“It's not about surviving. It should be about love. When you know love...that's what makes this life worth it. When you live with it everyday. Wake up with it, hold on to it during the thunder and after a nightmare. When love is your refuge from the death that surrounds us all and when it fills you so tight that you can't express it.”
― Carrie Ryan



"Hey Anthony, found a few rounds. You want 'em?"

"I'm going to regret it, those damn things are more trouble than they're worth, but sure. Might be able to take out one or two more. If not I'll trade 'em to Brick. That stupid kid collects them." The larger man said, taking the bullets from the girl's open hand. He pulled out his Glock-17, and began the process of reloading. His hands slightly shortening the time of loading due to practice. They were currently in the wooded area of a park. The older man was on the ground, his large black fire axe in hand. The blade of the axe was freshly bloodied, and at his feet was a mutilated corpse, it's head split open. A little ways to the left there was a smaller girl, probably no more than 120lbs if not less. She was crouched over a zombie, who had an arrow through it's head. In one of her hands was a hunting bow. She seemed to be studying the corpse, her big and attentive blue eyes moving along the slightly decayed facial features. The old man couldn't help but be happy that he had someone to spend the last few years of his life with. Her and the boy and his dog. In another time and situation, they would've been a little happy family financing their first house with maybe a kid on the way. But no, they were hardened and survivors. They were smart, both of them. Hell of a lot smarter than he was when he was their age.

"Take a picture, it'll last longer." He said gruffly, stepping over the corpse at his own feet and remaining attentive of the surroundings in case something snuck up on them. He turned back to look at the young woman again, who was still studying the creature.

"I'd help if I had a camera. My phone ran out of battery six years ago." she sniped.

And clever. He couldn't forget they were clever asshats. The both of them. Only one bearable enough to be around for a few hours straight was the dog.

"He wasn't a walker too long ago." she said, moving over and stepping on the corpse's neck with her shoe, holding it down, and then pulling the arrowhead that was imbedded in it's forehead out. The corpse twitched, they always did that, but otherwise remained dead and still. The way it should be. "He had ammo on him. Not too much. He still had his gun in his hand." The older man looked down. It was true. There it was, dented and beaten and probably no longer functional as a weapon, but still tightly clenched in the man's hand. He looked over the one he had killed. An asian woman, probably in her mid thirties. She was probably attractive in life. Half her cheek had been torn off and her eye was gone, but the other half of her face was nearly intact. She was relatively fresh too. If she was infected any more than a week ago she probably would've decayed more than this by now. "I see what you mean," he said, looking over to the young woman a few feet away from him, who had dug out a small toy car from one of the man's pockets. The way her face crinkled up while looking it over caused him to guess that she was confused. He laughed, "Give it here." he said, moving a bit closer and moving her hand to take a look at the toy.

He chuckled again. "That my girl, is a Matchbox 1984 Mercury Classic. I fixed one of them up back in the day." he said, releasing the girl's hand and letting her look over the toy once again. "My first car was a Mercury Marquis," he said. "1984 model, same year as that." he smiled as she did. She had told him around a campfire once that she was, at one time, working to become an engineer. Someone who designed and built things like cars and buildings. She said she didn't know what field she'd work in in that respect, but she knew she wanted to be an engineer. A strange choice for a lady like her, but he couldn't knock her for it. His face returned to it's normal, almost angry look when her look of wonder transformed to a look of worry. "You think Brick's alright? He's been gone for a while." she said, unconsciously feeling at the handle to the shotgun she had tied to her backpack, which had replaced her hunting rifle. She had lent it to Brick and in replacement was given his sawn off M37 shotgun for the time being. "He's fine. It'll take more than a zombie or a bullet to take that fucker out." He said. "If I thought it could, I would've tried by now."

She sighed. "I wish he wouldn't go off on his own though. It's not safe." He sighed after her. "You know him, he'll be fine. He always is." The girl nodded. "I'm holding you to that." The older man gave a small smile. "I am too."

Their conversation was cut short by a dog, large, black and brown. "Diesel!" the girl said. "Oooh I missed you!, where've you been?" She said, shouldering the bow and kneeling down to hug the Rottweiler. "Where's Brick?" she said, looking at the dog, who panted, it's tongue lolling out. The dog licked her face causing her to sputter and fall back on her butt. "No kisses!" She said, chuckling. The old man smiled at this. It had been a long time since he had been content and actually happy. A damn long time. "Where's Brick?" Anthony said, causing the dog to move it's attention to him, then back to Allie. It growled into a low woof, and then ran off a little ways away. It stopped and looked back at them, woofing lowly again, knowing to try and be quiet. "He's telling us to follow." Allie said, standing up, and moving after the large dog. The old man shook his head and followed after them.

The dog led them through back roads and took a stealthier route, as to avoid the streets and anyone or thing that would be in them. "Good boy Diesel." Allie said, petting the dog, who licked her hand in response. Diesel had led them to the fire escape of a building. Brick was probably up there. "I'll stay here, knees wont like me climbing that much on them." Anthony said, resting his axe on his shoulder. "I'll stick with Diesel. You go check it out." he said, whistling to the dog, causing it to lay down and keep alert, listening, smelling, and keeping watch for anyone who wasn't Anthony, Allison, or Roark.

The trip up the fire escape was uneventful, but she got a good view of the roads. Backed up cars that had been degraded with a few aimless walkers meandering around here and there. Nothing super special, but the sight in the early morning light was... brisk and beautiful in it's own fucked up way. As she came up to the top, she noticed a few tents had been set up on the roof of the building with what looked like a fire pit laid out. It was long out, and most of the stuff looked like it wasn't going to hold up much longer. She drew her pistol out of habit, and kept a close eye on the tents just in case one of those weird boney motherfuckers was around. Some other survivor called them Hoarders or Collectors or something. She took a few cautious steps forward, and was about to open up one of the tents when...

"Three cans of food on the right, six bottles of water. 'Some ammo in the other tent, but the weapons are rusted and the guns are pretty malformed by now." A voice said. She spun around on her heel, pointing the gun in the direction of a man who was sitting in a lawn chair with a beer right next to him and a jar of a yellow liquid on the other side. He wasn't facing her, but it was obvious he was focused on the road below. He was looking through the scope on her hunting rifle, using them as a pair of binoculars. It was obvious he hadn't shot it based on the fact that there were no shells around on the ground and no hoard of zombies pilling around each other on the building. "Jesus Brick, you scared the shit out of me." Allison said, lowering her gun with an exasperated sigh. "I nearly shot you!"

"But ya didn't, thank ya fer asking first and shooting later." Brick said, turning around and looking at her with what she could tell would be a shit eating grin based upon how his eyebrows were. She couldn't see his mouth through his bandana. Hers was pulled down right now, lying around her neck. "Find anything?" she asked, walking over and placing a hand on his shoulder. "Ye," he said in his heavy Australian accent. "First two floors below me are clear, nothin' worth shootin' at in 'em based on what I saw. Haven't checked for supplies yet. Thought I'd 'ave Diesel fetch you two in case I was wrong. We'll search through on a little supply run, but we should grab the food I've found from here before heading down." he said, standing up. Allison for a moment wondered if this little camp belonged to the zombie she had killed earlier when it was a man. "Didn't see much besides a few walkers on the street." he said, passing her rifle back to her, Allison grabbed his shotgun and gave it back to him in trade. "Thanks." he said simply. He stood up and grabbed his gun, holstered it, then can of beer, and finally the jar of the yellow liquid with his other hand. He looked at her for a moment, before he looked over the edge of the building. "Ey, see that one over there?" Brick said, pointing with the hand that held the jar at a zombie across the road that could be easily seen from the building's vantage point. "Watch this." he said, before winding his arm back and chucking the jar into the air. As it fell back to earth, the combination of gravity and the power of Brick's throw caused the jar to fall and shatter on the walker's head, causing it to fall to the ground from the force and not get up. A few others in the general area turned toward the noise and began to walk towards it, but most otherwise remained where they were. Allison crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow at Roark, who had walked in and out of a tent carrying about size bottles of water in one of his arms. He simply shrugged at her look and gave what she guessed to be another shit eating grin.

