The Mayor's Mansion

Mildred tipped the glass of whisky back against her now icy cold lips. She let out a shudder of pleasure as it hit her stomach, filling it with its false warmth. She focused on that: that feeling of warmth. The voices in her heard grew quieter, some simply more distant, some vanished completely. She took another sip as she moved across her lounge, filled with expensive antiques and animal heads hooked to the walls. She whispered a silent "Thank God." that the telepathy was easier to control as time went on, but some days, the voices were unbearably loud. And the more she focused on how loud they were, the more the voices grew. They screamed, their emotions pouring into her mind.

"At least the whisky helps." Mildred sighed to herself, placing down her glass on a side table. She focused on the large, ancient fireplace which stood as the centrepiece to the room. With a simple dismissive gesture, the ornaments adorning the fireplace floated away in different directions and the rug before it dragged itself away. With another wave of her hands, the bricks inside the fireplace began to wiggle. And then slide and spin, folding away into each other until there was a large gap where the fireplace once stood.

A hand reached out of the darkness and grabbed hold of the soot-stained brick. The creature within groaned and dragged itself out of the darkness, letting out a hiss as the light hit his face. Mildred smiled, looking over the undead creature. She felt sadness at the light hurting his now milky white eyes. "Come on out, baby." She beckoned, reaching out a hand. The creature stared at Mildred blankly for a moment before his bleeding lips curled angrily into his yellowed teeth and he yanked forward towards her.

Mildred instinctively stepped back, and the creature fell forward heavily onto the rug as his chain tugged at his ankle. The boy screamed and scratched at the carpet, his bloodied body staining the floor as he tried to writhe towards Mildred. In a moment, a lamb's carcass was on the floor in front of the boy. His rage against Mildred subsided, and he dug his teeth into the lamb.
"Oh, my boy. You were hungry, weren't you?" She smiled, taking another sip from her whisky as she watched him enjoy his meal.

No matter how much Kylie drank, she was still thirsty. Her lips felt forever dry and her throat always cried out for more. No matter how much Kylie ate she still felt hungry. A horrible gnawing feeling always crept over the girl, a constant reminder of her new life. The city of BarClay welcomed her with open arms, many people wondering what had happened to the girl who stumbled into their city with her arms clutched around a bloody and burnt child's backpack.

Kylie wasn't really sure of how long she had spent in the safety of the city, all tracking and the mere concept of time had been lost to her. How long she spent there didn't matter. She had spent so long in the wilderness, alone, that being in the safety of a town was all but foreign to her. She had almost forgotten what it was like to lead a normal life.

Even now she didn't care about this town, or anyone in it. She only needed herself now, there was no need to find anyone else. She rejected the gifts and company of everyone who came up to the strange girl who always kept her eyes downcast. This town had nothing new for her, it was merely a place to steal some supplies and move on. But the rules disallowed this. These rules were pointless and stupid, it was survival of the fittest out there. The people here were greedy, keeping it all to themselves.

And now she wandered aimlessly through Barclay, refusing to take up any sort of job while she stayed there. Kylie scratched at her arm through her coat. What she wouldn't do for a cigarette right now.

7:30 Am

Thomas had woken early that day to practice his abilities, today he was practicing aim, so he gathered together a couple of useless quarters set up an empty tin can set himself up 50 ft away and started flicking quarters into the can. He didn't miss each quarter made it in with a satisfying Clank! but this exercise also gave his muddled mind time to think, he was new to Barclay, but they had already set him up with a job as security, which he was more than happy to provide for the town that welcomed Thomas in, and gave him a place to sleep. He liked the town but his thoughts often found their way home and if this shit didn't happen what his life would be like. He stopped flicking quarters and sat down, from there he got lost in thought warm thoughts of home and holidays long passed.

8:00 Pm

After all of the thinking, Thomas went inside and grabbed his pistol belt and leather jacket and headed into the streets keeping a firm eye on the town, but when he realized things were slow and nothing big was happening he went place to place asking if anyone needed anything, the only response he got was a no, so he settled for standing there in the night air smoking a cigarette and watching anyone or anything out of the ordinary.

Sorry, it double posted for some reason.

