Victoria Jonas - Near Methodist Emergency

In all of the crap and downsides to being on her own, Tori was glad for one thing - Texas nights were never too unbearably cold. Her flannel shirt and warm coat took care of her when the chill did come on too strong, though. She guessed it was around 50-60 degrees that night as she stood in the abandoned home. Her Pistol was gripped in both hands, safety off and ready to fire. A suppressor hung on the barrel, drastically decreasing the noise that that gun made when discharged. She'd found that it wasn't a quiet pop like the movies showed it, but rather a sharp snap that still gave ample echo. She'd searched the house and found only one 24 pack of water-bottles, but other-wise it was empty of any valuable loot.

After taking the water out to her car, a silver Honda Pilot, she'd come back to sweep the place once more, quickly though. She had too get back soon - It was getting dark and John didn't like when she was gone for too long. He was rather stickily when it came to security. Driving at night meant using headlights, and headlights would attract walkers like moths to a... well, to a light. Decisive in her finishing sweep, she headed out of the house and down the steps. The house was in a secluded area, and she'd only stopped because she stumbled upon it on her ride back from a gas station about 2 exits down the highway.

It took her about ten minutes to get back on track towards I-10 towards the hospital - towards her home. She'd been so lucky that she'd been in a place like the hospital when everything hit the fan. She - and also the Oswalds - were lucky to have a man like John. They were lucky to have someone so kind and willing to help. It didn't matter that he was merely a Hospital security guard, he was now the savior of the whole place; albeit the whole building only housed 4 people. Tori found herself often admiring John and his leadership skills. If he hadn't been a decade her senior, she probably would have found herself admiring him in a different way...

She'd seen his sincere heart the first moment she'd seen him. She'd been admitted to the hospital after suffering a harsh concussion in a soccer game, leaving her bed-ridden in the MED for a scheduled three days. John had stepped in and taken over when everyone else abandoned - The Oswalds were to old and fragile to move, and Tori to frightened and, at the time, incapacitated. In those first few days of being in the hospital among the during the outbreak, she came to realize that one tended to heavily develop connections with people in times of desperation. Because of that, John and the Oswalds became her family in the absence of her parents and brother.

Victoria turned up the off-ramp and wound the roads until she found the Emergency Center, pulling to the back, which had been cleared off walkers. She went in through a locked door, opening it with a key that they'd scavenged when searching the hospital. Just as she set the bottles down to lock the door back, she heard a shot fire. A shriek escaped her lips, as she dropped the key in surprise. She instantly produced her pistol and dashed down the hallway. "John?!" She yelled. "Mr. & Mrs. Oswald?" Her heart raced and tears brimmed at her eyes in fear of what might lie ahead. She found that her fears were confirmed when she found the lobby - When she found John lain against the door, sobbing heavily. On the ground were four bodies. From the clothes, she immediately recognized one of the bodies - Mrs. Oswald. The tears no longer peeked at her lids, but streamed heavily as she dropped to her knees, letting her gun fall to the floor with a clatter. She called helplessly in her small, high-toned voice to the man. "John..."

Ada Cinet – Gas Go Markets Gas Station – Clayton Burrows

“I’m not going to drop my gun and I sure as hell know you’re not gonna fire yours.”

The two had vastly different voices, but they spoke with the same tone. He had done this before, he'd be reasonable, but he wouldn't be bullied-- and he was smart enough to know that her raising her gun was really just a precaution, a way to safely initiate an unavoidable encounter. He was experience, but no malicious, he didn't point his gun at her as he approached, this put Ada at ease.

"That's fair..." She didn't bat an eye, keeping her gun level at his center as he approached. Her marksmanship was amateurish at best, still, she knew enough to know to aim for the center of mass... for the living, at least. As he approached she took note of his form, he was rugged, he didn't appear to be someone who had simply been hiding in some building for the past few weeks, he appeared middle-aged, perhaps prematurely aged by some stress, before and after the end. He was stronger than her, physically, especially in her current state, but the way in which he walked told her she still had speed over him.

“If you kill me then you might wake the locals and then you’ll be truly fucked.”

She didn't respond. Merely continuing to observe behind the pointed handgun as he inched closer to her, she took note of what he wore, what he had on him... what he said. Taking particular interest in his inflection on the word 'locals.' He was unfamiliar with the town too, he didn't have some group, and while perhaps a bit proud, his body language didn't suggest aggression.

They stood in silence, only a few feet away from each other, appraising the other. He broke the silence with a question. “How old are you?”

The question caught Ada off guard. She tried to think seriously for a second before cracking something of a smile, it was something about the confusion in his voice that got her. "Umm... I actually don't know? 23 or 24? Been a while since I thought of that." The smile became a half chuckle, she took one hand from the gun to cover her mouth and stifle the laughter, taking a second before looking back at the man, "What about you?" She lowered the gun, a smirk still on her face, "Little old to be doing the whole wandering nomad thing, ain't cha?"

Clayton Burrows - Gas Go Markets Gas Station - Clayton Burrows

"Umm... I actually don't know? 23 or 24? Been a while since I thought of that." Answered the young girl. This came as quite a surprise to him. The girl that was pointing a gun at him didn't even look old enough to buy a scratch card, let alone alcohol. Looks can still be deceiving, even in a post apocalyptic world like this. She then proceeded to put her gun down and chuckle half-heartily. Something appeared from her face that he hadn't encountered since the beginning of the end: a youthful smile. It didn't change the way Clayton saw the world though but it was a change from what he usually finds. Everywhere he now looks, he can see the new world overwriting the world but this smile was an artifact of the old world. It represents a time of old and a time of blissful illusion. The old world had controlled freedom, the new world has absolute. "Little old to be doing the whole wandering nomad thing, ain't cha?" She said cheekily. The girl seemed cocky and playful but that's possibly a front for Clayton. He didn't care though, he just needed his tyre and be on his way.

"Aren't we all nomads in this world? Safe haven doesn't exist and you know it." He then placed his gun over his shoulder and walked right up to the girl. He was about a couple of metres away from her as she stands in a carefree stance; the kind stance teenagers usually use. He then proceeded to introduce himself. "The name's Clayton. I have no interest in being your friend or your foe. I just need a tyre for my vehicle over yond-", he turned around to shine and point at his vehicle but was interrupted by the sight of two walkers being bewildered over the vehicle which still had a whisper of warmth to it. As soon as he flashed his light over them, their attention directed to Clayton like a couple of deers in headlights. They then started to slowly waltz their way towards him and the girl. He turns his head to her. "It's probably best if you put your gun away and use something more persona-", all that was heard to make Clayton fall speechless was the sound of a car alarm coming from the direction of his pick up truck. In sudden fear, he turns around to see a hidden third walker crashing into the vehicle, causing the racket that will be heard for miles around. The irony struck Clayton, the gauges don't work but the alarm is in perfect condition; he salvaged a ranger's vehicle, he should have known.

The feint sounds of walkers were heard in the distance, steadily waking up for a midnight snack. The locals have been alerted. He looks towards the girl with great surprise in his eyes and whispers one thing:

"Shit"...