"So whatcha think? Zombie kill of the week?"

The road smelled of blood and gunpowder. Patches of grass burst from the neglected cement, cracked all about, now covered in blood and bullet casings. Tomás took in the sight. Bodies lay scattered about, still warm, and for the moment still. While he stood ahead of the road, others dressed like him strolled between the bodies. Despite their military grade body armour, rifles, and other gear, to Tomás, they were just well armed civilians. His assault rifle scanned over the street and his comrades ahead. They moved casually, yet also like marionettes. Once a body was within three yards they would raise their primary weapon. Fingers hovering over the trigger, they checked the spike attached under the barrel, and once closed in -- the strike. In one fatal move the spike plunged through the eye and out the back of the skull. A simple, but effective measure so the dead stay dead.

"That's it, LT," Tomás exclaimed, lowering his rifle.

Raising a hand, the lieutenant gestured for a meeting. At once the squad assembled without question. The eight collected around their squad leader, quietly awaiting her order. Tomás had jogged from the furthest point, but not been the last. That honour was reserved to Corporal Ramos, apparently the only one among them who'd been with the lieutenant during the initial Siege of Evergreen. For Tomás, these were no different from other war stories. Every glory in victory has an atrocity swept under the rug, and he didn't need to see much at the haven to know the siege had more than its fair share. Ramos moved slower and shot less than the rest of them. Not too different from the lieutenant, really, except she insisted on leading by example. First into battle, first to strike, and she took great pride in the first blood. Maybe that's why Tomás was Designated Marksman so often. Given the opportunity he could be a downright brute, but combat wasn't always the best way to go. His brother taught him that.

"Needless to say, these were not our targets. We have maybe five hours of daylight left. We'll be staying put until Bravo squad's messenger updates us to their progress," the sound of chuckling cut the lieutenant's explanation short. Her rifle slung over his shoulder, she glanced about as if for show, before finally settling her eye on the culprit. "Private Barkley, is something funny?"

Clearing his throat, the private looked to Tomás at his side and grinned. "Well ma'am, you said 'Bravo squad' and 'progress' in the same sentence. Might be new, but I sure-as-shit know they ain't done one we ain't yet. Practically sit on their asses and let us lead the way, if ya ask me."

Barkley scanned over the squad with a sidewise, puckered smile. He was young, southern, and rough around the edges. Admittedly, this was the sort Tomás saw the most of in the old world's Armed Forces, yet these were also the most annoying. Tomás and those also around the private inched away as the lieutenant made her approach. A less disciplined crew might collectively beam, but such behaviour belonged on reality television.

"No disrespect, ma'am," Barkley chuckled, this time forced and quick. "Maybe if they had a boss-bitch like you they'd be--"

The lieutenant walked by Barkley before spinning on her heel. In turning, she kicked out the back of the private's nearest knee. He crumbled immediately, arms flailing, only to have the lieutenant catch him with a single hand on middle of his back. That cold, absent look in her eye bore into his, replacing all but a sliver of his humour with fear. However, a sliver was still too much. Before the corner of his mouth could twitch into that asinine puckered smirk, the lieutenant brought her second hand up. She brought down a gloved fist directly onto his nose in one blow. Blood spurt onto his mouth as the punch connected and, at the same time, the lieutenant allowed him to fall. Only when the private hit the ground and coiled did she look back to the squad. Then, seemingly out of nowhere, the lieutenant gave a blank expression -- then a smile.

"You will respect your comrades or you will fall. You will respect me, and all the women in this squad, or we will break you. Do you understand?" the lieutenant asked in a strong, sturdy shout.

The squad straightened their backs. "Ma'am yes ma'am!"

"As I was saying before. We will be staying put until word comes in from Bravo. This town may look like shambles, but that doesn't mean nobody's shambling about. Go in pairs and search for scavengers. Look for clues about our targets. Corporal Gellemo, you've got Barkley."

***

Just outside of the town Tomás stood watch as Barkley gingerly rubbed the blood from his nose. The two had found a small gas station, like those 'members only' outside of some supermarkets. Salvageable supplies were already gone. Necessities like water and what food you might dare to try went shortly after the world changed, fortunately, there was enough Coke to clear two decades of plumbing -- let alone one broken nose. Bent over a grimy sink, Barkley poured the dark, fizzy drink over his face and winced. The bathroom was barely big enough for one of them with all their gear, so Tomás hung back, facing out toward the station's entrance. Past the racks of long expired or otherwise unappetizing snacks, he could see clear beyond the town's edge. Besides a few stumbling dead-heads in a distance there wasn't much. Tomás eyed the land regardless, interesting or not, as he was trained.

"Ain't nothin' out there," Barkley snorted. Brown and red thick ran down his cheeks, probably into his mouth, but his expression remained a pained scowl. "This's some game, right? Does a show for the team, show'em what's cool n' what ain't, then the muscle finishes the job. Why'm I even cleanin' myself? Just gonna get bloodied up again, ain't?"

Tomás cocked a brow. Before he could reply, he observed Barkley closer than he'd care to prior. The private was thin, and from the scars on his brow and mouth, a scrapper. His pale skin was pockmarked and tattoos appeared without any obvious theme. Judging from all that, not to forget the accent, Tomás went over the statement once more. This was a man who clearly suffered before. Smart ass retorts only worsened by a clear lack of education covered up that Barkley might understand hierarchy all too well.

"I don't know where you came from, but that's not how it works here. The world might've gone to shit, but this is a military unit all the same. You listen, you observe, and you act. Our job is simple. Simpler since we're a hunting unit -- all we have to do is find our targets. There's quite a bit of latitude here, but the same rules apply. Stupid hurts. You probably got that part, huh?" Tomás explained, daring to smile a bit at the end. "The slate's clean though. Don't make a series of mistakes or they add up, but work to fix and you'll be fine. Just don't lie to us. In their eyes, there's nothing worse."

For a moment the private stared blankly at Tomás. "I need a minute, Gellemo. Thanks."

Without another word, Tomás stepped outside of the mini-convenience station. He thought over his own words and stuck at the last part. Gellemo. Years lie between the age of personal information beaming to and fro unattended to then, where your name was what you gave. All the same, Tomás had stuck to a name nearly true. Lombard was a wanted name, to him and the rest the squad. While he might embrace Simon-Pietro with open arms, the others would not. He couldn't imagine any other fate for the brother of their prey either. Tomás Gellemo was a shield just one name away from death. A thin lie, yes, but so near to the truth how could you tell?

Manu leant against the side of his shack that sat upon the beachfront, a gun in one hand. This was where he lived. Alone. The only contact he ever got was from Jackson, one of the islanders from Mackinac. He'd come over every week and see what Manu had managed to scavenge from the wastelands, take it, and in return, give Manu some supplies to keep alive for another week. It wasn't the perfect life by any means but it kept Manu alive. He got little sleep, what with all the Infected around, but he survived, and that was what really counted.

Today was the day that Jackson was due, and he came right on time, just like every week, on his little boat. Jackson was black, like Manu. He was a large man - the first time Manu had saw him, he was very fat, but over the years he had thinned out to now being quite thin and rather fit due to the fact he rowed the little boat out every week. However, his haggard face still showed signs of the weight he once held. In the back of his boat was a rucksack full of the supplies that he would eventually distribute to Manu. Manu knew he wouldn't get all the supplies, he would get what his scraps were worth and that would be that. Some people would just shoot Jackson and take everything, but Manu was safe in the knowledge that he could get the supplies every week and that being loyal was the only way of doing that. That was the case until now, at least. Manu was going to leave this place for good.