Press examined the edge of the machete he had just repaired, then tested it on a steel block. It left a cut an inch deep before stopping. Deeming it satisfactory, he removed the blade from the block, repairing any and all damages to both, then handed the machete to the customer hilt first, who gave Press some rations in payment. After the customer left he sighed. His job was honest work, but it was boring. People were always coming in, complaining about the tiniest little things about their tools and weapons, and how only Press could fix them. Some of these cases were pretty bad, and it was true that only Press could fix them in those cases, but others were just lazy assholes that couldn't be bothered to sharpen their blades or clean their weapons properly. He grabbed his shotgun from the corner of the room and gave it another quick maintenance, even though it probably didn't need one. After all, Press kept his weapons in top shape, or at least as well as he could. One minute later, he was done, and he debated about going on break for a while.

The fence of Barclay looms foggily on the moors of the ruined world, the merest semblance of life that had once been lies silently with the row of now rundown cars on and around the street. It hadn't been too long, you'd think, but the way the metal laid twisted and glass shattered from the ferocity the undead exerted to open the can of sardines...well.

A rabbit trundles out of its den in a fallen tree, timidly sniffing the air before abruptly looking up in the direction of the woods. Footsteps grow in volume, apparently running and just before a crossbow bolt skewers it to the ground. It begins to writhe violently, quickly recovering from its shock while its screams are overtaken by the feral howls of the infected. A shadow washes over the rabbit and a clawed hand of shadow grips the shaft, dragging the rabbit with the rippling red figure which leaps in time to avoid a diving zombie as they run from the viewpoint. The view is soon overcome with zombies tripping over each other in their pursuit.

The scene slows as it pans to a side view of the chase, artistically tailored with waving grey grass on a darker plane of the hills and sky in the distance. Zombie are instead replaced with a wave steadily chasing a gently rippling blood red cloud of cloth.

