Luke took his seat at the table and propped his feet in another chair, and then Ryan just had to say it. Luke looked at him first as though he had just eaten a bad olive, and then a smirk came over his face. The next thing Luke knew he was laughing at Ryan and said, "I told Candice the night I left her that if I ever saw you again I had a big I told ya so coming to me." He opened his bottle of water and raised it up to Ryan at the doors. Luke said, "You got me on this one my friend. I deserve that one in spades."

Luke grabbed another bottle of water and put it at a open seat. He said, "You deserve this one. It's good seeing you again Ryan." Luke looked around and said, "Well since it looks like we're the only ones in this joint I say we play a couple of hands and then raid some of the other floors. Not sure how much we'll fine this place has been home for me for the last four days."

Luke gestured over his shoulder and said, "I'm in the supply closet about four doors down." Luke took a swig of his water and said, "You come back here I'll tell you how it all ended with Candice. I gotta feeling she ain't gonna be troubling us for a while. Although there is a part of me that's regretting one thing." Luke took another swig and said, "I never thought i'd hear myself say this, but I gotta feeling I'm gonna regret not killing her when I had the chance." He shook his head and said, "I don't know maybe i'm just going through a bit of survivor's guilt, because of all those others who weren't so lucky in dealing with her. Like I said I'll tell you all about it when we get the cards going."

Luke noticed the stage in the grand room and smiled as he looked around. He said, "I'll bet this place really was something to see back in it's day. Probably threw some killer New Year's Eve parties too. I can almost see the jazz band on stage now, the disco ball turning in the lights, while the confetti and streamers filled the air. All the while the cleaning staff was thinking, 'Damn, we gotta clean this crap up.' They were probably lucky to be getting around 6 am."

This was pure empty conversation to say the least, but it didn't matter to Luke or even Ryan. When the two of them were together things always seemed to work out, and they had each other's back no matter what happened. Sure the whole Candice episode was a bump in the road, and Luke knew he should've listened to his friend on that one. One thing was for sure though now that they were back together their chances of survival just went up 10 fold.

Collab between finalcatharsis and Exit
Part II

---

“Wooo! That was close. Can you sit up to drink?” Daniel went to his knees next to the guy, and that's when his thighs started burning. He held out the can with one hand and put his other on the ground, shifting some of his weight forward. If the guy couldn't sit up to take a drink himself, he'd help him.

Abel considered the question after having been thrown to the floor. He'd almost forgotten that the entire world wasn't covered in snow. When he was pushed, he failed to do anything to stop his descent and landed hard, his shoulder hitting the carpeted floor and the side of his head bouncing against it. He simply laid there in a daze, his head spinning and a few stars appearing in his eyes. When he'd recovered enough to sit up, he pushed himself to a seated position.

"Ya..." He weezed. He'd coughed a few times now, his breath having been knocked out by the fall. He grasped the cup in between two numb hands, trying to get a feel for the metal and slowly... carefully tilted the rim up between his lips. He kept his eyes on the man as cool liquid slid into his mouth... over his tongue... down his throat. It felt amazing... soft, refreshing. He couldn't help himself and closed his eyes as he focused on the sensation of simply drinking water. It was silly really, the things he cherished now when compared to his former life. He'd passed up water for anything with flavor but here he was simply infatuated with the taste. There was nothing special in the tap but he could feel his body stir... feel some of the energy he'd lost come back to him.

When he'd finally finished the drink having drained the cup to the last drop, he stopped and looked at the man... a priest. There were no priests left... there couldn't be.

"...For what?" He tipped the empty cup in the air between them, gesturing at it. Nothing in the world was free... even more so now.

Finally, when it seemed everything was in the clear and the guy was inside with water, he let himself continue with his break day. At this moment, that meant laying on his back, closing his eyes and sprawling his arms and legs out for a nice stretch. Every once in a while he peeked an eye open to look at the man while he was drinking. This man seemed totally different from the one that had pointed his gun at him not ten minutes earlier. Daniel had nearly forgotten that he might have died then.

When the guy spoke he pushed himself up onto his forearms. By now he had forgotten about his wet clothes. Danny tilted his head to the side at the question. For what? He definitely did not understand. “What do you mean?” He thought the man might still be confused from his tumble in the snow. “Do you want more? There's a sink in there-” He lazily pointed to the open door that led to the sacristy. “It's filled. Help yourself.” He returned his back to the floor. “I mean, I'd get it for you, but I need a rest.” He chuckled a bit and rubbed his thumb and index finger back and forth over his eyebrows.

Daniel took a few more deep breaths before he propped himself up to talk to the man properly. Maybe he had forgotten some of his manners since the world ended. “I'm Dan, by the way.” He stuck out his right hand for a shake. That's when he finally took a chance to look the guy over properly. He looked like he had been out there for a while. He was bigger than Daniel and older too. He looked thoroughly worn out. His short blonde hair was a mess and the wrinkles around his eyes and on his forehead were lined with dirt. The skin near one of his eyes was red. Shit. Is that where I hit him with the snowball? Danny felt bad now for having constructed it so well and for having packed the snow so tight. Then again, he thought he was aiming at a zombie.

Abel refused the hand as he looked the man over. He was oddly relaxed... too relaxed... maybe oblivious? He had walked up to him earlier with not a care in the world and had his gun been loaded, he'd been lying in a puddle of his own blood. He started to put pieces together like a puzzle and that's when his mind receded into that dark place... where he looked at people like... like there were some unfinished painting. He'd been given water, helped to his feet and literally thrown to safety, he was being offered a handshake and they'd only just met. It was then that he realized where he was... This wasn't a church... it was more like a time capsule or so it seemed. The reason he didn't know exactly what to do next was because he'd been away from a world where people were genuinly kind to each other for far too long. Everything was an agenda... a means to survive... nothing was free and nothing was what you thought it was. But in these walls, isolated, safe... This man was a priest. At this point he didn't bother retracing his steps to his first question. The water was clearly free of charge... In fact...

He slowly held his hand out to the man, taking his in a firm grasp... a gesture he hadn't expressed in a long while. "Abel.." He said slowly. He wasn't being cautious anymore... he was simply in shock.

Abel. The second born son. The first human to die. The martyr before Jesus. Dan did his best to match Abel's strong grip. The words shared with him by his mentor from his teenage years returned to him once more. They were becoming prophetic. Gods wisdom is infinite and unknown. Sometimes they raised more questions than they answered.

When the shake was over he took to shivering again. Dan had only buttoned a few of the thirty nine buttons on his cassock, just enough to keep it from falling off. Now he unbuttoned them all and pulled it off to reveal his black pants and long-sleeved shirt. He then stood and draped it over his arm.

“Well, Abel, I don't know about you, but I'm cold and wet. Gonna change in there.“ He tilted his head back over his shoulder to motion to the vesting sacristy. “The Rector had a few changes of his own back there too. I'll set some out for you.” The head priest had been a bit... rounder... than Dan. Perhaps the clothes would fit Abel better. “Then maybe we can eat somethin'.” He winked at the man before doing exactly as he said he would do. Luckily the Rector had a more casual outfit tucked away. Whether the man changed or not didn't matter much to him, but he figured he'd offer anyway.

Daniel closed the door but popped out again moments later and tossed a pair of wool socks out.

Abel simply stared at them. He'd completely forgotten about his clothing, how he was sitting on the ground in clothes that were still wet. He could feel the cold piecrcing his skin now, could hear the water dripping onto the rug. He needed to change but his mind was still lost somewhere else... still trying to believe that he was indeed being offered food and water and clean clothes. He looked down at himself, taking in everything that he was. Dirty, wet, cold... hungry. His pants were competely soaked as were the socks he had on under his boots and the more he thought about it, the more enticing the pair of wool socks became. The last time he'd put on a pair of fresh clothes had been almost four days ago. Between that time and now, he hadn't changed, cleaned... his hygiene was entirely something else. He hadn't shaved or cut his hair and the smell...

While Daniel was changing in the other room, Abel pulled his boots, socks, and shoes off and placed them to the side in front of one of the pews. His jacket came off next along with the gas mask and the scarf around his neck. He folded the black cloth up until he could hold it comfortably in one hand and began to dry his legs and his feet. Next came the wool socks, which slid on with ease. It was something he'd done since he was a child: The first thing he'd do when getting dressed was cover his feet. After the socks came the blue jeans that had been laid out for him to take and finally, he picked up his jacket and wrapped it around himself. It hung off his shoulders, draping across his back while his arms hung loose and free between himself and the inside walls of the thick fabric. When he was finally done, he walked back over to the sacristy, found the sink and poured himself another drink. At this point, although he was still surprised at the man's hospitality even if he was a priest, he would no longer refuse the gestures. If there was something to be demanded from him later in return, he'd pay it... depending. He made his way back to his seat before Daniel returned, sitting on the inside of the closest pew to the altar, his arms were in his lap, his hands wrapped around the cup and his eyes on the cross against the wall.

When Daniel emerged about five minutes later, he didn't look much different. Still in all black with his white collar. The only exception was a dark brown zip-up sweater that he had layered on top to replace the more formal robe. The priest carefully laid out his garments to dry over the altar rails. He ran both palms back through his hair to get it out of his face. He looked around to see where Abel had gotten to, but quickly found him in a pew with more water. That was good.

