in the passenger seat and manned the radio and Blue Force Tracker, a device that showed satellite imagery of the convoy’s current location and route. The operations order that had been briefed to him by the commander about two hours earlier had outlined exactly what this mission was going to entail. He and his convoy would move along Ammunition Road until they reached South Mission Road, where they would take a left and keep going north until they reached West Fallbrook Street. It would be here that the convoy would halt and block off the intersection and try to locate survivors. John knew however, as did the rest of his platoon, that this task would be easier said than done.

John reached into the front pouch of his body armor and retrieved an M-4 magazine. He carefully loaded into his carbine, pulled the charging handle back, and chambered a round. He then picked up the radio hand-mic and addressed the convoy.

"All victors this net, this is Renegade-1 Actual. Radio check over.”
John listened for a response.

“Renegade-1, Renegade-2. I read you loud and clear.”

"Renegade-3. Lima Charlie.”

“Renegade-4. Lima Charlie.”

“Renegade-5. Lima Charlie.”

“Renegade-6. Lima Charlie.”

Once all vehicles in the convoy acknowledged his initial transmission, LT John Hartstock keyed up on the mic once more.

“All victors, Be advised. We are now at weapon condition one. Maintain proper distance and spacing from the victors ahead of you. From this point on, execute proper noise and sound discipline. We are about 20 mikes out from our objective. Keep your eyes and ears open, and stay frosty.”

John looked over at his driver, Lance Corporal Sykes. The kid was either eighteen or nineteen years old, John couldn’t remember for sure. He knew Sykes was from Riverside, and enjoyed skateboarding and surfing on his free time. He gave the kid a faint smile, but it was not returned.

He’s nervous. John thought to himself.

In the seat behind him sat Gunnery Sergeant Thaddeus Shull, a combat veteran of three deployments to Iraq during OIF and one deployment the year before to Afghanistan during OEF. He was tough-as-nails, and everyone in the platoon knew it. John was glad to have him as his platoon sergeant.

Seated in the passenger seat behind the driver was Private First Class Williams. He was a native of Las Angeles, and had ties to various street gangs. Although his family ties are questionable, his sense of duty and loyalty to the Corps has never been an issue. He has always accomplished tasks on time and to the standard, and John considered him a great addition to the team.

Manning the .50 cal was Private Barns. He was a quiet one, from what John could remember, and only seemed to speak until he was spoken to. His fellow squad members considered him a little weird because of this fact. However he could effectively put more rounds on target than anyone in the entire company, which is also why John had him as his gunner.

“At least we have priority for showers when we get back.” John said, trying to lighten the mood.

Gunny Shull grunted, “Yeah, but I bet those Bravo Company losers waste all of the hot water.”

John laughed. “Well Gunny, you can’t have your cake and eat it too.”

“I don’t eat cake, sir. It isn’t healthy.”

“Oh right, I forgot. You’re on the cigarette and brandy diet.” John mocked.

“Say what you want, sir. But I still max my PT test.”

John rolled his eyes and turned back around to face the front. “I still can’t believe you’re riding my ass. My grader didn’t count one of my pull-ups, otherwise I would have maxed too.”

“Excuses, sir.” Gunny Shull snickered.

At this point the six vehicle convoy reached the intersection of South Mission Road.

“All victors, be advised. Renegade-1 Actual crossing Checkpoint 1.” LT John Hartstock stated, as the six humvees took a left onto South Mission Road. A few seconds later, he heard truck six acknowledge his transmission.

“Renegade-6 crossing Checkpoint 1.”

(( @cheap_thrills, please post an CS application in the OOC and wait to get accepted before posting.))

Luke looked around as the car stopped and carefully slid Ash off his lap, getting out along with Marshall, looking as the other guy spoke softly to Sophia before he approached Luke. “Sure man, you know I’ve got your back any time. All you have to do is ask.” He answered quickly, and without thought. However the option of bringing Ash or not left him to pause for a moment. He knew he didn’t have much time to think about it, since Marshall wanted to be off now but he was torn. That would leave Ash, Maria, Sophia and Katelyn here alone with Autumn.