"I can still see them..." A female voice narrates as the view zooms out to the front gates of Barklay just in time to a thump of rifle fire from the silhouette of an old man standing between two other figures and two zombies. One of the zombies begins falling, going limp while the other stumbles over. "...it was a wash the second the girl had been bitten, and the foolishness of the boy to try to hide it from me was-" the narrator cut off as the old man readies a second shot. The view zooms back to the mass of red, up to the shoulder of the figure just as jaws clamp down with a jarring screech of enamel on steel, a tooth pops loose.
A spike of pitch black erupts from the bite point, piercing the zombie through the head and dissipating into a dark mist, throwing its body into the others. Time resumes as the dark, disjointed arm swings, pitching the rabbit from the bolt which is withdrawn back under the cloak. The rabbit hits one zombie in the face and is caught out of the air by another, successfully distracting 3 of the fiends while the two who were knocked over by the assailant. The cloak figure dashed, seemingly leaping a good twenty feet while even to the ground, darkness itself from under the cloak depositing them them; coming to a rest in the shadow of one of the ragtag guard towers and taking a few hopping steps back while drawing a crossbow, already loaded. The 3 collected themselves, accompanied by another two who had ignored the feeding frenzy over the rabbit after it had fallen silent. Two clawed arms of darkness flew from under the billowing cloak, gripping a zombie by the face, each and smashing their heads together. They continued to squirm and reach for the figure who seemed to be checking their shoulder for damage while a third went mostly unnoticed. Pushing its way past the two who, from being pulled apart, were smashed back together with lethal force this time. Before it was almost too late, a third hand, the one with the bolt, rose up from between the figure's legs and rammed the bladed projectile up into the beast's jaw and through the base of its skull, slaying it, though the momentum forcing it onto Red who fell to a knee from the weight. The other two arms fizzled and dropped the corpses, only to reveal the now blood-soaked 3 who had savagely devoured the rabbit...and their four fiendish friends.
~~~~~~~~~
My perspective snapped back to reality as my concentration broke, I now stared down the remaining seven. I lifted my crossbow to fend them off, but misfired from the lack mobility, sending it into the dirt. Blindness rapidly returning, I rolled myself up in the cloak before the first of them hit, pushing me against the fence. I made myself as small of a target as possible, using the one with the bolt in its head for cover from the ensuing blows of the desperate screaming dead.

I only hoped this settlement wasn't abandoned.
~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~
Meanwhile, the boy at the gate drove his axe into the second zombie, rising to the occasion as the girl panted against the barrier, pale. "Rook!" She called, checking her pistol in the event she needed it in between checking the bleeding on her leg. "Don't worry babe! I won't let any of these nerds get near you" he tosses off with a chuckle, kicking the one on his axe off to free it up before glancing to the gate and shouting "Oi! Are you all dead in there, too?"
The old man took the moment to reload, a good four more coming out of the trees. He dropped one of them with a few shots before his gun jammed, obviously poorly maintained from its time spent on the road. It was clear, however, despite his age, he was a decent marksman.

(Red is actually blind, but a savant hunter because of their affinity to perceive the world through the movement of shadows. However, once concentration is broken by physical or emotional stress, they quickly revert.)

Kylie continued to shuffle along the streets of Barclay, hoping to find something to do. She knew they would be assigning her some stupid job soon, most likely either life threatening or boring. And they would end up paying her in some useless currency that only was applicable here. Kylie sighed, rubbing at her coat sleeve again. It was pointless. Why didn't they just give them the food and supplies right off the bat? If they were risking their skins for some stupid town they deserve to be payed outright. Eventually when supplies ran out they would be struggling to get rid of their currency.

Right in the middle of her inner monologue about how oppressive this city seemed, she saw something that commanded her attention. Along the rode she was walking, there was someone in the distance. The figure looked masculine, but that wasn't the important part. He was smoking. Since this guy was in Barclay she was sure she would be able to convince they guy to give her a cigarette, or at least trade for some.

“Excuse me sir?” Kylie called out into the night, walking towards the smoking man. Kylie kept one hand in her pocket, nervously clutching the knife she kept there. She never knew who would attempt to overpower her, so it was always nice to keep weapons on her. “Do you think I might be able to trade you for a smoke?” As she got closer, but still far enough to escape if things got hairy. “I have extra food rations, water and I might have some ammo or something in here.” She said, slowly taking her backpack off her back.

Flint soared through the sky, the cold air rushing through his hair as he began to return to Barclay. He was carrying a large bag filled with wooden planks, it was what he had been sent out to get after all and as he flew he looked down to the rotten city below, cars overturned and the colours of grey and black swept the land, sometimes broken up by the reds and oranges of fire.

