Jason looked over at the poor woman, she wasn't handling this well at all. He walked over to her, she must have been their chaperone or something for this trip. Now all of the kids she had to watch out for were gone. It had to hurt. He shook his head at the cruelty of fate and approached her. "Hey, I'm sorry we couldn't find any survivors. But at least you survived to be able to remember all of these kids. They'll live on in your mind" He said softly, hoping to help her out. He knew the feeling of pain and needing to cope, he had watched his best friend take her own life when they were younger. Jason knew pain, he only hoped he could help this stranger through her own pain.

With that in mind he sat by her, not directly next to her as he was still a stranger, but a distance at which she could reach him if she needed to, or wanted to reach out to have somebody else to help her through the pain. As he sat, the boy let his mind wonder. How the hell could something like this even happen? What was the logic behind all of it.

Sean the Gamer

Well that wasn't quite the type of response I'd been hoping for, the kind where someone accurately interprets the inherent ignorance in the situation of myself having literally arrived only moments ago, but I guess I'd have to educate him a little bit. I was never good at accepting orders from strangers either. "Given that I arrived mere moments ago I have no idea about the specific subject of her panic, with such information I would be much more capable of assisting effectively." There's a reason I wasn't a teacher, I had a nasty habit of sounding terribly condescending whenever I set out to educate anyone, especially about something that 'I' might have viewed as painfully obvious... Nevertheless I shrugged it off and approached her closer in hopes of getting an actual informative hint.

That wasn't all I got though as she seemed to crumble even further before the search truly got into full swing.

'A classfull of kids under her watch? That's gotta hurt, I'm even feeling it' s'truth, It hurt to imagine it, even more so when it began to pull into scope everything else that was related to those who'd fallen to the same fate, and it quickly began to drag me down as well... 'Damnit! not the time for this!' I could feel my own resolve slipping in the face of what he breaking down was making me think about and I had to try to get this back on track! Part of me wanted to just run off and find some place to take cover immediately, but a bigger part refused to just leave other people laying around in the open like this, so I'd have to hope I could get them in a moving mood before I had my own breakdown... God damnit all I hated timers, especially invisible ones.



I moved on closer to where they sat then, once more oblivious to the music of my phone changing tracks to something much more out of place, and attempted to make some inexperience gestures meant to had some inspiration to my words... or something like that. "There's no reason to lose hope! Absence is not evidence, No body means they might have survived just like we did. Hell, I survived a tumble in an RV full of electronics. I'm sure your students have an idea how the park's emergency plans work, that's one of those things always covered in preparation of school field trips right? Maybe they'll come to the flare too, and if not, we can always do some searching when the sun comes back up. If we can help it, it will be a good idea to have a temporary shelter set up if anyone else comes this way, maybe the ranger station down the way, that should work for a day or two, right? We're all still in relatively good condition aren't we? I'd be willing to bet they're hiding somewhere nice and safe right now." Of course, I wasn't willing to 'really' bet on that, maybe a few of them survived, maybe none of them, but I wasn't about to exacerbate her breakdown by speaking of things like that. For now false hope would be better than none, it would at least get her to a safer place to freak out.

It was odd though, a glance at her doodling was natural when I was close enough, but something about the sun's she was filling the page with was familiar to me... I couldn't quite place it and it wasn't important enough to put any real thought into at the moment.

It had been hours since Nathan managed to get up and move away from the swamp. He thought it was a lake before whatever happened, happened. He had regained his ability to walk upright, he felt twigs growing inside his bones. There was something that was healing him from the inside, Venora's Vigilante.

Nathan's first thought was to find a way off Yellowstone, so he decided to walk back to the Roosevelt lodge and see if his ride was still there. He had to walk around the swamp, he didn't have any sort of idea as to the direction of the lodge. However an inner compass in his mind told him to head around the swamp, he unconsciously did so. The trees around were either in place or upside down, bodies constantly reminded him of the Green thunderclap that tore the skies earlier. There are too many bodies, he thought something was up. There were many bodies dressed in odd garments, even tourists didn't dress in such garments. They seemed like they were plucked from their countries and put on the trees. Put with extreme gore that is, between trees and rocks.

Nathan walked and looked around, there was an ephemeral feeling growing inside him as he touched a tree trunk or a shrub of berries. He could have sworn at times that the trees looked at him in hope, encourage him to get to the Roosevelt lodge and cause violence. He shook off the alien feelings and finally reached what looked like the lodge, it was completely devastated. He wanted to try and hurry towards the parking lot where his Limo would take him to the New World, but a cry nearby grabbed his senses.

Nathan walked to where Pierre's phony press conference was held before the earth shattered, there were bodies and some people looked like talking corpses. One corpse in particular grabbed Nathan's concern, it belonged to the behemoth associate of Mr.Athene.

Nathan approached carefully. He recognized the body as a living, barely holding and quite crushed Hector. "Are you alive?" Nathan tried to act cool, hiding away the twig that grew on his cheekbone.

Pierre Athene

"Geez Louise! Unobservant people are unobservant. Of course I did not set the flare do you think that I am allowed near fire much less explosives?"

