March 5th, 2005

It's been a couple months, and everything's fucked. There's no government anymore, which means no rules. It also means there's nothing taking care of us. No grocery stores giving out food, no electricity or water pumped straight into your homes. Everything has to be done manually or not at all. There's no jobs to go to, no family to come home to. It's dog eat dog, and everything is so fucked.

Those were Bishops thoughts as he hid in a rundown bus. He was laying under a torn blue seat. He came in looking for supplies, or anything that might've been left. A diseased dog scratched at the bus door. His worst nightmare knew he was there. He barely had time to close the bus doors before it got in, literally snipping at his heels. When it thumped against the door he had to prevent himself from squeaking out of fear. Bishop could barely breathe.

Maybe it'll get bored and go away. Maybe it'll forget I'm in here. Bishop's dirty hands covered his mouth. He pressed his hands into his face, doing everything he could to try not to scream. His eyes were closed tight as he listened to the dog slamming it's decaying body against the door. Bits of skin and blood covered the places where the dog continued to hit. The thing was really trying. The damn things would do anything to get a meal, even turn themselves to paste if it meant getting into something.

Bishop was in New York, scrounging around one of the housing districts. He should've stayed inside of his safe house. It didn't matter that he was hungry. If he would have stayed, he wouldn't be in this mess.

The dog continued slamming it's body against the bus, causing the vehicle to rock with every slam. Bishop was crying, his hot tears making their way down to the filthy bus floor. He couldn't help but think that the monstrosity outside would soon break the door, find him, and rip him to shreds. If only one of the thousands of citizens of New York were alive to help him.

@Remipa Awesome @Traps @MissCapnCrunch

---

---

Louise could be best compared to a crane when she traveled. Her long legs walked delicately around places, slow, steady, and with precise movements. She had walked like this long before the outbreak had happened but even more so now she knew that maintaining your energy and being as quiet as possible was a choice between life and death on the daily. "They say that in Long Island the food is mighty fine. A roll rolled off the table and killed a friend of mine." the chant played through Lou's head as she kept her head on as swivel. She adjusted her backpacks on her straps as she walked through what used to be someone's yard. The New York, Long Island native was familiar of the state well enough to know that you never walked through someone's well manicured yard unless you wanted to hear a mouthful of obscenities to you and your ma' back home. "They say that in Long Island the coffee is mighty fine. It’s good for cuts and bruises and tastes like iodine." Rules were different now as Louise walked directly over flower gardens searching for any leftovers of vegetables or edible plants of any sort.

Climbing into an already broken window, she hoisted herself up into a home. This was a dangerous idea and Louise knew better, but she was desperate for food after not eating for a few days. Her friends back at the safe house had told her she was a complete fool to think her parent's were out there somewhere if they hadn't made it to the safe house. But one thing Louise was, was stubborn. Stubborn and determined to prove anyone wrong who doubted her. "They say that in Long Island the buses are mighty fine. One went round the corner and left three wheels behind." Once reaching inside the house Louise took out her knife and made a beeline through the house, her long legs taking her faster than usual through the house to make sure she was the only person or non person there. If there happened to be a person she would take them by surprise and stab them right through!

Louise had never stabbed anyone.

As the small scouting mission turned back with negative results, Louise plopped down onto the couch in the living room with a sigh of exasperation. Her stomach clawed at her from the inside. She rested for a few minutes before making her way into the kitchen. Based on the broken window she felt like there wouldn't be too much, but you never knew until you tried. Looking through a putrid fridge and cabinets Louise came up with a moldy 4 pack of Hawaiian bread rolls. "Fuck me, yes!" she said as she opened up the pack and started ripping off moldy parts off her treasure. She shoved clumps between her lips, engorging slightly before she realized she had to stop before it was gone. She left one and half buns left for later that night when she would need it. Reaching into her bag she took a sip from her water bottle that was about halfway done from when she had left the safe house a few days ago. Looking through a few more cabinets she came across a six pack of canned "happy and healthy senior dog" food, and grimaced. She knew it would be disgusting but it might not be so bad in a crunch when she was starving. She took the cans and placed them in the bag, before climbing out of the house carefully.

Walking a few more city blocks Louise felt a bit more energized and happy. "They say that in Long Island the meat is mighty fine. Last night we had ten puppies, this morning only ni-." Louise's chant was quickly disrupted by a loud pounding. Her eyes focused on the creature that was once a dog slam it's rotting body into the side of bus with out any regards to his own well being.