Flint heard gunshots in the distance but took no notice, he was flying far too high and quick to be hit by anything. The shots sounded like a rifle but Flint couldn’t tell which direction. As his arms got tired, he decided he needed to land. The bag was heavy after all and he had been flying for sometime now. He fluttered down and stood on a rooftop, dropping the bag as he sat down panting softly.

He stretched out his wings then folded them behind his back, sighing gently and nervously looking around. He hadn’t been able to bring his rifle this time around as he knew he would be using both his hands, and its not like he could just loop a rifle around his torso. He hoped to buy a handgun of some kind when he got back, he would probably need some training with it as well and it would cost a good amount. Just as he was thinking to himself, he heard a noise close by. He quickly turned to find one of the infected running towards him, he went for the machete at his belt and quickly unsheathed it ready to hack at the inhuman thing in front of him.

His arm swung, the metal hit bone then went through to brain matter. The infected fell and Flint removed the blade, panting once again as adrenaline rushed through him.
Flint wiped his blade, grabbed the bag and then soon was flying back once again, it wasn’t long before he was over the walls.

Gendry looked up from his diary just in time to watch the sun disappear behind the horizon. He was sitting in a guard tower right outside the fence, a little candle sitting on the small table, and his sniper rifle leaning against the wall nearby. Guard duty got very boring very fast, so Gendry started writing a diary in order to pass the time. Mildred, or the "Queen of Barclay" as some people liked to call her, always put him on guard duty, and he was getting tired of it. It was true that he had his father with him (although his father's ghost also needed to sleep sometimes, if you can call disappearing for a few hours "sleeping"), but there was only so much they could talk about.
No zombies had attacked for a almost a week, so Gendry was very surprised when he heard gunshots. He quickly stood up, grabbed his rifle, and looked out the window of the watch tower. He could see a little farther down the fence a large bunch of undead. He picked up the binoculars that were given to him by Mildred and looked through them. There seemed to be about seven zombies and another figure. The figure was dressed all in red, did not look undead, and the zombies seemed to be attacking the figure, so he guessed that he/she/it was another refugee trying to get to safety. Gendry quickly set down the binoculars, took up the big conch shell, put it to his mouth and blew as hard as he could. After sounding the alarm he knelt by the window, put the sniper rifle's scope to his eye, and aimed at the undead. Then, calling upon his power to slow down time, he closed his eyes for a second. When he opened them, everything around him was moving very slowly. It was like exactly like watching a movie in slow-motion, just this was in real life. It never stopped amazing him, no matter how many times he used this power.
He couldn't tell if the refugee was still alive as she was lying on the ground covered by a body, but that didn't matter right now. What did matter was getting the "un" out of the undead. Gendry fired seven shots, each one hitting a different zombie head. He then closed his eyes again, and when he opened them, time was back to normal.
Gendry was sweating, and he was quite tired. That happened after slowing down time. But he now had to go find out if the refugee was alive, dead or somewhere in the middle, so putting the rifle on his back, he quickly exited the tower, and ran toward the area where at least eight bodies lay now. While running, Gendry made sure that his Desert Eagles were loaded. You never know if an undead is really dead, even after putting a bullet in it's head.

Mildred looked over her shoulder to see Maria standing behind her, wiping her now bloodied hands together in disgust. The 5'3'' woman looked over to Mildred before turning her eyes down to the carpet submissively and placing her hands behind her back. Mildred felt a sudden appreciation for her maid in her faithful servitude. The woman was too obedient to even look her in the eyes, how would she tell any of the townspeople about her son's condition?
"Come here Maria, I have something to tell you." Mildred smiled, beckoning her maid over to the couch with a gentle pat of the cushion. In front of them, Mildred's son continued to ravage the corpse of the lamb, blood spraying all over his face. Still quite horrified, Maria shuffled across to the seat.
"You do know, Maria, how grateful I am to you?" Mildred turned to her maid, her eyes tracing the woman's every facial movement. "So I think you should be the first to know.
I've been making some progress." Mildred said, barely able to conceal her glee.
".. What.. what do you mean, madam? What progress?" Maria replied, confused. She had a great feeling of unease building in her stomach.
Mildred turned her eyes back to her son. She looked at his focused, milky white eyes. His partially decomposed face, his cuts and missing skin filled with dried congealed blood.
"I looked into his mind a few days ago." Mildred said lowly, her eyes watering. "Like always. Like I always have done, every day. Every day since--" Mildred paused, searching for words. "I'm one of the most powerful of my kind. I can hear minds for miles. I could hear anybody in Barclay, I could hear everybody in Barclay at once just as easy as you could.. switch a radio station.