Buck Bradley – Outside Methodist Emergency Center – Farren North

Buck accepted the hammer from Farren with a grateful nod.

He was glad that Farren had agreed to keep moving on with him. He really wanted to see what was up ahead and really wouldn’t feel comfortable leaving her and her son behind. Going through an experience like they had just shared together really created a bond between people. A horrible and tragic bond. He chuckled when Dean tried to pull at his beard. “Hasn’t been washed in a while, Champ. You just go back to sleep now. We’re safe again.” For the moment, he thought to himself. He tucked the hammer through one of his belt loops and the trio continued on.

The three of them made surprisingly good time after that. Buck was silently impressed with how well Farren was able to keep up, even carrying Dean. More than once he had to quicken his own step to keep up. I’ve seen that look before, he thought. She’s determined to keep the kid safe at all costs. A good mother. He smiled. It was nice to know there were still good people in this horrific world.

After some time they reached the building they had been searching for. The lights were still out, but Buck could make out the sign. “Methodist Emergency Center. Makes sense someone might try to hole up here. I wonder why they turned the lights back out.” The building looked to be in good shape. There were no signs of anyone around, but somewhere in the darkness Buck could hear the distinct sound of walkers approaching. “Lights must have drawn them in too,” he said to Farren. “Plus I heard what I thought were gunshots coming from this way earlier. That will draw them this way for sure.” There were several doors to the building, all of them locked. Finally they stopped in front of the main entrance – a set of big glass doors.

Buck looked at Farren. “Well what do you think? There might be someone in there, there might not. There might be some food and supplies in there, it might have been picked clean. Those are always the risks you take nowadays, huh?” He tapped on the glass doors. “One thing’s for sure, it’s not gonna stay safe out here for much longer. I think my new hammer could make short work of these doors but then that takes away the security of the place if there is any. Or we could just knock?” He laughed, unable to decide what to do. “I’m down for whatever you wanna do.”

Farren – Outside Methodist Emergency Medical Center – Buck

Farren would periodically glance at Buck, surprised he was keeping her pace and not pushing her faster. She hadn’t met many good people since all this had happened. Most were impatient, looking out for themselves, or just plain sadistic and manipulative. In fact Buck was probably the first she’d met who she genuinely believed wasn’t looking to gain something from her or her son in exchange for added protection. She could almost relax her shoulders at the feeling of having an ally, at least for now, if it weren’t for her struggle to keep Dean cradled and not slipping down.

The boy went back to sleep during their walk, watching Buck without expression until his eyes faded closed once more. Farren could thank her lucky stars for that. If he didn’t sleep at night, it meant more naps during the day. Naps they couldn’t always afford.

Farren breathed a sigh of relief as they approached the building, realizing now it was a hospital as Buck read off the sign. “Maybe they never meant to turn them on in the first place. I have no idea,” Farren shrugged, readjusting Dean for the umpteenth time as they approached the doors. In the distance, not so far distance at that, she could hear more walkers, causing a shiver to run up her spine.

“Um, I think we should just knock. If someone is inside, they probably wouldn’t appreciate us breaking the doors,” Farren smirked before using her fist to rap loudly on the glass. A warbled echoing thud resounded from it to the inside as she looked to Buck, hoping whomever they might encounter would be just as friendly.

Ada Cinet – Gas Go Markets Gas Station – Clayton Burrows

"Aren't we all nomads in this world? Safe haven doesn't exist and you know it." The man replied in his toned down world-weary voice. He read her well, and he was confident in that ability. He wasn't wrong at all; safe havens, places like The Reservation, they didn't last, the both of them knew that. But he was certainly pessimistic about it. Perhaps he thought he was just being a realist? Either way, he had a point. As he approached her, part of her tensed, naturally, but she continued to relax, reminding herself that there were still good people.

Or at least, people driven by more than the desires of the Id.

"The name's Clayton. I have no interest in being your friend or your foe. I just need a tyre for my vehicle over yond-", Ada tensed, her gaze following Clayton's to the two sickos by the car that he had apparently driven into Bandera. Clayton looked back to Ada, she hadn't taken her eyes off the sick, "It's probably best if you put your gun away and use something more persona-"

The blare of the car alarm gave her a start. Ada's eyes went wide and her attention became split between the car, Clayton, and the three sickos she had trapped in the back room, she could hear them scratching against he door, as others approached from the crevices of the alleys the small Texas city had. The sick seemed to materialize from the darkness of the shadows in the distance. He had brought them here-- more specifically the noise from his car, it's what drew them here, and the alarm would draw to this location, and then the light would... Well, that was one problem she could solve.

Ada noticed Clayton's own surprise, he looked at her, both of them barely registering how quickly things had gone to shit, Clayton appropriately commented, "Shit..."

You need to remain calm.

"Shit, indeed..." Ada found trying to keep an even voice, trying to think. She put her new handgun in her bag as she left the gas station, and approached Clayton. "Looks like you got a friend for the night, Clayton--" Moving fast, she snatched the torch out of his hand and threw it toward the quickly amassing crowd of the sick, hoping it'd buy them even an extra second, "--there are three in the back of the shop, we can take 'em out, cover ourselves in their sick scent, and get out before too many get here."

She didn't wait for a response before turning to run back into the gas station, at the door of the shop she stopped for a second, turning her head to the side, "I'm Ada, by the way."

Clayton Burrows – Gas Go Markets Gas Station – Ada Cinet

"Shit, indeed..." she duly said. "Looks like you got a friend for the night, Clayton--", Ever since the whole thing started, he never bothered with helping people until both he and said person needed it. Looks like he's tumbled himself into a similar situation. After understandably being jumped by the inconvenient screech of the car alarm, she quickly grabbed the torch out of Clayton's hands and lobbed it over to a spot by the walkers. The confused undead wandered over to the mysterious light, taking no notice of Clayton and the girl. Clayton thought this was very clever but unfortunately for them, the walkers have the attention span of a 15 year old teenager. Their sights will be set on them soon enough.

"--there are three in the back of the shop, we can take 'em out, cover ourselves in their sick scent, and get out before too many get here." Clayton raised his one of his eyebrows in great astonishment. In the whole 6 months he's been wandering, not once has he encountered this unusual tactic. Then again, strange problems call for strange solutions. Even if he wanted to, he doesn't have time to argue the ethics of showering in walker guts. He needs to move fast before the undead get wise. He then ran behind him to follow Ada into the gas station. She then quickly turned her head and give one of the most quickest introductions he's ever seen. "I'm Ada, by the way." She then continued into the gas station, with Clayton right behind her. She mentioned that there was three of them in the back of the store. If they want more time then they can't use guns, it'll have to be melee weapons. Clayton then proceeded to arm himself with his hunting knife; he's lucky it's sharp because he's witnessed people die trying to defend themselves with a blunt knife. He runs to the door which leads to the back of the store. Quickly but with care, he placed his hand on the door knob. He can feel the vibrations of the walkers trying to bring the door down. It sent waves of shivers through his arm and up to his spine. It made his senses agile and tense but fueled by fear. He looked towards Ada, raising his knife in preparation for the butchery. "On the count of three. 1...2...3!" he quickly swung the door open and jumped back from it.