"This is my last load, Jack." Manu peered over at the man who had just stepped off his boat and meandered towards Manu, leaving footprints in the grey sand. Manu had a look of guilt on his face as he spoke. He knew that his supplies were a big help to the people living on the island, but the cruel reality was that you couldn't rely on anyone in this world without the risk of you getting screwed over in the future. Him leaving would mean that they'd have to go out and look for their own scraps with no sort of experience of doing so - so many of them had been stowed away on that island for the duration of the so-called 'apocalypse', so he was a pretty integral part of their infrastructure. Not the whole community of course, but at least Jackson and the people he was working with. Even so, they'd have to cope. Manu wasn't willing to sacrifice his own sanity just to increase the chances of these people.

"Huh?" Jackson replied, glancing up from the scavenged items that Manu had gathered and peering over to him. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm gonna' get out of this place," Manu continued. "Find me someplace I can settle down where I'm not all by myself... It's driving me crazy, man."

"Hey, you've got friends here -" Jackson began, attempting to somehow change Manu's mind.

Manu shook his head as he snickered to himself. "Fuck that," he reposted. "I'm out here scrapping twenty-four seven while you assholes pile up your goods." He walked over to the islander and straightened his face. "Listen, J, you know as good as I do - you'd throw me under the bus first chance you got if it meant you'd get a slightly better shot at survival. You 'ain't gonna' share shit with me. There 'ain't no such thing as friend now. I'm sorry, man." There was another small space of silence. "Look - I'll speak to the guys, see if we can get a better deal. I'll ask 'em if we can get you a couple more guns." Jackson spat out, stressing the thought. Manu could see the anxiety in his brow. "Come on, Manu, think about it - at least sleep on it. We need you."

"Shit, I 'ain't no hero. I'd love to help you but there is only so much scrap I can scavenge," Manu replied calmly, not showing that his patience was drawing thin. He didn't expect Jackson to just submit to the fact one of his lifelines was just dropping out, and he didn't need to, really - Manu was just doing it as a courtesy. "I'm losing my mind Jackson. I gotta' get out of here before it's too late. If one of those undead motherfuckers doesn't get me I might just top myself."

Jackson slowly nodded. "A'ight," he replied finally after some silence. "Well all I can say is good luck," he frowned. "I don't know what's out there, how many more people there are, and, frankly - I don't really want to." Manu thought that Jackson was going to expand on the statement, maybe end it on a positive note, but he didn't - he merely extended his hand, which Manu then shook gladly. "I'd say see you later, but I don't think that's going to happen." Jackson sighed. "Yup," Manu nodded. "I guess not. Good luck, Jack." Jackson proceeded to give Manu his payment - a weeksworth of rations, some medical supplies and some ammunition for his gun. Manu then turned on his heel and walked away, nothing but the backpack with the supplies with him and the gun in his hand. He left his home - or his hovel, or whatever was a worthy word of calling it, and put it out of his mind. Soon it would just rot away in to another part of the disgusting wasteland that was now the general landscape.

He walked forward - towards the hills. Towards the hills that he had not been passed in a very long time. He didn't know what it looked like on the other side of the hills. He hoped that it was what it had been. He hoped it had life. But he doubted it. He imagined that it would look exactly the same as it did right here. Blackness. Scourge. Infection. Death. He could only hope. And if he got there and it was as he expected - barren. Then he would keep walking, and he wouldn't stop walking until he found somewhere that had hope, even if it killed him. After all, what's the point of living if there is nothing worth living for?

"Now, how didn't I see this coming. Fantastic." Manu soliloquised as he met the top of the hill and peered over the vast view of nothingness. Somewhere in one direction was Detroit, his home. He didn't feel like returning there. The part of town he came from was already a shithole when he was growing up, he dreaded seeing it now. Besides everyone who had once been of importance to him in Detroit was now dead. Or worse. Undead. Or whatever it was. He sighed and ended the painful train of thought and set his mind on instead of deciding where not to go; deciding where to go. He began walking forward and didn't stop for a long time. He could only hope that he didn't cross paths with a vast horde of the infected.

"That was a creative one, I'll give you that."

Brick turned to look at her, his eyes looking over her before he waggled his eyebrows, and then stuck his sunglasses on. This caused Allison to break out into some laughter. As it died down, she covered her mouth, and walked closer, taking the water from Brick's arms. "Turn around ya goof." She said, still somewhat chuckling, and then unzipped and placed the water he had grabbed into it, along with the food and limited ammo she had collected from the other tent. When she was finished, she pushed Brick forward a little bit. "You go ahead and head on down. I'll be right behi-"

"Allie, ya see that?" Brick said, putting his arm around her shoulder and cutting her off mid sentence. He was pointing towards someone, or thing, quite a little ways away, but still visible. Allison's eyebrows furrowed and she lifted her hunting rifle up, and looked through the scope in the direction Brick had been pointing in. "That's a survivor... Like us...?" She said. "He's walking too steadily to be infected and turned, but I cant tell if he's bitten or not." She said, allowing her gun and arms to go slack. "Too far away." she said, before bringing it back up and looking in the direction the man was walking. "He's heading straight for a herd, about a mile away."

Brick nodded. "Lets meet up with Tony. Get his opinion an' shit." He said, releasing his friend and going down the fire escape. Allie followed shortly after.

---

"Tony, he will die! The building aint going anywhere, lets at least check it out!" Allison argued. "Let him!" Tony sniped back. "What if it's a trap? What if we went up getting killed? I'm not willing to take that chance. We take care of our own. Fuck everyone else."

A little ways away Brick sat against the wall on a garbage can, his faithful companion sitting by his side watching the other two, with his bandana down. He was probably considered handsome before the apocalypse, his face was square, his chin strong. Along his jaw was unshaven stubble giving him a masculine look. It was completely different from Tony’s mountain man look. “Diesel will hear and smell them coming.” Brick piped in. “We’ll be ready, and he’ll smell them long before they get to us to spring the trap, if there even is one.” The three fell silent for a moment, Tony seemed to be thinking, his older face was stony and had a frown etched into it.

“Alright, fine, lets do it.” Tony said. “You two approach him, cut him off before he gets the walker’s attention, Allie, try to keep it to your bow and arrows. Brick, no guns, they nearly got us killed last time.” Brick smiled at this. ”But they didn’t.” Allison and Tony didn’t react to this at first, before Allie took Tony's side. "Brick there's about 100 walkers if not more, I don't care if it didn't last time, stick to yer knife." she said, crossing her arms below her breasts. Brick's eyebrows furrowed for a moment, but he got over it and pulled his bandana from his neck up and over his nose. It was red with sewn jaws and would look threatening to any other who didn't know him. He placed his sunglasses over his eyes. He grabbed his kukri from his thigh by the handle, and kept it handy. He twirled it in his hand as he waited for the other two to get ready. Kylie, much like her significant other, pulled up her own black bandana, fixed up her jacket, and dawned her own sunglasses. She didn’t look as threatening as Brick, but she didn’t want to. He was meant to be intimidating. She was meant to be stealthy. She decided to simply go bare handed for now, but she had a knife in her sleeve should she need it. Tony whistled to the Rottweiler, causing it to get up and trot over to him. He had his hunting rifle drawn, and his sunglasses on. His large body spoke for itself. “Stay safe you two.” He said, leaning to the side and petting the dog, before walking off, and out of sight, he’d be taking cover to provide cover fire should they need it, and Diesel was with them to tell him if anyone else was coming.

---

The three were tactical, they always had been, and performed a pincer maneuver. Textbook and efficient. Tony had come around the long ways, taking cover in some of the cars with the Rottweiler in tow, who was lowly growling in warning to the man at the nearby zombie horde. It could smell the rot of flesh before they could, as it was a little less than a mile away by now. Tony ignored this, instead keeping his hunting rifle trained in the unknown man. Now that they were closer Tony could tell he was black, and a little taller than Brick, but not as tall as himself. Probably around the same weight area as Brick as well. Meanwhile the other two had come across the short ways, and quickly cut the man off. Brick remained quiet, preferring to let Allie do the talking for now. He wasn't very good at that. He did however quickly survey the man, taking note of his gun and rations. All he would have to do is have Tony take a shot, one swift hand movement... but that was a last resort. As much of a cocky ass as he might have been, alerting the herd behind them wasn't a good idea. Allison had taken her baseball bat out, she looked like she was about to play tee-ball with someone's skull.