McKenzie's head tilts slightly to one side, while a quizzical expression overtakes her face.

"Did you seriously not hear Mistah Constable McMountainMan? What a thing to miss as it seems like he put a lot of work in choosing a comedic accent and then making a dramatic entrance. Like how could you miss something like that? I was a little further away than youse guys were and I friggin managed to catch it...just trust me it was a laugh riot. People these days cannot even stop and smell the roses or catch the whiff of sweet comedy in the air. As for army men I cannot say that I have seen any lately...though I before this disaster I saw a few security type people in arm bands walking around the park with military grade weapons, but it did not seem like they worked for Yellow Stone though or the United States armed forces for that matter; it was odd as they seemed to be doing official security business like checking people's licenses, but then they would ask odd questions about somebody's political views or country of origin. Apparently unbeknownst to me there are incorrect answers to those questions as more then a few people received a thrashing myself included..."

She runs a hand across her bruised face before suspiciously eying the MP5 strapped on Pierre's back before continuing.

"It is a kooky coincidence that your Dad and those guys are carrying the same type of weapon...but I am no negative Nancy you folks are too nice to go around beating people up. Well enough chitchat we should see if we can help those folks out."

While, the annoying girl blathered on Pierre sighed internally to himself as the last thing he wanted to be doing was embroiling himself further in the affairs of these idiots; he should be seeking help not baby-sitting these fools, but this nagging otherworldly feeling would not leave him.

Eventually as they left the fringe and joined the other group he thought perhaps these new people would be more tolerable than his current companions, but alas the Tiny Tim song shattered his hopes. Pierre silently wondered if he could shoot them all and claim self-defense; however, much to his chagrin he refrained from acting on his violent urges.

He sensed a feeling of hurt emanating from the blonde haired woman who was doodling and then unfamiliar memories assaulted the proverbial gates of his mind; a quint little classroom, small children whom were each unique in their own special way, excitement and eagerness for a field trip... oh, as evidenced by the passing visions this woman was a teacher who took her class here for a field trip. Oh, my god the children were dea...off to a better place. This woman seemed to have good memories of the children...comforting memories; he subconsciously licked his lips before abruptly snapping out of the trace.

He was greeted by severe hunger pangs and clutched his stomach. He mused on saying something comforting to the teacher, but he felt like he would be intruding further into her inner sanctum.

He mumbled something almost inaudible under his breath, "shame about the children...would have enjoyed the park...would have helped the kinetic learners in the class especially little Jeremy...could have kindled a lifelong appreciation of history."

He ran his left hand through his hair the fading sun's rays reflected off of his authentic New York Jet's Super Bowl ring. Where were these feelings coming from as he particularly remembered hating children. Pushing this to the back of his mind Pierre regained his cocky demeanor.

"Hmm...I suppose you sorry lot set off the flare, I suppose it would be unrealistic to hope that anyone semi-competent can be found in this tick infested hellhole of a national park. I am Pierre Athene and these are my assoc...help uh...Daria and annoy...McKenzie. I seriously doubt any of you were at my charity convention as evidenced by your ratty clothing and unkempt appearance..."

He glared at Sean as he said the last part before continuing on his tirade.

"...fucking Christ on the cross other than myself are all the people who were worth a damn dead? It is just my luck to be stuck with the brat-pack until I am rescued...wonderful just fucking wonderful."

Hector

As Hector made his way through the dense forest he began to slowly feel unease at the unnatural silence that surrounded him; it seemed like hours since he saw anything, but these god forsaken trees. A few times he picked up his pace as if pursued by an invisible attacker, but slowed down after realizing it was nothing. However, one time he swore he saw a unusually large crow hopping after him only to for it to disappear as he attempted to focus on it. At this point he was nothing more than skin and bones traversing this unending forest in the what once was luxurious clothing, but was reduced to rags.

After an undeterminable amount of time the gigantic malnourished man made his way into clearing only to find it full of bloody crows; they were everywhere filling every nook and cranny of the field. Hector realized that upon his entrance the gathering of crows had all shifted their attention to him; their black pupils reflecting his now gaunt figure. Something rustled in the brush behind him and before he could properly react he felt the cool edge of a knife brush against his throat.

A feminine voice commanded, "Doth thee knoweth whither thee art Hector? Nay! Surely thee jest. All knoweth of the realm between realms, the lodging whither the sun nev'r shines, the lodging whither the shadows runneth from themselves, mine dominion. Hastily turn thyself around and gaze upon mine visage or mine children wilt surely consume thee. Thus speaketh Morgana"

As the blade was abruptly released from pressing up against his neck Hector did as he was told and turned his massive frame around to face the woman. She was a rather petit female with long flowing red hair and the same dark piercing eyes of a crow, she was clothed in a gown crafted of crow feathers and Hector presumed she was the one that was following him before. He had so many questions to ask this intriguing woman, but some subconscious urge was telling him to ask a specific one; words that were burned into his brain came to the forefront of his mind.

"How does one throw off the vestiges of death and return to life...my lady?"

Morgana seemed to ponder this question before placing her lips to the man's forehead and life returned to Hector; however, his forehead would be forever inscribed with the words "Homo, Fuge!" (Flee, Man!").