What came shuffling out of the door was a surprise. It was little boy with bite marks knee-deep in his neck. His jaw was hanging precariously by a thread, guts and blood were dripping like mini-landslides. It's eyes were hungry and ready for the sweet temptation of flesh. They were black and filled with the most basest of human instincts. Everything that he ever was has been lost and washed away by the sweet tide of nature's greatest want and need. Clayton lunged his knife with great force at the child's head, without hesitation. The child-walker groaned with a slightly higher pitch than his elders would and fell to the ground as Clayton forcefully pulled his knife away. Clayton never cared how old the walker is or was. There was no point in being sensitive over something you can't change. He's heard a lot of people say that the children don't deserve this but, just like everyone else, they probably did. Whether it was an act of man or nature, both were still acts of fate. So if you succumb to the new world, then you can't change that. No one can.

There were still two walkers two deal with and they started to come shuffling out right behind the, recently, dead boy. One had what seemed to be hunter clothing and the other seemed to be just an average civilian. He quickly looks towards Ada, "Your turn,". He then rapidly holstered his knife and then takes out his Priest. He then prepared himself to take a mighty swing at the skull of one the walkers. All that was being heard was the maddening cry of the car alarm masking the noises of the fight.

Jonathan Teller - Methodist Emergency Medical Center - Victoria/Farren/Buck

The loud thudding of knocks blasted throughout the entire hospital. Due to its quiet essence, sounds were like explosions, arousing through every room and hallway. So as the knocks boomed at the main entrance, Jonathan turned towards the sound as he turned to Victoria. The two had taken Robert back to his room where he sobbed over his now-dead wife. "You stay here, watch over Robert. Stay close to the walkie" he told her, taking the pistol from his holster and heading towards the sound, staying close to the walls and keeping in the shadows. He wanted to see whoever was making the noise before he, she or it saw him.

He walked down the halls and the sounds became irregular, speeding up at times, slowing down at others. Because the room was upstairs, he had to first go downstairs then take a couple turns before finally reaching a more pleasurable space to see the outsiders. He crouched down onto one knee as he reached the end of a wall that connected to the main hall where the doors were. Slowly he moved his head and peaked towards the glass, witnessing what his eyes believed to be false. Before arriving at that location, he was already prepared to face off against a couple of those undead creatures. He realized that the lights and gunshots must have called them forth, but as he stared at the glass doors, he couldn't believe what was on the other side of them. ".....Survivors?...." he questioned himself silently.

---

About 10 minutes earlier....

John continued to sob, his eyes completely shut from all the heartfelt pain he was currently undergoing. He felt his chest tighten, his knees giving out right underneath him as his entire body shook vigorously. His breaths were also very distant, making it harder for him to get enough oxygen to his lungs, then his heart. It was like he was dying inside, as though he was a time bomb prepared to explode with agony.

But suddenly, the cry behind him interrupted his own grieving. Still shivering, John started to turn his body towards the person behind him. He already knew who it was, but didn't want to accept it until he caught sight of her. And there she was, Victoria, or Tori as he called her was on her knees, sobbing just as he was seconds before her arrival. John's eyes had become widened by shock. He had never wished to see this young girl break down like that, never wanted to see anyone break down like she just had. Then he tried to speak, but couldn't. The man was at a loss of words, anything he managed to get out would do nothing to bring back Mrs. Oswald.

Then he realized that truth. The old woman was gone, and nothing they did would bring her back. Unfortunately, there was no time to mourn the death of the family member they had just lost, it would do them nothing but harm. With the knowledge that walkers were already on their way, John decided to act before anyone else lost their lives. He ran his forearm through his face, wiping away at the tears. Slowly he walked towards Victoria who was still crying - his sneakers squeaking a little at every step. Once he reached her he crouched down to her level, putting a hand on her shoulder, the other on the side of her arm. "....I'm sorry...." he whispered to her, bringing her in and hugging her tightly, not letting go as she lay her tears on his dirty white shirt. He held onto her, like a father would his daughter. But it wasn't like that because Victoria - despite her current condition - was a very independent and strong girl. Without her, John would be nowhere either - possibly dead. They needed each other to survive, that's what it had come to now.

So after holding her for about a minute, he slowly released her and faced her, his eyes connected to hers. "I need you Tori. I need you right now more than ever, do you understand?" he started, no longer shaking or shivering or what not. He had become calm, collecting himself entirely. His period of grief was long gone, it was time for him to step up as the leader and do what he did best - improvise. "I need you to go to the supply room and get four body bags. I know..........I know this is hard for you to understand, but Mrs. Oswald is gone. I loved her as much as you did, but if Robert comes down her and sees her like this, he'll break Tori. The man will die if he sees his wife laying here, torn to shreds. I need you Tori" he said one last time, helping her to her feet, planting a kiss on her forehead for reassurance.

It may have seemed insensitive what he was doing, as though he no longer cared, but it was the opposite. He cared so much for these people he couldn't see them destroyed by their own emotions. There was no longer anything he could do for Mrs. Oswald and he understood that, but knew he could do something for Robert - even if it was grim. "I need you to run to the supply room and get four body bags and a lot of paper okay? Just bring the entire cleaning cart, we have to get this fixed" he told Tori, pointing in the direction of the supply room.

Once she was gone, he dragged the bodies to a nearby room, blood tainting the surface of the corridor. That would have to be cleaned after the bodies were covered up. First he moved the walker's decomposed bodies, having a hard time doing it because despite their meatless frames, they were still as heavy as normal humans. But once he reached Mrs. Oswald's body, he froze up a little, just stared into what used to be a face. It was unorthodox and full of gore - a sight no one should ever have to see. But knowing the others needed him to do it, he went ahead and dragged Oswald's body into the room, leaving only blood stains in the main hallway. After Tori managed to get back with all the supplies, he took her by the arms again. "I'm going to put them in these bags. In the meantime, try and get this blood soaked up. Wear gloves and don't get any on your face" he instructed, heading into the room with the four body bags on hand. It all felt so rushed.

---

Current time.....

John hesitated before leaving his hiding spot, but decided it was the right thing to do. He walked slowly towards the front entrance, pointing his weapon at the survivors on the other side of the glass doors. He noticed the woman carried a child, the large man a hammer in his belt. John was still a couple of feet away from the door, just standing there, watching them with uncertainty. He still couldn't believe there were others out there in a world as such. And more questions arose in his mind.

Where they good people? Would they try to steal from him? Kill his people? They were precaution questions - precaution that made it difficult to make a decision. But despite his doubt, the woman had a child. He couldn't nor had the audacity to leave the boy out there and in grave danger. So without further ado, he rushed forward to the door, beginning to hear moans in the distance and unlocked the door. "Hurry! Hurry!" he whispered quickly, shoving them inside forcefully and locking the door behind them. Then he quickly turned and pointed the gun at them again. "Move, that way" he said, pointing towards a hallway that kept them from being seen by walkers near the entrance. Then he continued to push them further into the hospital, his gun being the only thing keeping him in charge at this point. Once they got to a decent spot where John deemed safe, he told them to turn and look at him. "Now, I don't know you.............I don't know who you are or where you're from. I don't know what you've had to go through out there, but.......You guys are the only survivors I've seen since this has started" he stated, gun still pointed. "So I'm gonna ask you a few questions, but first I need you to give me all your weapons" he said, nodding at the hammer Buck had. "Just slide them over" he added.