"Thank you... again. For... not leaving me out there... and the water... and clothes." The words were awkward... awkward for Abel as much as he was sure they sounded to Daniel. It was strange in the fact that he was thankful. It was an odd emotion that left this warm tinge in his gut. "And uh..." He thought about the snowball that had struck him just above his right eye. He thought about the possibility of it having been a bullet and how different an outcome it'd have been if it was. He'd come to terms with his death a long time ago knowing full well that it was coming. He was going to die along with everyone else and he should of. But instead... a snowball hit him in the face... a snowball...

"What were you doing throwing snowballs at me?" It was the question he'd been meaning to ask since he'd fallen on his ass outside. With time healing some wounds however, all the added explitives he'd wanted to express had been filtered out. He had been livid, he remembered, after taking the hit to the face but all the anger subsided when he was brought inside and cared for. Of course he still wanted answers.

Dan lazily made his way back down the altar stairs toward Abel. He had stopped a few feet short and opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted. Dan's mind was like a childs, constantly distracted and moving from one thing to the next. It was hard to make him settle down, but when he heard those words he froze, not expecting to hear them so soon. He didn't respond, just smiled. In his mind, he only did what anyone else would have done. Not to mention, he was partly to blame for the incident. And then the inevitable question. Dan had misbehaved and it was time to repent. His face turned red and he got an almost comical look of dread in his eyes. He took a few steps closer.

"Abel. I.. uhh. I'm so, so sorry about that..." The Reverend gave him a sincere confession from the heart. He realized now that this whole thing was his fault. He bent down and put his palms on his knees. He edged his face closer to Abel's and looked at the red mark above his eye. He remained there a few seconds before standing back up and crossing his arms over his chest. The fingers on his right hand found their way to his lips. He tugged on them while he went over his supply stores in his head. "I thought you were a zombie. I wouldn't have thrown it otherwise." Danny wasn't a fan of excuses, but thought Abel might like to know. "I think I still might have an untouched med kit." The other two had been used by anyone who filtered in with an injury in the first few months. Thinking on it now, he felt himself incredibly lucky to have lay ministers that cared enough to keep the place well stocked in case of emergencies. "I... can get it... If you like." Daniel pouted and forced himself wait for a response before running off again.

Abel shook his head, still alittle unnerved about the man leaning in to look at whatever it was on his face. He could feel the dull pain but couldn't tell if it was an actual cut or not. However, he was used to having to take care of himself and much preferred it that way... when he could manage. Water and food at the moment were something else... but a small bump on his face. He was sure he could live with it. When compared to the rest of his weary demeanor, it made little difference anyways.

"No..." He began as he held a hand up with the palm facing toward Daniel. "I'll be fine.." He was looking at the ground as more questions began to appear... literally. He could feel himself... receding... his mind pulling out the complex and unfinished puzzle of the man before him. Each piece was labeled with something... questions... the more promient ones clear and at the top of the pile. He shook his head as he tried to clear made them dissappear. "You should save your supplies..." Not just referring to the first aid offered, he jiggled the cup around in his hand. Suddenly, white letters began to appear from thin air, forming a single word. The first letter attached itself to the side of the cup in such a way that when he tilted it back, the rest followed.. like they were all one thing.

...Altruistic...

He looked up and saw more of these words begin to litter the church, all of them labeling something important. A few folded out from behind Daniel.

...Priest...

Yes... he'd figured that already.

...Isolated...?...

The question marked popped up at the end.

"Have you been here since the Rise?" He finally met Daniel's gaze. This question was more of a result of the games in his head. He needed to find the missing pieces to this puzzle in order really believe and understand why anyone... even a priest would still care for another stranger despite being shot at.

When he heard the word 'no,' his mind was onto the next thing. Food. Surely the guy had to be hungry. And then there was also the matter of his guitar, which he had abandoned on the roof when he ran down to retrieve Abel. But maybe that could wait since it was sunny out. And maybe the food could wait until Abel asked for some. In fact, it seemed that right now all the man wanted was a chance to take a breather. A second to take in his surroundings. Dan was so used to this place by now that it wasn't even a second thought for him. Maybe the guy had never even been religious, despite his name. If that was the case, then he might even be feeling pretty uncomfortable. Danny ran through all of the possible scenarios in his head.

The priest finally took a seat on the pew a few feet down from him. He slouched back into it and let his legs hang open and out-stretched. He looked back over when he made the comment about supplies. He'd heard the same thing from several others. While he was careful to keep a close watch on his inventory, he had never been one to selfishly deny it to others when he saw they were in need. Even after the world went to hell.

Then there was a second inevitable question. By now he was sinking into the pew so much that his head was resting comfortably on the back of the pew, but craned in Abel's direction.

"Yeah. I have." He grinned oddly a bit, but hesitated to provide further details, knowing it would only make him recall things that were better left forgotten. And those things always brought with them memories of his family. However... "Not always alone like this though." He paused. Now that he thought about it... maybe he wasn't so upset that he'd nailed Abel with the snowball. It had been far too long since he'd had contact with someone else, and that alone was reason to forgive the man for attempted murder.

"What about you? What were you doing out there alone?" If Abel stuck around, he'd go into more detail about his water collection and food stores later.

Abel blinked. The answer was open ended but his follow up was diverted by Daniel's own. He tore his eyes from the man and looked up at the ceiling as he thought about his reply. His eyes rested on a flat white surface... like a canvas... like a piece of paper for him to write on and perfect what he was going to say. Dark letters began to scrawl themselves out above him.

...I killed two people to survive...wandered...no I ran away...

Up there, even if he couldn't believe it was the truth. He stared at the words for a moment, trying to understand them better and quickly realizing that he couldn't. Letters were erased and exchanged until a vague representation of what the truth was remained.

...I've been alone...

"...Lost..." He slowly turned toward Daniel again. It wasn't a lie. "I've been... lost. Stumbling around Missouri for a while on my own. Came across the church and I saw the water catchers on the roof. Thought I might find shelter here for the night and then continue on." He paused as he stared at the man. "Found more than I expected..."

The priest's response to his first question still burned in his mind. He could understand him not being alone at first... There had been plenty of people strong in their faith flocking to their altars and shrines for protection and comfort... but for the Priest to remain behind alone when everyone else had abandoned him...

"Why did you stay?"

Daniel finally decided to straighten up a bit as the conversation continued and sit like a... normal person... whatever that meant now. Listening to Abel, it seemed like the water catchers had served more than one purpose. He wondered if there had been any others like Abel who thought about coming inside... and if there were, why hadn't they tried? He was saddened at the thought. The only thing that had kept him going this long was the thought that there was still some chance for everyone to be saved... but that wasn't possible if everyone had lost hope. Maybe he had been losing hope himself this entire time. Had he been blindly wasting away the hours while the despair stealthily creeped into his heart? It was too much for him to think about right now. He gave his head a little shake.

Daniel already feared what might happen next. He had always been a rebel in the Episcopal community. His beliefs were anything but typical compared to others. While the main facets of his faith held true, he questioned everything. He struggled to find the appropriate words.

"I guess I stayed because something in me told I should." It was his way of saying that, as indecisive as he was, he really hadn't known where to turn, and he hadn't really seen much of a reason to leave. There was no way his family could still be alive. It had become relatively safe here after the first five months, and he had food and water. Or maybe it was out of fear. He had seen things. He had heard things. Not only had the dead come back to life, but most of the living had become some form of monster too.

Now there was something Abel could relate to. The thing in Daniel... in himself.. in everyone telling them all what to do or what they should do.

"You spend your whole life living one way and then everything changes. You have the option to change with it or fight for what once was. Either way, you have to move on." He laughed to himself.

Collab between finalcatharsis and Exit
Part III

---

"But you said you were only going to stay the night... why?"

"Well..." Abel began. There were a few answers to the question, some more simple than others and much easier to convey without giving too much away. The first of which was that he hadn't expected to find anyone in the church at all. He'd been too tired to entertain the thought and had focused solely on reaching the church itself. Thinking on it now he realized just how stupid he was. Of course their may have been a survivor within these walls especially if there were water catchers on the roof. He should have staked the place out for a while Instead of just walking right up to what could have been his death.

The second answer was not as clean as the first but much preferred over the last. He wanted to keep ahead of a group of raiders he'd come across... which he had. For a moment his mind returned to three days ago. His eyes became affixed to a single item in the room as he replayed image after image in his head. Blood...bullets...Mathew and Billy. There was too much weight when it came to answer number too, too much he would be forced to remember. The third answer he couldn't come to terms with. It was the absolute truth and it'd been locked away, the key lost to him some time ago. He opted for the first.

"...Actually... I hadn't expected to find anyone here..." He said as he looked about the church. He realized he should have expected a group seeing as many people used to visit such places. "My plan was to get in... take what I need..." He hesitated with the last four words. "...Rest and then leave." He kept his gaze on Daniel as he tried to read his reaction. He'd just confessed to wanting to steal from a man who'd been eager to lend a hand when he was in need. Not to mention that he'd tried to kill him... and quite recently. "Of course things changed once you hit me with the snowball. Still, I'm not one to stay in one area for too long. I've always believed it was easier to survive out there while on the move. It's why I'm so surprised you've managed to remain here and remain alive for so long."