"Ey mister," Allison said, speaking first in an attempt to get the man's attention. They were both just a little ways behind him by now. She lifted the baseball bat and rested it on her shoulder. "You probably don't want to keep headin' that way. There's a herd of walkers not too far from here." As she said this she saw Brick had his shotgun in one of his arms, and his kukri machete in the other. She looked at him for a moment, her eyes squinting in confusion at what he was doing, before she followed the direction of his gaze, and saw that the man had a gun. Brick was planning to show this man that he was outgunned. "Now, we're just tryin' to help you out here. Not robbing you or nothin', but if you dont try anything funny neither will we." she said. Brick piped up finally, "Lets get 'em back to Tony. We can figure out where to go from there. I dont want to have a random ass walker come over and alert the others. Oi, stranger, what's your name?" Allison smacked Brick on the arm. "Mister, can we ask you to come with us? I can promise you nothin' bad will come of it. If we were planning to rob you or whatever we'd have done so by now." she regretted saying that almost immediately. She was about to correct her mistake when Brick spoke again. "Walk in front of us in the direction I tell ya and I wont blow your balls off," he said, motioning to the man's torso with his shotgun. "Or, resist, and be killed," he continued. "Or, keep walkin' in that direction and tough it out with the horde. Your choice mate."

Manu whistled a tune to himself as he meandered through the hills. He remained casual but in his hand, which was hidden in his pocket, he carried a handgun. Better safe than sorry.

"Ey mister," a voice called out. Manu stopped dead and sighed quietly. He wasn't sure what to do - this was the first voice he had heard in a long time other than Jackson's and, of course, his own. It sounded female... and kind of assertive. It was coming from behind him. Manu slowly turned, still concealing his gun. He assumed that these people were looters and he wasn't going to lose his supplies, at least, not without a fight. Alas, he did not reveal the gun because there was a chance that these people were friendly. Not a good chance, but a chance nonetheless.

He saw a girl, just like he expected. She seemed young and fair featured, probably a similar age to him. He couldn't quite say in the light. He could see in the corner of his eye another man with a bandana who he was pretty sure had a gun at the ready, so he kept his cool, maintained eye contact and just waited for whatever she was going to say. He just peered at her, expressionless.

"You probably don't want to keep headin' that way." She continued. "There's a herd of walkers not too far from here."

Manu wasn't sure what to think. It could be a trick. He just remained silent and waited for them to make another move or say something else. Surely they wouldn't just sneak on up to him just to warn him he was about to die. He assumed they had ulterior motives. What she said next contradicted that but it didn't convince him. She explained that she wasn't trying to rob him or kill him. He wasn't buying it. Then again, he'd probably be dead by now if they wanted him so. There was a chance they were going to manipulate him in some way - make him work for them. He cocked his head in the direction to see the man with the bandana more clearly. Hehad some pretty deadly looking equipment on hand. An intimidation technique. He'd seen it before. Some chump in the hood gives you trouble, you pull up your shirt and show him the gun in your belt. Show him who's boss. It didn't scare Manu.

The man piped up then, asked Manu his name. "Emmanuel," he replied in a short sharp exclamation. The man then started talking about a 'choice' he had or some shit when it was basically no choice at all, unless you count death as an option. However, the survival option apparently meant he'd have to be at gunpoint. He wasn't up for that shit. Why did these assholes have to be so hostile? Damn. Anyway, he wasn't in the mood for getting a bullet in his skull so he shrugged and followed the man's demands. Sure, they may have given him a tip to avoid some walkers but he wasn't going to forget that they put him to gunpoint. He slipped his handgun away in to his inner pocket - they hadn't seen it yet, so if he needed to he could use it. They had, however, seen his rifle which was hanging from his waist. He unhooked it and dropped it to the ground for them to pick up, as they naturally would not let him walk around with it.

He remained silent all the while though as they guided him away. Better to make no first impression than a bad one.

Abbie
Location: Salt Lake City, Utah.
Timestamp:Around Afternoon

“Alright guys, hold that board open a little wider. I should be able to fit in then.”
Abbie’s request sounded more confident then she felt when the decaying boards creaked in protest. Inside her soul was a completely different matter. Her heart was hammering her chest, mouth dry as cotton, and the gravel concrete grinded through her thinning jeans while she bent to one knee. She already pulled the flannel tighter about her thin body, her figure just barely the right size to fit, while she leaned on all three to peer past the parted boards. Her nose scrunched upward in distaste. Despite the heat, she couldn’t shake off the shivering fear permeating deep into her very marrow. It shilled her and made her feel completely cold against the sun shining overhead. Not a good thing.

Even if she wasn’t cold, Abigail would’ve thought twice about going into the small hole without any protection what so ever. Namely should there be an undead on the other side and waiting to take a chunk out of her face, her lungs inhaled sharp just thinking about it. Then she pulled her knife from her belt bag, the cord wrapped about her wrist to keep it from being jerked or falling out of her grasp. She positioned it like Kurtis taught her. Then setting her compound bow to the hole’s side, she crawled in. First Abbie tilted her shoulder, leading her weapon side into the opening, and then followed by her head slipping after. It was a tight squeeze. The edges scrapped at her face and cheeks, threatened to peel the sink away while eyes darted for any movement. Just open pavement. Thank god, Abbie breathed in relieve and quickly pulled herself the rest of the way through.

She paused only long enough to retrieve her bow and then her arrows, both passed through by one of the guys.

For several weeks, her count long lost, they had been salvaging within Salt Lake City for what little supplies might’ve been missed. Abbie guessed that in the early years of the infection most the supplies on the outer skirts of large towns and cities had been pillaged to the point there was little left. Now, survivors, like Coltrane, Toby and herself, had started to edge into the once more densely populated cities. A faint hope not everything was taken. So far, they hadn’t much luck. Abbie had been managed to found two cans, both labels peeled away, with enough grim and age plastering the outside it made the contents as well as their edibility questionable. In her mind it wasn’t really much of a find to be proud of.

Slowly she rose to her feet. The area she had stumbled into was a backyard, fenced in by an ivy consumed wooden fence and wild grass grown up to her thighs. It looked like any suburb backyard should’ve…if the telltale signs of neglect, pain and suffering didn’t exist. Abbie’s steps flattened the tall grass while she waded through it. Her hand reached out to turn over an aged, plastic chair, wrapped and damaged in the worse way. Spiders, tiny ones, had woven severe webbing into the underside as she spotted a sight she didn’t expect. Somehow, in some way, a large brown, blood stain had survived the years as it was smeared across the seat. Eyes widened, her spine shivered at the cause and Abbie took a step back. Thoughts dark enough to haunt her nightmares rose to the surface before she shut them down. Stay calm, Abbie, stay calm she pleaded with herself, knowing this wasn’t the best time to panic. Her fine neck hairs rose on her skin and snaked in fear, her head rotated gradually to see anything that moved. Nothing. There wasn’t a bird, small animal or anything which made its presence known among the overgrowth. Abbie wasn’t sure what she should’ve felt, nervousness or joy, at the current predicament.
Wasting little time, fear driving her on, she twisted about. She examined the board carefully, noting the rusted nails jutted out in key places and the thing itself was barely hanging on to the frame. A smirk crossed her lips when she turned to glimpse her blade still within her hand. It could work, she toyed with the notion then raised the tip to jab it into the alternating crease’s gaps. She hit it with her hand heel until it inched itself way into the wood. She listened to it cry in protest but ignored it. Again, she whacked it with a fresh smack. Once satisfied with the depth, Abbie shoved it to lever the board and nails right off. Wood cracked and splintered from the rotting and ivy damage, the board crumbling into the tall grass.

“That was easier than I thought it would be,” Abbie said, motioning for the pair to edge themselves into the yard as well, “What now? Any suggestions?”

-snip-

For crying out loud!!!

"With friends like these, who needs enemies!"

