Jonathan Teller - Methodist Emergency Center

It was currently around eight p.m. at night and the sun had already faded into the horizon. All that lay upon the sky was a star-full pitch black overpass. There was no noises in the area, just pure silence - like that of a lonely, sorrowful night. It had been six months of this for Jonathan Teller, a security guard for one of the biggest hospital's in Bandera, Texas - Methodist Boerne Emergency Center. It was a very fancy looking hospital that recognized the unique needs of each of their patients. It’s a process that they continue to improve upon, creating ways to better serve the community when they need them most. But once the world went to hell because the dead raised to torture the living, that little vow vanished as quickly as human life. Doctors and nurses fled before the hospital even got overrun. At that point, they didn't care about the patients, but their own families, rushing to the aid of their own blood without a care for the needy.

But before walker, as they called them, roamed the earth, Jonathan or John, also couldn't care less for these patients. Before, he was just at the hospital to get paid, not honestly to serve and protect the facility. He even had thoughts of robbing the same place he was paid to keep safe - it was the thug in him. But after none of that mattered, none of the money, none of the power and fame, or the thrill, John's perspective on life changed dramatically. That cash flow wouldn't get him closer to his friend's killer. They wouldn't get him the justice he wanted. He got in that one gang to find the murderers, but never got the chance to do it, wasting his entire life on a chance that never came. So now, six months into the zombie apocalypse as it is known, Jonathan fled to the same hospital he was paid to guard.

He walked the halls alone, gun strapped to the holster on the right side of his belt. All the lights in the hospital were turned off, John had decided it be best to keep them off at all times. Still to that point the hospital had not been overrun by anyone or anything, John made sure of that. They were located on Menger Springs and I-10, very much away from any big town or city-like development - which was getting popular just before damnation struck. Because the hospital ran on its own power, produced by large generators, the place had water, electricity if needed, and a decent amount of hospital food that kept Jonathan full. Of course, he had gone out and hunted for supplies in the nearest stores, but lived mainly off the hospital's supplies.

There was also the question on how the man kept his sanity. Well, he wasn't the only tenant in the Methodist Hospital, there were three others with him - patients actually. When everyone else left, there were two old people who remained alone in the hospital and this one young girl. The couple was old, somewhere around their seventies. Jonathan took care of the married couple who's anniversary was actually this same day and was celebrated with Ritz crackers, red jello cups, and water. Despite the rotting and destruction that the walkers brought for everyone, Jonathan was mainly absent that sight. He saw this event as a fresh start, a way to renew his entire purpose in life. He no longer had to devote it on revenge, because it was pointless now, it was over. Now he wanted to make up for loss time, doing right by himself and others. So as a start, he continued to defend the hospital because he knew that one day everything would return to normal and that this place was needed for rebuilding.

So as he continued to walk the dark halls, he suddenly heard a noise behind him. Quickly he turned, pulling his gun from his holster. "Who's there?" he asked in a whisper. "Oh! It's just me sweetheart" said Mrs. Oswald, raising her hands to the ceiling. "Good lord" John sighed, putting the gun down, shaking his head side to side as he took a breath. "You should be in your room Mrs. Oswald" the man commented, walking towards her.

"Sorry sweetheart, but I cant....." he said with a smirk on her face. She didn't seem right, something was off about her. "Are you okay?" John asked, walking up to her to find tears streaming down her cheeks. "What's wrong?" he asked her again, placing a hand on her shoulder. "You know we love you don't you son?" She asked him, staring at his chest, not looking into his eyes. "Yeah, of course" John assured her, still not understanding what was wrong. "And you know both Robert and I are getting too old to handle ourselves anymore? Were putting much a burden on you and I am very, very sorry" he continued, trying to wipe the tears, but they continued.

"You're scarring me Mrs. Oswald. Is it Robert? Is he okay?" John asked, trying to escape to her room, but being stopped by her grasp. He turned back to face her, confusion all over his face. "I'm sorry..." she sobbed. "But it's time for us to go. And you too son. Just let go with us okay? We love you and are doing this for you, so that you don't have to suffer anymore."

"What did you do?" John asked her, his eyes widening at every word that came out of her mouth. "Robert is turning on the lights. I suggest you get out of here. We've lived our lives Johnathan. We're happy to have met you and appreciate everything you've done for us, but this is it. We can't take it anymore. We want to go together under this beautiful night. Please, just go before it's too late..." she stated. "No......NO! I can't! No, no, no, no. Mrs. Oswald, what the heck are you thinking? We've made it so far together, we have it good here. We have food, water. We......we have what we need to survive, there's no need to give up. Why? Why now?" Johnathan asked, running his hands through his short hair and forehead. He couldn't believe it. Six months together and they just decide to take their lives this way. "Oh crap!" he then cursed, realizing Robert was probably down by the generators and about to turn the lights on. "Go back to your room Mrs. Oswald" he told her quickly before rushing to the back of the dark hospital.

He had to turn his flashlight on because he was no longer near the windows where the stars and moonlight lit the room. "Please don't do this...." he thought to himself, rushing as fast as he could, sweating a little as he turned left and right. He wanted to scream, but wasn't going to risk it. Still he was stunned on their decision to just suddenly give up - especially on their anniversary. Just as he was a hall away from the generator room, the lights suddenly started to turn on, one by one. John stopped to stare at the ceiling, watching the long halls light up like Christmas trees. "No..."

John Benson / Matthew Benson - Gas Go markets gas station







John sat silently on the cold tiled floor of the backroom of the Shell gas station, his son Matthew lay near by, his breathing was slow and steady the sign of someone who was sleeping peacefully enough. That sediment was however was not shared by the forty year old man, his eye's were red by now with black bags underneath them, his once shaven face now caressed with a thickening beard, his hair more grey in the past six months then it had been his whole life. The man who sat on the floor cloaked in a dim failing light from the Coleman lantern in front of him, in all honesty, looked nothing the man who had once been a simple assistant manger at a small General Store. In fact at this point he more then anything looked like a homeless man, his beard, his ragged look, his clothes now torn in several places and splattered with blood only supported this. It had been a long six months, in fact it felt very much like six years or maybe even sixty, everyday was just another day of moving from one place to another, walking in the thick heat, trying to just find some food, water, and shelter for the night that just seemed to come too quick. To the young boy who lay on the floor in peaceful slumber, this world was not as bad as it seemed, but then again an eleven year old boy should not have to deal with a world such as this.

John slowly moved his head as he shifted his body leaning slightly, the rifle he kept beside him shifted with him as he let his eye's observe the room that was for the time concealing them not only from the dead, but possible looters who would look to do them harm. The room was medium in size, around them old shelves were tipped over, empty and void of any items of interest, now covered in a thick layer of dust. Against the wall the working mechanics of a pop machine could be seen, it too was void of any items itself, even the syrup looted god knows when, all that was really left here now was empty worn boxes and shelving. Across from John was the door in which he kept his eye's trained on, it was a basic metal door, the lock long broken, a broken shelf lay jammed under the knob now to keep it closed and secure, and an old towel covering the crack underneath to cloak any light from being seen on the outside. John did not expect any looters honestly, this place was picked clean as it was, and as long as they had no encouragement the dead would not find their way in here either. But this was a moot point to John, if he had learned anything in the past six months, it was that nothing was a sure thing anymore in this world.

Reaching down into his jean jacket pocket John revealed a crumpled pack of Newport menthol's and a lighter that was almost empty now. Opening the pack there was only three left inside it an not another pack in site. He was not really a smoker, never was, in fact he always thought of it as a death sentence back when the world was not like this, but not anymore. The days of playing it safe and just enjoying a long life was over that was obvious, and if he was going to die anyways, he would rather die of lung cancer compared to being torn open and eaten alive. John shakily put the cigarette between his lips, with a couple clicks he brought the lighter to life and lite the tip take a rather long deep drag. Truth was, that John had never been predisposed to situations like this, he had grown up in a small town with his father and mother who were good and simple people. The town was small, a place where everybody knew each other, bad things had almost never happened, he used to spend weekends fishing and camping and hunting, and the weekdays helping his father do small vehicle repairs for the locals in town. So naturally when you see for the first time in your entire life, a man torn open from chest to stomach, and watch his insides get torn out as he weakly tries to fight, your never the same again.