Abel turned from Daniel to the rest of the church. For nine months the man had fortified himself in here and despite all the death and despair outside the walls... managed to survive. In a way he felt a tug of... jealousy? How much easier would it have been to hide away and not have to worry about... people. Simply lock the doors and keep them all out. Thieves, liars, beggars, killers.... killers. He was a killer. He didn't belong in here. Even now there were the thoughts in the back of his mind he was trying so desperately to ignore. The basic instincts of a man who knew only survival, in this world and the last. He'd heard Daniel say somethng about food. He understood the man had access to water. He understood he had walls to hide behind. Why not just take it?

His head hurt. These... thoughts... the thing inside Daniel driving him was different from the things that drove himself... at least he thought so. He figured whatever it was that made the priest tick was pure: a need to save people, help them, provide them hope... while his darkness, although adopted, was something else entirely. Necessary... almost a release in some ways.

"You're right about one thing... You do change and you either fight it... or let it take you over..." He looked down at his cup. He was thirsty again... and hungry. His stomach turned inside him, now a lot harder to ignore than before when he knew food was to be had. He kept fighting however, kept trying to push his urges to the side. He slowly go to his feet, tilting the cup toward the priest as a sign that was supposed to mean "getting a refill"... or something. Who knew now. He'd been so disconnected from "normal" human beings and what they considered casual social interaction.

It was on his way to the working sacristy that he finally picked up on something new. His mind was still in that odd state he used to always find himself in. Things stood out to him that normally wouldn't. Maybe because he was a lot more focused now even with his gut eating away at itself. He'd been moving toward the altar steps about to step over them and through the doors on the right to the sink when something caught his attention. There on the ground in front of the altar was this... stain. Familiar letters appeared just above the dark brown color.

...Blood...

He froze in place. His mind trying to make sense of what he was looking at. Why in the world would there be blood inside a church? Trying to make sense of yet another puzzle, he looked around when he noticed more letters flick into place above something else...

...Bullet scars...

There in the wall under the cross was this deep dark hole. Small enough, just the size of a bullet... perhaps a nine millimeter although he couldn't be sure. Near the base of the altar itself was a second hole, although much shallower than the first. Abel had been wrong. This wasn't a time capsule... it was a facade. Daniel hadn't been isolated like he'd assumed. There had in fact been people in here and it looked like things had gotten ugly. In fact... someone might have been killed.

That's when a small smile crept across his face. He'd been in shock since he first met the man but now everything made sense. The priest had been exposed to what was real, he knew the reality of the world outside. He knew about this... about the stain... perhaps had a hand in it. Perhaps he too had something dark inside him. He let the smile fall from his lips before he turned to face Daniel.

"What happened here?" His empty hand hovered over where the stain waited... bringing with it it's own demons.

The answer to Daniel's question, why was leaving Abel's lips slower than he would have liked. Some sort of throbbing, but dull pain had started to knock at the back of his head. He put his fingers there to rub it and felt an area of his skin that was raised. A mole? No. Couldn't have been. It was a straight line, more like a scar. He brought his hand down and shook his head back and forth as if to force the pain out. How had a scar gotten there? He searched every corner of his mind to try and remember until things went fuzzy. He was lost for a few seconds, but Abel's voice brought him back. His heart rate quickened when he heard the words 'take what I need.' Centimeter, by centimeter he started to push himself away from the man. He didn't quite understand this reaction, but he couldn't stop himself. His eyes narrowed as he focused on Abel's lips for the rest of the response, but the only word he understood was 'snowball.'

Daniel was confused about just what was happening at the moment. Seconds ago he had been jovial. Someone new had come to his church. He had someone to carry on a conversation with. He had someone to share his food with. Maybe this guy would even enjoy hearing some music. He fought back his anxiety just in enough time to hear the mans words on change. He forced a placid smile. When Abel stood, he instinctively stood with him. He planned to follow him to the sacristy, maybe even get some water himself. And then there was the food too. Danny remembered the trek from the lawn. He had promised.

A few steps in, Abel stopped. Dan, trying to keep his distance, stopped too. It didn't take the priest long to realize what was unfolding before his eyes. Abel had noticed the bullet holes and stain. Dan had a vague memory of scrubbing the spot until his fingers bled. He closed his eyes tight. The throbbing in his head got worse as he tried to remember. He started to shake at the question.

"Three people..." Dan reached his right hand into his pocket. He began fumbling with his knife. He pulled it out slowly, but didn't release the blade. A few images flashed on the back of his eyelids. "One was hurt." He put his left hand up to his temple. He recalled the pain of something striking him. He saw the lead pipe come down to hit someone. He chuckeld a bit. "They tricked me." At first it was as if he was reliving the memories through someone else's eyes, but he realized eventually that they were his own. How had he pushed this out? It must have been out of necessity, and over time he had learned to ignore the stain and the bullet holes. Better to ignore than face the ugly truth. Face himself as the monster he'd become that night.

While Daniel began to explain, Abel eyes had fixed themselves on the object being pulled from his pockets. Although most of it was concealed inside the fist gripping it, enough was exposed for him to recognize the knife he had pulled earlier. He immediately went on edge, the hand hovering of the stain shifting ever closer to the space above his pistol. The butt of the gun was just... His fingers attempted to grip at the metal... but it wasn't there.

...Shit...

In the state he'd allowed himself to slip into during their snowball fight, he'd forgotten to pick up his gun after dropping it in the snow. It was still out there... waiting. All he could do now was hope that he could react quick enough to avoide being stabbed if it came to that. However as he waiting for what he thought would be a jab in his direction, perhaps some way to cover up the past he was hiding from, the words that slipped from between Daniel's quivering lips made him think twice. The word "trick" hung in the hair between them.. staring Abel in the face. He knew the word well. It was immediately clear who the real victim was.

Daniel opened his eyes back up to look at Abel. Any trace of kindness on his face was gone. He finally popped the blade out, but didn't make any moves toward the man. "This was my dad's knife. Before that it was HIS dad's knife." His right fist, already balled around the knife found it's way up to his head as well. "You either fight it or you let it take you over." He recognized his insanity at the moment... which meant he still had a chance to calm himself, right? Dan looked to the christus rex that hung on the back wall. "You know, Abel, we're all required to make sacrifices in this life... just like Jesus sacrificed himself for all of the ugly fucking people in this world. That's all that's left now, huh? Ugly fucking people inherited the earth." He paused and brought his hands back down. "Not even I could withstand it." Like he was something special. He looked back to Abel's eyes.

Abel simply stared back having remained silent while Daniel tried to express his reactions brought about by survival. It seemed difficult at first but soon he came to terms with who they were. They were ugly... Abel was ugly and he couldn't agree more. The world wasn't filled with people like Daniel anymore and it seemed he'd realized that along time ago. Whatever light he'd been holding up for others to see seemed to be slipping slowly away... at least in this moment where his past haunted him. He'd been driven to a point.. to a place where he had to become something else... change into something... and ever since then he'd been fighting it. Abel knew the feeling well and although it wasn't his turn to express it, he hated it.... He hated the fact that somehow he found this world beautiful... Where the only people left were... ugly.

Abel knew his secret now. "I'm hungry." Daniel just stood, waiting for whatever happened next.

Collab between finalcatharsis and Exit
Part IV

---

"Ya... I'm hungry too." He had his fill of the man, his simple answer his way of saying that he understood, he'd been there... that maybe in some way... in this world... Daniel was forgiven. He no longer hungered for him. He watched the letters scrawled all over the church begin to dissappear, the puzzle pieces clear themselves from the floor. A hunger... for real food was left in it's place.

Daniel's eyes had become a little teary. He returned the knife to his pocket and wiped his eyes with the back of his hands. When it was all said and done, it made sense to him that he would have confessed to Abel, the first person he had seen since the incident. He walked up closer to the man. He felt like a weight had been lifted, but it had only been replaced with more sadness. He wasn't willing to let himself feel better about any of it yet. He had to repent before he could heal.

"Come on." He motioned with his hand for Abel to follow. Daniel walked into the working sacristy and to the back where there was another door. He opened it and grabbed a flashlight that had been placed just past the entrance. The priest flipped it on. He started to make his way down the stairs. When he reached the bottom he moved out of Abel's way, then pointed the flashlight at what was left of his food stores. It had been enough for him alone to last throughout the year. Mostly it was comprised of a variety of canned foods and crackers. He questioned why he trusted this man so much as to show him where he kept the majority of his supplies. Perhaps him wanting to trust again outweighed the alternative.

Abel had thought the same as he took in the amount of food he'd managed to store away for himself. In his time spent surviving this was the most food he'd soon saved up for one man. When rationed properly, Daniel could live here for many more months... but had Abel really earned the right to be shown where it all was? He'd been catered too, offered confessions... and now food... lots of food. He could feel this odd emotion welling up somewhere deep inside him. He didn't quite understand what it was just knew that it didn't belong. Everytime his instincts kicked in, it would grow stronger, trying to over take it. His mind went over the possibilities... No one would miss a priest who'd been so worked up over killing to stay alive that he'd tear up... would they?

He was finally able to put a name to the feeling...

...Guilt...

It was small but it was there. Everytime he thought about killing the man and making off with what he had he could feel it. It confused him greatly, he'd never felt like this before... not in a long time and especially not now when opportunities like this presented themselves to him. It was like a bank opening it's vault to a robber.

Daniel grabbed a can of tuna and put it in his free pocket. "Just take whatever you want." Thoughts flashed through his mind of what would happen when the food ran out. Then there'd be no reason for him to stay here, right? On the bottom shelf he had about ten bottles of communion wine left. He took one knowing, at least for himself, a drink would help his mood.