It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Autumn, well he was still unsure on that point. But he was concerned about leaving four girls with just one guy to protect them. However he had no clue how dangerous this trip would be, and Marshall was counting on him to have his back. He wasn’t sure he could do that effectively trying to protect Ash. In the end he decided to change the way he was thinking slightly. He wasn’t leaving Ash with one guy, he was leaving her with four capable adults. “Just give me one minute man, I’ll catch up.” He called as he quickly walked up to Autumn.

“I’m gonna leave Ash here with you guys okay? I… I’m trusting you to make sure nothing happens to her.” He gave the man a small smile, remembering that he was trying to wipe the slate clean. This would be the test to see if he could trust him or not he supposed. He then turned and told Ash he’d be back really soon and that nothing would happen to her. Standing up he walked over to the girls, checking in to see how far ahead Marshall had gotten. “Be safe, both of you okay?” He asked before turning and quickly running off after Marshall.

“Sorry about that, just…. Had to make sure everything was taken care of back there.” He said as they quickly made it to the gas station. Once there they raided it for anything left. Luke didn’t find much that could be useful to them as people, but a lot of people had overlooked car care items like oil and parts sold there. “All I could find, let’s hope someone knows how to fix cars hu?” He laughed softly. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve got your back.” He assured him.

The pair moved outside and Marshall suggested they split up into two cars. Once again Luke felt on edge about the idea of splitting them up from the group, but decided it was something he could worry about later and he began moving from car to car syphoning fuel, until he heard someone shout. A human voice. Instantly he moved to Marshall’s side. He wasn’t sure what a machete could do in a situation like this, since both the others had guns but who knew. However Marshall seemed to have the situation entirely under control and Luke agreed with pretty much everything he said.

There was no need for him to speak up right now, no need to let this man know they had a kid or a couple of young ladies with them. Marshall’s estimate of ten was a lot safer. “We don’t want trouble.” He eventually called, looking to Marshall briefly. “We just want to take our stuff and drive out of here. There’s no need for a confrontation.”

"Thanks man for having my back. Appreciate it." Marshall said when Luke caught up to him. You're a good man Luke, and a good friend. What do you think of all this leadership talk?" Marshall asked, looking at Luke. "Hell. Let's just get to the gas station. Almost there." Marshall stated, on the way. "I mean, I've called a few of the shots so far but I wouldn't exactly say I was leading the group. Not officially - just doing what has to be done, y'know? I have just done what I had too. Surely anyone else would've done the same."

---

Marshall had siphoned almost half the cars. With about four left, he looks round at Luke. "Makin' good progress, just a few more." He stated to Luke, informing him. "We'll head back soon. But what I'll do is keep this jerry can filled to the top for the other car. Gonna make sure this pickup has enough gas. Thing is, most of these cars are on very low fuel and some have none." He says, turning round to siphon more. Marshall looked around, and saw a silhouette in the distance. Assuming it was a Walker, he'd let it get closer to them before he killed it. With the speed Walkers go at, that'd be at least four minutes before it reached them.

Almost seconds after, he heard a yell. Instinctively, he reached for his holster - pulling out his Smith & Wesson out and aiming it in the direction the shout came from - he then understood the Walker was actually a person - a guy. You lads friendly? He heard. "Depends!" Marshall shouted back. "Depends on who wants to be friends!" He shouted. The man got closer - only around a few feet away now. "I'll say this the easy way. If you pull out one of your weapons on us? No. We're not friendly. If you don't and you're not an ass hole, yeah. We're friendly." He stated.

Marshall looked at the man, assessed him. He looked rough with the blood stains - similar to that of the blood stains on Marshall's face. "If you're friendly, I'd tell you we've got a group - must be around 10 of us. Don't know the number off the top of my head." Marshall said. He didn't seem like the man was going to attack us - so Marshall didn't mind telling him of the group. "But we're not taking in dead-weight. If you are beneficial to us - if you can pull your own weight? If you're useful to us? We'll have you with us. If that's what you're after." He stated - but didn't take his Revolver down, it was still aimed at the man for security measures.

"Depends!" One man shouted back. "Depends on who wants to be friends!" He shouted as Conell continued to walk forward. "I'll say this the easy way. If you pull out one of your weapons on us? No. We're not friendly. If you don't and you're not an ass hole, yeah. We're friendly." He stated.