Louise began backing up slowly before she heard the noise. A human whimpering. Should she yell to it? Her mind raced as she thought of the dog food she had just collected from the house. Taking two cans, she used the tab to pop one open. Would the creature still even want food? She questioned as she dumped the unidentifiable meat mush on to the street. With the other can she took and threw it as hard as she could against the bus to try to get the attention of the dog. As soon as she threw the can she took off around the other way so she could get to the back end of the bus where the emergency exit door would be located.

The dog stopped pounding against the bus and looked towards the can that had been thrown at it. It sniffed around it, licking the small bits of food that remained. It was like a normal stray, other than the rotting flesh. After it finished licking the can it carefully made it's way to the pile of canned dog food. It sniffed around it before inhaling the chicken flavored chunks. The beast was starving, a side effect of being the victim of a terrible disease.

The banging finally stopped and Bishop stopped crushing his hands against his face. He didn't trust the silence, but he hoped the dog was gone, or at least distracted. He didn't want to think about what would happen if the monster came back. Bishop opened his eyes and slowly crawled out from under the bus seat. He looked out of the bus window, only to find the beast happily munching some dog food. It wasn't there before, obviously. That meant someone was here, and clearly trying to help. Whether they were helping themselves or someone else was beyond him, but Bishop had to take advantage of the distraction.

He moved down back to the bus floor, thinking up a plan. He couldn't go out the main bus door, the dog would notice him if he did. If he opened one of the emergency doors, the bus alarm would trigger, alerting every living or non-living thing in the area. His best bet was a window. It wouldn't be easy, and he might get stuck, but it was worth a try. Bishop didn't want to wait for the creature outside to finish it's meal and go back to trying to kill him.

He tried his best to quietly shuffle over to the side of the bus that didn't have the dog waiting outside. He crawled onto one of the bus seats, the springs inside squeaking. Bishop paused, waiting for the monster to notice him. But, it didn't. It was still distracted with its current meal.

Bishop wasn't religious, but at that moment he prayed that he would escape this situation without harm. He crouched on the bus seat and looked back at the dog, making sure it was still eating. He looked back and slowly moved the window down. If the dog spotted him and gave chase, he would be done for. Everyone knows it's damn near impossible to outrun something with four legs.

Bishop pushed himself out of the window, landing on the road with a thump. He froze, hoping that the dog didn't care enough to come investigate the sound. The animal raised its head when it heard the thump, but then immediately went back to lapping up the remaining bits of dog food on the street. The beast had to make sure it got every piece of food. Hell, it might even start eating the street if that meant getting to the chicken flavored goop that was poured onto the asphalt.

Bishop quickly got back to his feet and slowly moved away from the dog, thanking whatever Gods were listening. Someone had saved his life... using a can of dog food.

Sunlight shone over the opened window, caressing Angie's chubby cheek as she woke up from her nightmare, sweating hard. She sat up and listened carefully. Noises of morning wind brushing through tree leaves, the sizzling sound of Rick's cooking downstairs. There was no signs of undead. Another bad dream~

The girl left her koala toy on her bed as she changed into the long sleeve T-Shirt and denim pants Rick prepared her the night before. She looked around. Her bedroom looked exactly the same like how it was when her parents were still around. Purple walls with a lilac carpet flooring. A single bed right beside the window and a reach-in closet that was big enough for Angie to hide in.

A couple of months had passed since the initial outbreak, Angie's parents never got back from their work and her sister was dead. She shivered slightly, as the four year-old recalled vividly how scared she was, being left all alone in the dark before Rick and Rocky found her. It's okay now silly, she comforted herself; she was now living together with the two of them.



In the kitchen, Rick was cooking with a gas stove. They had scavenged a box of gas canisters from the neighborhood two weeks ago. He had to gather firewood to start a fire whenever they needed to cook back then; and last winter was really tough, as they almost died starving.

He knew that Angie had woken up as he heard footsteps running down the stairs. Just seconds later, a tiny head popped out peeking from behind the door. "Good morning ~!" she giggled and ran in cheerfully hugging on Rick. "What's for breakfast today?" she asked, smiling as the girl looked at him.

"Spaghetti with mushrooms and ham," the man replied, smiling back gently. Rick had been stuck with Angie for months now, knewing that she was a burden as she could not do anything herself and he had to protect her every now and then from the undead. The kid was often positive, but at times when things got tough she would break into tears easily; and Rick needed to find ways to comfort her. He could have left her alone where he found her, but he also knew that she could never have survived a day out there on her own. He liked the kid.