Hector was startled awake by the noise of somebody addressing him and that is when he released he was still in the lodge trapped under that pile of rubble; he remembered loosing the will to chop off his arm and embracing death. How long was he out? Was that all a dream? He used his free trembling hand to trace the words etched on his forehead...What was going on? He observed the figure standing over him with a vague sense of

"I am...Alive...need help moving this fucking rubble...left here to die...by Piers...he betrayed the entire country...he is behind this whole disaster...it was a trap...a coup of the highest degree... he was working with the Chinese...major cities will be obliterated...nuclear fire...she spared me...told me things...mystical powers instilled via kiss...I know you will help me get free in order to stop him friend...Pierre Athene needs to die for this." Hector struggled to release this madness from his parched throat, but in his state of delirium he believed every word.

"Lying about the matter of facts doesn't help anyone in the end." Diane's reply was sharp and simple, as if she was reading it from a script instead of actually saying it herself. "There isn't an absence of evidence. There's an absence of survivors, but not the dead. I do thank you for trying to calm me down, I suppose..." Diane sighed, before she eventually got to her feet and brushed herself off. "There should be at least a cabin left to search. Maybe my luck will finally improve..." She shrugged, holding her notebook tightly in her grasp, twirling her pen in her grasp while glancing to the other person who had come up to comfort her. The first one who had arrived. "Alive in my mind doesn't really change the fact that, well, they're not in the waking world..." She sighed softly, before her eyes turned to Pierre.

"No one gives a damn about who you are, or what position you once held. I set off the flare because in a survival situation, you're meant to get into groups, not whine and moan. If you are going to stand here and try to prove your superiority by belittling the rest of us, you can walk right back into the forest, alone. I'm pretty sure mother nature would be very impressed with all of your fancy medals and charity auctions. Now, if you don't mind, either start doing something useful with your time and supposed superiority, or leave. I have MUCH more important things to think about than some political, military, whatever nutjob." Diane's tone was cold and sharp, as if she was speaking down to the bad child of the class whom had spoken out of turn, and tried to become some cool kid.

Diane took her flare gun, and reloaded it, before thrusting it into Sean's grasp. "If he tried to shoot me in the back with that fancy gun of his, shoot him with this flare gun." She said it just loud enough so that Pierre could hear. Oh yes, Diane Bright was done with any and all of anyone's bullshit. She began to walk towards one of the last remaining, unharmed cottages...before one of the kids began to come running out. It was a young girl, with dark red hair, adorable blue eyes, and the cutest of freckled skin. A thin tyke, dressed in her night gown. "Trish!?" Diane's voice was suddenly sounding so bright and hopeful, full of life...and then, she was two more kids come out of the cottage, chasing after Tris at a slow but steady gait, and that made Diane freeze.

It was a boy and a girl, the boy a classical look. Shaggy brown hair, torn jeans, white T...But, his neck, it was bent at an angle that was NOT natural. The girl? Well, she had a piece of wood sticking directly through where her heart would be. Now, Diane was a young adult, ergo, she knew her pop culture. Things like zombies and the like were nothing new to her, so, she just...acted. "SOMEONE SHOOT THOSE DEAD KIDS!" Diane seriously hoped that she'd never have to say a phrase like that again, even as she rushed to grab up the girl who seemed to be fine, Trish. Today was not the teacher's day.

Nathan looked around and tried to find a way to get the rubble off Hector, who was pronouncing incoherent murmurs. There was a piece of wood that supported the general debris, Nathan pulled it off and the entire rubble rolled backwards and away from Hector. He could tell that the large mam had seriously hurt his arm, he helped him get up to a sitting position.

"Are you alright?" Nathan asked, Hector responded with something. Nathan then tried to figure how he would help brace the wounds.

"I know Pierre is secretly a worthless scum, but don't give him credit for any of this. If anything, he is probably just trying to capitalize on whatever this shit is. Me? I am just trying to make a sense of what is going on, what is going to happen next?" Nathan wasn't able to do anything about Hector's wounds, so he just kept talking. Figuring someone or something will walk by and lend a hand, or his Venora shit might kick in.

"I just lost a chunk of my fortune to the Chinese earlier, so I will dismiss any theory of Athene working with the Chinese. I would blame him for somehow being the reason I lost the deal, again let's not give him credit for shit he didn't do."

Nobody had passed by, the world was beginning to rot. In a figurative sense maybe, because ever since whatever happened had happened, things had been growing and not decaying. Nathan asked Hector about his intentions. What was he going to do.

"But let's find a way to get that arm fixed first."

Darla Ann

Mckenzie was right, I had completely missed the group of people not too far down the road. The sound of Pierre's condescending voice was just too distracting, not to mention the migraine and head wound. The three of us walked towards the small group of people, a woman and two men, and as we drew closer, I could hear Pierre mumbling something under his breath. 'Who is Jeremy?' I wondered to myself. I was surprised by how tender his high and mighty sounded, but the moment passed quickly.