"Just take whatever you want"... Abel almost didn't want to but the bottles of were staring at him. He couldn't resist and quickly took one up along with a one of the canned foods resting on the shelves. It had a picture of some kind of ground meat on it.

When Abel was done, he walked back up the stairs behind him, trying to keep the flashlight pointed in front of him so he could see the way back up. He walked to the table in the sacristy and set his tuna and wine on it. "I left something on the roof I need to go pick up." Daniel walked back through the doorway but went up this time. When he opened the door to the roof the cold air bit at him. He shivered and picked up his guitar and wine as quickly as he could.

After he was back down the stairs, he returned the flashlight to its resting place and finally took a seat after propping his guitar up against the wall. And now they had two and a half bottles of wine.

By then, Abel had had a couple minutes to collect his thoughts. He'd been fighting with himself, his need to make choices that benefited him against what was... right. He hoped that by the time Daniel had taken his seat that he'd successfully seperated wrong from right. Of course all these moral dillemas quickly paled in comparison with how hungry he was. Conveniently, on the top of the can there was a tab and and after bending it backwards and losening the lid, he tore it off and placed it to the side. He'd already found himself a spoon, setting one across from him for Daniel to use as well before he started digging in. He dumped spoonful after spoonful of corned beef into his mouth, his tongue savoring the taste of meat like it never had before. His eyes slide shut, his breathing steadied as he concentrated on nothing else but the fact that he was finally eating... anything. He was chewing faster than what he figured was normal but he didn't care. After he'd scarfed down nearly half the can, he turned to the bottle... before realizing he'd need a cork screw.

Looking rather ridiculous now with the ravished half starved survivor semblance returning to him, his cheeks still puffed full of food, his hands and face caked in dirt. He turned to Daniel in desperation having no clue where he could find something to open the bottle for him.

Something about Abel seemed... off. He was distracted by something, but Daniel had no idea what. He just continued to smile throughout the process. Ever since the start of this apocalypse, the only joy he found was in helping others. Perhaps that's another reason why these last few months had been so hard on him. After the initial panic people just stopped coming.

Daniel took the seat in front of Abel and grabbed the spoon that was set out for him. He popped the top of his can of tuna, and was about to take his first bite when he paused to watch Abel. He couldn't hold back his laughter. It made sense, considering the man had been alone and food had probably been hard to come by. For Daniel, things had been much easier.

The priest eventually took to eating his tuna at a much slower pace. He kept talk to a minimum, assuming Abel wouldn't want to speak while he was focused on eating. When Abel looked up at him it didn't take him long to put two and two together. He stood, grabbed the bottle of wine and took it near the sink. The priest pulled out a drawer and took a corkscrew from it. He set about opening the bottle and when he was done he grabbed one of the silver chalices from the cabinet above the sink. He filled it to the brim before setting it in front of Abel.

Abel took the chalice in his hand and as he was about to tip the edge into his mouth, Daniel hit him with a peculiar line.

"This is my blood. Do this in memory of me." Daniel couldn't help himself. Not caring enough to get some sort of cup for himself, he grabbed the bottle he had opened earlier, popped the cork out and chugged away. A few seconds later, just as one drop of the red liquid streamed down his chin, he set the bottle back down. Dan wiped the wine away with the back of his hand.

He paused for a second before he took his first sips of the wine. Sips turned to gulps and he washed the rest of the food down his throat. He pulled the Chalice from his lips, staring at the red liquid as it moved in circles around itself. "I remember..." He said almost to himself. It was ironic really... the words in that simple sentence... and the reply. The notion of drinking someone's blood to remember them... to eat their body...

"Are you religious... or were you religious before? I mean... with that name..." He was excited at what an alcohol induced conversation might bring. He hadn't had one in ages. It wasn't vodka, but for people who were lucky to have eaten on average a half a can of food a day for almost a year, it'd get the job done.

Abel took another sip of the wine before giving the question any thought. He smiled as he mused over the answer. "The name..." He thought back to when he was young, when he had parents... when he had siblings. How they'd been forced to go to church in hopes that they'd leave each Sunday morning better people. "Guess it does scream religion... which it should. I think the best way to describe it would be to say that I was always around religion but I don't think I ever actually had it." His mind was locked now in the past, reliving moments when he'd have to force himself to stay awake during sermons and when he did doze off, do so in such a way that his stepmother wouldn't catch him. He took another sip... "I understood the basic concepts... We were all born sinners... and that God had died for us to cleanse us of those sins..." He scoffed.. and then caught himself. "Sorry... but ya. I found it to be somewhat ridiculous." He took another sip...

"Anyways the name...Abel. It's a nick I gave myself after..." There standing next to Daniel now was another man. He had the same likeness as Abel, although his face was only slightly more round, his grey eyes looking down at his shameful state. "I uh... had a brother." He took another sip of his wine... the sips becoming more like gulps. Every time he drank, the more clear his memories became, the more apparent the third man in the room was to him. He hadn't yet met his gaze. "He always ended up getting into some trouble with some bad people. He was never much of a careful person, didn't know when to stop or call it quits..." He was now staring down into the chalice... there was only a little bit of wine left in at the very bottom. "He uh..." Abel furrowed his brow. "I remember him calling me one day... he was frantic... sounding stupid as ever... going on about some slut he'd managed to get into bed with. At first I figured he was just trying to gloat but then... everything just changed..." He emptied the glass and poured himself another. He could see him now... his brother standing next to Daniel across from him.. covered in blood.

"I just remember walking into his house, up to his room... seeing the... pieces..." He shook his head slowly, the fresh gulp of wine swigging around in his mouth before he swallowed it. "He was uh... trying to get rid of her body... the fucking idiot. It wasn't the first time either. He'd done the same thing when we were kids... just with animals... and it always ended up the same way. He had this idea for getting rid of evidence... and that's what he wanted to do again."[b] His mind now was skipping ahead, jumping to conclusions about how Daniel would take what he was saying. [b]"I only did it because I wanted to protect him... that was the only reason why I've ever done it... from day one.. from the first cat... to the very last..." His eyes never went to the bloody figure next to Daniel... instead they found Daniel himself, his fogged mind trying to make sense of the expression on Daniel's face. He couldn't so he continued. "Cain killed Abel. I thought the name was fitting seeing as how I died the moment we got rid of that tabby. It changed me and whatever I decided to become remained permanent."

"Soooo Abel." He said as he tipped the half empty chalice into the air. "Because I do remember.... every single one." He took another sip before placing the drink back on the table. It was empty now.

Jon stood up and surveyed the scene. A lot had transpired and he took note of several people now out of their rooms. He looked behind him and noted that both the ARMORY and CONTROL ROOM were locked, and he had the only key card, so they'd be going in there soon, after things got figured out in the hallway. He moved to his own room and grabbed a sheet out of the hamper near the door, tossing it over the guard's corpse even though by not, anyone out in the hall had already had the time to look at it.

He looked from person to person and after people stopped coming out of the rooms, he decided it was as good a time as any to begin. There were half a dozen or so people standing about; Harris, Will, Petra, Marrianne, and Kim. Jon didn't know anyone aside from knowing Will was his target and Petra had been introduced--and there was Will.

Jon cleared his throat and raised his hand over his head. He looked awkward and almost shy now that he was standing in front of these people--he had the look of someone more at home behind a computer screen.

"Attention please. Or. Yeah. Ok. I have a lot of information to uh, give. So. First, I'm Jon Erikson, I'm with the CIA. Well, I'm a computer tech actually, I build top-secret mainframes and--well, nevermind. I'm not some double O 7 super spy or whatever. I know you think" he took a moment and did the air quotes when he mentioned the acronym, "he's 'C.I.A.' I'm a guy who builds computers. And networking, inter and intranets--But, yeah, some of you may not know this but... Sorry, let's do introductions first I guess. After that, I have information about...well, all this." After the words, he motioned to the area around him.

His tone was somewhat meek and he felt somewhat insecure at switching back and forth. "Actually though. To clear things up to some of you. This is a CDC facility. All of you were selected because you are an asset that the government would need once the global infection ceased, or was at bay. I don't know what you were selected for, you may be a mechanic, or farmer, or surgeon, but the point is that you are here for a reason."

He looked around, particularly at the little girl, wondering why the hell she could be here, unless she was some child prodigy. "Some of you may have offered to come, some of you may have been...helped inside. And some of you are still thinking about the term 'infection.' Yes, it was--is real. We were in here less than 10 days after the infection, and I have no idea what has happened since, but us being out could be a good sign, or a bad sign. We have some investigating to do. So uh. There's more, but uh, I guess introduce yourselves."

Jon looked over to Harris, who simply happened to be the next person to him and indicated that he was next. Harris was still sitting to the side of his door and didn't stand up when he was prompted to speak. He was still somewhat off from the events from a moment before. His thoughts seemed to be flying by a mile a minute, and he looked about with a glazed expression and somewhat distant tone in his voice. "I'm Harris. Umm. I worked, well, I used to be a hacker, but eventually decided it best to help the U.S. government counter cyber-crimes. I am 22 and from Florida. I..." he made a slightly confused face because he wasn't sure what else to say, then he simply shrugged and closed his mouth.