John was thankful that Matthew had not witnessed such a terrible site, that his young son still held onto his innocence... the question he had however was just how long he could shield his son from the true nature of the world now? John blew smoke from his nose and mouth as he looked at his son's face in the dim light, all he had ever wanted was for Matthew to know a good life, a simple life away from the bad things that existed in the world. When his mother Hanna had passed away, he was but a baby so he did not understand fully the reasons for her not being there, and John had tried to conceal the facts the best he could. His own grief was almost enough as it was, the only thing he had in the world when Hanna died was his son, and he had vowed to keep him safe, to keep him happy, to always be there for him. But now everyday all he could think about was how much longer he had with Matthew. John slowly reached his hand over and put it on Matthews cheek, then reaching down he pulled the blanket up covering him up with it. How much longer did either one of them really have left, that was the true question that ran through his mind day in an day out. John was not afraid to die, if anything now death seemed like a hell of a lot better option.

However no matter how good of an idea it seemed, John could not take his own life none the less his sons, there was a harsh truth to face now, and that truth was simply that this was the end for humanity. There truly seemed to be no way back from this hell, and it was hard to have hope after the countless images of people dieing plagued John's head day and night. John took the cigarette from his mouth as he dragged the remains across the floor, the embers slowly went out as he got up from the floor. Making his way across the room he slowly removed the shelf from the door knob, turning his head Matthew was still sleeping soundly, carefully removing the shelf from the knob he kicked the towel aside and slowly emerged from the store room. Pulling his hunting pistol from it's holster had clicked off the safety and looked around through the growing darkness, he heard nothing and saw nothing, it was just silent and... dead. Turning John closed the door tightly as he made his way behind the smashed counter and then into the back. Walking into the dark bathroom he removed a small LED flashlight and clicked it on, walking up to a shattered mirror he looked at his reflection in it, he barely recognized the man looking back at him.

Reaching out he turned the knobs on the sink with his free hand setting the flashlight down, however no water came out, setting the pistol on the edge of the sink he placed his hands on the sides of the sink he bent his head down as he did not wish to see his own reflection anymore. Closing his eye's various images flashed through his head, some were good but many were bad, he could feel his heart beating so fast in his chest as he tried so hard just to cope with everything, but how much longer could he keep going on like this? The nausea hit John hard and fast out of nowhere as he suddenly gagged and vomit exploded from his mouth, John threw up at least three times before he was merely dry heaving. John backed away from the sink and hit the wall behind him, sliding down to the floor he shakily put his hand to his head, his head was burning furiously as his eye's burned wanting to shed tears. There was no denying it... John was not long going to survive this mentally, how much longer could he hold onto the good man he was until he became like the others out there, raping and pillaging and killing indiscriminately? Everyday he felt like he was slipping into a darkness he just couldn't avoid, and the only thing he had to hold onto was Matthew and John knew it was only a matter of time before his life too ended.

When John heard the scream of his young son his head bolted up so fast his neck cracked harshly, quickly regaining his feet he nearly bashed his head on the sink as he grabbed his gun off the ledge and bolted through the darkness smashing his knee on the smashed counter. John cursed to himself as he quickly made his way through the door to the backroom, quickly opening it his burst through as he saw his son moving on his sleeping bag screaming. John quickly went forward and slid to the floor, grabbing Matthew he pulled him shaking him lightly.

"Matthew, Matthew wake up its Daddy I'm here."

John spoke in a rough lightly accented voice as Matthew's eye's suddenly popped open and he stopped failing around. Matthew immediately saw John as he wrapped his arms around his neck squeezing hard. Matthew was breathing hard as his heart was racing against John's chest, John wrapped his arms around Matthew as the young boy started to cry. John had no idea what had happened, a nightmare was the best thing he could think off, rubbing his hand down Matthews back he shushed him quietly as he tried to calm him down.

"Daddy's here buddy, shh, daddy's here its all right."

Matthew shook hard as he kept his tight grip around John's neck, John kept him close as he tried his best to soothe him, he must have a bad nightmare to shake this much. John could only imagine what his son had dreamt of and it broke his heart to think he was this scared right now.

"Its okay buddy, were gonna be okay, I promise it was just a dream, shh."

It took some time but Matthew finally calmed down enough that he slowly slid back into sleep. John still held him in his arms as he positioned himself back against the wall and rested his sons head against his arm. Leaning his own head back he looked at the open door across from him, the darkness seemed to almost suck the life out of the room. Breathing in deeply then out John sighed lowly, the road ahead was going to be anything but easy, but as long as he had breath in his body, he would walk through hell fire to protect his son, and no matter how much his mind changed, that would always remain.

Farren North – Medina River, just outside of Bandera, TX

The crunch of tired feet echoed within a small area around a tan woman with brown hair as she walked alongside the water, hoping it led her the right way. Wrapped around her stomach were a little boy’s legs, his arms hanging limply at his sides and his head on top of her shoulder, while one of her arms cradled him and the other held his head of blonde curls to her throat. Over her other shoulder was a duffel bag that continually bounced off her hip, making a soft sound each time. Her jeans were thick but dirty, and she wore a black fitted fleece hoodie over a black long sleeve shirt. Her son wore cargo jeans, small converse shoes, and a plaid long sleeve shirt with a messy collar. The pair looked comforting and yet desperate, calm and yet urgent.

Farren’s bright blue eyes scanned the area, looking downwards to make sure she wasn’t going to step in mud or puddles along her trek, while simultaneously keeping Dean asleep and warm. His small hot breaths puffed out into the night, calm and unaware of everything around them, while his mother’s face looked to be in imaginary pain, thin lips stretched over bright white teeth, but not in a smile; more of a wince. Every once in a while a grunt would escape her lips, but otherwise, she was silent, wanting Dean to rest while she got them away. A woman with a toddler seemed easy to take advantage of these days, and Farren was more than aware when someone was trying to use her and/or her son.

The last place they’d left seemed like a good place to stay. There were several others, all having found a remote hotel and had their own rooms. But there was a man who had fancied himself a leader of sorts, and Farren knew that was never good. She’d only stayed a day before heading out secretly again. An hour after she’d left, she heard yelling in the distance and seen flashlights, which had only made her begin running while shushing the baby. She’d lost them easily, having a good head start, but it’d only confirmed her suspicions that not everything was kosher there.

Now, her tired legs had been moving for hours, mind jumping from one thing to the next. Originally, it’d been what those people wanted with her and Dean. Then it was a particularly mean professor in college. Then it was Dean’s first birthday. Then it was that book she’d never finished left on her coffee table the day she’d packed everything up. Then it was trying to calculate what she’d eaten in the last few days. Then it was that stupid pop song from a year ago that always got stuck in her head.

Birds cawed about her but she ignored them, seeing what looked like building shapes in the dark ahead. Well, it was still a walk, but maybe there would be a place to rest anyway. She took a deep breath and pressed on, looking up and suddenly seeing a light shining out from the place. Farren froze, staring at it. Well, there must be people here anyway. Stupid people. But people. She hesitated, but slowly put one foot in front of the other. Hope was all she had, after all.

-double post-

Buck Bradley – Utility Shed

Buck’s eyes slowly blinked open. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep, only rest his eyes for a few minutes. He shook his head, silently berating himself for the potentially fatal blunder. These days you never could be too careful, even if you were under cover. His whole body groaned as he rolled off of the folded tarp that had served as his bed. It definitely wasn’t the most comfortable place he had ever slept, but after his experiences the last few months it wasn’t the worst either.

