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Smith Household

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The city of Toronto was bustling with life as it usually was. Traffic jams on the highway made worse by the snow of February, sidewalks packed with people trying to make it to work and snowplows desperately trying to clear the inner city streets. It was a frosty morning in the great city, the temperatures having dropped to a bone chilling -25 Celcius ( ) overnight. Snow was falling at a slow rate and clung to the city’s buildings and streets like a disease. Clouds hung low in the sky and casted a grey, overcast light over the city. Overall, a normal winter morning in Toronto.

Only small outbreaks of both the Zika virus and HIV had been seen up to this point and people went along with their daily lives for the most part. The outbreaks were under control and being dealt with by the collaborative effort of the world’s best doctors and no other cases of either disease had been reported anywhere else in the world. Passive ignorance swept most of the planet and everyone quickly forgot about the issue that would one day consume them.

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Elizabeth woke with a yawn as alarm clock rang out. She sat up in her bed and pulled up the blankets, rubbing her eyes before looking over to the windows. A grin spread across her face as she saw the large clusters of snow falling past and she quickly leapt from her bed to get a better view. Down below the apartments, traffic was at a halt and snowplows littered the city. Lizzy quickly ran back over to her side table and grabbed her iPod, her thumbs flying across the screen as she rushed to find out if it was a snow day.

Minutes later she was in the bathroom. She quickly brushed her teeth, did her hair up in something that resembled a ponytail and then bolted to the kitchen. After quickly sending off a message to her friends she poured herself a bowl of cereal and then doused it with milk. Lizzy ate as if she had been starved for a week; snow days were few and far between in the Greater Toronto Area as they had an almost flawless snow removal service. It was not a day to be wasted eating cereal.

After the filling breakfast and a quick swig of orange juice, Lizzy pulled on her snowpants and then laced up her snow boots. She slid on her arctic white jacket and zipped it up before pulling on her Toronto Maple Leafs tuque and black ski gloves. She paced across the apartment and knocked on her mother’s office door, not completely expecting an answer. After no answer for a good five minutes she eventually gave up and just left a note, leaving the apartment and descending to the streets below to join her friends at the park next door. It happened to be visible from their apartment and her mother never really had a problem with Lizzy going down on her own.

The brunette had a ball in the snow. The group of high school freshman wrestled, had snowball fights and took turns telling stories of their dreadful teachers in school. They were out for hours enjoying the mythical snow day in the cold metropolis of Toronto, unaware that their world would be quickly taken by surprise. Ignorant to the fact that these next few months would be the last normal ones that they’d ever get a chance to see…

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Renee burrowed deeper into her blankets as the fan beside her bed ran its chilly breeze across her shoulders. She'd probably get sick from having it on in the middle of this ass-biting Minnesota winter, but she couldn't sleep without the white noise. The world was too quiet, too still without it. But she knew she couldn't sleep forever. She had a bad habit of staying up too late and sleeping well into the afternoon. A quick glance at the heavily covered window near her bed confirmed how long she'd slept in. Her mom would be home from work soon.

She threw back the blankets and went through her usual routine, waking herself fully with the glaring light of her laptop screen until she felt the grumbles of hunger in her belly begging for some sort of 'morning' meal. She padded out into the kitchen, the house blissfully empty. It always was in the afternoons. She glanced out the kitchen window and made a face at the piles of snow. That would make getting to work sort of difficult.

After working through her morning routine, she faked being sick and called in to work. She spent the rest of the afternoon in her room, reading a book, until she heard the dog barking excitedly. She hopped out of bed and bounded into the living room, giving her mom a big hug. She always thought it was weird when her friends didn't hug or kiss their parents. Renee made sure to give her parents love and appreciation on an almost irritating level.

"Hey, mama-llama. Was work okay?" She stepped back and sat herself down on the ancient black leather loveseat, feeling the familiar itchy, cracked texture and the stuffing beneath. Her mom gave her usual heavy sigh and removed her purse, sunglasses, and coat before plopping down on her spot on the couch.

"It was work. And you? Did you get any work done around the house?" Her mother's raised brow caused her to shift guiltily. She'd forgone the dishes, even though she'd been told to do them for the past three days.

After a short and pointless argument, she did the dishes quickly and spent the rest of the night at a friend's house, preparing for their upcoming birthday party.

Luna had spent her first two weeks in Toronto in a daze. From moving to the city, finding an apartment, learning her way around, to diving into her class at the Tronto Schoop for the deaf, she had never been more satisfied. Having m been offered the position when she thought she would never get a job, Luna had agreed right away despite the fact she only had a few days to pack up and move to Toronto. She had sold off, or donated a lot of her furniture, and things she didn't truly need, packed up her car, cramming it full, and started on her way.

And hadn't regretted it.

Today however it looked like she wouldn't be going to the school, and she found herself wide open for a day free in Toronto. Perplexed at the idea, she wondered what she could do. After getting ready, Luna bundled herself in the old, thick and warm coat she had scored in a bargain years ago, and headed outside. Near the school district, Luna could already see children out enjoying the rare day of freedom in the snow, and she couldn't help but smile. She waved to everyone she saw, the universal word for hello, giving everyone a smile as she stalked through the snow. She put a lot of feeling into her gestures, being a very animated person.

She saw that a cafe was open, and decided to stop in for a hot chocolate, grabbing a menu, she pointed to what she wanted, cheerfully grabbing a waitress's attention, shaking her head to the offered sugar, but nodding enthusiastically to the offer for marshmallows, and handed over the right money for the warm beverage, happily accepting it when it was done.