Ada Cinet – Gas Go Markets Gas Station – Clayton Burrows

"Your turn," Clayton said, Ada couldn't help but scowl at the sound his knife made as he pulled it from the child's head. It needed to be done, she knew that, it was just an empty shell, but still, seeing something that looked so similar to a child with a knife in it's head, it made her feel something. Regret?

Either way, she didn't have long than a second to feel it, the other two sickos let out louder growls and moved fast at the pair. Ada delivered a kick to the chest of decayed sicko, thanking her lucky stars that it had weakened with time spent decomposing out in the Texan sun, it didn't quite fly across the room with the blow, but it gave Ada the time to duck under the other sicko's arms. He was stronger, fresher, recently turned, what mattered to Ada, though, was his knife. The sicko was distracted by her that he didn't noticed Clayton rearing up for a swing with his mace looking thingy. The sicko's head produced a geyser of blood and brains with Clayton's attack, Ada took the hunting knife and lunged at the other one, the sick squelch signifying whatever 'death' was for these things.

Ada fell to her knees, panting, "Always leave the hard work to the girls, hmmm?" Ada said mirthlessly, getting up, she walked over to the other sicko and dug her new knife in it's skull, more of a precaution than anything. Pulling the knife out, she then re-aimed it at the recently turned man's stomach, she took a deep breath, listening to the growls of approaching zombies in the distance beore thrusting the knife down with all the force she could muster. "I think..." She said, moving the knife forward, through cloth, skin and gore with a grunt, "...that they like, see you, by smelling you... or something," She moved the knife again, another grunt, part of her found that she was having small talk while cutting up a man's stomach, another part of her found it completely natural, "...or more like..." with another final cut, she opened up the man's abdominal region, "...it's whatever the sickness is, if you cover yourself in it, they get confused..." setting the knife aside, she stuck both her hands in, letting the sour blood and gore well up around her arms, "I'm not a doctor or anything... just had a lot of time to try and figure out what made 'em tick... all I know, is they don't attack their own, and through this, we can walk into a crowd of them and be fine."

Ada looked Clayton in the eyes, "Look, we just met, I get that-- But honestly, you're the first person I've seen that didn't just try to kill me..." She looked down, a scowl on her face, "...or try and use me..." She shook her head, looking back at Clayton, "...in quite a while. I'd like it if you didn't die..." She pulled out gore and intestines, unflinching at the black blood it dripped, or the awful smell, "So do you wanna rub this on yourself, or should I?"

Clayton Burrows - Gas Go Markets Gas Station - Ada Cinet

Clayton stood there idly as she witnesses Ada ripping the guts out of the recently deceased walker. There didn't seem to be any form of flinch or hesitation in her movements. Her facial expressions remained still and focused when defiling the corpse. This surprised Clayton greatly. He knew she had climatized herself to the new world but didn't expect her to be this settled in. To Clayton it seemed like an example of evolution. When the world hits them hard, the human race found a way to adapt and survive; even if it does stink to high heaven. "I think......that they like, see you, by smelling you... or something...or more like...it's whatever the sickness is, if you cover yourself in it, they get confused..." she said, taking breaks in between her words to rub the blood and gore all over. He can barely recognize her under all the guts and blood. She was just showering herself in it, creating a bigger stink than the Watergate scandal; he was only 12 when it happened. Clayton was intrigued by this new information on the walkers. They follow their noses. Just like a lot animals do in the wild. These walkers truly are the basest of human instincts. The nose is probably the most important part of the human body because we use it smell everything to see our comfortable we feel with it. It can range from food to pheromones and it appears these creatures use their own smell as a form of identification. Clayton couldn't help but admire the undead bastards.

"I'm not a doctor or anything... just had a lot of time to try and figure out what made 'em tick... all I know, is they don't attack their own, and through this, we can walk into a crowd of them and be fine." Said Ada. Clayton knew that it was a risky plan. There's a whole crowd of them out there and if they suspect something's wrong then they're fucked. However, he didn't any better solutions and he would rather find a spare change of clothes and smell pig shit for a few weeks than getting his own guts ripped apart by the creatures; as much as he admires them, he's too stubborn to let himself go. "Look, we just met, I get that-- But honestly, you're the first person I've seen that didn't just try to kill me...or try and use me in quite a while. I'd like it if you didn't die...So do you wanna rub this on yourself, or should I?” She shuddered when she mentioned the word used. He's seen some of the wicked shit that men do out in the wasteland. In his travels he once witnessed a man trying to rape some girl in his campsite. Repulsed, but not surprised, by the act, he shot the man in cold blood. He then found out that the man was the girl's father and she then shot herself in disgrace and fear. This world breaks men and women as easy as a rancher breaks horses. Clayton has no interest in having his way with Ada and even if he did, he'd probably have his dick cut off trying to do so. The old-timer is not some pimple faced freshman, his sex drive died out years ago.

"Miss Ada, I'm 54 years old. I can assure you my sex drive died out years ago..." He then bent down to the mangled body and proceeded to bathe himself in blood and guts. "...besides...you're not my type." He rubbed his hands together, as if he was wiping soap on them, and covered himself in the filth that ironically will save his life. To save time he bent down again and splashed a bunch on in an instant, making himself look like a complete mess but that was the least of his problems. "I'm fine to get my hands dirty. I'd like to meet the man who doesn't in this crazed world." He wiped some of the filth on his cheeks and forehead. The stench made would make most people puke but his father was a butcher; he's seen worse. He wiped a lot of the puke on his neck as well. That's one of the key points for which a walker likes to strike; similar to how a canine attacks. "I'd like it if you didn't too. You've got a lifetime ahead of ya, even if it is in a world like this."

He finally finishes drenching himself in blood and guts. If there was a mirror around, he would like shit...literally. He then wobbled himself over to the gas station door. The shuffling steps of the walkers were faintly heard as they draw neared but the still alarming noise of the car made it more difficult to hear them. He placed his hand on the door and look towards Ada. "Let's take it nice and easy. I'm assuming they're not stupid enough to ignore odd movements." He then took one last sigh before going literally face to face with nature itself.

"Ready?"

Buck Bradley - Methodist Emergency Medical Center - Farren/Jonathan

Buck clenched his jaw.

When he first saw the man through the glass doors he had been relieved. Finally something had gone his way after so much had gone wrong. His joy had quickly turned to fear and anger, however, as the man ushered the in at gunpoint. What was wrong with him? Did he really think they were a threat? Couldn’t he see the desperate situation that they were in? He kept pushing them and telling them to keep moving. Buck was getting really irritated.

When they finally stopped and the man said he had questions Buck was about to respond that he had a few questions of his own. Then the man asked for their weapons. He still had the gun pointed towards them. Buck made eye contact with Farren, then moved strategically between her and the stranger, the gun almost touching him in the chest. He kept his hands out to his sides as he spoke in as level a voice as he could manage. “Listen, friend. We all want the same thing. We saw the lights from a distance and thought this might be a place that could offer some safety for us.”