Kim watched the man cover the dead body. She had seen death before, but peaceful death, death in your sleep. So while death was nothing new to her, she had never seen someone getting killed before. She didn't have much to live for though. With her family dead, and from the looks of it, this facility was dead, her mission here was over. She had known what the CDC was, and it's purpose. However, if that guy had tried to kill them, he was not part of the facility itself, and that must mean that the facility was lost. They had food here though, food and shelter. At least, shelter as long as the front doors did not open. But if this facility was sealed, how the heck did that guy get in here?

She was left with her own thoughts, no one talked to her. Alone with your own thoughts while your mind raced was a bad thing. It made her think too much, way too much. Her mind was racing with all the possibilities of what could had happened. Did the facility get overrun? Did someone break in and kill everyone? Did a guard run rouge and that's why they had not been tended to these last few days? She did not know, and she wanted answers. However; who knew? This Jon guy did not know after all, and he was in the CIA, but that does not matter much once you're locked up.

"I am Kim Hansson, I am a designer of self-sustaining facilities and communities. My age is irrelevant..." she said quietly. "I was recruited, knowing full well what this was. Here for my managing skills, supply and demand and architectural knowledge." Kim shrugged. "I know how to organise and draw I guess."

She left her other questions dormant for now and looked around at the faces present. She had questions for them all, she wanted to know everything, the problem is when you want to know something so badly, and can't manage to ask it.

Collab between finalcatharsis and Exit
Part V

---

Daniel remained silent, just as Abel had done earlier when he was the one pouring his heart out. He shook his head when the man apologized for being the way he was about religion. Daniel had gotten much worse responses from people before. Plus, he went to seminary in New York City. You didn't live in a city like that for three years without gaining a bit of perspective on peoples different beliefs. Daniel had never been an evangelist. He realized from a young age that you couldn't force or talk someone into faith. It was a path each individual had to walk on their own.

As Abel continued speaking, Daniel leaned back in his chair, taking a few more swigs of wine when he got the notion. Abel was slow to divulge the details. Daniel found himself staring at the man with a blank look on his face as he went on. It seemed like a story straight out of a suspense novel. The blank expression took. He wasn't sure how to react to what he was hearing. Not twenty minutes ago they were talking about 'ugly people.' Abel knew what 'ugly' was well before the end.

The priest thought back to a confession he had taken in his first year of seminary. The feeling of astonishment was almost the same. He got hot and sweaty. His clothes felt constricting. His heart felt like it was expanding. Just like back then, it was hard to find the words... at first. Unlike last time, Daniel himself had now been face to face with his own darkness.

"You lived up to your name then. You became the shepherd... out of necessity. The first." Daniel refilled the chalice. "That is really fucked up though..." He had to admit it, and this wasn't the time or place for laughter, but he chuckled anyway. Maybe the wine had made him a little goofy. After that, he felt the urge to change the subject. "So where were you when all this happened then?" Someone like him... it wasn't a surprise he had been around this long. He had learned to do what he needed to do, right?

Abel, through the thickening fog around him, could still feel the surprise welling up from... somewhere... in the back of his head he assumed. He'd just shared the one moment that had changed everything for him... the moment that defined who or what he'd become and yet the man had simply told him that he'd lived up to his name. Maybe it had something to do with the the fact he'd managed to get a grip of himself somewhere in the middle of his confession, remind himself of the things he was going to say and filter out what didn't need to be shared. It was necessary... necessary because his brother was still standing in the room and although the body was motionless, a finger had found a way in front of his pursed lips, his eyes abnormally wide as shot him a silencing gesture.

How was Daniel supposed to react to the fact that they'd eaten the bodies to get rid of them? That everytime his parents forced him to go to church, everytime communion came around he literally remembered everything... it was grape juice when he was younger but the effect was the same. He was drinking the blood of Christ... that he may be forgiven... But... there was no forgiveness for this. He remembered being repulsed by the little circular wafers as it sat waiting in his hand. He didn't want to put it in his mouth as if eating it would make him visible... naked. Like God would know what he'd done. His brother never seemed to mind on the other hand. He scarfed the stuff down seeing them as nothing more than mid sermon snacks. As he grew older... he did what he had to do... he succumb to the change... embraced it. He drank His blood and partook in the body. Maybe that's what he was put on the Earth to do... Eat and remember... and be forgiven. He tried to focus that energy... use it for good if he could... somehow. Everyone he ate was a criminal, rapist... pedophile... at one point it was another cannibal. He'd partake in their body but in such a way that it was... respectful? He'd remember them for who they were. He'd dine on his finest china over an exquistie wooden table used for nothing else. He'd hang pictures of their faces around their remains on his plate...

It wasn't until his brother called him about someone he'd murdered that things changed. He was erasing innocent people... The woman from the meeting who had nearly lost her father. She'd tried to find comfort in him, in his brother and he killed her.

Lost in his thoughts, he almost didn't hear the next question.

"New York." He was relieved beyond slurred words that the conversation had taken a turn in a different direction. His head was already hurting with with memories he'd been trying to supress. "I lived up there once upon a time. Had a job and a fa-" He stopped. There it was again, the effects of the wine and the feeling of catching himself. "future... until all this." His head wobbled around itself, his hands doing the same as he pointed at everything. He chuckled, staring out through the door at the opposite walls of the church. It was quiet in here... quiet and safe. "Sure do wish I had one of these to hole up in..." He paused for a second before shooting another question. "What about you? You come straight here when it all went to shit?... I'd imagined everyone else did..."

His bottle was now almost three quarters empty.

Daniel took off his sweater and hung it on the back of his chair. Even with no heat in the church, he felt his skin getting hot, and he was sure his cheeks were getting rosey. "New York, huh?" The priest felt obligated to elaborate on that. "I went to seminary in Manhattan." He looked down at his lap and smiled a bit recalling memories of his time there... his friends, his teachers, the girls... and then the smile faded. He'd never speak to or see any of those people ever again. "It's a great city." At least compared to the middle-of-nowhere, Kentucky.

In between Abel's phrases he continued to drink until he discovered the half bottle was empty. He looked to the third, unopened bottle. Would it be too much to open it and share? He wondered.... it was kind of, sort of a celebration, right? Four months without seeing anyone alive. While their meeting had gotten off to a little bit of a rocky start, it seemed to be going pretty well now. As well as could be expected, anyway.

"Yeah... it uh... worked out well. And for someone like me with absolutely no survival skills... well, it was a miracle." Dan put his hands to the back of his neck and unclasped his collar, afterward setting it on the table to the side. He looked at the third bottle again and bit his bottom lip a tad. He smiled, wondering how ridiculous he sounded. Everyone always said that when he got drunk or angry, his accent tended to exaggerate.

"It's not so much I CAME here... just WAS here. The head priest was on sabbatical, so I was in charge. Had only been workin' here about six months." He ran his right index finger up and down the edge of the table in front of him. "My family... we had plans to meet after everything settled down, but it never did..." It was just a fact of life at this point. "And I thought I was needed here, so I just stayed. Lots of people came. Never seen so many people in this church before that... the basement... used to be wall to wall with food and water. Was a food bank." He wondered again how stupid he must be sounding, not for his accent this time, but for the fact he was admitting he hadn't done what most 'ugly' people would have done. Before that fifth month, he couldn't have been considered ugly at all.

"But hungry people... hungry families and children needed it so... I guess in a way it made me feel needed too." He sighed. "Pretty stupid, I reckon... to give it all away like that." He unbuttoned the top button on his collar to give himself some breathing room. "The fourth month I saw the last people. Then the fifth... well..." Abel already knew what happened then. "And since then it's just been me... and my instruments."

Abel smiled a little. His drink was slowly taking over, wanting to do most of the thinking and talking for him but he was still coherent enough to agree with Daniel's generosity. "Ya... pretty stupid." He chuckled. "I don't know though... Nine months with all this food in one place... maybe you weren't alone." Abel didn't know what he was saying but for some reason it felt right. How else did this man survive for so long like he had?

"Just you and... God... and instruments..."

...Instruments...

Abel couldn't remember the last time he'd heard any kind of music. The only sounds he listened to from day to day were the suffering of those around him... the moans of the dead, the grumbling in people's stomach... the screams of pain when differences were being settled. He almost couldn't remember what a note sounded like when played. He closed his eyes trying to recall the song of the organ at his church. There'd been a piano set up to the side as well and every now and then much more contemporary music would be played. Strings, percussion, everyone's voice echoing across walls. He opened his eyes. They fell on the guitar propped against the wall.

"You still play?"

Daniel laughed when Abel agreed with him. He wondered now in hindsight if he would have done it all again the same way. "God. Now there's the big question..." His voice trailed off with the last few words. God being around... it was something he'd been questioning a lot lately. Circumstances made him wonder if everything was chance. His education told him it was all fate... but he didn't know yet if he could accept that. Surely God hadn't meant for all of this to happen?

When he saw Abel's eyes look at the guitar he couldn't help but glance back at it as well. Then the question. Maybe the most important question of all for Daniel. "What do you think?" He grinned and scooted his chair back. He reached for the guitar, laid it on its side then removed it from the case. He stood up too fast and lost his balance for a few moments. "Come on. It sounds a lot better out there." He nodded his head back to signal at the sanctuary. One thing he always loved about the place were the acoustics. Most music sounded amazing in there.

Dan pulled the strap over his head and settled it between his shoulders. He began to tune it on the way back out. It didn't take much, since he played it regularly. The priest walked over to the altar and pushed himself up on to it. Normally, he wouldn't have let anyone see him doing something that sac-religious, but... who even cared at this point? Abel certainly wouldn't.