She stepped outside once more, sipping the hot chocolate in its take away cup, and looked about her. Torunto really was a Beautiful place. For the first time in a long time, Luna felt at peace.

Sipping her drink, she started off once more, not sure where she would end up, just that she was going somewhere.

"How goes the battle for Preston? Managed to get Brady yet? Really? You're doing well you old codger, tell mother that the Torontonians are decent people, they're no Sandgrounders or Liverpudlians but they're nice, and barely any of them are Frenchmen who like stealing belts.... Best I call you later dad, cafe's opening so good luck with trying to be MP, I have faith you'll do well. Goodbye for now!" An awake John converses over the phone to his father in the toasty kitchen before the doors of the Toronto Tankard open to a small crowd of popsicles who were once Torontonians, the crowd takes their seats, and the business begins conviniently as John puts his phone away.

"I feel sorry for them you know John, they have to go out there into the deathly grasp of the cold... We needn't worry about overdoing the meals too. A nearby cook comments, his pity turning to enterprise once he sees how cold the first customers are. Soon afterwards the orders of warm meals wade over to the staff, the first meals being hearty and starchy.

The meals in the Toronto Tankard were always said to be good enough to die for then come back to life to eat again... Which did happen when one of the restaurant owner's friends supposedly died, and just before being buried woke up and scared a Vicar so much they fainted into another grave pit. However it isn't going to just be a local gimmick over a local paramedic's incompetence.

Nadya's phone blared a song in another language only inches from her head. She groaned and snatched it off the table, dismissing the alarm before it woke up her neighbours. She didn't want to get up... Not today. She didn't want to get up yesterday. And dammit, if she already knew that she wouldn't want to get up tomorrow. She rubbed her eyes and slowly counted back from ten before finally sitting up. The nurse dragged herself out of bed. A fucking three a.m. shift - this was going to be so much fun. She pulled on a pair of slippers and headed for her bathroom, already the sounds of sirens and shouts filled the Chicago streets. Or did they still fill them..? Who said New York was the City that Never Sleeps? It seemed like she was the only one trying to get some god damn reset around here.

She combed her hair before putting it into a bun, washed her face, put on a very thin layer of make-up, and leaned on the counter. Nadya stared at her reflection in the mirror, her glazed eyes watched back menacingly. She shook her head, looked down to the sink, and then looked back up with a smile. No, too fake... Try again, She chided herself, rubbing her face one more time, toning down the expression to be a little bit more tame and 'normal.' That'll do, She decided, it only had to look like she was doing okay, not great.

A pot of coffee was prepared shortly after she was ready - there was still time before she had to leave, after all. As she prepared a bland breakfast of two overcooked eggs and a mug of coffee with three sugar packets and two creamers added, she unlocked her phone and scrolled through Facebook. This was all she had anymore - just a mindless activity of scrolling along a screen full of statuses and pictures she didn't care about. Nadya brushed her teeth and pulled on her scrubs and a lab coat with her name and position embroidered on the breast. One of her co-workers would be outside any minute. Carpooling wasn't easy in this line of work, but it was almost necessary in this city.

--- Approximately twelve hours later ---

Nadya pushed through her door and locked it behind her, tossing her keys on the counter and ripping her coat off. She couldn't get it off fast enough. Her next target was a chair in her small kitchen and the woman fell into it, the exhaustion in her motions was clear. Her feet throbbed and her eyes fell her coat, which was now on the floor. It was splattered and soaked with the weight patients lost and saved, splotched in red. She placed her face in her hands... She didn't have much more of this left... Then she could move on to what she truly wanted. This was what she lived for once upon a time, when she was young, stupid. All of these people who came in with gunshot wounds, car accident wounds, assault bruises, punctures looked to her for help and were no longer in her ward by the time she returned. Different people every day - how were there so many?

And now here she was, in her empty apartment... About to cancel another call to Jon and her parents because she just couldn't let them see her like this. She had to take a shower, right now, she realized. She had to get this smell off of her, a fresh pair of pyjamas, and stay locked in her apartment as long as she could. The woman scrubbed every inch of her body clean, basking in the hot water before stepping out and getting dressed. She picked up her coat, tossed it in her laundry hamper and fell into a loveseat in the parlour. It was grossly underused, hardly even broken in. The sofa from her old apartment didn't fit in this one, so she had to get this two-seater couch. That was fine, it was long enough that she could easily take a nap.

Nadya looked around... Why was she at work? Did her shift not actually end? No, she was sure that it had... God, time ran so crunched nowadays, in this place, that she couldn't tell the difference anymore. Time to get back to work. It felt like an eternity of seeing all of the same cases she saw for the past few days when they got a call - a firefight not far from the apartment, three officers in critical condition en route.

The entire Emergency Room exploded as patients were packed even tighter and doctors moved as hastily as they could without getting their respective charges killed on account of malpractice. The doors burst open as the gurneys were run in from the ambulance, orders were barked left and right. The nurse grabbed a crash cart and attached herself to the first patient. His face was covered by a mask and she took over squeezing it to make sure he was getting air. His uniform top and buttons were ripped open and he had multiple holes in his torso.

The paramedic was briefing the situation on this particular patient to the doctor and Nadya, but she didn't hear a word of it as she looked at the man. Her hand covered her mouth and she took a deep breath. Her husband lay before her.