He took a deep breath before he continued. “You want us to put our weapons down? I get it and I’m cool with that. You don’t know who I am any more than I do you. So I’m going to take this hammer off my belt and set it down real slowly, ok?” He looked the man square in the eyes and narrowed his glare. “But first, you gotta stop pointing that gun at the girl and her boy or you and me are gonna have a big problem, understand?” Buck tried to sound as menacing as he could, hoping that the man would listen to reason. At this point he didn’t know what to do. With his left hand he pulled out the hammer and began setting it on the floor while at the same time reaching out his right, intending to gently guide the man’s aim downward as well. He hoped no one could see how badly his hands were shaking. One wrong move and there would be a disaster.

Farren’s heart jumped up in her throat as she saw a man walking up to the doors. She could still hear the moans of the undead behind them and she knew, no matter who this man was and what he’d done, he could be the key to their salvation at that moment. She held onto Dean a little tighter when she spotted his gun, and being shoved inside the building didn’t help either. She stood a little closer to Buck, feeing safer with the man who wasn’t pointing a gun at her, and fear shone out in her eyes. Farren swallowed hard, moving down the hallway that the man pointed them to, looking between him and Buck as he asked for weapons. Buck still had her bag, and it contained her knife. Luckily, she had her small hand gun tucked into the back of her jeans, but it had no bullets anyway. It was mainly just to threat if her or Dean’s life came down to it.

She let Buck do the talking for now, just holding her son close while he set down the hammer and asked the guy to stop pointing the gun at her and Dean. She was liking Buck more by the minute. It was sad there weren’t more decent people around to admire in this world left. She watched and waited silently, eyes continually moving and looking around or at the two men, or at the gun. “Thank you for letting us in,” she said quietly. She was surprised they were the only survivors he’d met… had he not left this place at all? Or was everyone else in the town dead? She shuddered at the thought, stirring Dean whose head moved to the other side with a sigh, still asleep.

“I’m Farren… this is Dean, and my friend Buck. Does this hospital have any clean beds to sleep in?” she asked, knees visibly shaking even if it was slight, speaking while only half of her body was visible to the man they’d stumbled upon, thanks to Buck.

Jonathan Teller - Methodist Hospital - Farren/Buck/Victoria

The security guard took a step back when the giant decided to step forward and between his gun and the woman. He kept separation in order to maintain the upper hand if anything went south. As the giant started speaking, Jonathan understood he only wanted safe haven in the hospital, but his little aggressive threat wasn't a smart move. But John didn't bring it up yet, he didn't want to turn this into an argument - even though he had the ability. Despite Buck's attempt to get John to put down his weapon, the guard did not. Not even when Buck had his hammer on the floor, nor when the woman spoke and asked for a room. She seemed more calm than the giant, so John decided to speak to her instead.

"Look ma'am, you have to understand my position okay. I'm not saying you guys are bad people, but I have to protect my people first alright. I'm just taking all precautions. I apologize if it seems to rash, but nowadays......." he paused, unable to complete his sentence. The thought that everything had burn to the ground hit him hard, especially after watching Mrs. Oswald allow her own life to be taken by the dead. They were all living in a world of horror and agony now, and there was no cure.

John phased to another thought as he pulled at his walkie talkie. He pressed the button and spoke. "Victoria, I need you to come to room.....107. We have survivors. Over" he stated through his talker, needed her to assist him at the moment. Still he ignored the giant, not wanting to have to go off on him - still irritated by his dumb threat. "Now.....Farren was it? I'm having my friend come downstairs to take you and your son to a clean room. But I need you to leave all your stuff here, only take what you need okay? A simple request" he stated, putting his gun down a little now. "Your friend Buck here can stay here until he answers a couple of questions" John said with squinted eyes as he used his foot to slide the hammer behind him.

"I'm John Teller by the way. I'm the security guard here. Like I said, you two have been the only survivors I've seen since all this started. It's only been us fou......three since. We just lost one. She passed away not too long before your arrival, so forgive me if I seem on edge" he said, finally bringing his gun down, but still in his grasp just in case. "After y'all get settled I'll go about the rules here, but for now, despite our circumstances and bad introduction, I thank God there are others."

Ada Cinet – Gas Go Markets Gas Station – Clayton Burrows
a few minutes ago...

"Miss Ada, I'm 54 years old. I can assure you my sex drive died out years ago..." Clayton said, bending down to shower himself in filth and bowels, answering her question of whether or not he wanted her to do it for him "...besides...you're not my type." She gave a dry laugh at this, more of a smirk and a snort than anything, opening her mouth with her face covered in blood and what might very well be feces was never a good idea, even if it didn't seem to give you the sickness.

Her body language probably told him all he needed to know when she mentioned people trying to 'use' her... He got what she meant, and gave his reassurance to her that she didn't have that kind of thing to fear from him. Maybe it was some naivete surviving from before the End, maybe it was the lack of sleep, but something in her felt inclined to believe him. Ada had no idea the type of person that Clayton was, the two had just met, in front of an abandoned Gas n' Gulp on a starry Texan night, she didn't know what he'd done to survive and what he'd do to her if she threatened his, but she felt he wasn't a bad person-- she knew he wasn't that kind of person. Despite the muck that coated her face, the sickening smell coming off of both of them, and the low light that would prevent Clayton from even noticing the details on her face, she found herself smiling, it was a small one, and it only lasted a moment, but she smiled.

Ada tilted her head and watched as Clayton methodically went about covering himself in the gore and shit of the sick. She noted that he was tougher than her. Despite just being introduced to the concept, he already seemed to know which areas to cover and had no... digestive... qualms about any of it. It took Ada months to get over the smell, having thrown up her first, second, third... quite a few times while practicing this method of avoiding the sickos. Clayton, on the other hand, trusted her and just did it. He did it without vomiting or flinching, the man either hadn't had a very big lunch, or was simply used to this kind of thing by now, perhaps he had spent time observing them... wherever he had driven in from.

Knowing the world today, both of those were probably true.

Ada leaned against the wall and let the rancid ichor that had once brought the sick back from the dead drip off of her. She had given her jeans a once over with the muck, focusing mostly on her jacket, she was so soaked now though that her shirt underneath was probably fucked. Mostly for her own mental health than to actually clean anything, she rubbed her bloodied hand off on any dry spots she could find on her body, observing Clayton cover his face with the stuff. She had never been one to focus too heavily on her face, preferring to just soak some up in her hair, she didn't quite know why-- maybe she just didn't have the stomach for it.

As if reading her thoughts, Clayton said, "I'm fine to get my hands dirty. I'd like to meet the man who doesn't in this crazed world." Ex-military? Nah, too comfortable without direction, he was some kind of survivalist though, the gear... willingness to do whatever... maybe he hunted before all of this went down? Ada looked at the sicko Clayton was using, the one she had just cut open. One hunter covering himself in the blood of another. The irony wasn't lost on her. She knew it didn't matter what he did before, you were who you were now, the now is all that mattered... Still, she couldn't help but wonder things about him, the isolation of her past few weeks had left her with a desire to connect with other people. She wondered what his 'type' was? Crazy woodland widow ladies? Breaking her thoughts, Clayton cut in "I'd like it if you didn't too. You've got a lifetime ahead of ya, even if it is in a world like this."

