[center][b]Percival Chevalier Highway Toward Emory University[/b][/center] --- Years from now, Percival watned nothing more than to look back and laugh at his current situation, like recalling what he'd thought was a dire and critical part of his life, only to find it meant significantly less in reality. That thought only served to frighten him more; what would have been more significant—scratch that. What could be worse in proportion to the entire world coming to an end? And suddenly his future looked a whole lot bleaker. By Murphy's Law, bad things were bound to happen if there was any chance and worse things most definitely, even worse than an apocalypse, somewhere down the road. That was if he had any road left. And now, walking mindlessly down the highway, clutching rosary beads in his hands, Percival wondered exactly why he clung to his faith, especially if he'd no metaphorical road and just the one under his feet. A man like him neither deserved the grace of God and no longer desired it. There was certainly no one worth holding it for, no one to ask for God's love and protection. Even now, as his mind drifted off, it would take a lot more than prayer to receive any kind of blessing from God. Hell, they may even have to dig into some occult books and start sacrificing what it dictated for His blessing. Percival almost scoffed at that thought. But honestly, if He was determined to let those soldiers die, then what was to stop Him from damning the entire human race? It certainly looked like he just did. A curse slipped from Percival's lips at the tightness ofh is grip. The pain of blunt nails and sharp, wooden edges tore him from his thoughts. All of his senses came on at a time until the sound of moaning and his eyes caught a glimpse of the pallor of rotten flesh and gnashed, yellow teeth, all shuffling his way. Percival froze, the cries in his head covering the thud of blood in his ears and fresh memories bounced unrelenting in his skull. In that instant, as arms reached out and fingers brushed the collar of his blue Henley, Percival dove forward, beads dropping to the bloodied grass in favor of the screwdriver just within reach, stuffed inside the stretchable cup holder in his backpack. The blunt tip found its way through flesh and bone the moment Percival toppled onto the being, using his full weight to overpower it. Without another thought Percival towered over the monster, punching the flathead into chest and neck and skull in reckless abandon. It took hard, downward swings for the tool to break through bone, even the softened, sickly colored skull of the creature's head. Tools weren't made to kill, but they were hardy enough not to break if strained beyond its normal uses. A gurgle escaped the thing's throat, blood gushing from its gaping, broken jaw, whilst its hands grasped for potential leverage, its mind still on the thought of a meal, until they finally fell pliant at its sides. Through the red Percival had felt another pair of groping hands, this time on his shoulder, only now realizing there was a second shuffling monstrosity just behind him, apparently having popped from underneath an abandoned car. It had forced itself to stand, taking the time it took for Percival to lose control to drag itself to his side. Lunging forward, it aimed to take a piece of Percival's neck, but had no sense of its own weight and clumsiness and toppled the both of them forward into the bloodied grass and street. The loud 'woosh' of a speeding car caught Percival's ears and the rush of air as it flew alarmingly fast jarred him out of his own recklessness. Coming to his senses, Percival flung an arm up to the creature's neck to keep its grinding teeth at pay. It was sufficient enough to stall the beast there, it's force being only minimal, but somehow unending, though its hands still clawed at his sides. It clutched desperately to the brown jacket he wore, pressing bruises into Percival's sides and with enough force and better leverage, it wouldn't have stopped at that. Craning his head to both sides, he caught sight of the screwdriver embedded deep in the eye of the recent, actual corpse. From where Percival lay, pinned by a starved, rotting beast, he couldn't quite reach it, nor did he have the right angle to pry it from bone and tissue. First, he'd have to deal with the thing attempting to make a meal out of him and that was definitely easier said than done. And then it hit him, and by hit him, literally it hit him. The liquid mix of blood and what he'd assumed to be saliva (what he'd hoped to be saliva, however odd that sounded) dripped onto cheek and jaw, threatening to slide into his mouth were he facing the creature. It brought a tight grimace from Percival and that was enough for him to rake his knees up into a curl beneath the being's abdomen and promptly apply every bit of strength he had to fling it off. The creature flailed back, rolling onto its stomach and immediately beginning to stand as it let out a low groan of what he'd wanted to call anger. He took the opening to roll forward and onto his feet, eyes currently focused on the screwdriver, but flickered over to the pallid beast once he'd gotten a good enough grip on the tool. Yanking it off just as it regained balance and began another, identical assault, Percival moved to intercept it, rearing his arm back before punching the tool with an incredible amount of force up the beast's jaw and eventually driving it through tongue and teeth and nose until it buried itself into the beast's skull and brain. It lurched forward with another groan turned gurgle, the handle having found its way into it no agape mouth, embedding it there before it rocked back on its heels and then fell completely lifeless to the ground. That signaled the end of that and Percival was all but glad; that was certainly enough action or him to bare for at least another week. It'd been so long since Percival had to rely on the surge of adrenaline to push him into blind action. He'd forgotten how exhausting that felt, even more so than when he'd first taken up running. But even if his bed, now miles behind him, calling his name and dulling his senses while the blood and sweat dragging the weight of his clothes down, Emory was barely a mile away. He could make out the building from the highway exit he began a meticulous crawl down. It was barely in