Abel got up to follow, grabbing the bottle of wine before realizing that it was almost completely empty. He tilted it in his hands, watching what was left of the liquid swirl around inside the glass. There had been many rules he'd given himself when the dead began to rise one of which forbade him to drink. He never knew when he'd needed to use his head to stay alive and if things ever went south when he was drunk out of his mind, he'd be as good as dead. It seemed somewhere along the way, he'd forgotten that one rule. He set the bottle back down realizing that the damage had been done. Already he'd been saying things he didn't mean to say and following Daniel through the door of the sacrisity was hard in and of itself. He quickly found a seat on the inside of the second row of pews, his wet clothes taking up the space in front of him.

Once Abel was settled on the pew, Daniel started to play... but things didn't sound quite right at first. Come on man. You've played with a buzz before. "Well, this is one of my favorites to play when I've been drinking." The priest giggled. He was a little embarrassed because he hadn't played for anyone in so long... but eventually the notes and words came to him. "Don't wish it away, don't look at it like iit's forever..." A few more verses in and he felt like he was at home again. "And I guess that's why they caaall it the bluuees." This was one of the few things that still felt right in his world. It was good for his soul.

Abel listened... listened intently. He recognized the song immediately: A song by Elton John titled "I Guess That's Why They Call it the Blues". It sounded different inside the walls of the church. The soft strumming of the guitar... Daniel's voice. Closing his eyes, it felt as if each note, each syllable was coming from somewhere deep inside him. There was this song gushing forth like a fountain, pouring out of him... it was soft and strong at the same time and while Daniel played, it was all he could think about. The lines, the melody brought him back to a life before when he heard the song play. Driving down a quiet road, late at night on the roof of his apartment, early mornings during a walk... on his own. He'd always been by himself, left alone to muse over his thoughts... but tonight he was in the company of another... and he smiled. It wasn't forced... or fake. He'd become so good at masking himself behind a good smile. This one however was... content. He was content that he'd found someone... someone to remind him that their used to be life in the world. That there used to be real people... people that were kind and gentle and perhaps... there were still people like that around. He had to believe that... The song washing over him, wrapping itself around him was real... the man playing, singing. That man was real... the generosity he'd shown was real. Maybe the world before had been real too and maybe it was still out there somewhere.

Abel held the smile, his eyes still closed as he lost himself in the words of Elton John. He drifted with the music, let it carry him in it's arms and slowly bring him back down to earth as the song came to an end. Daniel voiced the final words from somewhere and strummed the final notes. When he'd finally stopped playing, there was this gentle silence in the room. It wasn't awkward or abrupt but very... very peaceful.

When the last note settled in the air and string stopped vibrating, Daniel finally looked up. In additon to Abel, he saw several other people out there in the pews... his parents, sister, friends, colleagues, parishioners. He smiled at them all.

"Beeeautiful..." Abel's slurred voice finally broke the silence. His eyes were still closed, his head now resting on the back of the pew in front of him, his chin resting atop his crossed forearms. It was a posture he'd taken up in church as a child. He'd sit like that... close his eyes during the music and just imagine being somewhere else. He'd remain like that... until his "mother" told him to sit up.

The priest hopped down from the altar to take a bow. "Why, thank you!" He laughed. Clearly Abel had had a bit too much to drink. "Now, the next one is very near to my heart." He giggled again, though he was about to play a pretty depressing song. Seeing the faces of his family, he couldn't help himself. Daniel didn't attempt to get back up, just leaned back and began to strum. "In the deeep daaark hills of Eastern Kentucky, that's the place--"

Dan cut himself off when he heard something rumble through the air outside. He strummed a few more notes, but eventually that trailed off too. It took him a few seconds to piece everything together, but when he realized what that sound was, he froze. He brought his head up again to look at Abel. The look on his face said everything. Fear, dread. Those memories were fighting their way back into his head... and anxiety washed over him. He remembered the conversation he overheard before the killing. Had the group finally come looking for their three missing thugs?

"Did you hear that?"

Fuad and Terry. Middle of nowhere, Missouri.

---

Fuad and Terry made their way off the road and stood in front of a two story country house. They'd watched it from across the road in the brush for a bit over a day to see if there were any signs of human beings. There were no noises, lights or sounds, and no one coming and going so it seemed clear for the most part. They looked the place over and it was closed up, but not fortified, which means that the people most likely left in the initial stages of the infection. The home was out in the middle of no where and there was nothing near it and it was fairly far off of the road which is why it hadn't been touched so far, or at least it didn't appear to be.

They stood there a few long moments, partly to check and make sure all was well and then another part of them didn't always like this. Sure, in the movies it was exciting and you'd find something bad ass, or maybe fight some zombies and all that good shit. There was some intense scene and they fought their way out or whatever. However in the real world, people got bit and infected, or got into shoot outs with hiding bandits. Sometimes you would shoot your way through a house, bludgeon living and dead people, only to find everything had been looted, you've wasted ammo and energy and have nothing to show for it but wounds or casualties. It was ugly business, brutal and it scared the shit out of Fuad.

Every house was different, and even the best ones still unsettled him. Seeing pictures of families, coming into homes with month old corpses...it was brutal mentally. Most people couldn't help but immediately start to piece it together, recreate what they thought happened in the dead's last moments. It wasn't usually until later that it hit the individual that they had recreated a mother killing their entire family, or that a father turned and attacked the son who smashed in the head of his father, only to find out his father killed the rest of the family and shot himself.

Each home had the potential to create nightmares at best, death at worst.

And they were about to venture into another.

"Ok. You go in first. Your bones are old and brittle and shit. And your meat is damn near expired. Zombies don't like that shit. It would be like biting a mouthful of dust. So you'll be safe. I'll wait here and. Recon. Or...whatever." He motioned with his hand for Terry to go on ahead.

Terry snorted at Fuad's words, having paused for a similar reason. His hesitation broke when Fuad spoke, and he strode forward.
"Yeah, yeah. I'll be sure to point them to the special when they gripe about rotten food. Indian food."

With that quick quip, he headed for the house, hefting his crowbar and stepping as lightly as he could- Which wasn't exactly lightly. He was a big man, and this work was suited for small people, sneaking up on houses... Something he seemed to realize right around the time he reached the door and found it locked. For a bare moment, he froze, flashes of memory blowing through his mind. He used to do this to houses for a living. Kick down the doors and storm in. But back then, it was to save things. To kill fires, billowing through hallways and devouring people's lives.... Now he was no better than a looter, busting in for his own needs.

Terry shook his head with a grunt to clear the thoughts, leaning back and delivering a heavy kick to the door, just beside the knob. It flew inwards with a crack, the frame splintering around the force. He stood there for a moment after, crowbar raised and ready to whack things, before settling and wandering in through the door, now swinging on a single, warped hinge. Fuad would lose sight of him for a while, looking on with a nervous air before Terry's head poked back out of the door, him gesturing for Fuad to get over there, likely accompanied by mutters of 'lanky ass hajji' and 'wimpy bitch'. Because, well, because Terry.

Fuad stayed on the porch, near the door and listened. That was his thing. The door being kicked in wasn't exactly a tactful, smooth entry, but it wasn't such a bad thing. First, since they have been scouting the house, it wasn't likely that there were humans there, so they didn't worry about that...much. Kicking in the door would have alerted any undead however, which again, wasn't a bad thing. The noise would have got them moving and active, and it wasn't great to have a few zombies coming at you, but it wasn't great to have one waiting in a closet or behind a door when you sneak by. It was easier to deal with them like this, so long as there wasn't a massive swarm of them.

If Fuad and Terry were anything, it was efficient. They both knew their roles, knew the tendencies of the others and complimented each other perfectly--well, perfectly save for the ribbing and constant stream of racial and ageist slurs that generally accompanied anything they did.

But, at least they had the common sense to WHISPER those slurs when stealth was required...

Fuad came in and the two stepped into a large dinning room. It wasn't elegant, but it wasn't folding chairs and TV trays. The stuff here would have been of value a year ago, some decent china (as far as Fuad could tell anyway) and some silverware. There was a series of beanie babies and figurines in another, all of it useless junk now. Then...the family pictures, which Fuad pointedly avoided and as he moved by them, either took them down or flipped them, always leaving them face down.

Terry had kicked in the door and entered the dinning room first, so Fuad was to go next, and he decided to go into the kitchen. This was their thing, room by room, alternating entry. Joking aside, Fuad survived this long for a reason: he was smart and capable. He wasn't about to run into some room without thought and either be bitten or shot in the stomach and left for dead. Not in this lifetime...

He stood at the door and glanced in, listening for a moment before taking a few steps in. First look for immediate danger. Then pan out, look for where danger could come from. Then enter and at that point, keep eyes open. At that point, Terry would be looking around for supplies and other dangers, but the person entering always focused on danger while the other looked for other things of interest. On the counter was an empty Quaker Oats Easy Grits container and Fuad smiled, motioning for Terry to look. "Empty, no grits. Must break your redneck heart huh?"

Terry had, this time, been caught in the act by the redneck joke- He was looking longingly inside the can, clearly wishing it were still full. Fuad's jibe caused him to grunt, setting the can down and turning away.
"Oh shut up, everybody loves grits."