I rolled my eyes at Pierre's introductions. Daria? Really? He hadn't even tried to remember the Ann part. Oh well, not that it particularly mattered. I had been blessed with worse nicknames before. And now the young woman who had previously been so distraught was now snapping at Pierre. 'Hey, seems familiar enough,' I thought with a smirk. When she handed her flare gun to one of the guys and shot a suspicious eye towards Pierre, I laughed audibly. "He wouldn't waste any bullets on us, don't worry. Right Dad?" I was going to milk that silly mistake as long as I could, if only because it was an awful joke to hold onto at the end of the world.

And then the young woman began to scream something about shooting dead kids. "What are you even talking about?!" I yelled as I ran over to her, catching her by the elbow. I couldn't see any children, dead or alive...

Sean the Gamer

Well this was a fairly pleasant twist when her breakdown seemed to last a record short amount of time. Someone clearly had a very effective coping mechanism, and here I was just delaying mine until I could break it out somewhere safer. "Well, color me impressed, that's some fortitude you got there miss." Of course, this was the perfect time for the walking hate inducer that is a politician to step in and make the situation a huge pain in the ass, and just as I opened my mouth to give him a piece of my own mind she beat me to the punch.

I ended up just staring in morbid fascination as she tore into him... and then handed me the flare gun and told me to shoot him with it if he gets dangerous... Oh, I had the perfect idea "Okay, first, I wish 'my' teacher's were like you back in the day. Second, Hot... and Third, I could do that, or." I shifted the flare gun to my left hand and reached the other into my Parka, which then came out carrying an intimidatingly large silver and black revolver "I could use 'this'. Thing'll put a bear down with good aim." She probably didn't notice though, she clearly had her mind put back on something else, So I took the chance to address 'Pierre'... and tried not to let any bile rise in my throat "For the record, I wouldn't be attending your charity convention anyway. Priests and Politician's make my stomach turn and you can't imagine how hard it would be for you to convince me you wouldn't throw us all in a pit if it made you a buck, 'if' I were to even consider you cared what we thought of you in the first place. Also, a pressed Ten K suit or combat fatigues is not the only possible indicator of someone who knows what they're doing, at a time like this, Competency is determined more by one's success at surviving. And-" Interrupted again, this time by a shout.

One glance was all it took to recognize what was happening, though coping with 'zombie children' was miniscule next to recognizing the cataclysm. "There's your evidence right there, standard catastrophes don't make zombie children- But lets all get somewhere nice and safe before we waste our time bickering." I quickly pocketed the flare gun before steadying myself in a remarkably law enforcement like stance, very firmly gripping the revolver with both hands, and took aim. I remembered the time I tried to shoot this thing one handed, it just wasn't something you did. The shot was as loud as I remembered, if it weren't heard for a mile around I'd be surprised, And it still made me stumble back while my arms flung over my head, but it did it's job... Sortof.

The zombie boy's head popped right off his shoulders in a messy spray as the body tumbled from the impact. It wasn't the head-shot I'd been hoping for, but a bullet like this hitting an already structurally unsound neck was just as good since the head still separated from the spinal column... Then the body started to get back up, an eerie glow visible coming from the severed stumps, both on the body and the head. "Aw fuck! It's Mad-cow Tourettes Zombies allover again!" Okay, now It was a lot less of a molehill. I repeated the process, but went for a body shot this time, which made it tumble back to the ground again with a new gaping hole full of juicy meat and part of it's spine gone which seemed to leave it writhing around all noodle like with one of it's primary supports out of whack.

Jason heard the cry about the Dead Children and shooting them. He spun just in time to see the other guy's first shot. Ah, so they wouldn't go down in one shot... great. Then he watched the second shot which tore open the spine. Without the support for the body and without the pathway for signals to travel the body became useless and fell. So these things weren't invincible. Jason could work with beings that would stay dead whenever you shot them. He drew two deep and calming breaths, clearing his mind as he pulled the large rifle around. Thank god he had taken the time to load the clip while walking earlier. He felt the cool metal press against his own cheek as the boy pressed the rifle back against his shoulder, ready to end these things. With his right hand he slowly pulled back the action to load a round into the chamber. Then came resounding boom as he pulled the trigger and sent a heavy round tearing through the child's mid-section, making a huge hole and shattering the spine. However; Jason wasn't done, and he didn't wait to see his results before shifting targets and pulling the action back once again although much quicker this time. Another thundering report followed as this child, smaller in build than the original split completely in half. With that action being completed the boy rose to his feet and looked at the others around him, then at the woman who he had been helping search for these children until now. Then he looked over at the guy who had originally shot.
"He's right. There are definitely more of these things around, I saw a few on my way in. We need to move."

Conference Room, Albright Visitors Center

“Man watching city fall
The clock keeps on ticking
He doesn't know why
He's just cattle for slaughter”

Della let out an audible sigh as the vintage BoomBox was once again turned on and another Killing Joke song began to play; her head pressed into her palms. It was the end of civilization was and she was stuck in a board room with Miranda’s brats and their utterly incompetent psychologist; Nana was right she should have never went to law school…Nana was always right. Della was divorced twice, had no children, and was going on fifty-five and she was not getting any younger; as a retired lawyer she should not even be here right now and if it was not for Miranda she would not be here right now. Miranda god rest her soul was not a very chaste woman and she paid the price…two illegitimate children from the same bastard nonetheless; oh, that two-timer paid great hush-money though as apparently he was now some bigshot somewhere …Della was not privy to what this man’s name was nor did she care what he did once a bastard always a bastard.