his reach and he'd be damned if he missed the refugee group that was no doubt setting up to leave. If he stranded himself, Percival wasn't quite sure what he'd do, so there was obviously no option but to trudge forward. The fear that rose to his chest propelled him into a heavy jog. The pack slung over his shoulders flopped noisily along his back and the heaviness of his footfalls sounded against the blacktop of the road. All of it was washed out by the huffs that escaped his nose and mouth, along with the rush of blood in his ears. The distant honks only served to push him into a sprint to close the distance and when he rounded the multitude of buildings and trees to spot a group not to far from where he stood, his greeting came out in loud wheezes and the sound of vomit choking its way out of his stomach. He'd barely missed the lady with the crowbar he no doubt scared out of her wits, as well as the Eureka! shout of "Lemon balm!" However a distinct voice rumbled not too far from where he'd hunched over a tree to spill the inadequate lunch he'd eaten, just as the blood and pulse stopped thrumming in his ears and he could finally collect a few of his senses. "Can't tell if your dog wants to hump my leg or bite it off," the gruff drawl of the voice bypassed the buzzing that replaced the pulse in Percival's ears. He tore his gaze from the damp ground to find it, though the first thing he spotted was a dog and the thought of that speaking only made him think of his impending insanity. Though he immediately turned to see who'd shouted the command, who he assumed was the owner of the dog, until he finally caught the source of the voice that was now directed at him. He recognized it as the first speaker, not the "Lemon Balm!" Lady, but who he'd assumed to be the rough 'n tumble man. There was concerned in his voice, hidden beneath the obvious tones of disgust at his sight and probably his smell, "Whoa, you look like complete shit—" "Wow, Aldous, you learned that from being a greeter at Walmart? Way to help the guy out," another voice joined the chorus, a distinctly feminine one this time. He could make out the man's dismissive wave as he walked over, immediately blocking sight of the dark skinned female in his wide arch to avoid the dog he glared at. "I was gonna offer him some water, but you keep insisting that I'm some pile of dicks," he grunted, ignoring her retort about 'Oh, how [he'd] like that' as he bent over to look Percival in the eye. A water bottle was shoved in the hand limp at his side as the man, Aldous, hesitantly lifted him to stand upright. Percival only offered the bottle back as he pointed a thumb to the backpack flung over his shoulders. "Already..." he wheezed out, trailing off and immediately disregarded the man's eye roll. "Whatever," he'd heard Aldous mutter after a pause to discern what he meant and before disappearing behind Percival. There was a moment of ruffling and the sounds of rummaging before Aldous returned to his line of sight, a different bottle of water being shoved into his Percival's hand. After a brief pause, he rubbed the back of his neck, gave a nod, and let Percival slump against the tree as he downed the water like his life depended on it. Now that he thought about it, his life probably did depend on it. "Oh, so you're no longer afraid of strangers now?" Grace through Aldous an incredulous look as she folded her arms. "None of the others looked ready to keel over and die, you priss," Aldous remarked, nodding his head in Percival's direction and giving his sister a smirk, "'Sides, I'm sure past all the vomit, blood, guts, and sweat, he's actually cute." Aldous quickly turned to regard Shane and Connor. "No offense intended, boys." Grace merely rolled her eyes as Aldous shot the two men a shameless wink. "You're unbelievable," Grace grumbled, finally taking notice to the two outliers behind them. She gave a wave and shone her brightest smile, turning into what Aldous considered her 'dealing with skittish animals' persona as she approached them slow and steady. Grace was good with people, he knew that, but he couldn't stop and wonder if that was exactly a trait she needed to have in the world as it would come to be. Aldous turned his attention back to her, smiling feebly as she turned to look at him, "Please don't chase anymore people away." "Chase people away? I just saved a man's life!" "Giving him a bottle of water and a pat on the back is far from saving his life, asshole." "Whatever," Aldous turned his attention back to Shane and finally the dog at his side, hearing Grace audibly introduce herself with a quick 'Hi, name's Grace! You got the message on the radio too?' And at that point, Aldous had made it no secret that he was slowly moving away from what he assumed to be a volatile animal. He gripped the knife he'd still held in his hand, taking the blade in his palm as he waved the hilt particularly at the dog. "Don't you go getting any ideas now," Aldous said, waving the handle, "When I turn my back on you, I fully expect and trust you not to piss all over my jeans and shoes. I know that look and its got vindictive written all over it." His words were purposefully playful, knowing first hand how protective pet owners could get, and the smirk he bit back was still showing between his teeth. Watching all of this from his tree, Percival was content to fall asleep there, but even with the kind gesture it was hard to let his guard down among strangers. He'd only hoped that notion would change as the days passed by, at least for this particular group of people. From what it looked of ther situation, it seemed, as he spent more time watching and thinking, that he'd no doubt have to stick with this particular group for an indefinite period of time or risk it alone by himself. Traveling without a companion seemed a lot more dangerous compared to trusting a group of random strangers who seemed strangers to each other, themselves. The thought only made him grip the beads and cross he'd nearly forgotten on the road side, hand having subconsciously found them stuffed in his jacket pocket. In spite of his blatant worry and exhaustion, Percival continued to observe, engrossed enough that the distant groans he'd heard upon sprinting onto the campus became distant white noise in the background. He'd just close his eyes for a second. Just two seconds.