But the undead, I've never been able to hear. From them, I've always just heard silence. But I was searching through Thomas' mind. So, so deep. I almost lost myself in the darkness..." Mildred paused, now looking at the darkness of the room in the fireplace, lost somewhere far beyond the room. A few seconds passed.
"What happened? What did you find?" Maria pressed, desperate to find out what happened.

"I heard a thought." Mildred replied quietly, as if someone had their ear pressed to the lounge door. Suddenly, seven loud gunshots rang out into the night.
Mildred and Maria both stood simultaneously and Mildred wiped away a tear. "What in the fucking world is that?" Mildred hissed.

(The Fallen are how Red thinks of the zombies, while The Turning is the event where the outbreak went out of control, leading to the apocalypse)

I had thought of this day long before The Turning...heh, I guess I had an interest in zombies. The concept never really sunk in quite as hard as the bites into my armor, though. I never really thought I would need the plating, it was mostly to keep up the image which people seemed to find some kind of comfort in; seeing someone so comfortable with the wastes when the reality is really very simple.

We are all scared.

Nobody wants to be buried in a writhing screaming mass of irrational hatred which tares at every weakness they can find before making their own. Most have the luxury of seeing it coming, to make peace with their maker and cry out for help before being consumed by force. Some even have weapons, to give them the piece of mind that they may take a few with them to offset the balance.
I had made my peace when I realized sight was a perception, and resolved myself to silence in these last moments...or as much as I could glean from the chaos of my armor and cloak being torn to shreds before cracks of gunfire left me under a pile of the new dead.

And it was quiet, and I was alive. I squirmed out, dragging my tatters with me as I slid along the shadows, but sight slowly returning and focusing on a dull green mass in the window of a nearby watchtower. The view slows as the click of a handgun rang through. The realization that despite my gratitude, I may have been bitten in that mess, washes over me. Maybe he's there for backup, maybe he's there to help the others? His direction turns...he's coming for me...maybe its a bandit camp and they're going to put me down. Emotions of gratification and fear run rampant as my third and fifth arm load my crossbow, trying to obscure the action under the cloak which barely covers my figure. I can't imagine what he could want from me, but with all things considered, there were those I was still entitled to protect. I only hoped I would be able to protect them.

We are all scared.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Stop, please!" I call in as much of a hushed hiss as I could under my breath, trying to regain my composure after the assault I had sustained, holding my ribs which I'm sure were at least bruised at this point as my third arm leveled the crossbow in his direction. Judging by his apparel, I had no clue how many rounds he kept on him or what his firearm was loaded with. I must seem crazy...
I continued along the fence, quietly bracing against it since I was certain I had twisted my ankle or worse in the ordeal. I couldn't go back out there, I would certainly die...but without knowing what I was walking into, it was a coinflip.

Gendry noticed the figure wearing the red cloak struggling along, holding on to the fence for support. She seemed to be hurt, and he thought he saw something black flash at him from under the cloak. In case it was a weapon, he got one of his handguns ready at his side. The zombies lying on the ground all seemed to be dead, so he turned to the refugee and said, "Hello there, and welcome to the fine city of Barclay. I will need to check you for bites first, but assuming you are unbitten, you will get the best medical care available in the country. If you shall stay here, you will be assigned a job by the Mayor, Mrs. Hunterson. If you are bitten... well, let's just say it will be an uncomfortable situation for both of us."

Thomas looked at the girl asking for a cigarette, the ciggs were the only thing besides his weapons he brought into Barclay she was offering to trade for one but Thomas was in a giving mood and the girl seemed honest enough but she was closing in on him "Stay twenty two feet away from me." He practically shouted at the girl as he pulled a pack out of his coat pocket he removed the plastic wrap and threw them to her his throw was perfect it practically landed in the girls hand "Take em." He said to he girl as he took another drag on his cigg.

Twenty two feet seemed pretty specific, but that didn't matter to Kylie. He was taking a pack out of his pockets. Kylie watched in amazement as the pack landed perfectly in her outstretched hands. She hadn't expected him to give her an entire pack, she was either expecting to be turned away, stabbed, or offered a single smoke. And this was so much better then all of those. "Wow...fuck..." She said softly, barely able to believe that someone would give away an entire pack of cigarettes for nothing. Either this guy had a secret agenda, or just won the Apocalyptic Lottery. "I mean...shit...thanks..." Kylie lost no time slipping a single cigarette out of the pack, stuffing the rest in her jacket pocket. Out of the same pocket she pulled a lighter, which flicked on in a burst of light.

Kylie leaned back against a wall, exhaling and feeling her current stresses roll off her shoulders. She didn't seem phased by the sounds of gun shots, they were as common as the undead themselves. She turned back to the stranger. "Nice night, isn't it?"