Though as Miranda’s best friend Della remembered this twenty-something year old punk-ass rich kid sniffing around for good looks and an easy-time years ago, unfortunately Miranda was the sucker who bought this asshole’s lies about a better life; however, once she got pregnant and refused to have an abortion he dumped her right quick, then approximately a year later he came back and knocked her up again. Nana once called this guy rich white-trash and she was right as per the norm. Della wondered if the scum knew his monthly deposit went towards Miranda’s vices and not his own children, but she doubted he really cared about them after all. Miranda probably got millions from this guy, but her children did not see any until her untimely death; while the medical examiner’s report read that Miranda died in her bed choking on a chicken leg, Della doubted that was the case as even though her friend weight ballooned to 300lbs at the time of her death there was no way she would eat in bed at that late hour. Della had a sinking feeling that the killer was in the room with her and she knew exactly who it was.

She ruled out Miranda’s oldest child Garth Landau as he was a mentally handicapped individual who had not spoken a word after witnessing a traumatic event involving his mother and one of her many lovers when he was only three. At 24 he could perform basic tasks such as dressing himself and the like, but Della seriously doubted the bearded mute could arrange an elaborate murder. Della also ruled out Dr. Allister Huxley the moronic psychologist and current guardian of the two children, as even though he was sleeping with Miranda and was one of her many lovers he seemed generally surprised at the contents of Miranda’s will and the existence of her mysterious patron; the creep gained nothing from her death and was generally saddened by her passing. The fool cancelled all has appointments (outside of the children’s) and went into mourning for about a month afterwards; he was an idiot alright, but he was more interested in profiling the next big serial killer than becoming one himself. The good doctor was also a very weak willed man to say the least and once passed out after seeing feral cat pounce on a chipmunk; indeed the doctor was a very scary man.

The killer was none other than Miranda’s daughter Mephi Landau, even at twenty-three the petit woman gave Della the chills; that girl was a sadist and ever since childhood she enjoyed inflicting pain on others, she was always in fights at school and Miranda was privy to many parent-teacher conferences. If gossip she was to believed she recently took up boxing, but her sheer brutality in the ring left few wanting to fight her. Even though it was no contest as her brother probably could not comprehend the situation Mephi was enraptured by the identity of her father and apparently forced as confession out of her mother as she knew exactly who he was; weeks after her mother’s death she begin emulating the man she believed to be her father, slicking her once unruly hair back and adopting the wearing of flashy tailored suits. If Dr. Huxley was to be believed her room was plastered with news clippings about her deadbeat dad. Della had many restless nights thinking about this sociopath shoving that chicken bone down her mother’s throat; matricide is a rare crime and a daughter killing her mother is even rarer.

Della was only here today in Yellow Stone as dictated in her best friend’s will, as Miranda’s lawyer she was to be present while the children met their father as stipulated in some prior agreement and to ensure they received a hefty inheritance in order to no doubt buy their silence about their true parentage; Dr. Huxley was also to be present for some reason, considering both of the adults were under his care it probably was for the best. Not that he was able to control Mephi as all he did was give her pills, that she probably hid under her tongue and spit out when he was not looking; he made for a piss-poor psychologist and a piss-poor guardian. Whomever the children’s father was he chose this location to meet them even rented out the whole visitor’s center for the occasion; the park listed it as “undergoing renovations”, but here they were waiting for the asshole to finish a so-called chartable event. Though the apocalypse interrupted all these prearranged plans; even though the rattling and shaking has subsided the devastation could be seen outside. Dead bodies lined the ground outside, contorted in odd positions by nature itself and odd rubble also could be seen…Della could make out the outline of an overturned office building in the distance.

Della looked up to find Mephi intently staring at her with her piercing blue eyes and with a wicked smile plastered on her face.

“Enjoying the music dear Della…is it too loud? Perhaps you are not a fan of the Killing Joke? They are quite good; some might say their music is to die for.” Mephi let out a snicker before rising up from her seat in order to position herself closer to Della. “Do you like the new suit…I just adore white suits as they stain so well. Very sexy. I heard you were friends with Miranda…does it make you sad that she is dead? Are you jealous that she went first? You have nothing to live for, so do you just want to end it all…throw off this mortal coil? Honestly, you make a horrible detective as you wear your emotions on your pudgy face…you think I killed your gal pal don’t you?”

“You callous bitch…even at the end you refuse to repent. Can’t you see that this is God’s tribula …”

Della was cut off as Mephi whacked the lawyer in the stomach with her bejeweled cane.

“Ugh, spare me the religious mumbo-jumbo, but if you want to be with Miranada that bad I can always arrange a one-way ticket to heaven for you. Fuck, if this is truly the end-times I could kill you right now and nobody would stop me; not that anyone did before.”