"Put the fuckin' gun down you ass." Allie hissed, grabbing the barrel of the shotgun that Brick had pointed at Manu and throwing it to the side. "He ain't doin' nothin'. No need to threaten him!" she said, huffing and crossing her arms. "I appreciate your attempt at help but it aint helping." she said, glaring daggers at Brick as the larger man continued walking, holding the shotgun with one arm. "The guy's got a gun! I'm not takin' any chances. Everyone's hostile until proven otherwise." He said, staring straight ahead at the man, not daring to take his eyes off of him for a moment, for risk of him pulling something. He slacked a little when Emmanuel dropped his rifle. "He doesnt have one anymore. Calm your tits." Allison said, scooping up Manu's rifle for safekeeping.

Unbeknownst to the three, Tony saw the whole thing go down, and in the middle of cursing Brick's name and wondering how Allison put up with the Aussie bastard, he had to restrain Diesel as they approached. He stepped out of the woods and had his pistol trained upon Manu. His other free hand was raised in the air in a fist. Next to him the Rottweiler trotted out of the bushes, but remained behind him, waiting for the fist to drop. He had seen the man move his other gun through his rifle's scope. "What the hell are you two doing?" he said, keeping the gun trained on Manu, but looking toward Brick and Allison as he spoke. He wasn't worried about the man pulling the gun. Diesel would be on him like white on rice as soon as he pulled it, and be would beat him to the trigger because he was less than ten feet away. "You two said you were gonna warn him, not bring him back! This isn't a damn turtle you can find and ask your mother if you can keep." he said, scolding the two. Allison glared daggers at Brick, who in turn gave both of them the middle finger. "And you were so busy arguing with your little loving dispute you missed him move his gun."

Brick stiffened at this, and Allison moved to the side, just behind Brick. "He only has one, he gave it to us." Brick began. "Bullshit, there's another in the front pocket of his jacket." Brick made no response, instead he sighed, and took the gun from Allison. He tied his shotgun to his backpack, and stepped forward and walked around Manu, placing the gun on the ground for him to take. He stepped back and next to Tony, and motioned for Allison to follow him around, which she did, moving a little too quickly around Manu, showing she was nervous. "Listen mate, we got off on the wrong foot." Brick began, taking off his sunglasses and pulling down his bandana. Tony quickly cut in, knowing his younger friend would fuck it up somehow. "What my friend Brick here is trying to say, is that you can part ways now, and that'd be the end of it. No shootin', no nothing. You got your stuff, you know where the walker herd is, you can go on your way." he said. Allison, who had taken her bandana off at some point as well, spoke this time, it was almost like it was planned. "If you want, you can come along with us. We got plenty of supplies. We're no settlement but we can make room for one more if you'll be willing to help us scavenge when you can. There is some safety in numbers." There was silence for a moment, the ambiance of the dog softly growling fading from the background "Or I could ju-" Brick began, only for Allison to back hand him across the face. Brick backpedaled and fell on his ass and clutched his face. "Why would you DO that?" he whined, Diesel had come over to him by this point and had prompted begun to lick Brick's face. "Gah! Fuck off dog! No kisses!" he said, pushing the dog's face away. The dog's tongue lolled out of it's mouth and it panted. It had temporarily let it's guard down, seeing how it's masters hadn't given it any orders throughout the exchange.

"So whaddya say?" Tony said, knowing that it was best not to argue with Allison on her decision making process or to let her offer to shake hands first, as she'd probably spit in her palm and expect Manu to do the same. "My name's Tony, this is Brick," he said, motioning to the man on the ground petting the dog. "And this is Allie." he said, motioning to the young woman who simply nodded her head, to Manu. "His name's Emmanuel." Allison commented. "Well then," Tony continued. "It's a pleasure to meet you Emmanuel. You got a nickname?"

Coltrane gave Abbie an affirmative nod as she gestured for him to enter, briefly taking a moment to check and make sure the surrounding suburbia was still clear. Even though he couldn't see any of the dead, every once in a while he'd still hear what sounded like a groan with no way to tell where it originated from; any noise could've come from as far as half a mile away or as close as the other side of the fence, for all the good it was worth, and so he kept a tight grip around the handle of his crowbar as he ducked under the fence to follow after Abbie and Toby and quickly realised the backyard linked to a house with a garage, identical to others in the neighbourhood, with two storeys and a garage. Once he was sure they were in the clear and nothing was lurking in the overgrowth, he quickly looked back over towards her as they pondered on what to do next and suggested "It couldn't hurt to hole up for a little while, see if we could scrounge up some supplies whilst we're at it."

Stepping over towards the towards the sliding glass door which enabled entry into the house, Coltrane took a moment to examine the interior for any sign of a threat, dead or otherwise, only to find the typical ‘abandoned’ setup usually found in most suburban homes in times like such - except for the fact that there was a mummified corpse dressed in office clothes slumped against the couch. It looked like a corpse at least, but looks could be deceiving, so he slid the door about a few inches apart from the wall and lightly rapped his knuckles against the glass as one of the others held the door in place. An awkward pause lasted for a few moments, before he spotted the ‘corpse’ tilt its head and slowly begin to rise from its throne, letting off a groan which chilled the air as it shuffled after Coltrane.

All it could do, however, was just about fit a grasping hand and its snarling face through the gap before Coltrane plunged the flat end of his crowbar through its eyesocket, causing the corpse to fall limp as its weight slid against the glass. Parting the door a little further, Coltrane pushed the body aside with a firm boot and tapped again, carefully listening for any other sign of movement or noise. This time, however, all seemed well. At least for now.

“Alright, watch my back..” Coltrane gestured to Abbie with a handwave as he stepped inside, still weary of anything that might’ve indicated other occupants inside the house, yet all he met was a stale, musty odor that combined with the stench that must’ve been permeating from the ‘corpse’ they’d just disposed of. All in all, it was a nice house - at least it had been before everything had gone to shit. A few photo frames hanging across the wall indicated a family of four living here, one of them being what was presumably the father - the corpse lying by the sliding glass door. Judging by his office clothing and the once-luxurious appliances and furniture that lay strewn around the house, he held a steady, well-paid job and even after all this time, Coltrane couldn’t help but think of what a waste it had all been, to have everything taken from the poor bastard by some god-awful outbreak that had screwed the whole world, whilst an ex-con like himself had somehow pushed through alive and better for it. Funny world, indeed.

After they were certain the downstairs area was clear, Coltrane opted to take the lead once again and slowly made the ascent upstairs, being careful to tread lightly on the steps in case one loose floorboard made a creak which acted as an alarm bell to any other occupants in the house. Once he reached the top, he quickly noticed four doors which ran anti-clockwise along the landing; of which the fourth held a faded sticker plastered across it which just about read ‘Jamie’s Room”. Coltrane shook his head at the notion, and decided to check the doors in-order. The first turned out to be a teenager’s bedroom, with various belongings and articles of the time haphazardly strewn across like you’d expect with someone going through that time of their life. Incidentally, a poster of some rapper of the time before - one Coltrane didn’t recognise - vaguely reminded him of the Tupac and Easy-E posters he’d kept framed on his own bedroom, almost a lifetime ago.

When he moved onto the second and fourth rooms, the bathroom and master bedroom respectively, he met the same musty odor he’d found downstairs, but this time no sign of any corpse, moving or otherwise. In the bedroom it looked as if the occupants had been going about their normal lives before everything went to hell, as if they’d been hit by a storm with no chance to pack their belongings. So far woman he’d seen in pictures with the corpse downstairs was nowhere to be seen, nor was the teenage boy that had been featured in the photo. The only other room which was left to be checked was the fourth, the younger kid’s room. Shrugging it off, Coltrane went through his usual routine of listening for any sign of movement on the other end, before slowly twisting the handle and pushing forward. He peered inside, and a sigh followed.

“Aw man...”

He made an end of it quickly.