He continued his rummaging through cabinets and shelves, muttering under his breath all the while and occasionally pulling the bag from his back to stuff something into it. He stopped at one drawer in particular, shifting through its contents with more care than others. Junk drawer- He always checked the junk drawer. After all- nobody else ever bothers to. It was why he had always kept his favorite small items in the back of the junk drawer. This time, he got lucky, coming up with a wooden box. From the size and shape, it was relatively easy to place it as a cigar box- One he promptly opened, resulting in a broad grin.
"O-ho! Looky here, Fuad. Somebody liked their cigars."
He pulled one from the box, running it near his nose with a deep sniff, blinking.
"Cuban. I'm jealous. Want one?"

He snickered, clamping one in his own teeth and holding the box out to Fuad, zipping up his backpack with a free hand. His searches always ended when he found something interesting like that, after all. And hey, cuban cigars. Who wants to think about other junk in a kitchen drawer after a find like that?

"I thought you didn't like anything unless it was white," he said with a smirk. He shook his head and dismissed the cigars, he'd never smoked in his life and wasn't about to start now. If he liked it, it would be too hard to keep the habit up...

"Man, I wish there was some place in houses where they stored all of their food and shit, you know? Some place where if you looked in drawers, you might find something other than cigars. Man, some room like that in a house would be a genius idea." Truth be told, this house had not been ransacked, but it had been gone through. On top of that, the family had picture or two of them and an RV, which told Fuad that they left in that, and with most of the important stuff and most of the food. He kept watch on the two doors here and let Terry do his thing, knowing that aside from the banter, the older man knew what he was doing.

There were two doors here, well three technically, but one they just entered. Of the other two, one went outside and the other went into a living room with stairs headed upstairs, but Fuad only peeked in. They'd worry about the rest later.

Terry shrugged, taking a few moments to light his newfound cigar, and another to savor the first few puffs before wandering towards the living room door, taking his turn at breaching so Fuad could search, carefully peering in and going through the usual process before speaking.
"You'd be surprised. Anyone with money and paranoia tends to have a panic room in their house somewhere, and that -is- where they store all their food and shit. Suppose the iraqi slums don't have that kind of cash or equipment though, huh?"
As always, useful advice, followed by dickish, if joking, insults.

As far as Terry could tell, the room was clear, so he gestured for Fuad to start searching for anything usable, fiddling absently with his crowbar.

The room was a typical living room with a couch, television and some end tables. He poked around in some of the end tables and found a pack of matches that he tucked away in his pack before moving on. There wasn't much, so he took a moment and moved to the electrical cords of both of the lamps and cut them free with his knife, taking a moment to wrap them up and put them in his back. Then he moved to the remote controls for the TV, audio system and gaming consoles and took the batteries out. The last thing he did was move to an oil lamp and sniffed it, debating taking the oil but opted against it as he had no container to put it in.

"Hey T, there's oil here. Have anything to put it in?"

Terry turned a flat look to him, perking a brow.

"You've been watching me throw explosive bottles around every chance I got for the past six months, and you want to know if I have a use for oil? This is an old house, I'll bet they have a basement, and either a wine cellar, or a bar. Either way, there's -plenty- I can use oil for if I'm right. Leave it here for now, I'll come back for it later if I find bottles and alcohol laying around. You're up on breach."

He jerked his chin towards the stairs slightly, shifting his crowbar to his freehand, wary of what might be up there despite his 'don't be an idiot' attitude at the moment. It can only be fun and games if you're waiting for someone to get hurt.

"Room, you dumbass. I could use it too, I just don't have room for it. 'Put it in' being the operative term. Nevermind." They cleared two other smaller rooms and found miscellaneous supplies and then decided it was time to head upstairs. Fuad moved up first, not moving slowly or anything since it was really a waste of time. However, when they both arrived at the top, he did take a few moments to stop and listen. This was the time he'd hear any movement of any zed that was locked away, or trapped or simply closed behind a door, because they'd sit there and attempt to free themselves because it's all they knew.

There was no sound, so he moved to the right. The only door here was a large master bedroom, door already opened, so he stepped in, clearing under the bed, and the closet slowly while Terry looked around.

Terry followed in with a generally casual air, apparently confident the home was empty at this point, aside from themselves. He set to going through the dresser and closet, under the bed, and all the usual places once Fuad made sure they were zed-free.
"So, how long before we run into a house full of explosives, you think? There's always some crazy guy making bombs in the first month or two of apocolypses like this, only a matter of time before we pass their house, right?"

.... Terry, you -are- that guy.

He glanced around the room then kept his eyes on the door as Terry did his sweep, rolling his eyes as he replied to the large man. "If we find a house full of explosives, you'll be going in by yourself. If I was to look for a house full of anything, it would either be beef jerky, or pussy. You can go looking for shit to explode." He was going to make a comment about the irony of Terry being all about explosives, but making fun of Fuad for being a "suicide bomber" but he left it at that.

...and saved it for another day. "Ready to go check the other rooms?"

Terry nodded absently, sighing.
"Yeah, nothing in here. You'd think people would at least keep cash under their mattress... I mean, who trusts banks anymore?"
He grinned.
"And you don't need to search a house for pussy, you just need to borrow one of my creations and scream something about Allah, or whatever. How many are waiting up in hajji-land for you again? Sixty nine?"

Theeeeeere's the racial joke.

"You can't even count to sixty nine, hillybill." Terry was still giving the room one last once over when Fuad made his way out into the hall. There were 3 closed doors, either bedrooms or offices or some combination, and a bathroom, which was open and empty. Fuad moved in and looked around while waiting for Terry to exit. He looked out the window quickly and said casually over his shoulder, "it's starting to snow again." It didn't look like much out there, but it was worth noting. Right now, it was just a little more than flurries. He went through the medicine cabinet, drawers and small closet and took a half-empty Neosporin tubed, a child's Airplanes toothbrush and two wash clothes. "You're up on the next room, rafiqi." (pronounced rah-fee-kee, meaning friend in arabic)

Terry snorted.
"Hillbilly. Get it right."
He followed Fuad's glance out the window, grimacing at the snow. He wasn't a man particularly fond of the cold, spending most of his life beside the heat of fire.
"Give it another few weeks, we'll be buried... Feel sorry for any fuckers up in Michigan. Had a friend there once, think they were neck-and-neck with Canada most years."

As Fuad pointed out his job as breacher for the next room, he nodded, doing just that and heading for the next door in the hall, slowly shouldering it open and peeking in, only to lunge back with an explosive curse a moment later, muffled by the blast of a gun. Judging by the spray of holes appearing in the wall Terry had been standing in front of a moment before, it was a shotgun.
"YOU SNEAKY MOTHERFUCKER! COULDN'T YOU HAVE RUN AT US THE FIRST TIME I KICKED IN YOUR DOOR!?"

Because really, just waiting around in one room is rude, man! Give a man a heartattack!

Fuad instinctively took cover behind the door as the birdshot ripped through the door. He could tell Terry was alright because his mouth was still working, so he took a moment to assess the situation. There were 2 other rooms, both of them behind closed doors, so they had to be careful, because more people could be in the others. Thinking quickly, he kept silent and pointed to Terry and then the other doors, indicating to the firefighter that he would clear them. Fuad then pointed to himself, removed his shotgun and pointed it at the door, nodding and indicating that he'd watch the door for now.

The shotgun was a weapon they both split, but Fuad carried it most of the time. It was a sawed off Remington 870 and currently had a full 8 shells of buckshot, which were the equivalent of gold these days. Sure, birdshot would do damage, but if you ever wanted to fuck shit up, fuck it up in a hurry, and fuck it up BIG time, buckshot was the way to go. He had another 2 buckshot shells in his pack and 2 dozen birdshot shells, but he still was in no hurry to waste rounds. At this point, Fuad had the advantage that they didn't know he was there, he had cover and a good angle, so he'd simply wait and watch the door, covering Terry to allow him to go into the other rooms. Mentally, his thoughts were racing with what exactly to do about the shotgun wielding people in the other room. If they came out hostile, Fuad would simply put them down, that was the easiest option. But they may have shot because they were scared, who knew? Fuad wasn't the type to always shoot first, ask questions later, but he was not above shooting based on simple things. Those being A: he didn't KNOW they weren't hostile and B: they just shot at Terry.

Terry nodded, clearing his throat quietly and setting to putting on the act of being alone and angry, to let Fuad keep his advantage of surprise.
"Any other idiots in here that want their heads smashed in? Huh!?"
He turned, leaning back and kicking in the first other door of the hall, lunging inside with his crowbar raised, only to walk back out with a quiet shake of his head to Fuad. Nobody in that room.
"How about HERE!?"
The next door found itself bashed in, and again, the room was empty. Only the one room then. The people inside had gone quiet, likely waiting for a chance to fill him with birdshot again. Terry snarled, making his way back to the first door. He glanced around, grabbing a plate from a nearby mini-table, one of those decorative things people stick in hallways for no reason at all. He took a quick breath, then tossed it out in front of the door- It was obliterated with another shotgun blast a moment later. This time, a voice came from inside. It was rough. Gravelly. The kind of voice that made you picture the man behind it as big, tough, and beefy.

"You better watch yourself big man, or I put the next shot in the middle of your chest!"

Fuad's mind raced. He didn't want to kill anyone or get into an altercation--well, any MORE of an altercation. Fuad tried to think of things more realistically and knew that the more they got into fights, situations, and shoot outs, the more likely they were to die. So his first though was, since the house seemed relatively empty, they could leave. Chances were that anything of value was already taken by the man, or the others, in the room. And they had all the advantage because they could just keep their shotgun trained on the door.