"NO!!" She screamed, bolting up from her position lying on the couch. She'd soaked her scrubs and the fabric with sweat as she panted, placing a hand on her chest. Turning to place her feet on the ground, she buried her face in her hands and shook her head. Why... Why does this keep happening? She never even had the chance to try to help him, but she was haunted by it all the time. Her breath shook and she just let the tears roll down her face.

An hour later, she sat back down on the couch. The weight in her hand seemed somewhat heavier than she remembered last time she held it. It made a soft, near silent click as she turned the small switch on the side. A red velvet fabric cloth lay sprawled out on the coffee table, nice and neat, the corners perfectly smoothed out. Another soft click came from it as she locked back the hammer of the SIG Sauer. She couldn't take this anymore... With a shaking hand, she placed the barrel under her chin, in the soft flesh directly beneath her tongue. Her breath caught in her throat and she squeezed. Harder. Pull! GOD DAMMIT PULL! She urged her index finger as she tried.

Her phone rang and she let out a sigh, the weight of her pistol finally making her realize what she was doing. She dropped the pistol on the table in fear, staring at it like it was a monster... Did she really almost do that? The song on her phone continued to play - that was her parents' ring tone. She snatched it up and answered it.

"Hello?" She said and her son's voice came back over the line.

"Mommy! You didn't call, I don't want you to forget!" He chirped excitedly, "Are you okay?"

She bit her lip, her voice cracking slightly, "Yeah, baby... Yeah, I'm okay... I'm glad you called and I'm sorry I forgot again... You know your momma's a bit of a mess, but it'll be alright, I promise," She swore, her breath quivering as she pulled the receiver away from it, wiping her eyes.

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Allan's home
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Allan sighed heavily as he watched the news, a damn snowday.He had hoped to be teaching today and had fully expected too, snow days were so rare he had no reason to expect one. But the news confirmed it, no school due to snow. At least it gave him a chance to work on his curriculum for later in the year, or have coffee with a few of his colleagues... hell he could do both! He slipped on his heaviest coart over his suit, putting a hat on his head and opened the door. He brought his phone up and scrolled through his contacts to see who may be free, Mr. Archer was typically up for anything, and the young Karla Higgis was already seeking others for an outing. She was so full of energy.

Allan chuckled looking at their status's over twitter or facebook, before texting or messaging them for coffee at a new little niche coffee shop he had grown quite accustomed to. Their delicious little mint coffee's were his favorite. The beautiful snow blanketed Toronto heavily as the Proffessor walked along the sidewalk, what traffic there was in gridlock. He carried his briefcase with its laptop and his papers. He whistled jovially along with his music as he walked purusing the various news websites he frequented. Scattered reports of the contained zika and HIV outbreaks were drowned out by celebrity gossip and political news, along with escalating tensions in countries far away. Very little concerned Allan as he entered the coffee shop and was greeted by several of his snow dusted colleagues.

They sat and talked about the status of the school, problem students and bright spots as well as upcoming curriculum. They moved on to more personal matters, gossip about relationships and upcoming performance exams. They spent time talking about curriculums and excersise programs, T.V. shows and politics. Most would consider eachother friends, so topics varied widely. Eventually people started leaving, alone or together until Allan was the last one, laptop out and writing an email to students and parents reminding them a snow day did not mean their homework was not due the next day. He found it made it marginally more likely they'd actually do it if he reminded them and their parents. As he finished he sat back and finished off his coffee.

He looked out the window onto the snow covered streets. They were far more empty than they'd usually be, the snow keeping many people in their homes. Allan hated being alone. It made him feel wrong somehow, like he was less fulfilled... he shook his head. Alot of good that psychology minor did him now. He looked around the caffee, for now it was rather empty and peaceful... and he'd rather not go home yet. So he continued, pulling out the papers pertaining to the years curriculum to get some work done on reworking some of his schedule to make up for the missed day.

Months later Allan would think about his time alone in the caffee, when he had warm clothes and was well fed. He'd look back and say he'd give anything to be back there in that little cafee alone with his work. He'd give anything for things to go back to how they were...

Annie was full swing working when the soft knock came on her door. Unfortunately she had to ignore it. Conference calls waited for no person, not even the CEO of her own company. While the recent outbreaks of viruses had gotten people scared and were buying their projects and designs more than ever, the sheer logistics of it was a nightmare.

She was talking day in and day out with different contractors on who could and would build their projects for their clients. She was almost working every waking hour trying to organize it all. Once one call finished, in let's say western Canada, someone from China could be on the list for calls to make.

Annie almost regretted going international. The different timezones was hell. She did allow herself to sleep for at least a few hours every night. Exhaustion was starting to take ahold though. She had called at least twenty different contractors just in the Toronto area. Some hotshot wanted a massive complex built in the outskirts, and it was giving her a migraine.

The call finally ended and Annie slowly made her way away from the computer and walked towards the door. "Lizzy?" she called out as the door slowly swung open. "Darling?" Had she already left for school? She walked around and saw the note and picked it up. "Outside...snowday.."

Annie looked up with tired eyes and saw the snow coming down. She had lost track of how long she'd been holed up in the office. She had been so busy that she had not even went down to the real office a few blocks away.

A sigh escaped her lips and she slowly got a winter coat on before leaving the apartment. She wanted to spend some time with her daughter now that she was not expecting another call for a good while. Her mind raced with thoughts as she took the elevator down.

Annie picked up her phone and called the nanny and said that there was no rush today despite it being a snow day. A sweet voice from the other side said that she wanted to come over anyway and would meet the pair at the park if that was all right. Annie just nodded and agreed.