Abbie
Location: Salt Lake City, Utah
Timestamp: Around Afternoon

After Coltrane, followed by Toby, came through Abbie felt the boar slip from her grip and clatter softly onto the ground. Instantly she froze. Her eyes widened and body tensed, poised to react while she strained to listen to the air over her own racing heart. Was that footsteps she heard? Her ears strained farther for the slight tittering sound, possibly her paranoia’s imaginations, until Coltrane’s words shattered it. His deep voice caused her to sudden jump and snapped her head about to give him a glaring look. Partly, it seemed like she was accusing him for her jumpiness in unfamiliar territory. However, the sour look quickly melted away when she noted his suggestion. Her heart was still pounding within her ears, drowning her head, while she forced herself to nod in agreement.

Her dry tongue forced a soft word from her lips. “Agreed.”

The sooner they searched, the sooner they could leave she thought as Coltrane started to move toward the sliding porch door. Her eyes followed him yet her body hadn’t moved from place, yet. She paused long enough to attach her quiver and notched her bow with an arrow. A handcrafted one from last spring, decorated with black raven feathers, one of her favorites. She slightly let a smirk trace her mouth when her mind wandered back to the memory of Lacy suggesting she use the black feathers, and then it faded. Loosely she continued to hold her arrow to her weapon while Abbie followed Coltrane’s path. Easily her body fell in step with his without a second thought, telling the world how at ease she felt working with him. Her legs shifted through the tall grass creating a flatten trail that wove to the house and destroyed the imagery of abandonment with each step.

As Coltrane started to edge the glass door open, she stepped to the other side of the doorway and propped herself against the frame and the door edge. She eyed the yard while also glancing at the murky, grimy glass in an attempt to see past its dirty surface and into the room beyond. It didn’t make a different since the outside was covered in many weathered layers. Her leg lifted high enough to rest her foot upon the outside and prevent the door from sliding too far open. It was a precaution, namely should a zombie attempt bust its way through. She held her breath while her back dug into the frame’s outline, ready to slam some zombie’s head into mash, it felt like the longest time in her existence. The indentations felt like they would make a mark when Coltrane tapped the glass. Right on cue, the corpse sitting in the chair had started to rise. Its frame, spared the harsh environment, was barely touched by the decay. Still there was a build of rot and stank emitting from the corpse’s shambling movements, soiling the stale air. Flesh seemed to shrivel up and muscle long gone, the bones held by fraying and weak tendons thanks to the years passing by. Inwardly she was thankfully it was Coltrane dealing directly with the undead and not her. However, a small voice chided her for it. It said she was being a coward and weak leaving the dirty stuff to the bulkier man rather than face it, as she should. Not wanting to bother with it, Abbie pushed the voice to the back of her mind just when Coltrane sent his crowbar tip right into the eye of the shambling threat. She shuddered, letting her leg down while she couldn’t tear her face away from the thing. Even after, it collapsed, dead for a second time.

No matter how many times Abbie watched them. No matter how much she tried to convince herself they were gone, her mind seemed to continue to feel a slight twinge of guilt when they were forced to kill one. She guessed her mind would never get over the fact they were once human and that, to her, was something very dangerous. It hurt her chances of survival.

She didn’t have long to dwell on it when Coltrane spoke. “Alright, watch my back..”

His hand waved as he headed inside. Abbie’s hands still fixed, ready to draw her arrow and fire, made sure to keep close. Her boots seemed louder than it should have been in the quiet, soundless tomb of the old house. Each step caused the boards to creak and moan softly in protest, trying to sound the alarm to any inhabitants left only to go unheeded. At least she assumed and hoped so. Her head instinctively shot to the corpse while her nose scrunched up from the aroma wafting off it. She bit down on the sourness within her throat; her arm rose slightly to cover her nose and stifle the scent invading her smell. Swiftly she edged on by the smelly mass. Not that it mattered. Most the house had stale quality of air and that made her think she was being suffocated, her lungs unhappy with the dust and mold being inhaled.

Abbie avoided examining the scene too closely. Namely the photos, evidence of a family, hanging from the wall like little windows, each scene locked within a simple, more peaceful scene and time. Now it was all meaningless. Her heart hurt while her eyes traced the interior, quickly passing over the more homely touches while she motioned for Toby to shut the door. As risky as the house might’ve been, having something else come in behind them was far worse and something Abbie wasn’t about to chance.

Inch by inch, they roamed the various rooms downstairs. Luckily, there wasn’t a door leading into a basement or else Abbie would’ve locked it down, using cord, to be searched much later. Too many times they had unwanted surprises. Slowly each one had driven up her paranoia because she nearly found herself in a life or death situation far too often for her liking. Now she was tired of them.

They finally came to checking the upstairs. Once more Coltrane took the lead, her heart suck in her throat and eyes peeled for any signs of movement during her close travel in his wake. So nervous, she barely registered herself nearly melting into Coltrane’s back until her elbow nearly nudged his lower back. Softly she cursed herself for being so jumpy. Then she forced herself to hold back, her head still eyed his thick frame slowly worked his way up with each step treading as light as possible for someone his size. For a moment, Abbie had a lingering thought that perhaps she should’ve taken the lead but shook it away. It was too late now. Like before, each room checked made Abbie’s stomach toss in anxiety since she expected to see another time burdened body moving toward them. By the third room, her worry had started to ebb leaving her core lighter now until she heard Coltrane’s words.

“Aw man...”

“What? What is it….” Her sentence trailed off when she edged to peek into the room. Her eyes widened in horror and her figure was saddled with trembles, her skin voided of any color being washed over in white.

At first glimpsed it looked like any typical boy’s room. The walls were covered in sky blue, lined with various posters of racecars, their drivers, and other sport figures who flashed their winning smiles onto the empty bed, the same theme patterned its covers and sheets. A dresser, pure white with painted on flag patterns and peeled stickers, sat near the partly open window. The curtains were very thin, easily toyed with by a breeze though the cracked window and causing their edges to flutter a bit. Abbie followed a single, large stain of blood. It stretched over the carpet from end of the room to a closet, which stood wide open. The door stoppered by a half-eaten woman slumped over before it. Flesh peeled back, her face half-eaten to reveal the yellowed skull underneath and messy, wiry frizzle of brown hair covered her eyes, likely shrunken into her sockets. The buzzing of flies, a small swarm flittered to and back among the large gaping hole in her middle.

Abbie felt her stomach start to curl again. Then a sound of a moan, followed by shuffling feet caused her to jerk to the side. A boy, no older than six, dressed in stained shorts and a tee shirt started his slow treading steps to them. His eyes glossed over in a film long voided of any life now. His pupils and irises a milky, sour color just stared at the trio peeking into his bedroom. One shoe was gone but the other was slated to the side, the ankle seemed off set and broken, though he didn’t register it. The undead child just continued on his mindless path toward them.

“Oh my god…” It was all Abbie could say. On cue, her feet immediately took a step back then another backing right out of the room once more. She felt fear and a deep sorrow seize her heart. No…no… “I can’t…he’s just, just so young… No.”

It would be clear this was her first ‘young’ corpse and the effect was rather unsettling.

Along the foggy horizon appeared eleven glistening figures draped in formless, deep green cloaks, and the smallest one at point making do. Each step aligned as if set to a beat. Despite the dozen pairs of boots there was little sound besides the pitter-patter against their makeshift ponchos. The smallest, wrapped in a scavenged trash bag, sighed as the rain seeped through every tear. As time passed sighing turned to huffing, huffing to groaning. From those furthest back to the man behind point, the group shared sideways glances at the sorry display. After an hour straight the joke ran dry.

"Do you have something to say, Barkley?" the lieutenant conceded. In a few long strides she had passed Tomás and fell in line with the private.

Private Barkley glanced at his leader and retorted, "What was your--" and cleared his throat. Breathing through his nose was still just a memory, not to mention the bruises. "With your permission, ma'am."

"Granted."

"Lieutenant Gauss, I get that we're trackin'um and all, but I've been thinkin'. See, I'm from Utah, and sure as shit, we've made a pretty clear path right for Mormonland. These guys haven't just wandered yet, right? I'm thinkin' they're aim is Salt Lake City, and bettuh yet, I know howta get us there in a one day -- max," Barkley announced, bold enough to smile until the pain convinced him otherwise.