Rocky came in from the living room, wiggling its tail as the aroma of food reached the dog's sensitive nose. "Good doggy ~" Angie patted Rocky's head as she helped Rick put its food on the floor. Rick had cooked a separate serving of spaghetti for Rocky without the sauce. Together, the trio enjoyed their brunch together before starting another day out in the dangerous post-apocalyptic world.

---

---

How did it spread so fast?!? was Lizzie's thought as she fearfully treaded through the seemingly deserted streets of New York. Well, she wasn't really thinking about how fast it spread here, considering that the hospital she had been working in, in upper Manhattan, was basically ground zero of the outbreak. But when she had first escaped from here, taking a luxury speedboat out to sea, she thought she would be escaping the worst of it. However, when she reached the next port a state over, she had found undead everywhere and crowding the docks, even animals. The victims of people who, like her, sought refuge by way of the oceans, but were now themselves one of the very things that they were trying to flee from in the first place. She barely made it back to New York before the boat's supply of fuel was exhausted. She considered taking her chances with the sea, maybe head back to England, where she was reasonably certain that this outbreak hadn't reached yet.

Plus, having lived with a fisherman for a father, she knew a thing or two about keeping herself fed and alive. But she still needed fresh water, and significantly more supplies and fuel than her present mode of transportation had, in order to make the journey to England. That unfortunately meant she had to return to the docks, and begin the arduous task of scavenging from what was most likely to be a massive dead zone, where other looters or survivors would have already taken what they could for themselves. And she would need a bigger boat or a sailing yacht that could function without fuel if necessary. This was the only reason and motivation for returning here. And considering that the original source of the outbreak can be traced back to a dock much like the one she had left her boat in, where Patient Zero had been brought in to her hospital, and began to spread the illness. If whatever it did to people and animals could be called an illness. They were, in every sense of the word, dead. But yet, they moved, driven by an insatiable hunger for warm flesh and blood.

The docks had been relatively clear, and she left in bright daylight, where she could see best. From what little she had learned of them, these "zombies" could still see and hear pretty well, so it was best to stay out of sight and to minimize noise. Just as well she didn't wear leather that creaked with every move. But the problem would be dogs and cats...and rats. They had greater senses than humans, which carried on even in their infected states. She was forced to lure a dog into a tipped over cement truck when she approached it from behind, thinking it was living, but when she saw the greyed eyes and the massive gash on its left flank which she had missed earlier, she narrowly avoided turning into one of the living dead as it pursued her. It was only dumb luck that she found the still churning cement truck and when she climbed over it, the dog leapt at her, but went into the hole, where the turning cement sealed the dog into a stony tomb. Now, her teeth chattering from fear, she began to slink out into the street, mindful for animals and humans living and unliving, because she was reasonably certain survivors would fall into two categories: Deadly, or very skilled, and she couldn't be sure who could be trusted.

At least with the dead, they only had one goal. With the living, it could be anything, and the risk was too great. She just wanted to go home. To get away from all this, and maybe to bring what valuable information she had to the governments, so that what happened here could be avoided elsewhere. They needed to find a "cure" or a solution, but it wasn't going to be her, smart as she might be in the field. She didn't have the resources or equipment to do anything with the material and data she had. So she had to survive, had to escape all this. She might very well be the only living being left with some measure of knowledge in this, and how to start solving it. But she also needed to get some food, or she wasn't even going to make the night.

Her clothes might not make noise when she moved, but her stomach would be giving her away soon if the growling continued.

She froze.

Was the growling just her stomach? Or was that something else she was hearing? Slowly turning her head, she scanned the streets, and looked behind her, where she still kept half her body within the doorframe of her chosen safehouse of the day. She'd thoroughly checked the place through, and she was confident even rats couldn't get in here. But Lizzie was a paranoid girl, and that had saved her more than once lately. But there was a dog on the street and she stifled a gasp, whispering, “Oh Lord...” when she saw a young man, possibly her age or younger, escaping from a bus, and trying to move cautiously away from something, she couldn't quite see from where she was, but that was not Lizzie's concern. She was now wondering whether to forego her general idea of avoiding contact or trying to help him by alerting him to her presence. She was not the best at judging people by look, and he looked like he needed help, but how would she know? For all she knew, he might slit her throat in her sleep, or worse...