She took a few deep breaths and looked into the mirror at the reception of the complex. "It'll have to do.." she said to no one particular before walking outside. Annie walked slowly along the street. She barely felt the cold despite it being freezing.

"Hey Lizz!" she called out towards her daughter before throwing a snowball her way. She smiled for once and played for a while before her phone rang. She ignored it, but it kept ringing. Eventually she picked up. "Yes? What!? I'll be over in a little bit."

She looked up and saw Jessica, the nanny, walk up. "Sorry....but can you look after Lizz for a while?" Annie tried to smile her best towards the woman before patting Lizz head and headed towards the office on the other side of the park, constantly talking into her phone.

"Hey, Griffon," One of the officer's friends from his previous unit called out. "Radar wasn't too noisy on my shift last night. I'm getting ready to clock out, good luck. I hope your shift is quiet today too," Johnathan beamed, raising his coffee mug.

Vincent nodded back after a short pause, making sure that he understood what his friend was saying. "Oh, uh... Thank you, John," He said with a thumbs-up, getting his vest secured, placing his sunglasses over his eyes, and covering his head with a cap. He gave a whistle and Roman ran over from Johnathan's side. He'd been unsuccessfully begging for a snack, but was right back into work mode when he heard his call. Caporal Griffon took a knee and scratched the shepherd's head, "Good boy. Allons-y," He stated, the dog simply wagging his tail in response. He moved for the day and smacked his thigh to heel the loyal canine.

The pair spent their day very slowly; there wasn't always a dangerous or busy shift for them and even on the active days, it wasn't always so glorious as movies made it out to be. Of course, when things were bad - they were really bad. Today was going to be one of those days. Around noon, while Roman and Vincent were stopped at a local coffee shop, grabbing a bite to eat, he got the call. All available units respond: shots fired and an officer down no more than five minutes from his location. Vincent threw some money on the table and whistled, "Roman, à la voiture," He instructed, pointed as they headed for the door. He burst through the doors and pulled his car's keys from his pocket, his dog not hesitating to dive through the door as soon as it was open. The caporal climbed in right after, turning it on and flicking on the sirens. He tore through Toronto's crowded streets as other sirens converged on a warehouse downtown.

He arrived only slightly before the other two or three cars and stood behind his open door, lights still flashing as he pointed his gun to the building and pulled out his radio. "We need an update," He stated. There was no answer, the other officers all took up similar positions to him. "Hey!" He called out to another pair, "One of you come with me... Others make sure nobody leaves the place!" His instructions turned to a bark as Roman lept from the car and he shut the door. Vincent turned to the side, taking a slow approach to the warehouse at first, Roman walking directly at his side, low to the ground. He kicked up his pace to a jog, approaching the front door as a fellow Caporal joined him there. A gunshot rang out from inside followed by several others and the patient approach was quickly abandoned.

"Police!" He shouted, grabbing the door handle. It wouldn't open, "Merde..." He muttered under his breath, taking a step back, "Cover me," He stated to his comrade. His booted foot met the door beside the handle once... Twice... Thrice, BOOM! The door flew open as the exchange of fire intensified. The trio ran through the building, moving to the second floor and getting low as they found the location. He surveyed the exchange of fire from behind a crate - two officers were pinned to the left and there were a few firing back on them. He jerked his head to his partner, signaling to go check on the others. Vincent peeked out and returned to hiding, "Toronto Police! We have you surrounded!! Put your weapons down and come peacefully - nobody wants to get hurt!" The line was heavily rehearsed - his English wasn't so limited that he couldn't speak, but certain things had to be really nailed down clearly for work.

A shot rang out but didn't come near him, as he hadn't shown himself yet. Force was their choice, okay. Vince furrowed his brow and stood up from behind the crate and waited for one other to show himself for fire.

Pop! Pop! He fired off the 9mm S&W. One missed, but when the guy screamed out and landed on the ground, he knew that it had met a mark somewhere. He had been aiming for the shoulder, but at this point it didn't much matter.

He took up his radio, "Status?" He asked, referring to his comrades on the other side of the room.

"One of them took a shot to the thigh and his right hand - he can't shoot back, but he'll be fine. The other wasn't hit," The report came back.

"Roger." The room was silent and Roman was hiding dutifully behind the box Vince was using as cover. He peeked out around the side to see if anybody was approaching.

"Caporal, your rear!" Came a shout from the other side as multiple shots were fired. They didn't make their mark as the criminal made it around the crate, a knife in hand for the young officer. What he wasn't expecting was a thirty-five kilogram (75lbs) dog who instantly dove for the man, teeth barred. He barked before latching onto the attacker's knife arm. His jaw locked down tightly and pulled him to the ground. Vince didn't stop to let his surprise show as he turned around and directed his firearm at the man's chest from his kneeling position.

He sneered - no time to read right now. The officer pulled his cuffs from his belt with his free hand as he took over pinning the man to the ground. He grabbed the wrist of the hand holding the knife as soon as Roman released it. Blood poured from the punctured flesh and Vince grunted as he slammed the hand into the floor, the knife clattering away before he locked a metal ring around the man's wrist. He struggled and tried to flail free, but Vince manhandled him over onto his stomach and finally locked the second cuff.