Concern!? In this world!? Ada found herself blushing, under the sour blood and despite the darkness, at the thought that someone had her best interest in mind. Bandera was just full of surprises.

Ada noticed as Clayton got up. "Let's take it nice and easy. I'm assuming they're not stupid enough to ignore odd movements." He hesitated at the door for a second, Ada, with a grunt, forced herself to her feet behind him, he turned to her, "Ready?"

She waved her arms around a little, splattering blood and gore around before returning Clayton's gaze, something of a playful smirk on her face, "Bit late for that, ain't it?" She let out a stifled yawn, her face becoming serious as she finished, "Yeah, 'bout as ready as I'll ever be..." She tilted her head at Clayton, her southern drawl permeated her words to the man, "Although... You're down a car, right? Unless you planned on hot wiring another one in the dark... in the middle of all this... maybe we should stick together? For the night, at least-- more power in numbers and all that. I'm sure you already know that alarm'll attract more'n just the sickos."

---

Ada Cinet – Outside Gas Go Markets Gas Station – Clayton Burrows
the present

Everything's bigger in Texas. That was their slogan, that 6 months that was a lifetime ago, that everything was bigger. Ada hadn't really had time to see if that was true, that lifetime ago, her Mother and she, they had just kinda blown through Texas before, she didn't have family here, so they couldn't crash with anyone. Today though, Texas might not still be a state, but everything was certainly bigger.

Namely, the sick hordes.

Ada trailed behind Clayton, head down, shuffling slowly, and generally letting her eyes dart around, looking for the first sign of the horde ending-- or hostility. She couldn't help but wonder how this many people even lived in Bandera, 'bum fuck nowhere,' Texas. Had they not been evacuated? She bumped into a sicko, keeping Clayton in her sights, it kept moving, but it was reckless nonetheless. Nerves. She hadn't felt anxiety like this in a while, there was no reason for her to, but she did, the horde seemed unending, the stars could only provide so much light, and it'd be difficult to distinguish gunfire from any locals from the blaring alarm and the collective moans of all the sick that surrounded them. She'd work with the variables, but they made her uncomfortable.

Ada knew she couldn't let herself sweat though, they'd sense that. From under her bloodied bangs she focused herself instead on Clayton, the gun he had slung over his shoulder in a similar fashion to her own bag. She wondered how he was getting along? The defacto leader through crowd his car alarm had summoned. Keeping where he was on the back burner, she took note of the rotting faces that were going opposite of them, toward the noise they thought meant 'food.' They were unique, but the blended with each other, all in varying degrees of decomposition, they all seemed gray. They lacked race, religion, opinion... anything, except for a desire to somehow spread whatever it was that drove them. To Ada, to anyone that wasn't already one of them, that manifested itself as a collective hunger for human flesh.

Odd. What it took to completely unite people. A sickness that made them kill other people.

Some of them seemed to glance at the duo with their maggot filled hollow eyes, most just passed them, limping on legs with rotted skin. Like many people, the rise of the sick and the End of society brought most of Ada's beliefs in question. People too weak to resolve those crises of faith usually ended up becoming sick, others were just physically weak... or emotionally weak... or plain just unlucky, some people all of those things. Ada had resolved what she needed to to not end up like the sick... like the faces that passed her without a second glance as the pair made their way through the horde, unscathed. But one thing still bothered Ada and she was forced to think of it every time she looked at one of those sick fuckers with their slack jawed, unfeeling, faces.

Evil.

Were they some force of nature? Or were they evil incarnate? Something that consumed without purpose, without goal or need or, in some cases, even ability. Wikipedia had told her enough about parasites to last a lifetime from her curious nights before the End, but this sickness was... different. Or was it? Was this just nature being nature, and her placing an arbitrary label on it?

Did evil even exist?

Ada quickly looked down as blood from her dripping bangs slid past her eye. She caught herself getting philosophical, she shook her head lightly, as if physically ejecting those thoughts from her head in the moment, anything other than focus could get her killed here. That being said, over the slowly fading noise of the alarm and the constant hum of sicko noise it was amazing she could think at all. Ada's focus returned to trailing Clayton, following his steps, she kept her eyes on his pants. The only pair so evenly covered in gore in the crowd. She noticed him increasing his pace and increased her own in kind, shuffling to avoid hitting any sickos. Perhaps they'd finally reached the end?

Clayton Burrows – Gas Go Markets Station Inside – Ada Cinet

"Bit late for that, ain't it?” Ada said aptly. "Yeah, 'bout as ready as I'll ever be...", replied Ada to Clayton’s previous remark. Her southern accent became more noticeable the more he talked to her.“Although... You're down a car, right? Unless you planned on hot wiring another one in the dark... in the middle of all this... maybe we should stick together? For the night, at least-- more power in numbers and all that. I'm sure you already know that alarm'll attract more'n just the sickos."

“If I knew how to hotwire a car, I’d probably be in Mexico right now. It was a goddamn fucking miracle I found the keys for that screaming piece of crap outside.” He then gave another sigh and looked at Ada. “I’ll help you get away from here as far as possible but in the morning, I’ll be on my way. Nothing against you, I just prefer to be on my own.” He gives a compunctious shrug and proceeded into the centre of the beast.

________________________________________________________________

Clayton Burrows – Gas Go Markets Station Outside – Ada Cinet

As Clayton opened the door, the many groaning faces of the old world stared right back at him, showing an unending blood thirst that will never be quenched; this the first time that Clayton has felt true fear in the new world. One suspicious movement and he’ll be joining them in their march, a fate that neither Ada nor Clayton want to join. It is of the utmost importance that they do not cough, sneeze or even flinch. He’s studied these creatures before but not like this. The smell is a good strategy but it still only gave a very thin sense of security. To Clayton, it feels like he’s swimming with Jaws in a tiny wooden canoe.

They started walking very slowly through the crowd. Their grey and hungry eyes looked into Clayton’s own, he quickly looked away before drawing any unwanted attention. He tried matching his pace with the walkers, most didn’t seem to notice their true identities but an occasional one gave an odd look at them now and again before figuratively shrugging it off. If they hang around for too long, it’ll only be a matter of time before one of them gets wise. Even with all the fear that possesses his body, he couldn’t help but admire them. It was like watching a lioness hunt in the world. He’s watching these creatures in their natural hunting form, adapting himself for both survival and deep observation. He felt like Dian Fossey or Timothy Treadwell; although he hoped their fates wouldn’t become his, especially Timothy’s.

Shuffling through the crowd was like trying to defuse a bomb but he and Ada were making steady progress through the undead crowd. Most people in his position would try to refocus their mind on something else but all Clayton could do was look at them. Such a disgusting and menacing creature but yet, impossible at the same time; his admiration extended greatly towards them but it was an opinion he kept to himself. Most groups would probably freak out at how he saw them. According to a very controversial book called the Bible, we’re all shaped in God’s image. Do Walkers count too? This was a conversation to be had for another time; right now he needed to push through the bloody waters of terror.