And he wasn't the only person out there.

God please don't let him be bad, the girl prayed fervently, and she knelt low to the ground, holding the door open to the house she was in, looking right at him, she went, “Psst!”

That was the loudest call she was willing to give. Whatever he was trying to avoid, would hopefully ignore the noise. If he failed to hear that, then she wasn't going to take any further risks. This was already too dangerous as it was. The house she was in was reasonably boarded up and fortified. Indefinitely, she could hide away in here as long as supplies were available. Which meant this was only a temporary solution. There was almost nothing left in her supply of food and water. If this boy saw her and came to her, then they'd have to scrounge somehow. All this went through her head as she watched the boy, trying to make eye contact.

Please do not be a psycho, oh, please do not be a psycho...

---

---

Louise heard the close thump as what she assumed the human that was inside the bus was now outside. As the boy turned the corner of the bus Louise made herself present. She parted her lips to speak when another voice could be heard from a neighboring house. "We better get to her before this dog loses interest in that food." Lou spoke quickly, "You can walk, can you? You're not infected right?" she asked urgently, beginning to move towards the house.

Bishop nodded to the girl, too frightened by the beast on the other side of the bus to actually say anything. He wasn't infected, but if they kept talking and didn't get a move on, something told him he would be. He quickly stood up and shuffled away from the dog, keeping an eye on it while also staying close to his new companion. That's when the inevitable happened.

The dog ran out of food.

The monster slowly raised it's head, locking eyes with Bishop. It was still hungry, a type of hunger that couldn't be sated no matter how much it ate. The dog, one that looked somewhat like a Doberman, flattened it's ears as it moved closer, it's grey eyes staring right into Bishop's soul. It stepped closer, baring it's teeth. It made a noise that resembled a growl, but the thing's vocal cords were probably too rotten to produce much sound.

"We have to go."

Bishop grabbed Lou's hand, getting the idea into her head that she had to run. The only sounds in the street were the duo's footsteps, followed by the clicking of the dog's nails against the street.

Louise was slightly surprised by the boy grabbing her hand, but she took it as a sign that they needed to go, and NOW. The two ran towards the woman in the house as the dog came quickly afterwards. They pushed their way in as the door slammed behind them. The canine slammed himself against the wooden door with a deafening thud, making the door shake behind them. Louise squeezed the boy's hand tight as a sign of comfort before letting it go slowly. "Thank you." she said to the woman who had beckoned them in. Louise knew she couldn't really trust anyone, but if they weren't shooting, chasing, or biting at her from the start she would give them a little wiggle room.

Another thud against the door.

The days were getting warmer, and getting brighter. Hunter liked this for a lot of reasons. The main one being that he didn't have to carry as much as he did before. Things like heavy coats and other winter gear he didn't need. He also would not need as heavy of a blanket soon as well. Though his car wasn't too far off it was still more then a days walk from where he was now. A huge downside to the warmth though is that the infected would become more active now that they were not frozen stiff, though he wondered if the extreme summer heat would cause them to rot fast enough to make the next winter as simple as keeping warm? Didn't matter right now, right now he just needed to get through the day.

He sat with his shotgun resting against a window frame. It's effective range, even with the most narrow chock he had on the gun, was about 30 yards. Which wasn't terrible, but he had seen a lot of shotguns that people could hit targets more then 50 yards. Slugs could go further then that, but his target wouldn't need a slug to go down. Just a few taps from the pellets in the chambered shell and his target would drop. He sat at the window looking down the barrel, lining up the single peg to his small target, a wild turkey. If he got this and cooked it right that would be fresh meat for days, maybe weeks if he did it right. He was never successful in getting one in the past, even before all hell broke loose, but now he had one in his sights. Normally the suburbs would not be known for turkeys, but that was months ago, much has happened since then though.

He had his finger on the trigger ready to shoot, but didn't, something was off. He took a fast glance at his surroundings and saw something moving. Something only slightly bigger then the turkey. It had to have been about a block down the road, but he could still see it. It was eating something. Hunter retracted the gun. There were risks to shooting now, he could see at least one infected. He had walked the area a bit to make sure it was clear but this came in from somewhere, maybe whatever it was eating now had brought it here. No point in trying to shoot it, he had less then 40 shells not including the training loads (Which he knew wouldn't kill the infected at a range further then point blank even if he was lucky). With that, it was out of range and distracted on... He couldn't see what... But it was small. Very small. But not a person...