Just in time, the thunderous sound of boots climbing the stairs as the reinforcements arrived. They filed in - a few riot shields and submachine guns, armor, and helmets. When all was said and done and everybody knew they could get a lawyer, there was a headcount of far more than Vincent thought. There were seven men escorted from the building. Now they had to conduct the search. Most of the boxes were full of copper wire or other miscellaneous goods, but Roman sniffed his way around and found a small shipment of narcotics and another of arms. Vincent gave a sigh - this was far less than he'd expected. It was hardly a headline-worthy bust if not for the firefight. In fact, it would likely be far from the front of the paper; it was just another day.

Paperwork covered his desk and a restless German Shepherd waited without complaint as his side until long after his time to punch out. Vincent took off his uniform before leaving the station and hung it in his locker. He was walking home - he rarely drove to work. They didn't have the parking lot space for it and he didn't live too far away. Plus, it would help get some exercise for Roman, who had been walking in circles or lying down for the last few hours. As soon as they made it back to his apartment, Roman was no longer in work mode. His professional demeanor shattered as Vincent dropped into the couch. Tomorrow was his off-day, thank god, and Roman did not hesitate to join him on the couch and lay a head in his lap, looking up as though to ask 'why haven't you begun giving me attention yet?'

He clicked on some mindless TV, kicked off his shoes, and leaned back, relaxing into the sofa as he stroked the shepherd's back.

Maria slowly opened her eyes letting out a quiet groan as she heard her alarm going off, she looked over at the clock seeing that it was pretty early she had an appointment with one of her father's bankers which was in Toronto. She had just gotten into Toronto about a day ago, even if it was snowing it didn't seem like it was good to go out anywhere as she watched the snow covering up much of the city. "Looks like the meeting is canceled." Maria said to herself as she got up from her bed, she had gotten a room in a hotel as she started to put on a nice warm sweater as well as a pair of thick blue jeans.

Maria looked at her phone and saw it was a text from one of her father's bankers saying the meeting was canceled for the day and would reschedule sometime in the next few days. "Yep I knew it." She closed her eyes and groaned slightly at the thought of waiting another couple of days, Maria decided to walk over towards the fridge and then pulled out a coffee mug to pour herself a cup of hot chocolate as Maria then turned on the tv she leaned herself up against the counter and watched the news.

-We have a 10-50, Vehicle Accident off of Wicker and 34th, requesting Police and Medical Support.- crackled a feminine voice, its clarity marred with static and radio filter. The sudden noise stirred the vehicle's shotgun occupant to a state of wakefullness, with a sudden gasp as he pawed at a handle. The driver, a broad shouldered man of African-Canadian descent laughed in the seat next to him.

"Easy there K-Ton, it isn't World War III just yet." chortled Alex Kinzy, Tommy's ever present companion and superior.

"Ah fuck off Kinzy." Tommy grunted as he reluctantly keyed the radio, "This is Unit A-22, responding to call."

With that, the ambulance streaked down the street, its lights flashing and sirens wailing as cars parted ways to let the emergency vehicle pass by. No matter where you went in the world, some things didn't change. The sounds and lights of the ambulance bounced off the large snowbanks. The streets had been abound with commotion as of late. They had a large snowfall recently, and as a result, people were getting into accidents with all the ice and hazardous road conditions. Tommy and Kinzy had been called to rescue another ambulance just the day before. The ambulance eventually found itself on Wicker street, a senic road that led to some nearby suburbs.

There, the pair found the accident site, a car had slid off the road and crashed into a nearby tree. From their seat in the ambulance, Tommy could already see the two occupants of the vehicle, one of which was pinned inside the vehicle via a tree. Off to the side of the road was a second car with minor damage to its front end. Its owner waving down the ambulance.

"Tommy see what you can do, dispatch this is A-22, requesting fire and rescue team..." Kinzy called as Tommy quickly exited the ambulance and quickly began trotting over to the scene of the crash. A quick examination of the man waving them down concluded that he needed little to no medical care, and Tommy told him to wait by the ambulance while he went to aid the couple stuck in the car. Both were unconscious, the driver was a female, the passenger male. Wrenching the door open, Tommy began carefully pulling the driver out of the car and slowly began taking her a safe distance away from the vehicle.

Laying her down, Tommy did a quick analysis of his patient. Her breathing was light, but steady, and her pulse was still there. She had a swelling bump on her head and her arm was bleeding. Opening up his kit, Tommy quickly applied aid to any visible wound he could see, before he set her arm in a splint. At the same time, the wailing of sirens in the distance meant that the fire-rescue team wasn't that much further out. He waved down Alex to bring down a stretcher, and the two of them carefully loaded the woman onto the stretcher and into the ambulance.

"Kinzy, K-Ton, looks like you guys are at it early today, huh?" called one of the fire-rescue team members as the group of them carried car-cutting equipment to the crash to begin extricating the trapped occupant.

"Just business as usual!" Tommy called back as he followed the rescue crew towards the wreck.

A lot of news John knows about is from the waiters, other cooks or the tv mostly, after all a restaurant is a popular place to talk in and sometimes out of, it's not the waiter's fault that he overheard or the waitress stumbled upon the odd conversation which they repeat to other members of staff... It is the customer's fault for not being discreete about a certain matter in their minds, at least the rumors have more backing them then the tv does at times...

"The Hog's Head apparrently lost their heating system, for some peculiar reason they are still open despite the majority of staff retiring for the day." An older waiter comments in a gentle yet cruelly mocking tone to thr staff as he waits for John to finish the peameal bacon, which after a few minutes he does finish preparing. "Any reason why they're open on such a cold day without heating excluding masochism?" John questions as he passes the plate over to the waiter. "All I know is their financial report leaves a lot to be desired, let us hope this is their last supper, or we will have to deal with Clarke's as well, they're doing nicely at the moment despite the fact that the majority of their meat is sourced from notorious battery farms in Australia of all places." The waiter informs, bumbling off to deliver the peameal bacon off to someone.