He rubbed his face roughly with both hands. He had dreamed of that night again. It had been almost two months, but the images were still vivid. He had been asleep then too, only to be awakened by the sound of screams and gunshots. He didn’t realize it then, but they had let themselves get too comfortable. Let their guard down, even for just a moment. That was their mistake. Impulsive as always he had immediately grabbed his 2x4 from its place at his side, dashed outside without a word, leaving behind the girl. The children.

Outside it had been chaos. People and walkers everywhere. Somehow they had gotten through their defenses. He had done his best to try to help, but in the darkness and confusion he quickly found himself isolated. Then he had fallen, rolled down a steep bank and into a ditch. He must have hit his head pretty hard because when he came to everything was quiet. He laid three-quarters of the way inside a culvert. His own dumb luck falling had saved him from any passing walkers.

He made his way quickly back to the camp, but everyone was gone. Every vehicle they had salvaged – gone. He searched every building in the area but there was not a trace of another survivor. He knew people had to have escaped – who else would have driven off in the vehicles? For a week he waited for them to return. He busied himself gathering and burning the many bodies that littered the area. It was hard work – but it kept him occupied. After a week had past he made up his mind that no one was coming back. He set off on his own in the direction he assumed they had gone.

That was two months ago. In that time he hadn’t found one clue of what had happened to his friends. Every day his hope wore a little more thin, to the point that now he had accepted the fact that he would remain alone. Some days that really bothered him. Other days he considered it beneficial. Whatever the case, there was no denying it: Buck Bradley was on his own.

Sighing heavily he got to his feet. A couple of days back he had discovered a box of chocolate chip granola bars in an abandoned car. He had made short work of them. He would need to find food again soon. That would require going outside – sacrificing what little security the shed offered him. Resigning himself to the task he picked up his 2x4 and headed to the door.

For a couple of minutes he just stood there quietly, listening. These past few months had trained him to always listen first before acting, whether in dealing with people or walkers. When he heard nothing he pushed the door open a crack to have a look around. Nothing. Not a person living or dead as far as he could see. Quietly he slipped out of the shed, making sure not to let the door bang shut behind him. In the short time he had been here he hadn’t encountered anyone else, but one could never be too careful.
The night was clear enough that he could make his way along the street with relative ease. He had come into this area a couple of days ago and gone through any vehicles and buildings immediately surrounding the shed he had made his home. His searching turned up nothing of great value. There were however, a few larger buildings a bit farther in the distance that looked like they might hold some promise. He made his way towards those now. Quiet night, he thought to himself. Just like the night…

He stopped abruptly in the middle of his thought. There, in one of those distant buildings he had been headed for, lights were flashing to life one at a time. His jaw dropped and his brow furrowed. What was happening? He stood there for a few moments, not sure whether to keep going or turn back. It didn’t take him long to decide. If there were lights there, there must be power. And if there was power there, there could be food. In the end his stomach won out and he continued on, as quickly and quietly as he could manage.

Clayton Burrows - Hill Country State Natural Area

Clayton sat quietly down by a log, being careful not to make any sudden movements. He proceeded to slide his rifle of his arm and gently land onto the log before him. Clayton hasn't used this rifle since he was a young ignorant boy being dragged to hunt game near Lake McMurty by his overly eager father. His father loved to hunt; it almost scared him actually. How could one man love killing another species so much? Clayton's theory was that it was just his father being more in touch with his baser instinct. In a way, he was more human than most. Clayton got down on one knee, trying to be as comfortable as he could while doing so. He started to position the gun more effectively, so that the butt was being pushed against his shoulder for controlled firepower. He then placed his head down towards the scope, fiddling with the focus on the scope while doing so. In his sights was a white tailed deer just mindlessly grazing amongst the plants around it.

The creature must have been about 80 yards away, which was a decent distance to fire from. As his focus on the scope was made clearer so was the creature's nature. This was an animal that has been afraid of man for thousands of years and yet it probably hasn't seen one in months. However the fear still resides in him. If Clayton was too simply run the creature would sprint in fear and terror. He wonders how deer would act 100 years from now when man is completely gone. Would they go manic or be more passive? This whole world has given Clayton more time to think than he knows what to do with. He enjoys it. He likes the ambiance and the silence. Who knew desolation had a silver lining? With enough twiddling he finally found his focus. His finger massaged the trigger smoothly like baby oil. He had only fired this weapon a few times in the past 6 months; he’s still a little rusty. Makes him wish he had paid attention to what his father was telling him years ago.

He had to consider wind and bullet drop but he has no fucking idea how to even measure those kinds of things. All he has to fire and pray to whatever deity there is left in this world; he doubts there is any caretaker left. The more he looks at it, the more he feels guilty to kill it. Hunting has obviously lowered since everything began and yet this deer is unlucky enough to find itself in the wrong place at the wrong time. It turns and looks in the direction of Clayton. Its dark eyes stared straight through to Clayton’s soul. It’s quite a curious, innocent thing…shame nature must take its course. Flutter went the birds in the area as silence dropped all around. All that was left was the faint galloping of terrified deer that has been blessed with luck in its near-final hours. Clayton cursed as his bullet took a near-miss at the deer. One would think that he was cursing because had lost his chance at some supplies but the truth is, he’s cursing because he still hasn’t improved his shooting skills. He’s got limited ammunition and is not an idiot. Having your own DIY shooting range is one way to attract trouble. He picked his rifle up and placed it back onto his shoulder and started walking through the dim forest. There were so many trees about that even the time of day seemed like an impossible question to ask.

Clayton had been walking through the desert-green land for a few hours and was starting to become exhausted. The nearest civilization was a little hamlet about 10 miles back but he never goes to the same place twice. He appreciates landscape as art. Once you’ve thoroughly seen and used it then there is no more point to it. In the green-covered distance he can see some sort of white. As he got closer the strange object revealed itself to be a building of some sort. He started to approach it cautiously. As much as he admires this world, it’s full of dangers and not to be taken lightly. Then again so was the world before. It’s only in this one that he feels safer. The building was in a small clearing, so it’s perfect for cover. You could turn on a thousand lights here and only the veil of trees would be enough to cover it. The building was small and had worn out mark on it that said “Texas Park Rangers” on it. It was obviously a park ranger outpost from the world of yesterday. It will be useful as bed for tonight. The windows was boarded up and there’s an abandoned park ranger pick up truck just outside. He’s not the first person who’s had the same idea. He un-holstered his hunting knife and kept it ready. The people today have trouble catching up with the world and it makes them crazy and unhealthy. He’s seen people scrounge up scraps of rotten food like scraps while wearing worn Dolce and Gabbana clothes. A once respected member of society transformed into an animal. The evolution of psyche is amazing. It lays dormant till needed but the spirit has already been institutionalized so in the end, they’re fucked.

He walks up to one of the small tiles of window that hasn’t been boarded. It was way to dark to see anything but it seems that a struggle was involved. He walks up to the door slowly and carefully. The door wasn’t locked and the metal surrounding was rusty. This place has barely been used but still been used at one point nonetheless. He opens the door very slowly; the only thing he hears is rustling and groaning sounds. He then proceeds to open full force to get ready to defend himself but was greeted with the sight and smell of a strange walker who was hanging by the neck from the ceiling fan. From the sight of his clothes, the walker appeared to be a former park ranger who has just hung himself. There’s no bite marks on him, so he killed himself in emotional pain. Clayton finds it intriguing to just watch the walker struggle. He looks into his black, hollow eyes and he can see nothing but natural savagery. He was watching the basis of nature at it’s finest. Hunger. Need. Life. Death. The whole package rolled into one creature. He marvelled at it, almost respecting it. Clayton closed the door and proceeded to move a nearby desk by it for protection. He places his gun and backpack down, pulling up a chair while doing so. The walker tries to reach for Clayton but was stuck by the rope on his neck. Clayton just lit up a cigarette and just watched him plainly. He wasn’t playing with it; he wasn’t killing it or torturing it. He was just watching it. Art needs to be appreciated and respected but not taken lightly. Art and nature has its own way of ‘biting’ back.