“I've been called an asshole far too many times to make any promises on that front brother, but I'm certainly not planning on pulling anything. For one, you've got what looks like a .44 pointed at me and I like my head how it is. I don't want it turned into a canoe. Two, I need people right now. I came here for a vehicle so I could travel and it looks like that's what you're doing. Therefore, I want what you want.”

“We don’t want trouble.” Spoke the other bloke. “We just want to take our stuff and drive out of here. There’s no need for a confrontation.”

“I'm not looking for confrontation, I'm looking for friends. Trust me, I'm not in the habit of going into confrontations unprepared, that's why my MP5 is hanging loose on my back, my Glock is tucked in my jeans and my blade is still in it's sheathe. No confrontation meant here at all man.” Conell spoke levelly, his voice sounding as peaceful as it ever went.

"If you're friendly, I'd tell you we've got a group - must be around 10 of us. Don't know the number off the top of my head. But we're not taking in dead-weight. If you are beneficial to us - if you can pull your own weight? If you're useful to us? We'll have you with us. If that's what you're after."

The man was smart. He offered peace but kept his gun trained. A wise attitude.

“I can handle myself, but the only way I'm going to benefit you is if you give me a chance...”

It was then that Conell did something he couldn't imagine himself doing. Was he desperate for people or looking for death? He couldn't tell, but he knew it was stupid, risky, but he did it anyway.

“You there.” He said, nodding towards the bloke with the machete. “You don't seem to have a piece. Take my pistol... A, uh, peace offering.”

Conell very slowly raised his hands, placing them on the back of his head and turning around. There tucked into his waistband was the Glock. The handle visible as it had been tucked with his t-shirt for easy access.

“I'm going to have to insist on keeping the S.M.G, but I'll keep it on my back.”

Marshall liked the fact this guy was co-operating - but he didn't lower the Revolver. This man seemed intellectual. Someone that knew his boundaries. Marshall laughed when the man said he wanted his head to not-be turned in to a canoe. "Don't worry. I'll give you a chance I just ask for your co-operation - which you're given. Looks like your head won't be shot today friend." Marshall stated, with a tone that was hard to decipher - it was a humorous tone, but he was being as serious as ever.

Marshall was shocked when the man offered Luke the gun. But quickly noted the fact the man had a Sub Machine gun. The man turned around, showing the gun in plain sight for Luke to take. Marshall's eyes went to Luke - to see if he was going to take it. But Marshall stuck his arm infront of Luke's chest. Luke looked at him. "No. Don't get that close just yet." Marshall stated, preventing Luke from retrieving the Glock. "It could go sideways. I'm not having you get killed by some random dude, I'm just lookin' out for ya."

Marshall looked back at the man. "Okay. Honestly? I don't think you're gonna' shoot or stab him if he came close. But you know what it's like. Not taking any chances. I only ask for one more small bit of co-operation friend. Turn around, and lay all your weapons in front of you. Don't worry, I'm not going to steal your SMG. The way I see it, is that - that gun is precious to you, much like my .44 is to me. I won't take it, or your blade or your Glock. I simply want to see if you're willing to co-operate." Marshall stated. It was not a trick to disarm the man, he was testing him - making sure he won't misplace his trust. If the man puts down the guns, Marshall will instantly let him pick them up again. If he refuses, slim chance the man will be coming with them. Marshall can read people, and the way he sees it - the man isn't an idiot. He understands that people are better together - the best defence against Walkers.

"I'm a man of my word, friend. You'll have to trust me on that."

Autumn accepted the hand from Katelyn and reach down to pick up his spear. Sophie had shot two of the walkers before running ahead. "Go on Katelyn I'll cover your back." She proceeded to follow her sister to the car while Autumn slashed at anything too close to him. The walkers had quickly filled up the garage and he was forced to the door. Stabbing one last walker in the head, he yanked back and darted towards the car. Landing in the backseat he shouted, "Go go go!"

---

Before too long the car in which they were driving sputtered out of gas. They were far enough from the house, where the walkers had busted in, but still out in the open. "Glad we got an early start," he said as he pushed himself out of the car. Autumn was still half naked and fully covered in blood. Throwing his spear down in the backseat he tried to rub some of the dried blood off with no luck. It all came away in flaking clumps. Fucking gross.