As he looked around a bit more he saw more movement, it seemed like infected at first. But their movements seemed too... organized... smooth, focused. Alive. That was the word he needed. Alive. He got up slowly, knowing he wouldn't be able to take this turkey today. He started to sneak his way over to the new people. He stopped once the infected creature gave chase, it was a dog of some kind for sure. It had chased the new people to a house, basely being stopped by a simple front door. A few more moments and the dog would be in range, his surrounding area was still clear enough to maneuver. But with all the activity that wouldn't be the case much longer. He found himself stopping though, if he decided to stop and help these people, to shoot the dog and send its bits flying over what remained of the grass, then what would happen next? What if they were armed too? What if there was a horde of infected around the corner? He considered this when he was going to shoot the turkey, but not these people came here and had brought in who knows what?

In the end, he decided the risk was worth it. He still couldn't sleep at night, and he still had the shotgun. He didn't see any guns on the, from the distance, but maybe they still had a pistol. If he was lucky they didn't, or maybe it would be unloaded, or maybe none of them knew how to use one. He did, barely but he did. If they were hostile he had his improvised combat training, and if they were not he could use allies. If there were infected in that much of a mass there would be no avoiding them now anyways. And having the help to get out would be better anyways.

Hunter got closer to make sure he was within the effective range of his gun. He was about 20 yards now, one, maybe two shots should drop the beast. But one should do it if he was smart. He still didn't see any other infected, so if he shot he knew he had at least a couple moments of safety before he He'd do a slight whistle to get its attention first. If the beast was drawn to him it would be easier to hit it as it got closer and was moving in a strait line. He would wait until about the ten yard mark to fire his first shot. If for whatever reason that didn't drop it and it decided to keep going he'd fire a second round but closer to make sure the thing was dead. Then if the creature didn't get drawn he'd just walk closer to shoot it. Why take the chance when eh didn't really have the bullets to spare? If all was well and done he'd try to great the survivors and try and convince them it was a good time to leave.

---

---

“Bloody hell!” said Lizzie, allowing this one time to throw caution to the wind. She'd already done so by inviting them, anyhow. Them being the boy and girl that were now heading her way at her own invitation, and with a bloody dog on their heels! The human undead were somewhat less terrifying in comparison to the animals sometimes, because they were generally slower moving. But dogs, they still retained a lot of their speed and biting strength, if not more so, because they didn't tire anymore. Lizzie silently prayed she would never meet an undead cheetah. There'd be no way any of them could escape that kind of monstrosity. She briefly considered closing the door on them; if it had been just one of them, she was willing to take the risk, but two? She would be outnumbered, and she was pathetic in self-defense. They'd slaughter her without even trying.

Her basic sense of decency forbade her from such an act however, and she straightened up, muscles tensed for action, as they closed the distance rapidly. She flattened herself against the door and let the two pass through, before swiftly pushing the door shut, scant microseconds from the dog's teeth sinking into her knee. The animal wasn't barking, fortunately. That would have brought out any lurking shufflers if they heard. And she wasn't sure that the door or the boarded up windows would be able to stand up to that kind of force. Her heart pounded so hard, and she was hyperventilating through her nose, eyes wide and sweat pouring down her brow as if she was the one who had just broken the world record for cross-street sprinting.

She bit off a terrified yelp when the dog threw itself against the door and stumbled backwards, losing her balance and landing unceremoniously on her rump. Still pulling herself away from the door, she looked around the room for something to brace against the door, and grabbed a one-seater couch, pulling it against the door. The door itself was quite solid and sturdy, but Lizzie didn't feel like throwing her faith into just a door alone, especially one that pushed inwards from the outside. Turning a wary eye toward her two new "friends", the girl having just thanked her, Lizzie sighed and just prayed to survive this night. “No worries,” she said, straightening up from her work, and rested her fists on her hips, “don't kill me, and we'll call it even.”

She realized how odd a statement that was to make once the words were out her mouth, but it was said. Rubbing her left wrist nervously, she walked around the two, recovering her briefcase and backpack, she then turned to study them. The girl was taller than her, and looked decidedly stronger as well. At her full height of five feet, she would be craning her neck to look at either of them in the eyes. Silently kicking herself, she reached behind her, digging through the side pocket of her bag, and slowly brought her hand back up, holding three nutri bars, one already partially eaten. She didn't know why she was doing this; she didn't even know their names, but she could imagine that food was hard to find these days. “Try not to eat it all at once,” said Lizzie, “in fact, it might be best to take it very sparingly. Don't know how long before that dog stops-oh God!” The last thud made the door reverberate slightly, and it was nerve-wrecking. She didn't know about them, but it was terrifying. Her trembling lips and eyes said it all for all to see.