Ada Cinet - Kindla Spring/Ranch Road
(1 day ago)

Sick.

That was all Ada could think, it was all she allowed herself to think as she squatted over the body, disfigured from months of decay in the hot Texan sun. With a grimace, she pulled the knife out of the thing's skull, scowling at the sick sound it made. The squelch interrupted the serene silence of the night air. Ada didn't move, movement was noise, noise was bad, it a took a while, but after six months she had learned that. She defensively raised the knife, and let her eyes dart around, looking for anything in the distance, like a deer feeling for the slightest disturbance of something that might kill it. The woman wasn't particularly worried about the sick, even on an empty stomach she moved faster than they did and the flat, generally unobstructed horizon made it easy to see them coming and avoid a potential confrontation all together.

The sickos were easy-- what Ada was looking for was the living.

Her scan of the area ended in an internal sigh of relief, though, she felt safe enough to continue with what could only be described as necessary desecration, she clutched the knife tighter, moving it into position. With her free hand, she felt the jacket that laid spreadeagled in the grass beside her again, the dried and caked blood having become chipped and cracked after days in the hot southwestern sun. She knew it needed a fresh coat of blood... she also knew how crazy it was that she lived at a point in time where she needed to eviscerate a human... someone who was once a human.. and cover her clothes in their guts just to stay alive! Closing her eyes, she steeled herself for a moment, before raising the knife over her head and bringing it down on the stomach. She started to move it around, the effort got a grunt out of her, she hadn't eaten well for days. Still, she finished the job, reaching into the bloody hole she had created with apprehension, she knew not to retch, but she still couldn't get rid of the initial disgust. She covered the cloth jacket in human entrails. The scent kept the sick away.

A stifled yawn and a growl from her own stomach reminded Ada of her own fatigue, she was running on the fumes of dry ramen, stale coffee, and water. She'd need to sleep soon, and eat something with even a little nutrition, days of walking had not been good for her. The weight she was losing was almost certainly muscle, she couldn't feel anymore fat on her body, and the darkness under her eyes definitely gave away her deprivation of sleep. With a swift motion, she put the jacket on, now drenched in sicko repellant, and moved over to her bag on the other side of the body to clean her hands. A moment later, she stood, tossing away the bloodied towel and knife, and began to walk again, her muscles tensed up, but she kept on, her tall slim figure was the only thing moving on that road in the still night air. As dawn came, she took out her mp3 and put in an earbud, walking in perfect rhythm with the music.



Ada Cinet - Skyline Ranch RV Park
(9 hours ago)

Ada's eyes opened slowly, absorbing the light that came in from the dirty, windows and their broken blinds. It took her a second to remember where she was, that she was sleeping in an RV, in an RV park that had only been lightly scavenged at worst. A few hours after dawn she had found this place, and she was still thanking her lucky stars she had. 10 hours of sleep wasn't much, but it was probably more than all the sleep she had gotten in the last 3 weeks combined, Texas was being a damn lot kinder to her than Mexico, and as she yawned, laying on the RV couch, she thanked her lucky stars she had found this place. She knew she needed to keep moving, she wanted to-- but for now, she wanted to wring every second of relaxation she could out of this place.

Slowly adjusting to being away after her first real night's sleep in a while, she stared at the ceiling and just... thought. Her mind wandered, she thought of her brother, her mother, she thought of Louisiana and Vegas, she thought of how this really much different than her life before the sickness spread, or her mother's, for that matter, would she be proud of her?

Today marked 3 weeks on the road for Ada, and her mind thought of her journey, most of that time was spent in Mexico, avoiding people, the cartels had all but taken control. She shuddered thinking of the things she had seen, her mind went farther back, to where she had spent over 5 months, the brunt of the apocalypse, a cakewalk compared to this.

The Reservation. It was a good little thing Ada stumbled upon the first few days of the hysteria brought on by the sickness. Of course, back then no one called it that, it was still the "Shiprock, New Mexico, Navajo Indian Reservation"-- Legislation in regards to the Native American reservations was always iffy, that mean less representation America's first citizens, but in the event of a catastrophic disaster, like with the sickness, they were able to close off things quick. Ada was lucky to have been in Shiprock when she was-- the sick were contained within days and the borders were closed off almost immediately after word from DC died. Within weeks jobs were assigned, a barter system was established, and aside from doctors, guards, and people who went on scavenging, no one even had to deal with the sick. Ada smiled thinking of it. The security of The Reservation had made her complacent. She was heading to Louisiana to find her family-- her little brother, her mom-- but the ease of life there, it actually made things better for her than before the end of... everything, of American life.

Toward the end, it wasn't the sick that killed The Reservation, it was human error. Needless bureaucracy, micro-managing, and just plain greedy, power hungry people.

The Reservation was dead, but it taught her several important things about the new world. Ada, now wide awake, swung her legs to the ground and sat up, they weren't burning like before, they were sore, certainly, but they could move. That was the first thing The Reservation had taught her, she needed to keep moving, that's what made her such a good scout and looter, she kept moving. Her stomach growled, as she stood, she moved over to the kitchen area of the RV, it hadn't been looted yet, not by anyone who knew what they were doing, at least, and after opening a few cabinets, she was rewarded with what she wanted-- cans-- peaches, beans and even sardines. Jackpot. This was another thing The Reservation taught her, she tore open drawer after drawer, looking for a can opener, or at least a knife, The Reservation taught her to keep things simple-- no bureaucracy, no step-by-step plans, no other people. No complications. You move from place to place, you sleep, you walk, you eat.

Cover yourself in guts and avoid everyone. Simple.

A short few months ago, Ada had considered herself a vegetarian. That Ada, the vegetarian Ada, would have been horrified to see the way the Ada that had been shaped by this new world tore into the can of uncooked pork & beans, throwing in raw sardines. Current Ada couldn't have cared less.

Half an hour later, she slurped down the last of the peach syrup she could stomach and fell back down on the RV couch and lost another hour to a nap. She was woken up by the sound of groans. Ada let out a groan under her breath herself at the unwelcome intrusion. She'd need to leave before there were more. After a quick trip to the RV bathroom for hygiene, she tucked her mangy hair under her hat and got ready to set out, quickly looking through the RV for potential weapons, more food, anything useful-- she put it in her bag. Scratching on the door was her cue to head out.

Gingerly putting on the still damp coat, she slung the back pack over over shoulder and moved to open the door of the RV. Ada held her breath, and let the door slowly creak open. She didn't like killing them if she didn't have to, it was a loud ordeal, and too messy, she preferred letting them be and simply sneaking past. The woman on the other side of the door was heavyset, she looked like she may have been the fat mother of a large Texan family. Her neck was snapped, her head hung at a slight angle, and the hair on her head had all but fallen out-- a former RV owner? Her torso was riddled with bullet holes, Ada couldn't tell if they were fresh or not as she silently stared at the dead sicko, her heart beat faster and she continued to hold her breath, she tried her hardest to maintain contact with its dead, rotting eyes.

Ada made the first move, shuffling slightly around the woman. The woman moved in kind, stepping into the RV where Ada had just been. Within moments, Ada was on Highway 16 again, and she remembered the may be the most important lesson she learned from The Reservation.

Don't grow complacent.

Not ever.