Matiaas stopes his motorcycle in front of Old Fred's, a bar that he was visiting a lot. It was freezing cold outside, -25 degrees Celsius but yet for someone born in Finland like him these kind of temperatures were something normal and it wasn't bothering him at all. Everybody around him was dressed in super thick clothing but yet he was still very lightly dressed.He gets off his Harley and steppes inside the bar as he begins to wipe off the snow from his clothes and takes off his helmet as he heads to the counter. "Hello Fred! Can you give me a beer?" Said Matiaas as he sat on a chair. "Hey there big guy." Said Fred as he opened up a beer bottle and slided it over to Matiaas. Then he proceeded to rest his shoulders on the counter in front of him. "What the hell Matty, I know you were born in a cold country but still...were talking about -25 degrees here. Don't you feel the cold at all? Because judging by the way you dress, I wouldn't say so." Asked Fred as Matiaas took a sip from his beer.

"Of course I do, but it dosen't bother me as much as you people. Actually I prefer weather like this over hot summers." Said Matiaas taking another sip of his beer. "So what brings you here anyway? All by yourself like this. When you usually do it's either with your bandmates or your crew." Asked Fred with a suspicious look on his face. Matiaas turns his view away from the beer and looks at Fred. "Oh Fred, always so smart. I am here because of an interview that some blogger wanted for his metal blog. I met him in Ottawa two weeks ago in the final leg of our tour for The Neverending Road album. After the concert while me and the guys were heading to our bus and signing autographs and making pictures, he came to me, introduced himself and requested an interview for his blog. A couple of days later we decided on the phone that he will arrive here today so I can give him his interview. I told him to come here, but honestly I am looking at the weather outside..." He said as he pointed outside with his right thumb and without looking. "...and I don't have very high hopes that he is going to show up." Said Matiaas as he took another sip of beer.

"Hmph! If he really wants that interview then he'll show up. Wait a second." Said Fred confident as he went to serve a customer.

---

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Toronto

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Screaming. Gunshots. Sirens.

It had begun.

The reanimates had crossed the border only 24 hours before and now they were in the city. Chaos had ensued only moments later and now the city was in shambles. Reanimates flowed into the city and ran rampant in the streets, attacking anything they could get their rotten, decaying hands on. Looters took advantage of the distraction and broke into the street level stores, making off with as much as they could carry. The smell of tear gas filled the streets as more and more police were dispatched, a desperate and futile attempt to subdue the living nightmare that the city had become.

And then all was silent.

Half the population fled either by car or by foot, the rest either boarded up in their homes or dead in the streets. Safe zones in the city were few and far between and most had been overrun within an hour of the attack. Police and military had built up a fortress around the CN tower and were broadcasting the location on all frequencies, a city wide call to survivors.

The city was eerily quiet as a gentle rain began to fall, the clouds overhead blocking out most of the light. The streams of water ran red down the roads as it passed under the bodies of the dead. The only sound was the sound of decaying reanimates trudging aimlessly in the streets, waiting for their next victim.

---

Smith Household

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Lizzy sat up in her bed as the first gunshots went off. Her heart raced as she glanced over to the window, almost as if she was expecting something to jump up at her. She reached over and grabbed the pocket knife off of her table and flicked it open, walking over to the window with the knife held close to herself. She raised it in anticipation and looked out the window. Nothing. She let out a sigh of relief, before freezing up completely as screaming began to fill the air.

She opened her door slowly before calling out to her mother in a shaky voice, knife still clutched in her hand. “Mom…?”

Lizzy walked out of her room and into the dark living room, approaching her mother’s office door. She paused for a moment in front of it and gripped her knife tighly, gently laying her hand on the doorknob. With a quick twist, she pushed open the door and raised her arm to strike, only to find it empty.

It only took her a few moments to move over to her mother’s bedroom door. She raised her hand to knock but froze up again at the sound of people scrambling down the hallway in full sprint. She glanced over to the front door to make sure it was locked before looking back to her mother’s bedroom door. She raised a hand and knocked gently, her voice quiet and shaky as she spoke. “Mom….wake up..”

There was a dog, dying on the road. Luna watched it, through a slit in her curtains, the man-the thing, that had tried to eat it was dead beside it. But no one had thought to do anything about the dog. It broke Luna's heart, and she had to turn away. She thought of her kids, their parents, and hoped they were okay. She had tried contacting them, messaging, emailing and as a last resort, calling. But no answer. She hadn't expected it. And that was why her phone wasn't packed away, with the rest of the things she thought she might need, if she ever got the courage to run.

Inside the backpack was some food, all the tin stuff she had left which wasn't much, the granola bars she ate in between classes, a 2 litre bottle of water, some matches and a spare change of clothes. Also within was the small photo album she had, and the band gun she had purchased to appease her mother when she first started collage. She had never used it. Her bow, and arrows were beside the pack, and she felt more comfortable with that. Also within the pack was a notebook and pen, which might be her only way of communicating now.

Looking back out the window, she knew she would have to run. A little down the road was a bike. She didn't know what had happened to the person on it, but if she could get to it, she might have a chance. She knew she would have to be careful. It wasn't like she could call for help. But if she stayed in her apartment, she would either be starved, or the...the things would overwhelm
Her meager door, and get in. She had to leave, and now would be best when the street looked empty, apart from the bodies.