Backing away from the door and heading into the narrow corridor deeper into the house, she glanced at the other two, “My name's Elizabeth Lake,” she said, “you can call me Lizzie.” She stuck her own nutri bar into her pocket, and leaned against the wall, taking a moment to try calming herself.

After packing up essential stuff for a scavenging run, Rick left the house with Rocky, leaving Angie back home for cleaning duty. The man secretly noticed that Angie really disliked being left alone, as her eyes quickly turned watery albeit her attempts to force a smile whenever she heard about his plans; but he also knew that this would train her to be more independent.

They had to take a rather long stroll to reach their scavenging location. The houses nearby had already been thoroughly ransacked by the trio after months of scavenging. The journey was rather uneventful other than one or two undead popping up randomly along the street that Rick could immediately destroy using a simple disposable homemade spear - a sharpened wood stick. He would first signal Rocky (They had a lot of practices together on combat tactics over Winter) to immobilize the zombie by biting its thigh as the man swiftly moved in to deliver a finishing blow by pushing the spear through its neck. The strategy proved to be extremely efficient and relatively risk-free.

Half an hour of tedious walking passed by before they arrived at the destination. Rick checked his map. This is the last street within the housing district that they had not checked. After this they would have to go way further. Might even need to change our hideout spot, he thought, and he quickly surveyed the street. No signs of undead or the living, but the man knew better to drop his guard. An unknown danger is always the most deadly one. Together, Rick and Rocky began their daily routine as they carefully entered the first house of the street.



"Safe trip ~!" Angie smiled as brightly as she could, as she sent the two most important persons left in her world out of the house.

"Remember to close the door, and hide if you hear sounds ~"

"I know ~ I know ~" she repeated cheerfully as she pushed a worried Rick out of the door, "Don't worry and bye ~!" and she slammed the door shut with all her might before her tears started dropping again. This is just like when mommy daddy left Angie...

She lied against the front door as she looked back into the house. It was a long corridor connecting the living room, the kitchen, and a stairway to the bedrooms. She was all alone now, and the house's corridor seemed strangely unfamiliar again. Don't think of scary things, don't think of scary things... you have something more important to do, the little girl walked upstairs as she tried to distract herself by recalling what cleaning tasks Rick had left her to do for the day. Fold the clothes, sweep the floor, pack the garbage, check water collector... what else?

Over the last winter, Angie had grown to be much more independent than she could ever be before the outbreak - she had learnt by herself on how to do easy tasks such as brushing her teeth and changing her clothes; but the girl wanted to feel more useful instead of being just a burden to the group. She asked Rick to teach her on simple housework, and would always volunteer to help on things. Now she could perform the tasks without much help, and Rick felt more comfortable leaving Angie with the house's cleaning job.

"Squeak ~!"

...what was that? she froze on the stairs, as the girl thought she heard something.

"Squeak~" and then some noises of scratching.

Something was definitely in the house, and it came from one of the three bedrooms. Angie shivered as she braced herself to the rooms, trying to find the source. First, she opened the master bedroom slightly and peeped inside. Mommy's and daddy's room... A room twice that of Angie's with a wooden flooring and clean white walls. A queen size bed where Rick now slept during the night, and some simple bedroom furniture. There was also a picture window leading to the balcony. This was where Rick placed his DIY water collector and hanged the clothes. Everything seemed perfectly in place. Angie closed the door as she moved on to check the next room, her sister's.

No one had ever slept in Angie's sister's bedroom ever since the outbreak. Things were kept in place just like how it was when she was alive. A wooden flooring like the master bedroom and light pink walls. a single bed, a wardrobe, random posters hanging on the walls, and a small barricaded window. There was no way something would get into this room from the window.

Looking at her sister's room always reminded Angie about the outbreak. The kid was pretty much devastated when she learnt about her sister's death from Rick a couple months ago. As a 4 year-old girl who was still new to the concept of dying, it took her a lot of time to digest the idea of not being able to see her sister ever again. For a whole month, she had been crying herself to sleep and would at times screamed her sister's name within her nightmares. The girl really missed her sister.