Ada Cinet - Gas Go markets gas station
(Present)



Looking up at the night sky as she walked, Ada couldn't help but note the beauty of the night sky in it's full glory. Without the disruption of city lights, the stars of the Milky Way could shine through Earth's atmosphere much more clearly. She strolled down the street, each step as silent as she could make them, and she listened to her music. Highway 16 had led her to Bandera, and she much preferred the night sky than the reality of the empty, dark streets around her. She hadn't encountered many people in Texas, she wanted to keep it that way and towns like this ran the risk of ruining that. She came to a stop in the middle of an empty intersection. Another empty intersection, in a country-- maybe world-- full of empty intersections. The desolation hung in the air, behind her, there stood an old Sonic drive in, in front, a gas station that appeared to have lost a battle with a tornado. Her mp3 player stopped. Fishing the device out of her pocket, the blinking 'empty battery' logo was all she needed to help make the decision.

Gas station it is, then.

Wordlessly, silently, she moved to the boarded windows of the abandoned Shell station. She didn't have a flashlight, so she had to rely on sound to tell her the weakest board, she knocked, quietly, looking for signs of anything, hollowness, termites, rain damage, anything. The board next to the entrance struck her as the weakest, and she reared back, delivering a single, loud kick. The board fell with ease, most of it having already been rotted away. She ran in, trying to silently tip toe around the board and the various litter on the floor of the Gas station mart. Quickly rummaging around, she began her search for AAA batteries.

Farren North – Bandera Horse Ranch/Rd 689

Farren moved just a little further before she ran into a fence. Frowning, she tried to inspect it in the dark. There was barbed wired along the top. She hesitated before leaving her path along the river to follow the fence instead, coming eventually to a broken sign. From what she could make out, it was a ranch of some sort. Her eyes widened, and she pondered if there were any horses left. She almost clicked her tongue to try and call one, but her gaze diverted downward to her sleeping son. Getting on a horse and riding it… it would wake him. And anytime he was woken before getting all his sleep, he cried. She couldn’t risk it.

Giving a frustrated blow through her nose, Farren moved on, now moving along the street that had led to the ranch. It was paved, and seemed to go into town, whatever town it was, and therefore towards the light. She would remember the ranch though, in case she needed a horse or cabin outside the town if nothing promising lay within.

Farren looked up at a sign along the road that said the numbers 689. She had no idea what that meant or where it led. She felt like crying. The toddler was so heavy in her arms. The bag was weighing down her shoulder. Her legs had gone from burning to numb and now feeling like jello. Not to mention she wouldn’t reach the inside of that town til morning at this rate anyway. Farren let out a heavy sigh and let her knees hit the ground. She kept her son curled against her, his form barely stirring as she grimaced until she could sit on her backside and rest for the moment.

Buck Bradley – On the road – Farren North

Buck’s thoughts raced.

He had been quietly picking his way through the landscape, making his way towards the new source of light on the horizon. But he was growing impatient, and that sometimes meant he could get careless. Three times now he had almost stumbled upon groups of walkers and only at the last minute had he stopped and selected a different route. To be honest, he was lost now. He had never been on this road before. His only focus was on the lighted building somewhere up ahead. Who could it be? Why did they choose now to turn on the lights? Could it just be some sort of malfunction? A timer that for some reason had chosen to kick in now? He couldn’t answer any of these questions yet, all he could do was keep moving forward.

Lost in his thoughts he practically tripped over two figures on the ground in front of him. Instinctively he raised his 2x4, ready to do some damage. But then he really looked at them. It was a woman and child. Both very much alive. His breath caught in his throat. People. Real, living people. It had been weeks since he’d seen anyone else out here. And now that he had he was speechless.

It took only a moment for him to realize again the vulnerability of their situation. He never liked to stop for too long out in the open. He looked at the woman. She was very pretty. Buck had never done well around pretty girls. “Uh…hello,” he started. “Are you guys ok?” He looked around, thinking he might have heard a noise behind him. Maybe there were more people? Maybe there were walkers.

He turned back to the woman and cleared his throat. “Listen, it’s not safe out here. I’ve got a shed not too far from here. We should go there now.” As soon as the words were out of his mouth he closed his eyes and bit his tongue. That was possibly the creepiest thing he had ever said to anyone. Great Buck. The first real people you see in months and you’re gonna scare them off!

He opened his eyes and tried to start again. “I mean…no, not the shed…what we should do is…” He paused again. What exactly should they be doing? First impressions were never Buck’s strong suit.

Farren North – Road – Buck Bradley

Farren could hear footsteps approaching. She tried to will herself to get up and move, but instead just looked over her shoulder at a large hulking figure of a man with quite a beard. She licked her lips and swallowed hard, hoping he might not notice her, but as he came closer she knew it was inevitable. She started to move towards the ditch alongside the road when she heard the shuffle of his feet backing up and she looked at him again, now faced with a large piece of solid wood aimed to come down on her. She winced slightly in the dark, breath quick and coming in small puffs like her sons while her heart raced. The woman waited for a blow that never came until the man spoke an almost confused sounding greeting. It was obvious she was vulnerable, and she supposed that was one advantage of having her child. No one expected trouble from her. Which was true, she was never trouble to anyone. But at the same time, caring for a toddler amongst walkers and low society was much more of a disadvantage than it ever was an advantage.

Farren kept quiet while the man spoke, alarm flashing in her eyes when he said she should go to a shed with him instantly. She slowly stood once more, giving a soft noise of protest while watching him as he seemed to realize how that sounded. The way he was stumbling over his words, and didn’t harm her right away, she had to trust him for the moment. He could always be a rapist, but he didn’t strike her that way. At least he wasn’t a murderer of women with children.

“I was headed towards that light,” Farren said in a whispery tone, nodding to the town the road was leading to. She looked past him after she spoke, thinking she heard a noise as well. “Were you followed?” she asked, frowning and shifting Dean on her chest until she reached a bit more comfort. It may have just been an animal behind the man, but she knew she couldn’t take the chance. “I think we should go towards it, because well, no offense but, your offer sounds a little creepy,” she said with a tired, quiet laugh. In the dark her bright smile shone, weary but amused.

Clayton Burrows – Hill Country State Natural Area

The cold touch of a nearby draught gradually awoke Clayton from his beauty nap. The room was much darker than before, indicting night-time. As he started to come too he sees the walker hanging from the ceiling still swinging around like a circus monkey, desperate to be free and wild. He started to stand up slowly until he felt a great shot of pain hit his side. He started holding his hand on his hip and then swung around, inadvertently seeing himself in a cracked mirror. He was getting old. He looked some broken toy of a person found in a care home: damaged, unused and forgotten. He knows that he can’t simply walk into a clinic for some pain meds but it wouldn’t matter. He’s never liked visiting those clinics anyway. When you walk in, it’s just a window to your future: old and dependent. He goes to his bag and takes out some painkillers and pops them like they’re candy. A quick breeze scratched his face. The walker was getting closer; looks like determination dies hard.

Clayton grabbed his gun and backpack and walked out of outpost. He looks behind him to see the walker still inside. The air will do it good. He leaves the door open to let the fresh smell of the world welcome him. The area was still as quiet and ominous as before. It was one of those areas where it seemed like man had never set foot. Some days, Clayton thinks he was born way too late. He loved all those stories of old about the frontier. As a kid he would explore the woods nearby in search of strange new things. That fond old memory brought a rare but appreciated smile to the old man’s face. He looked around and saw the truck still in the same place at it was before; rotting to death like a trapped deer in a bear-claw. It looked liked it hadn’t been used in months. A taillight was busted, the colours were faded, dusty and one of the wing mirrors was cracked. It’s lucky it still looks driveable. Then again, park ranger vehicles were made to last.