Thomas smiled at the girl she was attempting to start a conversation he obliged. "Yeah you would think hell would have a awful skyline." He joked he even had the gaul to laugh at his own joke, Thomas heard the gunshots

"Shit, i gotta go, but i want to continue this talk so we should meet up sometime, and shoot the breeze." He told her and walked off.

When Thomas got to the fence his 45 was in hand and he was ready but things were taken care of and the guard had opened up the gate. Thomas being the helpful guy he is took up a position next to the guard to provide covering fire just in case.

Shit sorry.

Glitched sorry.

Stay...?
I...I never...

Even considering if I stuck around for medical attention and to drop off the passengers, would they let me leave? Again, I was in no shape to leave. I didn't imagine myself having the option to stay, although I entertained it. I wanted to save people, not be saved. Standing there in shock from Green's offer, I looked back to the front gate which had been opened enough for my charge to enter, though Lyle remained, resolutely holding his armament at the ready.
"RED!" The girl screamed, snapping me back into reality, realizing I had been standing there like a fool this entire time while the howls of the Fallen grew louder on their approach. Obviously, the gunfire had caught their attention. I wasn't concerned about the numbers, since I could probably still take two or three, but with the sounds of brush rustling not even thirty meters away, it was in my best interest to reach the gate.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Oh lord, why is she just standing there..." Lyle grumbled before his grandson's girlfriend or whatever passed as on these days decided it'd be a good idea to scream in his ear. Regardless, it got Red moving again. The boy of the group, probably around 19 or something shoved one of the guards. "Help her!" he insisted in a demeanor common to a highschool bully. The guard, who was quite armed took a step back and flipped the safety off of his rifle before calmly replying, "I know I'm not bitten...and don't push me again."

Biting his lip and pacing for a second, glancing from the trees to the limping Red, he growled a short "Oh, fuck yourselves" and charged out of the gate, shrugging off the girl and Lyle who simply let him go with a short "Don't be stupid, boy!"
At about that moment, five more undead charged from the brush, distracted from Red by the jock's gusto. A single round from Lyle's cannon dropped three which happened to line up, leaving one to the boy's axe and the last rushing Red while three more emerged from the brush, drawn to the noise by the gate.

"Stay here and make sure he's alright." Mildred commanded Maria as she strode across the room towards the door. Behind her, Maria nervously shifted from foot to foot, staring at Mildred's zombified son picking off the strands of flesh from the lamb's carcass. The boy looked up towards Maria, as if sensing her fear, and began baring his bloodied teeth before he threw the carcass across the room at her head.

Mildred quickly descended the stairs and left her home as the gunshots continued to ring out into the night, grabbing a torch from a drawer on the way out. She knew the whole town must have heard them. Another headache to deal with in the morning. The doors slammed shut behind her as she stepped out onto her immaculate patio. Quickly realising that a run in this darkness throughout the town would be long and irritating, Mildred let out a sigh. "The things I do for these people." She grumbled, taking a few strides forward and swishing her fingers at her sides in intricate short movements. Her old feet lifted from the ground and she levitated several few into the air, as if being carried on a gentle breeze across the towns tiny skyline.
It only took a minute or so until she arrived on the scene. The seven undead bodies lying in pools of blood across the grass and dirt, four unknown persons standing outside the gate - one dressed in some ragged red cloak - along with Gendry, guns in hand. Thomas was also stood nearby with a gun in hand, looking pretty much useless.
Mildred's feet touched the ground just in time to hear the end of Gendry's welcoming spiel to the shocked looking survivors. "Yes, yes. Welcome. And thanks for rolling up in the dead of night and alerting God knows how many walkers to our humble abode." Mildred muttered, shining a flashlight into the faces of the survivors like some old lady inspecting youths who had come to bother her in the dead of night.
Her flashlight caught one of the survivors, a younger boy running back towards the nearby trees. "What the fuck is going on?!" She hissed. Her flashlight shot out of her hand and into the air above the group, dimly lighting up the area outside of the gate. More undead were rushing from the forest, howling in hunger, hands outstretched to grab hold of the young man. Gunshots ran out from the older man's gun.
"Everybody STOP." Mildred shouted, having reached her peak with this late night drama. She reached out her hands towards each person standing outside the gates and yanked them backwards telekinetically, flinging them through the gates and far out of the grasp of the rushing undead. Whilst more undead came pouring of the forest with unnatural speed, lured by the many gunshots, Mildred push forward both hands and sent them crashing back to the trees under a wall of telekinetic energy.

She returned to the safety of within the town gates, letting them close behind her. "I want all the guards on gate duty now and this bunch checked and ID'd, and in my office for tomorrow." Mildred hissed as she passed by the group who were pulling themselves back together on the dewy, safe grass.