There was nothing in mommy's room, and nothing in sister's... that means... The girl jumped as she heard the scratching sound again. I-it is in my room... She turned the door knob and pushed the door ajar, slowly and as quietly as she could. Then she saw it. Something was moving on the window's sill. A tiny creature covered with bloodied flesh and black fur. It was an infected rat. Aparrently it came in from the window. Angie regretted not closing the window when she went down for breakfast.



"Squeaak~!" The rat sensed Angie's presence as it quickly dropped down on the bed and thudded on the floor, charging towards her. The girl jumped and instinctively closed the door as fast as she could, just in time before the rat slammed right into the door from the other side. Angie trembled as she felt the rat scratching on the door, attempting to get through to her. Chills ran down her spine and she sobbed. Please come back fast, Rick ~ Rocky ~



On the other side of Brooklyn, Rick and Rocky had just finished searching the third house on their supply run. They did not find anything particularly useful or remotely edible so far. Bad day, and they were running low in food supplies. Rick slashed out another house from his map as he took a rest in the house's kitchen after some rummaging. His recovering left leg got him tired easily these days.



He was offering Rocky a drink when he noticed it. There was a trail of footprints not belonging to the man or Rocky in the kitchen - the accumulated dust had made it easily visible. It was also too organized to be an undead's one. Comparing the footprints with his own made it fairly easy to deduce the time they were left. "Fresh footprints, possibly left by a woman not long ago today," he thought intuitively. Somewhere within Rick told him that he had the knowledge and experience of tracking down people with footprints before; but he did not think about it too much, as he always had moments of flashbacks after he lost his memory during the outbreak. More importantly right now was he needed to decide whether to follow the tracks or simply ignore them and continue his scavenging run.

The owner of the footprints will either be friendly or hostile. Rick was more worried about the latter. It would be a trouble if the person found out about them and followed them back to their hideout secretly. It will still be better to identify the person's location and her intention first, Rick decided, as he signaled the dog to sniff and follow the scent of the person who left the footprints. "Rocky, sniff."

It took roughly a minute for Rocky to find the exact smell to follow. It would sniff around the kitchen as Rick subtly guide it back to the footprints. When it had pinpointed the exact scent and the direction the target was going, it started moving quickly following the track, taking in more short, quick sniffs. They got out of the house when they heard sounds of door banging nearby.

"Don't mean to ruin the moment, Lizzie, but we should probably deal with our dog problem first."

The trouble with these zombies is that if they took a minute to think, they were actually pretty smart. Bishop figured, that since the banging against the door had stopped, the dog was looking for another way in.

"Are all the windows barred?" Bishop looked at Lizzie, fear in his eyes. He couldn't suppress the thought of what would happen if the dog got inside. Either it would tear them to shreds or it would push them outside, back into the street, where the zombies were.



The dog looked through a crack in between the wood planks that covered a window that was close to the door. It was thinking, which was what made it so dangerous. When it tried to get into the bus, its thoughts were that the door was the easiest option. Now it could pick and choose its entrance. It sniffed at the window and let out what sounded like a whine. It knew it couldn't get in that window, so it had to pick another one.

It began it's trip around the house, looking for weaknesses. It made small whiny noises as it moved, clearly regretting slamming its body against the bus. All the skin and fur that was on its left shoulder had been smashed against the bus, leaving those pieces of muscle exposed to the air. Whatever bit of life that was still in the dog clearly didn't like having its insides exposed. The animal cried as it walked, attempting to gain some kind of sympathy.

@Triage@Remipa Awesome@MissCapnCrunch

---

---

“What?” said Lizzie, and she looked toward the door in panic. Did it get in?!? But thankfully, it was still outside...if a little quiet. The young doctor had been lucky thus far in having minimal encounters with the infected. But that also meant she knew probably less than these two about what they were about. While she had all those documents and discs in her briefcase, she didn't exactly have much about the latter stages. Could a Shuffler open a door? This door had a twisting doorknob, so it was less likely for a dog to be able to do that, right?

Even so...

She peeled the couch aside to look and lock the door, then replace the couch against it, and she glanced at the young man, “Y-yes...I have been staying here for the last few nights.” She dropped her briefcase and swung her backpack around, taking it off from one shoulder and fishing out her survival knife. She was hopeless with it as a weapon, but it was all she had. “Whoever lived here did a very good job,” she explained as she unclasped the safety clip of the sheath and pulled the blade out, “when their supplies ran out, they left, but the door, while closed, was unlocked, which is how I got in. They were thorough. Boarded up even the second floor windows, and two bricks on every drain, so even rats can't come in. I triple-checked every room and every window. It's sealed tight. No basement, no attic. The only problem now is how to get rid of the dog, because obviously, we can't stay here.”