He takes the key for the vehicle out of his jacket packet and places it in the car door keyhole. The key wasn’t budging at first but after some stiff resistance, the car opened. Inside was as empty as heaven. All there was dust. He takes his backpack off and throws it onto the passenger seat. It takes a small look around for good measure. It was extremely dark, with no lights to be seen. It was like looking into the eyes of god…nothing. Clayton must be quick. If there’s a horde around then he is finished. The outpost is made of wood; the creatures will make quick work of it. He shoves the car key into the ignition and proceeded to turn it. All that was heard for around was a deafening roar as the engine rose to life. It was a loud one which is not something to brag about in this world. The car beams were set to full already, making the dirt road in front quite clear to the human eye. He puts his foot down on the accelerator and heads on out to the undead frontier.

Clayton Burrows – Bandera TX, Main Street, opposite Gas Go Markets Gas Station

Clayton followed the road for miles now. The mileage above the steering wheel should he has driven about 15 miles now. Unfortunately most of the other gauges don’t even work. The temperature’s broken, revs broken and so has the speed gauge. Even though it doesn’t matter, a part of Clayton feels silently annoyed that it isn’t working but then again. He was domesticated by the old world into believing that every 5 miles, there’s a cop car waiting to bust him for speeding but there isn’t anymore. Not even nature cares if you decide to go 100 mile in a 20 zone. It was way too dark all around to see the environment but every so often he would see hints of abandoned vehicles and ripped out bodies. People described this place as well but Clayton sees this place as the character Oz. The curtain has been pulled away to show the true nature of reality.

Clayton had just entered the small town of Bandera, Texas. It was eerily quiet on the way in, with nothing but the sound of the engine to drown out the silence. Clayton took caution when coming in. Towns are usually the major harbour for the undead and with car engine and headlights on in the middle of the dark attracted trouble. Clayton hopes to drive through quickly. This was not a place to stop for the night. However, lady luck was not on Clayton’s side as a small but effective burst caused the vehicle to start swaying recklessly on the road. With instinct, Clayton stopped the car suddenly before he toppled upside down. Clayton hopes he hit a body because if he’s got a burst tire then nature is truly testing him. Clayton took his gun and backpack, taking a torch out of the vehicle while doing so, and stepped outside into the dark to analyze the damage of the vehicle. Just as he thought: a burst fucking tire. Clayton cursed under his breath as he quickly looked into the back of the pick up. There’s no spare tyre. This is just getting great for Clayton, he’s stuck in a dark town with the possibility of being raided by either the undead or bandits. He needs to find a tyre quick and drive out.

Clayton looks around as best as he can, he can only see fades of signs and buildings but in the bigger picture, it’s all just silhouettes. Clayton will only shine his light when necessary; he doesn’t need the attention of a light shining afar. A sign across the road was faint but he could slightly make out. It read ‘Shell’. He must be by a gas station. There may be a chance of a spare tyre around or, if lady luck doesn’t decide to sucker punch him again, there might be a mechanic’s garage nearby. There sometimes common around gas stations. He takes the keys out of the ignition, shutting the vehicle down while doing so. The engine and the beams will attract the wrong crowd if left on. He takes his gun off his arm and holds it in his right hand, proceeding to rest it on has shoulder; due to the weight of the rifle. The other hand is equipped with his torch for obvious reasons. He must be cautious when searching the station. It’s one of the most looted places in this new world. Sometimes, the true nature of the creatures of yesterday can be more terrifying than the true nature of today’s creatures.

Jonathan Teller - Methodist Emergency Center

"Turn it off Robert, you don't know what you're doing, this is a mistake. You've got your wife up there. Victoria's here too, what about her? You can't do this to her. Turn the lights off or they'll find us. We've stayed hidden for months now, please, I beg you.........please Robert!" Jonathan pleaded, not wanting to put his hands on the man. Robert held onto the hospital's power lever, keeping it upward even though the lights were already turned on. He held onto it as though if he let it go, the lights would come back off. "Robert, please just............just step aside, let me get the lights" John stated, walking up to the old man, who immediately rose his cane pointing it at John.

Jonathan rose his hands up, backing away slightly. "Robert. Those things will show up if they see the light. They'll murder us! Your wife, me and Veronica. We have built something here, were surviving. Please, just turn the lever down. We can go back to your room and continue to celebrate your anniversary. Please Robert. Please" he whispered, trying his best to convince the older man. John could feel tears building in his eyes. Not only from the fear of death that was most likely coming towards them, but the fear of failing the people he's lived with for so long - the ones he swore to protect. And just as needed, Robert tugged the lever downward, having the lights turn off one by one. John sighed and breathed heavily, putting his hands on his knees and looking towards the ground. Then he turned his head up to Robert, who had begun to tear up as well.

He knew that what he had just done was wrong. "My.....My wife......She can't take it anymore John" the old man started, his words breaking as he spoke. "She's not fully there anymore son. She just wants to go" he continued, laying his back on the wall and holding himself up with his cane. Then as everything seemed to calm down, hell broke loose. A loud scream came from down the halls, where Mrs. Oswald was. Jonathan turned towards the scream, then turned to Robert. "Stay here!" he commanded, rushing back through the hallways at full speed. He accidentally tripped once, but got back up and started rushing again. Just as the turned to where Mrs. Oswald was supposed to be, he locked himself in place and froze. His eyes widened again and his lips shivered as the scream continued. "Good lord...." he said to himself, quickly taking his pistol and starting to shoot.

Mrs. Oswald had opened the front door and allowed some walkers to come inside. There were about three, munching through her flesh and tearing at her stomach. The woman was feeling all this pain, her scream shrieking like an animal in pain. Robert could hear the shots from afar and knew exactly what was happening. The old man broke down, falling onto the ground and began to cry. His shriveled cheeks quivered instantaneously as he stared at his wedding ring. Fifty something years together the two had, and now it was done - on the day they were meant to celebrate it. But it was what Mrs. Oswald wanted.

"NOOO!!!" Jonathan yelled out, shooting at the darn creatures. "Stop!" he called out as though they were listening. He shot two, forcing them motionless while the other turned its head to John. The man looked at Mrs. Oswald broken and torn body. A large puddle of blood underneath her, her face no longer noticeable - he couldn't even tell it was her anymore. He sniffed as tears ran down his cheeks, pointing the gun at the walker's head as it made its way towards him. Then he shot, the loud thud of a body echoing through the hospital as all sound came to an end.

Johnathan then just stood there, hands by his side and still staring. His mouth was open and his eyes droopy. Six months.........six months he's been with these people and it just ended in seconds. This woman chose to die, and like that, did. Just by turning on some lights and opening up a door, the woman's life completely vanished from the earth. Jonathan couldn't believe how precious life was now, and exactly how easy it could be taken. Society was gone, and so was the will to survive it seemed. His attempts, the hard struggle to keep this couple alive and just like that one of them was dead. Jonathan slowly walked towards the door and closed it again, locking it as he watched the darkness outside.

He put his head on the door and stared at the ground, sobbing at this point. His whole body trembled in grief. He didn't know where to go from there. He now knew that Robert would soon follow his wife into the afterlife. Victoria was nowhere to be seen, and he hoped it stayed that way for a while - until her could get rid of the bodies. This was a surprise for him, never saw it coming. Trying to do good by everyone and this was the turnout - he just didn't understand what kind of joke this was. Why the man upstairs brought this upon his children.

Buck Bradley – On the road – Farren North

Buck smiled and scratched his head.

“Yeah, I’m not too eager to see that shed again myself,” he said. The young woman had a good sense of humor at least. He was lucky she hadn’t taken off running at the first sight of him he supposed. And her smile definitely put him a little more at ease. He checked behind him again when she asked if he was followed. “I’m out here by myself. If it is someone following me, it’s no one I know.”

He turned back to the girl. “Are the two of you out here alone too? Boy, that’s pretty brave if you are. There’s a lot of bad stuff out there.” He paused a moment, remembering his own recent history before whispering again, “A lot of bad stuff.”