As if queued, the rain grew doubly worse. Gauss turned to the squad before looking back at Barkley and pursing her lips. They walked silently beside one another for a while before she finally nodded.

---

By evening the landscape changed. What was flat, yellow, and barren now sprouted thick conifers and aspens. The fiery sunset blazing from the lumpy horizon ahead cast a red, blinding light against the squad.
Holding a hand in front of his eyes, Tomás jogged ahead. “Barkley,” he whispered, slowing beside the private. “You’re sure about this path, right? If you’re trying to impress the lieutenant I understand, but guessing your way through might be digging your own grave.”
“Calm down, Gellemo. I lived here for half a decade. See those mountains? You know their name?” the private asked, nodding his chin east. “That’s the Traverse Range. We call it the Traverse. Little farther and the El-Tee won’t have no choice butta thank me.”
Tomás held his hand flat against his brow. Squinting, he looked ahead onto the ebb and flow of horizon. A few miles of uphill marching might slow their pace, but he estimated another two or three hours more at most. He nearly smiled. Pirate Crew or not, he looked forward to reaching another city. As beautiful as the open, untamed land may be, for every ounce of beauty there were two of danger. Sleeping one eye open took its toll. He imagined Salt Lake just a night’s march away. When he turned back to the rest of the squad, though, the group had slowed. Tomás looked back to Barkley to find the private setting a brisk pace. Between the glaring sun, the hard miles, and the incline – which only seemed to worsen – he withdrew his excitement. Tomás rushed to the crest of the hill behind Barkley.
Further past the hilltop hunched several figures in worn leather. Barkley had frozen, but Tomás slipped his rifle from his shoulder into his hands immediately. The others jeered him and shouted for a fight. Perhaps they saw the two men alone, assuming some unheard insult. Regardless, Tomás shouldered his weapon. Before he could fire Barkley lunged. The two men fell, tumbling down the hillside past the crouching group. Tomás saw a blur atop the hill and heard gunfire. His rifle escaped him, then a piece of his pack.
The world stopped suddenly only after a collision. Tomás curled around the thin base of a now bent sapling, and, shaking, reached for his sidearm. Barkley somehow managed into a crouch half way down the hill. Hands raised, the private began to shake his head. Seeing the gesture gave Tomás pause.
The pistol never left its holster and Tomás never saw the leathery figure behind him. He heard a meaty thunk then felt the cool earth against his cheek. His vision blurred and as the hilltop erupted in dozens of little flashes, his world slipped into darkness.

It had been a little while since then.

The trio and Manu had split up. Manu having been too... resistant to working in a group. There was something wrong with him, it wasn't hard to tell by the way he acted and carried himself. It was just... wrong how honest and uncaring he was to some of their questions. It scared Allison, she didn't want someone who would so willingly leave her for dead watching her back in the dead of night. With this in mind Tony had essentially hit the man over the head with his gun, and Brick dragged him into some bushed and out of sight to keep him from being in any danger for a while, but not without stealing some of his water. Finders keepers, he should be paying them for not killing him outright. Diesel had disappeared throughout this endeavor, coming back not long after with his jaws freshly bloodied with whatever woodland creature the Rottweiler had gotten his jaws upon. Probably a rabbit or a squirrel. Probably the former. Everyone had trouble catching squirrels. They shouldered their packs, and continued on, Brick tossing his Kukri up and catching it by the hilt as they went.

"You're going to cut yourself doin' that Brick." Allison commented, scowling somewhat through her sunglasses. Tony grunted, "Good luck getting him to listen." He commented. Brick laughed a little. "You're just salty I beat you in a game of Texas Hold'em last night." He said, catching his blade and then stuffing it back into it's sheath, prompting Allison to smirk a little bit. "I should teach you to use some of my throwing knives sometime. They ain't shit against a walker, but they'll put a man on his ass cryin', seein' as you love blades so much." she said, pointing down at her shoe with the barrel of her hunting rifle. She always kept a few knives in her shoes. "Ey! You better not point yer gun at yer foot, ya might shoot yer foot off!" Brick replied, his voice high pitched and squeaky, making fun of Allison for her earlier comment. Allison, in turn flipped him off. "You'd be sleeping on the couch for that one." She said, scowling at them. "If only I had that much comfort." Brick replied. Tony walked about two steps behind them, covering the rear with Diesel. "What'd I tell you, dog?" he said, looking down to the Rottweiler. "You're the only one bearable enough to be around for an extended period of time." he said. He sighed and shouldered his gun on it's sash, letting it hang limply on his shoulder. With his hands free, he reached around and pulled a little black and silver object from one of the many pockets. A harmonica.

They walked for a little while longer through the woods, Tony passing the time by playing a tune on the harmonica. He wasn't loud in doing so, not that it'd matter too much. Evening was falling and there really wasn't much around them besides the light that slipped through the petals in the trees. "You know," Brick began. "I read somewhere that your shadow is the produce of light traveling several hundred thousand miles from the sun to reach Earth, only to be stopped a few feet away from the ground by you." He said, a stupid grin on his face. Tony stopped playing the harmonica, and rolled his eyes. "That's some deep shit for you Brick." He commented, with a cocky smirk on his face. "Oh shut up you old fart. Just 'cause I like killin' things doesn't make me dumb." Brick replied, clearly not amused. Allison didn't say anything, she was too busy pinching the bridge of her nose. "I heard somewhere that bein' a zombie is better than livin' with two idiots." She finally said. Brick held his hands up as if he was surrendering. "Saaaaaaassy." he said, prompting Tony to laugh. "Lets take a break, kiddies." Tony finally said. "These knees aren't what they used to be." He continued. "Not since... the war..." Brick added, causing Allison to laugh. "Oh go 'roast yourself on the barbie'." Tony replied, his accent obviously fake, but the message was sent. It caused Brick to roll his eyes.

They took a break, Tony sitting on a large stone playing solitaire for a few minutes and absentmindedly petted Diesel (who had laid down with him) every few seconds, with Brick tossing a baseball the Allison had collected back and forth which ever now and then was dropped. Allison never was especially good at baseball, she couldn't catch very well but boy could she throw and hit. She'd probably he practicing her hits, but she didn't want to lose her baseball or attract any attention while Tony was resting. Last time she did that she broke some window and attracted a few walkers. She wasn't running to escape them. She was running to escape Tony, who pretty much turned int Yosemite Sam and looked like he was about to run around with his guns and fire willy nilly at her and Brick. The zombies don't got shit on him when he gets mad. He was a one man-old man apocalypse if he wanted to be. "You all wanna set up camp here?" Brick finally said. "It's a good a place as any, and I'm hungry." he finished. "You're always hungry Brick." Tony finally stated. "And I also find most of the food. Technically it's mine." he replied back, only for a baseball to hit him square in the chest. As he fell down Allison was covering her mouth in shock that she had just beaned her boyfriend. He squirmed for a moment, biting back a cry of pain and/or anger, and took a few breaths. There would probably be a bruise there tomorrow, but thankfully the motocross armor he had underneath his clothes resisted most of the force. "Damn girl," he began taking her had as she helped him up. "You got an arm on you." he said, laughing a little, and then wincing.

Tony simply laughed, and continued petting Diesel on his rock. "You guys go ahead and start setting up then. I'll be right with you to help out. Almost done with my game."

"I've got it.." Coltrane sullenly answered to Abbie’s despair as the kid grew closer, its contorted ankle dragging across the floor like a dead weight. Sympathetic to the girl's plight, Coltrane knew from experience that it was never easy the first couple of times. Given how small and fragile they were, it was usually a case of there not being anything left to come back once the dead had their fill, but sometimes you’d find a sad example of one that had been condemned to the unfortunate fate that the rest of the dead had found.