Mephi flashed another grin at the lawyer before revealing a concealed blade that was hidden in her cane. She begin slowly slashing at the lawyer making her feel every cut before slashing once again; her brother the mute did nothing to stop her in fact she surmised he perfectly understood what was going on and was as twisted as she was. Dr. Huxley attempted to intervene, but the coward refused to put himself in harm’s way and pleaded from the sidelines for her to stop and take some more medicine. After a few more slashes, Mephi became bored of torturing the old hag and slit her throat allowing her to bleed out.

“You did not have to do that Mephi you are a human not an animal, murder is never justified as civilized people do not butcher for enjoyment. You should be ashamed of yourself, you bloody ingrate.”

Dr. Huxley regretted his choice of words almost instantly as Mephi turned from admiring her handy work and started to menacingly approach him.

“Dear doctor one must not fling insults around unstable people as they might get hurt; I have killed forty-eigh...forty-nine people so far let’s not make it fifty. Whoops is that cat out of the bag…little old me was a serial killer this entire time, what were the odds? Anyways the bitch had to go…earlier she turned off my BoomBox and thusly threw off my groove; nobody messes with my cassettes got it. Back when dear old Mom was hogging all the money, I salvaged them from the Goodwill myself… nobody fucks with my music. Anyways, she was deadweight as I already know where my father is…he was at the Roosevelt Lodge hosting his charity event. So, surely we can track him down.”

“Mephi we need to come to terms with reality and face the fact that your father might be dead, killed in this impromptu disaster.” Dr. Huxley stopped talking when Mephi reached him and threw and arm over his shoulder.

“Oh, Doctor that is not the point at all, even if my father is dead verification of his existence is all I need. Where is your sense of adventure Al? There are so many people out there thinking that they are safe…that they survived the worst God could throw at them… well, they haven’t met me yet. Anyways you have always wanted to observe a pyscho in the wild here is your chance…write that book you always wanted to write champ. You already have paper and pencils here, unwitting survivors could always provide us with more if the need arises. If that ranger’s truck is still parked out front I bet it has flares in it…we could find an ideal spot and lure the hopeful to us. The look on their precious faces when they find not salvation, but only me standing there would be priceless. Garth get the BoomBox and the cassettes, we are going on an adventure!!!"

The doctor begrudgingly conceded to his new lot in life, thus his existence was spared for the moment. The mute rose from his stupor and did what he was asked of him, so the trio could make their way out of the visitor center; it came to pass that they indeed found a largely undamaged truck parked out front and started the arduous journey towards the Roosevelt Lodge. Woe to any that happen to cross their path as in these trying times these three offer not salvation, but only death.

Hector

Hector managed shake off some of the grogginess that blanketed his mind once he was on his feet once again. He took the stranger up one his offer and the went about constructing a makeshift sling for his now broken arm; the process was not too timely as there was plenty of raw materials that could be combined to craft a half-decent sling...it wasn't perfect, but he supposed it would have to do for the immediate future. Hector managed to down an unopened bottle of Perrier water that was discarded in whatever catastrophe hit Yellow Stone and this relieved him of his overly parched throat, so he finally was able to coherently communicate with this well dressed stranger. Who was he kidding this guy was hot, the Lord sure sent a looker to free him from his predicament; damn, in hindsight he probably sounded like a nutter to this gorgeous representatives of manhood. He would have to rectify that situation as soon as possible and Hector cleared his throat in preparation to speak; hopefully he would not make a further fool of himself.

"Thanks for your help stranger, not many people would pull a half-raving gigantic man out from underneath a pile rubble, for this and all you did today I am forever grateful. I probably would have perished here was it not for your kindness. I must apologize about the my uh...ranting earlier as I am normally a sensible man, but being stuck in an environment of low stimulation where time is fleeting can drive anyone temporarily mad. Though while I retract all of the baseless nonsense I spurted about him Piers is indeed an asshole and I wasted numerous years in his employ; however, I am steadfast in my belief that he survived this apparent bedlam and left me here in the lodge to die Oh, how rude of me my name is Hector Williams."

At this point in the conversation the large man extended his equally large hand.

"I do not particularly remember you from Piers' little shindig which is a shame as I make it a habit to socialize with all hands...er fiscally well-endowed gentleman, the best conversations come from those whose wealth have allowed them to experienced the world and all its splendors, but I digress. It seems I have been cooped up in here for the duration of the day, so tell me have you been outside? If so how bad is it out there? Do you know of any other survivors?"

Hector felt an unusual calmness overtake his regular enrage demeanor as it felt refreshing to just talk to a living person and not some specter. If he could just scrounge up some alcohol he would be content to wait out the end of the world in this cabin...this whole end of days thing would blow over soon enough and in a few weeks it would be old hat.

Pierre Athene

Pierre rolled his eyes at Diane's incessant prattling; teamwork, cooperation, equality...bah, what nonsense. He took immense pride that his rather privileged childhood allowed him to develop the necessary skills to take life itself by the reins; these fools could never comprehend that people are just a means to an end...the broken ambitions of many inferior people lined his path to greatness. The world was not only filled with raindrops on roses, whiskers on kittens, and other such infantile notions.