She closed her eyes, trying to gather some courage, but terrified to her very toes. She slung the backpack on, slid her quiver over one shoulder, her how over the other, and very slowly opened her front door. Her car had been stolen, hours past otherwise she would have taken that. Yet now it seemed her only hope was that bike. Glancing about fearfully, she ran towards the bike. It seemed to take forever to reach it, her heart pounding as she continually looked about. When she finally reached it, she picked it up, and didn't hesitate to swing herself into it, no matter the blood on the handle bars.

She began to peddle, her first thought to find anyone alive, who maybe had somethin better then a bike. To get out of there, with anyone she could find.

Maria had stayed in the hotel room since the first news stories of the dead coming over the border and then started approaching Toronto. She made her way towards the window seeing a few flames in the distance, she was scared she couldn't call her family back home due to the amount of calls coming in from the phone lines. She sighed softly as she made her way into the kitchen luckily there was still a little bit of power in the hotel, Maria made her way for the radio that was in the room and picked it up and tuned it in. She listened to the story as there was a safezone that was made in CN Tower.

Maria sighed softly to herself she knew that she would end up running out of food and water, so she made her way towards the bathroom remembering a small trick from her grandfather who was a little bit crazy. But he told her to fill up a tub as much as possible and the close the drain. Maria grabbed a few water bottles and started to fill them up, then Maria stuffed her backpack full of clothes and turned to leave and grabbed her winter coat.

Maria headed down most of the building had been abandoned even the staff had left to and Maria used that chance to lock up her room and take whatever food was in the other hotel rooms. Once she was on the first floor Maria left the hotel feeling the cold air as she walked down the streets seeing the bodies as well. Maria knelt down to a dead cop who was still holding his gun and pried it off of his cold dead hand she checked and saw that there was still a full clip inside, then she checked anything else but couldn't find anything and continued to walk down the street.

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________


Allan's home
_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The shooting had started about half an hour ago. The sporadic gunfire hadbeen wht woke Allan up, but the increasingly less sporadic and more constant nature the gunfire took was what kept him awake. He had long since given up on calling the police, the lines were all busy with other people trying to do the same. He had laost power not too long ago and was packing his suitcase with a flashlight. As he rumaged through his rooom he listened to his emergency radio on full blast, the only way he could currently get any news. It kept talking about... walking corpses crossing the border and attacking anyone who got too close and eating them. It sounded like something out of a horror movie, the dead risen up to devour the living?!

He came upon the only gun he owned, the 9mm pistol sat in a locked box on one of his shelves, a piece he had aquired a few years back... he never thought he might actually need it. He carefully unlocked the box and loaded the gun with one of its two clips and made sure its safety was on. He had only shot it once or twice at a range... well hopefully he wouldn't need it. The radio kept blaring, and suggested the authorities had set up some sort of safe zone around the CN tower. Sounded as good a place as any to go, and the radio suggested that or too board up your homes... Allan would taake his chances with the CN tower. He picked up his suitcase, about a weeks worth of clothes in it, his compact pistol in his pocket, and went out the door.

The streets were a mess as he made his way towards the tower. Gunshots continued to ring out louder and louder as people broke into stores and stole anything that wasn't nailed down. Once or twice Allan was unlucky enough to witness a moving corpse take down another human being screaming... he couldn't stop moving to help them. As he ran or jogged intemittently he kept trying to call his collegues... no one picked up. The phone lines were surely too busy he thought, hoping he may see some of them at the tower. He thought about the students and parents of the school... soo many people lived in Toronto and everything was going to hell.

He was broken from his thoughts by a terrifying growl. He turned to see what looked like aa disheveled man shambling towards him. In the dark dawn light his torn and ruined khaki suit was smeared with blood and other substances. He shambled slack jawed towards the much larger Allan, who backed away in fear.

"N-now stop! Stop I'm telling you! D-don't make me use this!"

He pulled his gun from his pocket, his hand shaking far too much around the cold steel. The man did not stop, he continued shambling towards Allan. Allan hurriedly clicked the safety off before again threatening the approaching man.

"S-stop damn you! Th-this is insane!"

It was then the unliving creatuure lunged at him. Allan panicked and closed his eyes as he sqeezed the trigger on the 9mm. Luckily for Allan, the creatures lunge brought its head into the bullets path. The round smashed into the front of its skull just above its right eye. The shot had been angled down and to the right, so tore out a wound at the base of its neck on exit. The creature twisted and tumbled, its eviscerated gray matter no longer able to support its movement or balance. It smashed into the pavement as fluid leaked from its wounds. Allan opened his eyes to this scene, and began hypperventilating. Had he just shot someone? Was that one of the walking corpses? It had to be... Yea, that was it. Slowly Allan clicked back the safety and placed the gun into his pocket... before throwing up all over the pavement. He quickly collected himself and carried on towards the tower... he never wanted to do anything like that ever again.

After the shift John was given an invitation to meet with one of the organizers of the company which ran the restaurant on the 22nd, at three in the morning weirdly. The time between that invitation and the meeting went by quickly for John, and he heard more distressing things as the time ticked towards the 22nd. The taxi John had booked from his apartment to a rather tall office building was probably the last uneventful ride on public transport anyone would ever take. After John paid the taxi driver and the taxi itself went on it's merry way the next thing for John was the reception room of the building.