Abbie simply nodded, she felt if words broke through her lips then she would crack apart. Her eyes couldn’t leave the shambling boy even well after she had moved clear of the door frame. It wasn’t until Coltrane had moved past her and severed her line of sight did she shudder, the spell broken. Unable to watch she hastily shifted to the door’s side. Her body immediately felt like jello when it slammed against the wall, her back made a soft thump followed by a slight pain from the impact. Slowly her legs gave out forcing her to slide down as her arms wrapped about herself, hugging in feeble comfort. The whole time Abbie was fighting her impulse to throw up. The only thing she heard was the sickly wet sound of Coltrane’s mercy blow making her flinch, tears fueled by pain and guilt swelled in her eyes only to be forced back.

Quickly and as cleanly as he could, Coltrane had made an end of it to put the boy out of his misery and a few minutes later he stepped out of the kid’s room a few minutes later with a body wrapped up in a blanket, a solemn expression worn across his face. From her lower position, Abbie’s head jerked up to see him shift out. She had curled up, her knees pressed against her forehead and made slight indentations, then watched Coltrane’s movement.

Heading back over towards the garden, the ex-con laid the kid's blanketed corpse across the overgrowth and figured it’d be best to give the kid and what could be assumed to be his family a dignified send-off. A few minutes later and he'd dragged the remaining two bodies back out; albeit he'd decided not to wrap either of the adults in blankets - Abbie could've tolerated that much at least, he hoped.

At first, he briefly considered digging a grave for the trio to rest in, but the idea of leaving the bodies to rot underground seemed just as bad as leaving them, and for the sake of Abbie's well being he figured cremation was the best bet. With any luck, the garage - the one place they’d not yet checked out - would have a little gas to start a pyre for the bodies whilst the overgrown, dried grass on the backyard would do the rest.

Naturally Abbie had picked herself up and fell in beside him. Her eyes, slightly reddened now, avoided his unlike the first they met making it clear some things had changed. Over the months she had lived with them, Coltrane and the farmers, she no longer saw them as strangers but more like family. A family whose thoughts and image of her had the most importance, unlike strangers who she couldn’t give a shit less about. Her eyes lingered a moment longer then needed on the small, blanketed corpse. It wasn’t until the shuffle of Coltrane’s feet did she note that he was heading to the garage.

Her hands once more wrapped about her compound bow, an arrow still rested loosely in place, to follow behind him.

Crowbar at the ready, Coltrane was the first in as always - yet once inside, he found the garage to be clear of dead, yet he was a little surprised to find something else; a Grand Cherokee backed up against the wall in an almost pristine condition, frozen in time save for the massive amounts of dust which had accumulated across the windows. After a few seconds, Abbie’s figure appeared in the doorway while she stood there. Her back propped open the door with her side and head glanced back to Toby’s position, his form just now making it onto the porch. Naturally when Coltrane made a sound, Abbie’s eyebrow raised in question and interest overwhelmed her sober expression.

“Huh,” he muttered to himself, briefly pausing to tap on the glass just in case another one was lurking inside behind the screen of dust which barred observation. No dice, it seemed, so after a few he checked the handle to see if it was locked, and lo-and-behold it turned out that the SUV had been left unlocked by its owner. Flicking on the torch in his breast pocket, he quickly learned that the interior was in a similar condition to the exterior; almost untouched, save for a mass of accumulated dust particles.

Abbie chuckled, softly. She couldn’t help it, and it felt damn good to do it she had to admit. Her arms flipped her compound bow over her shoulder and let it rest there while she watched Coltrane examine the fair sized vehicle like a boy with a shiny new toy.
He perked up at the thought that their little group might’ve found another car after such a long while on-foot, maybe even giving them a shot at getting out of Utah and heading north like he'd wanted, but he knew better than to get their hopes up. For one, they’d need to find the keys, wherever they were, and then make sure they had a filled tank of gas and a charged battery ready to get them moving, and that was assuming the best of conditions.

As he examined the interior, she couldn’t stay by the door any longer. She darted her eyes around the floor and snapped onto a seemingly rusted tool box. As quietly as she could, Abbie shoved it with her foot to prop open the door while she walked up beside him. Bent slightly at the waist and crunched her eyes, she was trying to examine past his rather thick frame and into the SUV itself. Not easy considering he wasn’t exactly a petite built sort of guy she mused. Not aware at first until her eyes brushed over his backside, her thoughts had influenced her actions. Thankfully it was short lived. When Coltrane started to flip his light about she snapped out of it then averted her gaze quickly, her head shook the thought away. Innerly she had hoped he was too busy with the SUV to notice where her eyes had lingered.The last thing she wanted to do was make him uncomfortable, the thought tugged at her heart and urged her to ease the building tension that felt like it would snap her into pieces shortly.

Naturally the first and likely worse words came pouring out of her lips. “Well, will she run?”

Smooth, she scolded herself, really smooth.

Fortunately for Abbie, he remained oblivious to the awkward nature of the situation, probably distracted by the fact they potentially had a working vehicle on their hands. "Might do. Lemme check something first, though.."

Circling around to the front of the SUV, he quickly popped the hood and shone his light over the engine and its companions, paying a particular focus to the battery. After a little while, he leaned inwards and sniffed; his brow definitely contorting at whatever it was he'd found. Averting his gaze over towards Abbie, he spoke up once more.

“Bad news is that the battery is probably close to dead, if it ain't already flat. Good news is... shit, just that. If we find the keys in the house, get a portable generator with some gas, jumper cables and a charger - we'd be able to get it running again. I figure this thing’s still got some gas in it and if we could scrounge up a little more from any other cars we find, that’d work."

Abbie watched Coltrane float to the SUV front then pop the hood, his head disappeared for several moments while he examined the interior. Idly her eyes shifted to the garage inside to note the lack of tools and even needed equipment that she remembered in her own father’s small workshop. She made a soft sigh only to snap back to Coltrane’s position after the hood snapped close. Abbie blinked, digesting the information, when her head nodded in understanding. “So we just need gas, jumper cables, the charger and...a portable generator.”

She inhaled, her hand had already started to rub the back of her neck and she began to think. She could see some problems with this plan, namely gathering the supplies. “Won’t the generator be like sounding the dinner bell for every walking corpse around?”

Abbie wasn’t an expert in the subject, naturally, because they rarely used them back in Eden. And the ones they did use were noisy as hell which usually made her very nervous.

“We’re getting a working ride outta this so....” Coltrane answered, considering how this little snag in their plans could be met. Granted, it had the potential to become more than a little snag if more than just a few were drawn to the sound, but time on the road had taught him how to improvise. “Yeah. It’ll make a little noise, but we can work with that. Maybe if it’s too loud, we could create a distraction nearby, draw numbers away.”

“Alright. The way I see it, there’s only one fast way to do this: splitting up.” Abbie said, a slight groan came through as she started to shift about the SUV. Her sneakers scuffed across the hard, dirty pavement within the garage interior.

“You and Toby both can keep an eye for the jumper cables and generator, while I can do the gas or some powerful alcohol, if I can find any, might would also work. That just leaves how to keep the undead distracted while you and Toby get the SUV’s battery charged…” Abbie continued soundly and pondered on the current problem. “I could gather a shitload of cans, string them together and fixed in a way that they can make a lot of noise. Any walker around here would be immediately drawn to it and if we muffle the generator’s sounds by keeping the door closed, stuff towels or something into any cracks then it should help.”

She hadn’t realized her body continued to move and already edged herself closer to the door until she was shortly facing Toby, his lithe figure currently stood there waiting. He appeared to have only caught some of the plan as he flashed her an unsure smile and slowly prepared to back away to allow her through. Abbie paused just short of heading off. She tilted her head back, eyes fixed on Coltrane’s position with hesitation. In her head, she was unsure if her earlier suggestion was alright. She was fastest and most cautious of the group, small and light on her feet which made it easy to get into places others couldn’t while not having to be sure Toby or Coltrane could keep up. It won’t be too hard for her to get the gas, string up cans and more before she returned.

Her hand reached out to brace herself against the door’s frame to take in his expression then, unless he stopped her, Abbie would’ve walked out. In this case, he didn't and so she headed toward the front door to see if she had to return to the fence or not.