He snapped back to the present and spoke again. “You saw that light too, huh? You know what that’s all about? I was heading that way myself.” He paused, looking away from her eyes for a moment, not sure he should put the offer out there or not. He decided it was the human thing to do. “Maybe we could walk together if you feel up to it.” He reached out his free hand for her bag. “That looks heavy. Would you like me to carry it?”

Again the noise came from behind him. Closer this time. Louder. Whatever it was didn’t care about being heard. Buck didn’t look back and tried to keep his voice calm. “My name’s Buck, by the way.” He gestured towards the sleeping boy. “Is this your little brother?”

Farren North – Road – Buck Bradley

Farren’s smile turned into a curious gaze behind the man again when he said he was alone. She knew he could be lying, trying to trick her into an ambush. But she was brought out of those suspicious thoughts when he deemed her brave. She looked at him, blinking in surprise. It wasn’t like she had much choice. It was either keep pushing, moving on, surviving, or dying. Complacency got you killed, if you didn’t go crazy first. She wasn’t exactly sure she’d call what she was doing bravery more than responsibility to her son.

“Nah I’m not sure what it was. But yeah, let’s walk together. A guy as big as you is a little more intimidating to anyone we might come across than a woman with a baby,” she said, weary smile matched with a matter of fact shrug. She let a hand leave Dean to grip the strap of her bag. When he’d mentioned it, a flash of concern went through her expression and she took a step back, biting her bottom lip. It was clear she was unsure about handing over her life line. “Please… don’t steal it,” she whispered, knowing she had little choice if she was going to keep moving tonight but to allow him to help her.

A defeated look graced her face, hard for her to show she couldn’t do it all, as she slid the bag off and handed it over. When he had a hold of it, Farren unzipped it, rummaging until she found a hammer. She zipped the bag back, feeling the weight of the weapon in her palm. “Don’t worry, it’s in case whatever is behind us gets too close for comfort,” she smirked at him, not wanting him to think she was threatening him in any way.

Farren began walking with him leisurely, unburdened by the bag and feeling like she could keep going a bit further now. “Nice to meet you, Buck. And no,” Farren chuckled, cheeks turning pink when he asked if Dean was her brother. “I’m his momma. My name’s Farren. This is Dean,” she said gently, kissing the side of her sleeping son’s head before the rustling behind them could no longer be ignored. Farren whipped around, clutching Dean with both hands even though one held the hammer, while panic flickered through her eyes. Out came two walkers, moaning and heading straight for them. She gave a pleading look to Buck, knowing his trust was about to be tested. He could easily take off, with all her things, and let the grotesque things have her. There was no way in her current, sleep deprived condition holding a child that she stood much of a chance against two.

Ada Cinet – Gas Go Markets Gas Station – Clayton Burrows

Ada couldn't help but smile. She was tired, her grip was shaky, her legs were one jog from giving out on her, the sweat was pouring off of her and her hair was sticking to her face. None of that mattered, though, for the moment, all that mattered was that after a half an hour of rummaging through that gas station, what felt like an eternity, she managed to find some batteries for her walkman. She'd have another few days without going crazy, and for the moment, that gave her cause to smile.

Only a moment, though.

Ada found herself leaning against the shelf, sighing. She was exhausted. This place was as good as any to rest a couple hours, looters were rare in the still of night and this place had been gone over several times already, she was willing to gamble. With a grunt, Ada got up, slinging her bag over her shoulder. The exposure to the outside from the window she had kicked in made her nervous, she made her way over to the backroom and forced the door open.

Sick

Of course there were sick here. She'd been quiet enough getting in here, they hadn't noticed her and hadn't made a fuss, and they still didn't. Her gore covered jacket continued to do it's trick-- however it did it's trick-- the three turned to 'look' or whatever it was the sick did when they were close to another one of their own, whatever it was, they stood, but didn't attack. Two men and a boy, that's what they'd been, the one of the men and the boy looked freshly turned. Ada's guess was that they had had a similar idea to her own in regards to this place-- a sanctuary for the night-- and one of the sickos got it and killed them both while they slept. Ada stood, holding her breath, tensing her legs for a kick, just in case. Always just in case. They never attacked you if you smelled like them.

Ada had figured this out early on after the fall of the government. Her time on The Reservation allowed her to experiment with them, find out what worked in regards to them. Initially, she had deluded herself that she was looking for some kind of cure, she wasn't a Doctor, or a nurse, or a med-student... She had taken a few courses in high school and college and looked some things up on the internet! But she tried, for a while, out of some hope, a hope she still hadn't completely let go of. Ada had thought it was some kind of leprosy-- that maybe...

Ada shook herself out of her thoughts. The sickos had begun to ignore her, going back to standing around in the back room. She stepped in slowly, relying on her weary eyes to pick up on any outline of something useful. Immediately she noted one of the sick had a knife, certainly tempting, but not worth the trouble that'd follow-- she also spotted two guns, a rifle and a handgun, just laying on the ground for the taking. Ada wasn't a gun person, she barely knew how to handle the things, but she had also been through enough towns to know that she'd need one. Towns attracted crowds of sick and living, Bandera wouldn't be any different. She reached slowly for the handgun, thanking the boy and the man under her breath-- they had helped her, they deserved her thanks.

She closed the door gently behind her as she left the back room, opting to leave the rifle for the next lucky scavenger. Ada, back against the door, checked the gun for ammo, before looking up and seeing...

Fuck.

Red light. Fire. The light of a torch was approaching her, a single silhouette illuminated, growing nearer by the second, Ada froze, a deer in the headlights.

Think.

Right. Ada moved from the back door to the front of the gas station, staying in the shadows. She raised her gun as she neared the window.

"That's close enough." Ada didn't yell, she tried her hardest to give her voice an even tone, she could see the older man, and she was sure he could see her now. He had a rifle, more powerful, but he was still at the disadvantage, she had a gun pointed at him. "Drop any weapons you have-- slowly. Raise both your hands, and step closer to me." She maintained contact with the hard brown eyes the gruff looking man, in the dim firelight, her eyes held an empty glare, but the demeanor in her voice changed with her last question, "Hi? W-what is it you want here?"

Buck Bradley – On the road – Farren North

Buck knew he had made the right decision.

As painful as it could be to care about and lose people, the thought of abandoning this girl and her son was even harder. His stout heart broke when she quietly pleaded with him not to steal her bag. What kind of people has she run into out here? He carefully hoisted the bag onto his shoulder. “Don’t worry darlin’,” he whispered, careful not to wake the boy. “I ain’t the stealin’ kind.” He smiled gently at the girl, Farren, as she took the hammer from the bag. “Good idea.”

Buck was not that surprised to hear the boy, Dean, was her son. The tender care with which she handled him spoke volumes. Buck knew firsthand how hard this new world was on children. The ones in his former camp had become so desensitized to everything, had to grow up so fast. It wasn’t fair. Kids like Dean were going to have a totally different childhood than any other generation. He pushed those thoughts aside as the two started walking together. He turned the conversation to their common destination. “Yeah as near as I can figure it if there’s someplace with power up ahead there is a good chance that there’s food there. We’ll have to be careful, of course. Noise and light will draw any of those walkers in the area. And if there are people there-”

He was cut off as the two walkers emerged from behind them. One male and one female. The male was a big one – almost as big as Buck. His eyes met Farren’s as his face went grim. Slowly, not wanting to draw any more attention he set the bag down on the ground and gripped his 2x4 like a baseball bat. “Stay here,” he said in a low, controlled voice. “Protect the boy.”

The female walker approached first, she was a bit faster than her male counterpart. Buck was by no means an expert at dispatching these things – not like some of the military types who had populated his old group. But he had picked up a few tricks along the way. He brought the 2x4 low and then with great force smashed the butt end of the board up into the creature’s jaw. The blow lifted the walker clean off its feet and to the ground. As it sat up Buck brought the 2x4 whistling down onto the top of its skull. Both board and head exploded in a geyser of gore and splinters.