Clayton could see the crowd was starting to thin, he and Ada were near the finishing line. He started increasing his pace as the space around him started to feel less claustrophobic. The best thing that needed to be done is to get a change of clothes and to find some place to stay for night. Either that or find a ride out of town. Clayton votes for the latter. Sometimes you need to be cautious when dealing nature; he didn’t want to get too comfortable like Timothy Treadwell. He gave a quick but cautious look behind to see if Ada was still following from behind. Fortunately she was still there but the distance was slowly starting to gape. He was moving too fast. It wouldn’t be fair to Ada to abandon her, the last thing he needed is another ghost.

In the final few metres before walking out of the crowd completely, Clayton stopped as the sudden deathly sound a doggie’s chew toy hit the sole of his foot. An injection of fear jumped the hairs on Clayton’s beard as some of the Walkers looked behind in attention. They moved their head in curiosity and it almost seemed like they were having second thoughts. He could see in their eyes, their primitive analytical thinking working things out. He looked behind to see Ada darting a look at Clayton. It was a mix of fear and surprise. Clayton’s mind was rushing as he tried to think of something to distract them but he couldn’t anything without attracting unwanted attention. He did the only default thing he could do: he froze. Ada did the same thing when hearing the sound. As he stared back at the slightly alerted Walkers, some of them just returned to wander aimlessly to the gas station but there was one that continued to look back at Clayton in the eyes. He felt cold and empty as he looked into its eyes. The life of a dead man stared back at him. He felt honoured in a way. As the creature moved it’s head slightly to the left, he did too. It seemed he was communicating with it. Do these things have their own speech system? Are they innocent in a way? People see sharks as terrible monsters but most of the time they act on instinct that’s out of their control. Must we penalize the Walkers in the same way?

The creature eventually returned back to it’s brothers and sisters. As it did this, Clayton gave a massive sigh of relief and then whispered to Ada. “Alright, we should be in the clear. Follow me and lay low.”

________________________________________________________________

Clayton Burrows – Bandera Pharmacy (Across the street from the Gas Go Markets Station) – Ada Cinet

Clayton continued to lay low as he pulled up the shutter of Pharmacy. The lock had been busted but as long as it stayed on ground it didn’t matter if it can be locked or not; as far as he could tell, Walkers couldn’t lift things. He looked at Ada and gave a nod to go inside. After she cautiously went in, he looked behind him and shut down quietly. Thank fuck the creatures were near blind otherwise the dark would be useless at covering their movements thought Clayton. It was dark inside the Pharmacy. It had many shelves and a counter at the back but slim pickings had been left here. Looters from the look of it but nobody seemed to be home though. “Hello?” mildly shouted Clayton. He tried making it loud enough to be heard inside the pharmacy but not from across the street. He listened intently for any whisper of sound; Walkers aren’t the most graceful of creatures. He then darted a quick look at Ada. “It should be alright, don’t let your guard down though.” He then started moving forward into the Pharmacy, heading towards the counter. The stink on his clothes were starting to stain; he should probably find some new threads.

Clayton felt that they should get out outta town as quickly as possible and find a place outside of town to lay low for the night. He didn’t think it was a good idea to wake up in the morning and find Walkers banging on the shutter grates. However, he needed to ask Ada’s opinion as well. He promised he’d get her out of town and he was always taught to keep to your words. He slowly turned around and looked at the young girl.

“Alright Ada…what should be our next step?”

Victoria Jonas - Methodist Emergency Center - John/Buck/Farren & Dean

Composure was out of the question, as she and John cleaned up the mess. While he dragged the bodies away she wiped the floor of a mixture of blood and her tears. The girl scrubbed so hard, she found that her shoulder began to ache. She remembered her dad always telling her that hard work helps you vent your feelings, but she found that wiping up the blood of the woman that had been her friend for over 6 months, did not help her feelings and emotions in anyway.

Later, when John went to investigate the knocking, she found herself in a final fit of crying in his absence. She had always liked to think she was strong and independent, able to take care of herself. She wasn't feeling that, as she sobbed in the chair, right next to Mr. Oswald. About five minutes after John had left, Mr. Oswald had cried himself to sleep. The man looked grief-stricken, even in his sleep. She wondered if he, too would join his wife soon... She knew that people died of depression all the time, but she'd never met anyone with such strong sorrow that she'd ever considered it. It took her by surprise when his face adjusted and he seemed to fall into a peaceful mood. She was glad for that - Mr. Oswald had always been so strong... The couple was the stereotypical, southern hospitality, church-going couple.

According to Mrs. Oswald, their two children had completely deserted their parent's religion, but they loved them all the same. She'd always felt a sense of mesmerization when the Oswalds shared their seemingly endless array of stories. She would always become nostalgic for her father, mother, and brother. She'd always picked on her brother - even though in the last year, he'd become twice her size - but now she wanted nothing more than to wake up to find him, sitting in his room, playing his guitar with the amp up too loud. As a child, she'd always wanted a more interesting life, wanted something bigger... but nowadays she yearned for that old, small town Preacher's Family life that she'd lived.

She was brought to the present by the voice of John in her walkie talkie. Survivors? The last thing she wanted right now was more people to intrude on their haven. She didn't want to disobey John, though. She unclipped it from her waistband, attempting to speak into it, but the words caught in her throat. She breathed heavily, regaining herself, and trying again. "O-on my way." She said, and stood from the chair with forced effort. Before she left the room, she went to Mr. Oswald's bed, reaching and pulling up the blanket and adjusting his pillow, making sure he was comfortable. She left the room, feeling like she would break down again, locking the door with her keys.

She took her time in venturing the halls to room 107. Upon reaching them, she was surprised to see a man that dwarfed John in size. Beside them, a pretty woman stood with what would've been the most adorable little boy, had Victoria not just witnessed the murder of her friend. She had always imagined what it would be like to receive new survivors. She imagined welcoming them with the same Texas hospitality that her mother welcomed guests into their home. John introduced the woman and her boy as Farren and Dean, the man (Whom Victoria subconsciously labeled as Dean's father), he introduced as "Buck". Out of pure respect and decency, she forced a pain-filled smile to the newcomers in attempt to seem friendly, though she knew that her puffy eyes would betray her. "Hi."

Buck Bradley - Methodist Emergency Medical Center - Farren/Jonathan/Victoria

Buck frowned.

He didn’t like the idea of being separated from Farren and Dean. Not one bit. He was going to protest when Farren spoke up, thanking the man for letting them in and introducing the three of them. Buck kept his eyes glued to the man, John he learned his name was. He listened to his explanation of how everyone had to be careful nowadays. Buck could appreciate that – if the man was telling the truth. No telling who he was talking to on the other end of that radio. Could be a trap, he thought to himself. Still, Farren’s tone and honest questions seemed to defuse the situation, and slowly Buck’s breathing began to return to normal. He had to hand it to the girl. In the short time since they’d met she had proven capable of handling herself in more than one dangerous situation. No wonder she and the boy had lasted out there on their own. He was silently relieved when John lowered his gun, finally.