He lit another unfiltered Gitane cigarette and took a few puffs to calm his hunger pains; afterwards he let it hang loosely from the right side of his mouth. It seemed like the reasonably attractive teacher gave the flare gun to the bearded hippie who was trying act all machismo and the like brandishing a revolver. Pierre released a snicker, was this some kind of joke; well, it was admittedly funnier then the so-called comedian. Speaking of McKenzie she was blathering on about finally having a job or something; he was being sarcastic earlier was she really this stupid? There was a special place in hell for people like her, but Pierre digressed. Springboarding off of Darla's sarcastic comment Pierre addressed this bearded fool.

"Hold your horses Clint Eastwood you'll poke your eye out with that thing. I mean no harm kemosabe because as my lovely assistant suggested I would not waste my ammunition on any of you cretins. Oh, I see your one of those hippy-dippy, power to the people antiestablishment types."

He mockingly flashed the peace sign before continuing.

"Ha, that is rich; grow up and come to the realization that you are a misguided idealist spouting pie-in-the-sky nonsense. If I had a dollar for every time some idiot in a Guy Fawkes mask attempted to force their Socialist ideology on me; would be..."

The arrival of the so-called "Zombie Children" interrupted Pierre's monologuing. For a second he almost believed this nonsense about the walking dead, but this was obviously the work of some kind of plague. Poor people were vectors of disease because it was their lot in life to live in filth; however, that was beside the point as he would rather not lower himself to defend these idiots. As he began his slow slinking retreat backwards he readied his weapon and kept it aimed on the diseased children, Pierre would only fire his military grade machine gun if he himself was under direct threat and at the moment that was thankfully not the case. These meat shields would either fight off those sickly brats or they would die covering his escape.

"It is a pleasure Mr. Williams to meet a respectable person of your decree in such a dire time. I am Nathan, Nathan Thumberstock."

Nathan slowly reached for the big man's hand, it felt hot and sweat. It felt like Russia and India, he shook it firmly nonetheless. Hector had managed to tidy up a gizmo, a basic sling, to hold his fracture arm in place. Nathan tried hard not spurt a twig from his nose or a bark from his chest, he tried hard to forget the talking creature. Forget his being as some sort of avatar for a goddess of vengeance, forget this so called Venora. In the company of Hector, it felt like normal times again, regardless of the shifted geography all around.

"I was at the charity alright, I don't make a habit of accepting Pierre's every invitation, but I decided Yellowstone was a good breather. I was shot off from here, in a manner that don't really needs explanation, into some god awful swamp. There seems to be a lot of deaths, I doubt there is a scarcity in survivors"

Nathan walked away, gestured Hector to follow him, he explained that he needed to reach a communication device. Perhaps there are still intact Helicopters left in one of his numerous oil rigs.

"I will see if I can't get a 'copter and just fly off from this mess, there is certainly a room for a respectable peer. Unless you are willing to stay here."

I actually scoffed at Pierre and turned a glare on him, though it probably wasn't visible behind the sun-glasses, and calmly pulled open the revolver's cylinder to pick out the 2 spent shells and fish out new rounds from one of the side-pockets of his hiking pack. Meanwhile, speaking mostly calmly towards Pierre to keep the noise down, though the tone also sounded just like I was completely unphased by his insults and instead simply educating someone I had judged either incompetent or ignorant. "And 'you' are a typical politician, making assumptions on someone based on whatever pops into your head about them, as well as shallow external details, and whatever you can draw a comparison to with other 'common' things, then judging their worth based on only a single inherently flawed interpretation." Once I had the new rounds in I turned towards him, 'without' pointing my gun anywhere near him of course, just because he was a rich fop didn't mean spray n pray wouldn't be the death of me "Hippies are pussies, parading around preaching about loving nature and shunning war and violence while they do so many drugs they frequently wake up in their own waste. Natures a good thing, sure, but I'm not about to rush out and live in the brush all my life if I can help it. 'Petty' war's would be unnecessary if there weren't so many people promoting hating other people because of how different they are in one form or another, but there's not much you can do about religious psychopaths but kill them so they don't kill you. I actually won't mind getting into a political discussion with you once we're not out in the open where any post-apocalypse obsessed forest yahoo with a rifle could pick us off." I never did get over that Nasty habit of rambling on and on when I get going passionately...

"Anonymous are attention whores too, learning from history and copying a guy's representation are different things. I need to shut up and get moving before I 'really' start getting chatty about this... I'll stop with this, Giving all the power to the people is too much, it leads to 'true freedom', which leads to wanton violence and chaos, but giving all the power to the people who already 'have' power, imagined powered from a fabricated monetary system mind you, ultimately leads to the 'demand' for true freedom, which has the same effect when the billions who out-number them reach the end of their ropes and revolt... Personally, I think humanity is over-due for an apocalypse to teach us what's more important than money and fancy possessions and status or whether or not we have some racial gripe we can hold over someone. Or maybe 'Cataclysm' would be more accurate." I wondered for a moment if he might pick up on the meanings of the different words, while I finally pulled my phone back out and shut the damn music up before fingering it around to the map of the Lodges and turning away from him back to the others.