She glanced at first the man, then the tall girl, “Unless you fancy dying of starvation and becoming one of them.”

She glanced towards the door again, wondering, “Was it just you two out there?”

@LordofthePies@Remipa Awesome@MissCapnCrunch@Traps

---

---

“Don't kill me, and we'll call it even.”

Louise let out a huff of breath. Did she really think the boy crying and herself posed that much of a threat? She had a few inches on the girl, and perhaps a bit more weight- but Louise had no bad intentions in her timeline. It was in that moment she watched as the girl scrambled around a bit, taking out bits of food and getting startled by the dog hitting the door. Louise imagined the woman like a rabbit shaking in the wind. Kind, cute, but oh so very fragile. Louise wanted to protect her, even though she could barely take care of herself most days. "Thank you again Lizzie, I'm Louise. My friends call me Lou." She took in the nutri-bar without hesitation, eating it full. She knew she had some dog food and some buns in her backpack for future meals. The bar would give her the extra energy she needed to deal with this dog problem.

The other two talked back and forth as the dog made his rounds through the perimeter of the house. His crying almost tempting to help.

“Was it just you two out there?”

"As far as I could tell, yes." Louise answered, looking to Lizzie. "When I came up on the bus, I hadn't seen anyone besides the creatures for awhile now. Kind of a pleasant surprise to have some human interaction, tends to get lonely sometimes." Louise mentioned, not trying to sound pathetic. It was true though, companionship was a luxury in these times, where everyone did not trust one another and even then you had to sleep with one eye open.

"I have three cans of dog food left." Lou mentioned, "It distracted him the first time, it might work again if we need his attention somewhere besides us." Besides that, she didn't have any ideas of what to do regarding the dog. She knew that they couldn't fight him with just knives and fists- despite his previously self induced injuries.

Rick located the source of sound. It was an infected dog trying to enter a well-boarded house not far down the street. The owner of the footprints must be in the building, he deduced, as Rocky's scent-tracking directed them to the same house. Whoever's inside may need some help, but I have no idea how many of them are there and what intentions they might have. I will risk exposing our hideout if I make reckless decisions. The two sneaked closer towards the house and hided inside a rundown bus, as the man continued to observe and calculate if they should make contact.

Rick had seen a few survivor groups passing by the neighborhood before. They were usually large crowd of people with plenty of food supplies, military-graded firearms and functioning transports. Rick knew that they would be more well-protected against the undead if they join one of the groups, but he always ended up trying to avoid them as he instinctively thought that there will be much more complications to deal with social relationships. Rick never felt comfortable communicating or working together with strangers; he would rather deal with zombies as they were much more predictable and one blow in the head was all he needed to silence them.

Who's that? He quickly backed away from the window and signaled Rocky to stay put as he spotted a young man with a shotgun closing in on the infected dog. A young guy with no apparent physical training but seems to know how to handle his shotgun well. He's hesitating on whether to fire the shots or not... maybe he is not one of the group but is trying to help. With the turn of events, Rick decided to wait and see how things would turn out before deciding whether to announce his presence. It would be to his advantage to find out what sort of people were in the house first.

Bishop then remembered he had a gun. A gun he couldn't use. It wasn't that he didn't have ammunition, it was that he didn't have the skill. If he tried to use the gun, he would end up hurting himself, but did he really want them to know that? Did he really want to tell them that in a firefight he'd certainly die? Bishop didn't want to, but when the dog got in the house, and it would, he didn't want to have something that could've saved the three of them.

"Does anyone here know how to shoot a gun?"



The dog paused and sniffed the air. There was easier prey nearby, the beast just didn't know where. The dog walked around the house, following the scent. He was downwind of something, and it smelled delicious. The dog continued to sniff around until he found the source of the stink. There was man hiding in the nearby park, and he looked like an easy snack.
The dog stood and sniffed for a moment, confirming. It let out a low, wheezing growl before bolting towards the man in the bushes. Its breathing was hallow, giving the illusion that it was still alive.
The body, when infected, would still keep it's old habits. The brain still functioned, but it was driven towards another purpose.

@Triage@Remipa Awesome@MissCapnCrunch@Traps