His ire was raised again when John slid the hammer further away from him. Questions? What possible questions could he have for Buck? Why was he so insistent on separating him from Farren and Dean? With the gun lowered for the moment Buck seriously considered tackling the guy. Could he warn Farren to get away? Could he control the direction of the gun if it went off in the struggle? These questions flashed through his mind until the young, red-haired girl showed up – presumably the Victoria John had called on the radio. Something about her smile despite the pained look in her eyes put Buck a little more at ease. If a kid like this was safe with John and his crew, maybe Farren and Dean could be as well.

He sighed before he spoke. “I’ll leave it up to Farren if she wants to go with you. I trust her to make her own decisions.” He made eye contact with John again. “As for any questions you got, I’m all ears. Not too much I can tell you about what’s goin’ on these days, though. You already know my name. What else you wanna know? My favorite color?”

Ada Cinet – Bandera Pharmacy – Clayton Burrows

“It should be alright, don’t let your guard down though.”

For someone who considered himself a loner, Clayton seemed to take naturally to the position of leadership, or at least the role keeping the people he had promises to alive. Either way, Ada appreciated the extra pair of eyes, even if only for a night. She gave Clayton a nod and moved in after him, noting that he walked over to the counter, Ada moved through the aisles of the small drug store, knowing that everything was gone, but looking anyway. Everything that could've gotten you high was gone within the first few months, things people knew could help with sickness went shortly after... what remained... while probably useful in some capacity was completely foreign to Ada. Names like Loxapine, Trilafon, and Brompheniramine (oh my!) littered the shelves. It reminded Ada how horribly out of her depth she could be at things like this, a doctor she was not...

Throwing down a now blood stained bottle of pills in disgust, she looked up at Clayton breaking the silence of the dark storefront.

“Alright Ada…what should be our next step?”

That... was a good question. Setting down her bag, she leaned on a shelf across the counter Clayton was at. "Well..." She paused, listening to the alarm still blaring, weaker in the distance, "Getting out of the city's about as easy as it's gonna get, 'till that alarm dies down, every sicko for a few miles is gonna hear it and come walking... May as well take advantage that we already smell like 'em, y'know?" She ended by leaning back further against the shelf, happy to take some weight off of her legs, even for a moment. The words Clayton had said, 'next step,' hit her hard in a way she hadn't anticipated as she finished, relishing again in the drowned out crowd of sick fawning over the car alarm.

She didn't have a plan.

Ever since New Mexico, and it's Reservation, she had just been wandering, surviving, improvising in the general direction of Louisiana. She didn't really have a plan beyond that... look for family that she didn't care was alive or dead? Her mother was probably alive... somewhere. Ada wasn't sure if she thought that was a good thing or not. She told herself that she should be hoping she can meet her mother again someday, that even though her brother was gone she'd still have a family. That was supposed to be a good thing. But despite herself, she enjoyed the solitude, or at least being away from people she was related to, and the thought of meeting her mother made her physically shiver, she caught herself before Clayton could notice. She relished in the opportunity to live like she was, alone, no plans, like a tumbleweed, much like her mother had lived.

Shaking her head, she thought of something else. "I vote heading east, running water'd be nice, but honestly I already got a couple bottles of water, I just need a towel and some new clothes..."

Farren North – Methodist Hospital – Buck/John/Victoria

Farren looked a bit skeptically at the man. If he’d not met any other survivors, how did he know most survivors might not be on the up and up? Why wouldn’t he assume they were good people in the first place? She chewed her bottom lip, trying to truly understand the man’s position, but she couldn’t see what big risk he might be taking against a woman with a kid and a man with hammer, against the man’s gun.

Her eyes moved to the walkie talkie he held, calling a girl named Victoria and saying there were survivors. “I need my bag… and I really wouldn’t like to be far from Buck. No offense but he greeted me with a lot more warmth and risked his life for my son and me.” Farren moved to take the bag off John’s shoulder, putting it over her own and shifting uncomfortably and making Dean start to whine a little before she bounced him several times til he fell back asleep. She sighed heavily, rubbing her eyes and listening as their host introduced himself and explained one of his people he knew had died. She simply nodded, understanding.

Soon, a red headed girl came down, who looked like she was upset despite her smile. Farren mentally labelled her younger than her age, perhaps 15, and managed a small tired smile. “Hi,” Farren said softly back. Farren turned back to John though, hearing the tone of Buck’s voice getting frustrated. Okay, time to smooth everything with common sense. “I’m sorry John,” the woman said wearily. “But it’s the middle of the night. I think any questions and motivations or whatever ya’ll are looking for can wait til morning right? Lock us in a room with a bathroom if it makes you feel safe. But please know, there’s nothing to worry about from us. We just wanted to find refuge. And other welcoming survivors,” she added, a little smirk on her lips.

John Teller - Methodist Hospital - Buck/Farren/Dean/Tori

After Tori's arrival, John became a little more relaxed. That was until the damn giant continued to make dumb decisions with his blabbermouth. He seemed to think he was in a position to make the calls, but he wasn't. The one with the gun was John - not that he wanted to use it, but if he had to, he would. It wasn't until Farren spoke that John became tranquil again. He really wanted to help them, but it was hard when one of the two continued to fight against everything John ordered. It wasn't that he deemed himself the leader of these people, but believed he needed to make the right choices for the right reasons.

So in the end, Farren was right. It was late, John was definitely tired along with Victoria - who obviously didn't seem too good. The girl must still be shaken up by what had happened to Mrs. Oswald - John still was. So therefore, to no longer justify any complications, John put the pistol back in his holster. He walked towards Victoria and put his hand on her shoulder. "Victoria here will show you to your rooms" he said, allowing the girl to go ahead and escort them. But before Farren followed he closed in and whispered, "Watch your man" he stated, then backing away as he stared at Buck, allowing the guy to follow behind Farren.

John picked up the hammer and started towards the hospital's food service area. He took out three small yogurts, three glasses full of water, and two biscuits that were still good. The a/c system and water ran on the hospital's emergency system. When the lights were turned off, like many police departments, the entire premise had its own water lines and generators. Of course, the generators were meant to turn the lights back on, but with a little help of Mr. Oswald, they were able to connect them to the air conditioning instead. To get lights, they'd use candles and flashlights, not much, but enough to get them out of the dark. The room all of them were just in was full of candles, so everyone was visible. The moonlight also helped light up some of the hospital's hallways and stuff.

Anyhow, after getting the food, John went ahead and started up the stairs and into the second floor where he should run back into Tori and the newcomers. But before doing so, he went to see Robert. He knocked before entering then entered despite not hearing a 'come in'. He noticed the man was sleeping and pulled a chair by his bedside. Suddenly, John slowly broke into tears. "I'm so sorry" he whispered in broken speech. He was shivering so much it was hard to speak. He held onto the side of the bed, his body crouched forward and his eyes closed tightly as his tears crashed against the ground under him. John blamed himself for the death of Robert's wife, honestly believing he could have done so much more for her to keep her alive.