"Alright, you all don't have to listen to 'me', but I'm going to worry about introductions once I'm somewhere safe... I'm going to head to the Ranger station that's just up the road here, preferably before anything gets attracted to the sounds of gunfire. It'll be easier to lock down so nothing uninvited gets in and might have some extra guns around. I obviously have no authority here, so feel free to dink around with whatever." Then I just set off in that direction. As far as I was concerned, I'd done my part. Offered some advice on what to do, tried to comfort the teach, shot a zombie kid, and logically bitched out a stuck up politician. I was ready to just get moving to find somewhere to vent whether they followed or not, though I was grateful for the distraction actually, It pulled my mind away from the whole end of the world focus long enough that I could hopefully get there and find a nice secure little room to duck into and get the breakdown out of my system... Man, why was it always so damn soothing to talk down about politicians? The Thrill I get from this shit was drug-like even now!

A loud boom echoed through the clearing and the dust near Pierre's kicked up suddenly from the impact of a large caliber bullet slamming into it. Jason stood there, loading another round and this time aiming at Pierre's chest. "I know you're about to run, you rich snob. But I wouldn't advise doing so. You see, the lady was right. We need to work together if we're going to survive through this. The Old World is gone buddy. Law, Order. The very things you used to gain your perceived power. Gone. That green paper you value, it's worthless now. Because with whatever other things this world conjures up, there will also be the murderers and looters running about. This is a New World. One that isn't ruled by how many friends you have or how much money you have. No, rather it's ruled by the man with the biggest Gun." Jason says as he glared down the man, his rifle not so much as quivering as he aimed it at the man in front of him.

"Now here's the thing, before you try something funny; my gun is certainly the bigger one out of you and me. So should you be thinking about shooting me right now, I'd discourage it. My rifle is locked and loaded. I pull the trigger and my bullet will tear a hole in your chest big enough for me to reach my arm through. Your rifle, and it's small caliber, would hurt yes, but I could survive unless you hit something vital. Not to mention you haven't pulled the charge lever and you've probably never shot before so your aim is most likely terrible. Mine isn't.

Speaking of your gun, I think it could help this group stay alive. I care about them because they will help each other. You? No I don't care about you. You're just a man who expects to be catered to. So here's what's going to happen. Either you pledge yourself to this group as an equal and pull your weight with us; and hand that gun over. Or you hand the gun over and strike out on your own to die. Should you try to shoot me, I'll blow a hole in your chest while you try to pull the charge lever to prepare to take me out. Should you make a run for it, I'll blow your leg off and take the gun from you as you crawl away. Then I'll leave you to survive or die on your own devices. I don't trust you or your kind, nor do I like you. So mark my words, this isn't a threat. It's a statement of your options right now. What will it be? . With that statement the boy turned to look at the guy with long hair and the revolver who was walking away. "Wait. We can get this group out, don't you want to help the others here? If so, then wait until he is going to hand his rifle over, you approach and take it from him. Keep your gun trained on him at all times until you reach him." Then Jason turns his gaze back upon Pierre.

Diane was standing there, brain just reeling, trying to focus. Trying to grab onto all the facts that she knew to be true, and all of the facts that were just her stressed mind cracking under the pressure of this whole entire mess. Here was one of the things that she knew for sure. She was, undoubtedly, alive. That was one fact, and that was what she'd lay the base work for the rest on. Fact number dos, she was definitely awake. While she might wish and pray for it to be a dream, she knew that this was no dream. This was the waking world, for sure. Besides that one? She'd seen three of her kids leave a cottage, and two of them had been, no doubt about it, the flesh eating, shambling variety of the undead...and now, she had three kids in front of her, and she was pretty sure...No one else could see them.

It was around this time, though, that Diane's ears caught the sound of Jason talking. She turned and just fixated him with this sort of look...Before she marched right up to him, and slapped Jason firmly right across the face. "What the HELL gives you the right to say stuff like that? Are you some kind of psychopath, you think we'd want to be in ANY kind of group with a man who would make threats or talk like you just did!? I know my answer, and it is heavens, HEAVENS no!" Diane steamed, just staring at Jason with her look of disgust, while ensuring that she got her flare gun back from the hippie. She moved to stand behind him, eyes snapping from between Pierre, and Jason. "You BOTH have some damn problems, and after the day I've had...No WAY I'm primed to deal with it. So far, this 'hippie' seems like the most level headed of us all! I'm seeing dead children, for Christ's sake! Not the ones you just mowed down, either!" Diane explained, glancing back to the corpses...oh heaven's, the whole class was behind her...and only she could see. Now, THAT was freaky.

Diane had made her point and position clear. She didn't want anything to do with the guy who's head was so far shoved up the old hierarchy's ass that he'd probably suffocate on the gas fumes before this world took him out, and she sure as hell didn't want ANYTHING to do with the one who'd begun spouting out some crazy stuff about a New World! For all she knew, he'd try and make Diane a public breeder and have them all live in a nice, big tribe soon enough! No thank you! "The sooner we get moving, the better...this is a mad house..." Diane whispered to Sean, holding her flare gun close to herself for dear, dear protection.