Buck took a step back, shocked. He looked down at his trusty 2x4. He now held less than a foot of its original length in his hands. It’s just a piece of wood, he told himself. Still, that piece of wood had gotten him out of many jams since he’d picked it up on night one of this whole debacle. He shook his head in silent disbelief.

He didn’t have long to lament, however. A raspy growl alerted him to the fact that the larger walker was closing in on Farren and Dean. Buck dropped the piece of board he still held. He roared in frustration, anger burning inside of him. “NO!” he bellowed. “You’re not taking them too!” He launched himself at the monster. As it turned towards him he executed a flawless double leg takedown, landing squarely on top of the creature. He rained down punches in the general head and upper torso area of the walker, but it continued to thrash and turn underneath of him. Eventually it succeeded in flipping Buck over and pounced on top of him. Buck barely had enough time to drive his forearm up across the creature’s throat. Still, it pressed down on him, so heavy. Its jaws snapped closer to his face every second. Reaching around blindly with his free hand Buck found the piece of broken board he had dropped earlier. Grabbing it, he brought it up and tried to wedge it between the walker’s snapping teeth. It bought him a few precious seconds, but he was in a bad spot.

Farren North – Road – Buck Bradley

Farren smiled warmly when Buck smiled at her and promised not to steal from her. She felt a stirring in her chest, feeling like he was sincere and she could truly trust him. It had been so long since she’d felt that about anyone it was like a blanket she could curl up with. She would have sighed contentedly if it weren’t for the walkers. She hesitated when he told her to stay put, wanting to help him. She bit her bottom lip, holding Dean tighter. She took a few steps back, watching as the man ran at the things with only his piece of wood. She slowly went to set Dean down in the grass, wanting to help, but the boy could never sleep away from his mother’s arms. He instantly began to whimper and whine, reaching his hands up. “Dean, no,” Farren whispered, panic in her voice. She whipped her head of brown hair around, blue eyes searching the dark as a growl started coming towards her, lured by the toddler’s noises. As Dean began to cry since Farren was refusing to pick him back up, she turned her body to block the boy, back getting clawed at by his fingers while she held the hammer ready to fight off the beast if it got too close.

A yell from Buck caused her to move her attention swiftly from the deformed beast to her new friend, feeling a lump in her stomach at his words. She supposed they had all lost someone, or many someones, although Farren had been incredibly lucky to not lose Dean yet. “Buck!” she cried as the monster flipped the man over and the walker’s mouth began snapping at him. Dean was still crying, his sleep interrupted, as Farren turned, grabbing the boy’s hand and shoving his thumb into his mouth. Dean calmed slightly, tears streaming down his face as he blinked his eyes open, seeing his mom. “Dean, be good,” she said firmly to the boy before quickly leaving him sitting there, sucking his thumb while Farren lunged at the walker attacking Buck, planting a forceful blow of the claw of the hammer straight into its temple, the swing jerking it’s head and brain matter to splatter to the side. It was amazing what adrenaline could allow the body to do even in its most worn down state.

Buck Bradley – On the road – Farren North

Buck heaved the walker’s lifeless body off of him.

Slowly he sat up and drew in a deep breath. For a few moments he remained silent, letting the reality of the situation sink in. That was TOO close. He raised his head and looked at Farren, his eyes then dropping to the hammer in her hand. She had saved his life no doubt. He looked away again and took another deep breath. “Thank you,” he said quietly.

Buck had seen these two walkers before. They were a couple of the ones he had dodged as he was making his way towards the lights earlier, not long before he discovered Farren and Dean. He guessed he hadn’t been as quiet as he thought when he slipped by them. “Should have taken them out earlier,” he scolded himself. “Stupid, Buck. Stupid. Well at least now we know what was followin’ us.”

He looked at the remains of his 2x4, still wedged in the walker’s mouth. “Guess I’m gonna need to find something else to bash ‘em with,” he muttered. Only then did he hear Dean’s cries. He quickly rolled to his feet. “Is the boy ok?” he asked frantically.

Once more his eyes found Farren. “How about you? It didn’t get close enough to bite you did it?” He looked at Dean. “Either of you?” He checked his own hands and arms. He had a few scrapes and scratches, nothing of great significance. And most importantly nothing close to a bite. He picked Farren’s bag back up off the ground. “I think we need to keep moving. You never know there might be more of them around here.” He put his hand on Farren’s shoulder. “You ok to carry on? If you want I can carry the boy too.” He noticed Dean was still very upset. Understandably so.

Buck noticed that the lights had gone off in the building they were heading to. He wasn’t discouraged, though. Something had happened there, and they were close enough now that he was going to investigate one way or another. Something gave him pause though. Maybe it was still being jacked up from the walker attack, but he could have sworn he heard gun shots coming from that direction.

Clayton Burrows – Gas Go Markets Station – Ada Cinet

Clayton was greeted by the yell of a woman calling out to him from the gas station; it was more of a quiet yell than anything. It showed the woman was a cautious one. The voice told him to drop his weapons or she’ll shoot. Clayton couldn’t help but analyze her voice. It was calm and even unlike other survivors he’s met. It seems to show she’s climatized to the world as it is. Most would shoot or have a noticeable quiver of fear in their voices but she seems ready almost. Clayton shined his light onto the gas station and sees the face of a young woman staring back at her. Her eyes were dark and smoky; it seems she’s trying to represent a gothic look from the old world. Clayton wasn’t sure if it was for style or to represent a threatening look but the truth is he couldn’t care less; it was just something to note down.

He started walking slowly but wearingly towards the girl in the station. He pointed his rifle in another direction to show where his aim was at. For good reason, he will not walk in the dark unarmed. “I’m not going to drop my gun and I sure as hell know you’re not gonna fire yours”. His voice was gruff but low in volume; he wasn’t prepared to yell either. He kept walking very slowly, taking glances at the ground occasionally for debris. The last thing he wanted was a sharp piece of glass sticking out of his foot. “If you kill me then you might wake the locals and then you’ll be truly fucked.” He then stopped a few metres away from the girl. He isn’t going to walk any further because he understands how antsy people can get. A safe distance shows mutual respect for the other party. Clayton knew this long before the apocalypse began.

The girl in the station looks quite young; younger than most he has seen in the new world. Usually it’s the young and the old that die off but Clayton’s stubbornness showed an exception to that rule. He just needed to look around for a tyre and some supplies. He has no interest in a friend or foe. “How old are you?” He asked in curiosity. He wants to say 17 but his judgement has seen better days…much better days.

Farren - Road - Buck

Farren wretched the hammer out of the walker’s head, breath heavy from using most of her energy in the blow. She stood back while Buck rose. “Thank you,” she repeated back to him, a small, grateful smile on her lips. She began to look confused when he started calling himself stupid, raising a brow. The wheels in her mind turned a few times until she thought must have seen them before. Well, one couldn’t change the past, and they were okay now. That was all that mattered to Farren. The present.

“Here,” Farren said, starting to breathe normally again while handing Buck the hammer. “It’s not a 2x4, but, well, it’s something,” she said, knowing she still had a nice knife in her duffel bag should she need to defend herself.

When the man asked about her son, Farren moved swiftly to the toddler and picked him up. The boy calmed instantly and rested his head on her shoulder. He looked up at Buck as she moved back to him, but his eyes kept trying to shut no matter how much he fought it. Once Farren stood clos to Buck again, the boy tried to reach up and grab Buck’s beard halfheartedly in his sleepy state before letting his hand fall.

“We’re both fine, I promise,” she said with a reassuring smile. “And he might let you carry him, but he’d never go back to sleep. Might as well keep walking like we are,” she said with a heavy sigh, but lips still in her weary smile. Her feet began moving back along the road again, looking up and seeing the light having been extinguished. She frowned slightly but didn’t slow her steps.