“I’m gonna leave Ash here with you guys okay? I… I’m trusting you to make sure nothing happens to her.” It sounded like Luke was mostly directing it at him. He smiled back at him.

"Course I will. But personally I don't really think Ash needs much protecting." His last sentence was spoken loud enough so that Ash could hear. Autumn could always remember his little sister telling him that, "I can do it myself." She loved to think she was independent. He always did what he could to allow it for her, but was secretly always close at hand should anything go wrong. The same would go for Ash.

Walking over to Katelyn he stopped awkwardly before clearing his voice, "I... I um, wanted to thank you Katelyn. Well you and your sister. You kinda saved my life back there." Autumn realized that he didn't look all that great right now covered in blood, without shoes or shirt. He was probably scaring her.

The man who held the revolver told his friend to stay, he didn't want Conell trying anything cute and stabbing up his friend or taking him hostage, and he had to admit, the thought had crossed his mind. What could he say? He was a violent man. He wasn't planning on it however, his actual intentions were pure, he did want in with the group.

"Okay. Honestly? I don't think you're gonna' shoot or stab him if he came close. But you know what it's like. Not taking any chances. I only ask for one more small bit of co-operation friend. Turn around, and lay all your weapons in front of you. Don't worry, I'm not going to steal your SMG. The way I see it, is that - that gun is precious to you, much like my .44 is to me. I won't take it, or your blade or your Glock. I simply want to see if you're willing to co-operate. I'm a man of my word, friend. You'll have to trust me on that."

“Fuck it. Fine.” Conell said under his breath. Doing what the man had said to do went against everything his instincts were screaming at him. His instincts weren't always right though. He had gotten into a lot of trouble and had went through a lot of pain because he listened primarily to them in the past.

“I'll move slow. Keep your finger off the trigger, will you brother?”

Conell took out the pistol first, dropping it immediately behind him. Then he went to his blade, pulling it from it's sheathe and dropping it onto the ground. Finally he took his MP5 off, not actually touching the gun but pulling the sling from over his head and shoulder and placing it on the ground.

“That's all I've got weapon wise... I'm in no position to glass you with the jars in my backpack.” Conell chuckled.

"I'm happy you're willing to co-operate. I know what I'm asking you might not be the easiest thing. I feel like I should apologise, but I frankly don't want to die today." Marshall said, his tone again was hard to decipher. It came across as if Marshall truly didn't want any trouble. "I'll move slow. Keep your finger off the trigger, will you brother?" The man asked Marshall. His finger was at the side of the trigger, just below the barrel. "You have my word that I'll keep it off, as long as there is no sudden movements - of course. I'm sure you understand my precautions." Marshall stated.

He moved away from the side of the car - walking towards the man. The pistol went first - then the blade, finally the SMG, which he lay gently on the ground. “That's all I've got weapon wise... I'm in no position to glass you with the jars in my backpack.” Conell chuckled. Marshall smiled, and walked towards the man. Marshall lowered his gun, holstering it, as he was putting it in the holster - he spoke. "I'm putting my gun away, but I draw fast. Any sudden movements, if I even think you'll harm anyone of us - I will kill you. Marshall stated - in a completely serious tone. "But worry not, I'm not going to cap you the way things are going. You seem like a decent man." Marshall stated.

Marshall walked right up to behind the man. "It's okay." Marshall said - taking the backpack off the man. He had a quick look inside it - finding no weapons or anything of the sort. Marshall then frisked the man - feeling his ankles, legs, waist, torso and arms. He found nothing dangerous - he turned around, picking up the mans backpack and handing it back. He then picked up the Glock, and whatever mags were with it, throwing them to Luke, in which Luke caught. Marshall picked up the knife and SMG. "You're not a liar, you had nothing else. I admire that." Marshall stated, as he handed the SMG and knife back to the man.

Marshall took a step back. He looked the man in the eyes. Marshall moved his hand away from the holster, in which the .44 was situated. He looked at the man, and put his hand out. "Marshall. Marshall Scott." He said, offering the man a hand shake - introducing himself.