"Good morning, I am here to see Mr Marcy, something about an opportunity." John declares to the male receptionist at a computer, the poor sod looked very ill and tired. "Use the elevator please, floor eighteen and the guard will escort you to Mr Marcy." The poor Dutchman wearily replies. With that John does as the receptionist says, meeting up with the said guard who does escort John past multiple office rooms to a door labelled MM. Inside is a lean and well-dressed figure sitting at a desk which stands behind a wall of windows and in front of two sofas on either side of a coffee table, everything in the surprisingly large room is minimalist in it's design. "Mister Lewis, take a seat if you wouldn't mind." MM orders dryly as he continues working, which is what John does, half an hour of negotiating follows before screaming and gunshots cause a horrendous racket.

"What the hell is that?" John asks himself as he gets up from the sofa, Mr Marcy does a similar action while picking up a ruler. As the two leave the office they notice a horrible example of table manners, where the receptionist begins tucking into a nice bit of security guard. In the situation John decided to run past the situation, and after a short while of running around with avoiding the undead and general chaos John is loading up a security golf cart with a giant tool case and a few people's lunchboxes. The growl of something is enough to startle John enough to drive out of the car park, and into the apocalypse.

Annie was running through the park. She cursed her poor conditioning right now. A loud scream came from her left. She turned her face to see what was happening. But she already knew. The scream got louder as more of the corpses joined in the feasting. Eventually the woman quieted down, dead, but probably not for too long.

She saw a few of them in front of her. Her knuckles turned white as she gripped the shovel she had found in the park. She gathered up her strength and swung the shovel with all of her might against the closest one. The shovel dug deep into the creature's head. Right now she praised the time she had spent watching movies in her youth as it didn't move from where it lay.

Another long stream of curses flew out from her mouth as she placed her foot on the creature's head and pulled out the shovel. "Come on Annie...you can do it." she said between ragged breaths as she looked at their apartment complex. There was a small cap, but that was about it. Some gunfire passed her as a survivor tried to run from the complex. "This is my shot..."

Annie dreaded using someone else as bait, but she had to get home. She took off again, running towards the entrance to the complex. Most of the creatures had started following the runner, leaving her with a clean path, part from one which she shoved to the side and dashed inside. She stood at the entrance for a moment before deciding to try something. She placed the shovel between the doors to an elevator and went inside and pressed top floor before exiting and taking the shovel with her. She prayed to all that’s holy that if there were any of the things inside of the building that they would follow the lift up. Annie glanced towards the stairs and sighed hopelessly.

After what felt like forever she was finally outside of their apartment door. She looked around before turning the key and entered the apartment. “Lizzy!?” she half-shouted into the big apartment. “Are you here?” Annie turned around and locked the door behind her. “Please…..be here…” she whimpered as she slowly started searching.

It soon become apparent to Luna that while she could peddle the bike fast, she couldn't keep it up, and soon she knew she would fall victim to...to the walking dead. She needed to find another means of transport, and hopefully someone else. Safety in numbers, right? Especially since she had already run into two groups of stumbling, walking, horrible dead. Some had gunshot wounds in their chests, One had, horribly, been gutted, its intestines, guts and god knows what else tumbling out the horrible hole in its chest. She hadn't liked that one bit.

Yet it told her that they couldn't be killed, well killed again, by a shot to the chest. Coming across a dead body, with a gun shot to the head, told her they could be killed by killing the brain. She didn't knowif she had the courage to do that though, and thus she tried to avoid them. But she was starting to become terrified, and she had yet to see someone llving. She began to wonder if she was the only one left in the city.

And thus she didn't see the golf cart as she came barrelling towwards it as she looked about her, and she crashed into it. Scrambling out from under the bike, a graze elbow and probably bruised, she brushed herself down, looking about wide eyed, seeing the man int he cart, she immediately started to sign, before realising that they probably couldn't understand her. She held up a hand, the universal signal for wait as she quickly got her notepad and pen out, writing "I'm so sorry! I'm Luna!Do you have room?" it took her seconds to write it, and she handed it over, glancing about fearfully in case her crashing had attracted some dead. She looked back to the man, wide eyed still, and jigging nervously.

"Please" She mouthed, seriously contemplating just jumping into the cart, pressing her hands together in a begging gesture. She would have whined if she could.

@Orlan

"Goodness! Are you... Hop in Luna is that? Are you incredibly shy or something? Ah hell why do I care? Just hop in." John panics before reading the note. As John finishes he opens the golf cart's door and begins to clear the seat of newspaper, someone's lunch and some form of wrench. The back left seat of the cart has a large tool case sitting on it with the seat belt done on it for some peculiar reason, a similar tale with a backpack is true with the back right seat of the cart, the two supposed passengers of the apocalypse's taxi are accompanied with multiple lunchboxes and ready-meals which would be comfortable if the items there were sentient.

A different story awaits in the front of the cart because John's fellow passenger is a rather luxuriously beautiful chocolate fudge cake which is swiftly yet delicately migrated to the ledge behind the inbuilt GPS by it chauffeur and the other clutter of a dead flashlight and a newspaper migrates to a glovebox which has a pair of gloves and an empty lighter already inside it, which all congregate in the dark and cramped area of a glovebox, waiting for freedom. "Come on, I don't think they like waiting for a chef to cook pretty women with an even nicer name." John attempts to flirt to try and distract the first living passenger of the cart from the pain caused by riding into a speeding golf cart which surely wouldn't have been too difficult to avoid on a normal day because of the fact that it's a bright white golf cart, then again this is the apocalypse so it isn't that easy to spot a small golf cart in a concrete catastrophe of a jungle when it's raining.