They could smoke or burn them out, but that would be pointless because essentially, they get nothing in the room because it would all be burned.

However, the only reason that it would be beneficial is because now the man, or the people, knew they were here. They could sneak out, track them, do any number of things to attack them when Terry and Fuad were leaving.

Fuad took a moment and looked at Terry, making an X with his two pointer fingers and motioning to the stairs, asking him if he thought they should just exit.

Terry shook his head slightly, making a quick eating motion, then holding his hands apart a good bit, apparently trying to say there was food in there. Lots of it. A promising first glance before he'd gotten shot at, then.

"Listen, I'm not the most diplomatic sort. I prefer bashing skulls first and asking questions later. But you look like you're pretty well stocked in there. How about we make a deal? You give me enough food to last, oh, a week or so, and we leave without any more problems. I'll even fix your front door on the way out!"

There were a few moments of silence from inside, before a single bag of jerky slid into the hall, stopping just in front of Terry's feet.

"That's all you get."

Fuad and Terry differed in situations like this because Fuad had the philosophy that "You can find more food. But you can't find another life." Terry was more headstrong and focused on the NOW aspect of things. Fuad just wanted to scream at him to take the jerky and they could leave. It was then that Fuad could see a person moving inside the room, a person who the voice couldn't have belonged to. He could hear faint whispers but it was too quiet to hear what they were saying. The only thing he thought he could hear was 'by himself'. The other guy had a revolver and could see him looking back at what Fuad assumed was the other person in the room. He held up three fingers and Fuad knew what was happening, they were coming out after Terry, most likely because he was unarmed.

Fuad silently motioned Terry away and thankfully, he moved immediately, making so much noise that their attention would be focused on him. In that span of a second, another finger lowered, and then just as the last finger was going to come down, Fuad let go with the shotgun. He could see entirely, but at the distance of less than 15 feet and the fact that the person never knew what was coming, the results were disastrous and fatal. All Fuad saw was the form jerk back violently as it exploded into red and pink pieces of anything that was once on the neck up of the person.

Fuad's little surprise assault certainly brought a reaction, a pair of shouts coming from the room once the third man's head exploded into buckshot. The body fell into the shot-gun wielding man who had been doing all the speaking, tangling up with him just long enough for Terry to charge into the room with a shout, crowbar raised. The man who hadn't shown himself yet tried to block his path, to give his shot-gun friend time to get free of the body. Unfortunately, he hadn't been counting on Terry's size. He was tossed aside like a sack of potatoes, a leaf in the wind. Terry's bull rush ended with him slamming his shoulder into the shot-gun man and the body he was still wrestling with, sending both into the wall, only for the shotgun man to take a crowbar to the head a moment later, skull splitting open like an egg. The last man, it seemed, was left for Fuad, still trying to scramble to his feet after Terry checked past him.

Fuad came in immediately after Terry, focusing on the areas Terry wasn't occupying. The guy in the room that Terry knocked aside must have hit the wall pretty hard because he simply sat there, moving sluggishly and looking at if he may have been concussed. Fuad didn't fire. He kept the gun trained on the main and told him in a loud, slow tone. "Don't. Fucking. Move." At this point, he assumed Terry would go about his business collecting supplies. Fuad had one job at this point--to keep them alive, and that meant keeping this other guy down, or killing him. To make sure the guy was focused, Fuad kicked him roughly in the foot and repeated himself. "Don't move."

When Terry approached Fuad from the back, that was indication that whatever he saw fit to take had been taken. He saw Terry now holding the shotgun also, so now they each had one and didn't have to share.

"Check him, we'll tie him up and leave him. He can get out and do whatever. He's not my problem."

Terry nodded absently, crouching down and going through the man's pockets, coming up with his revolver- a decent one, 44. magnum- and a box of rounds, half empty. He slipped both into his backpack, which was now brimming with non-perishables, and stood, thinking a moment before simply slamming the butt of his new shotgun into the base of the man's skull, knocking him out.
"I'm not quite cruel enough to tie him up. He might not get out. Left enough to last him about a week if he's smart, so he can move on. Small chance of following us."

He sighed, glancing to Fuad.
"Want to check for alcohol, or bolt?"

"Let's bolt. No idea if there are more, or what heard those shots. Was there anything in the oth--" He stopped and looked down at the form he had shot initially. It was slumped against the wall and turned on it's back at an odd angle. Fuad reached down and started to take off his boots. "Yeah, was there anything in the other rooms?" He asked as he put the boots in his back.

Terry shook his head, leading the way out once Fuad stuffed the boots away.
"No. Everything worth taking aside from the few things we found downstairs was in with those three. Still, we're stocked for another two weeks of travel, can skip a house or two on the way."
He kept a wary eye out as he trudged down the stairs, both himself and Fuad sweeping the rooms they passed with their shotguns, waiting for accomplices of zeds to leap out. None did, and they made it out through the now broken front door without any further complications. Now they just had to decide which way to go. A choice Terry seemed to leave up to Fuad, gesturing for him to lead the way.

They exited the home and made their way back to the street. Going back where they came from had it's good sides and bad sides. They knew what was behind them and that it was, for the most part, safe. But. They knew there was nothing there for them. Without another thought, Fuad turned the way they had been traveling prior to coming across the house and stayed about 15 feet off the road so that they could take cover if there was a vehicle, but they could also take it to the concrete for a smooth, even run if a large group of walkers was encountered.

After leaving, the two were silent for a long time, one constantly checking behind them to see if they were being followed. At one point, Fuad was turning around and tripped over a sign. He cursed and collected himself as Terry gave an amused snort as they both looked down at the sign.

2 miles 'til Episcopal Diocese of West of Missouri is what it said. However, there were a few bullet holes in it, and spray painted in white was WWJD OMG ZOMBS.

Fuad shook his head and the two continued walking. Finally, after the extremely long silence, Fuad spoke up. "How the hell did that guy miss your fucking gut, with a SHOTGUN. It's so huge that I'm pretty sure one of my rounds hit it in there. That thing is so big, I went to piss the other night and--nevermind."

".... So help me Fuad, if you were about to say what I think you were, and that 'rain storm' I slept through was a lie, I'm wasting a few rounds from that new revolver on your knee caps."

"Scouts honor."

Collab between finalcatharsis, Exit and Zacharius
Part 1

---

The boom of the revolver broke across the landscape, washing over the church, a warning sign and siren call all in one. Heads turned to regard it for miles, almost all attached to bodies long ago given to the plague. It's source, the colt python, was holstered immediately, replaced in the same right hand by a machete, the blade slicing down into the next target with brute force and precision. Hauled back from the bone, another zombie bit the snow. The figure that weilded the blade was one out of a fantasy epic, at least at first glance, the pelts of hunted creatures draped over his shoulders, blade dripping with the ichor of the dead. On closer inspection, the hiking pack and modern winter gear beneath the furs revealed a rather more mundane sight. At the slightest sound of string-strain behind him, the tall man knelt, moments before an arrow darted through the air, planting in the eye socket of another approaching zombie. Before the monstrosity had even hit the floor, the man was up with a burst of speed, crashing shoulder first into a zombie which had approached the duo. Teeth clamped down, but found only pelts and plastic, protective gear designed for the intensity of proffessional sports, fending off the rotting teeth, before a blade plunged between them, ending the undead's struggle. The remaining threats, two more of the ex-humans stumbling through the drift were felled by arrows. The boom of the gun had done its job, bringing the scattered undead together. There would be a latter wave, but with the defendable position of the church, that would cause little worry.

Abel furrowed his eye brows when he'd heard the sound. His mind registered the damp thundering as strange but he didn't know what it was yet... in fact, what he'd assumed it to be was entirely off.

"Thiiink.... you might need to tune it again..."

"That wasn't my guitar..." Daniel unhooked the strap and set it down on the floor. He walked closer to Abel with his hands out to the side for balance as he went down the altar stairs, clearly in deep thought. "How drunk are you that you can't recognize the sound of a gunshot?" ABEL was the one that was supposed to be the ugly survivor.

It took a second for the last word to register but as soon as he recognized it... the cogs in his brain ___. His eyes shot open and he immediately sat upright... his neck craned as he tried to listen for it again... as if the sound were to repeat itself. ...Idiot.. that was a gunshot... He berated himself. Letting himself relax like he'd just done... letting himself drink. This was exactly what he'd feared many months ago. He could never be sure when danger was waiting around the corner and now here it was just outside the safe walls of this church. He slowly pushed himself to his feet, his eyes staring through the walls as he tried to... somehow.. find the source of the gunshot. When he'd failed, his eyes leveled with Daniel's who was already staring at him somewhat puzzled.

"Ya... I heard that... sounds like you might have more visitors."

His hand went for his hip again, the need to defend himself... and not just himself but Daniel as well... like an emotion clouding over him. He needed his gun but once again, he found it missing. Memories clamored through a fogged brain as he realized that it was still outside.

Daniel started to strategize. While the events that happened four months ago left him emotionally scarred, they had taught him a valuable lesson. This wasn't going to be another innocent snowball fight. The gun had already been fired. He got serious suddenly, no longer the pure priest after remembering that he too was a killer.

Finally straightening to his full height, the male figure, Marcus, stood from his crouch in the snow, surveying their surroundings, pausing over the church, before settling on his companion. Just like him, she wore pelts over winter clothing, the combination of modern inginuity present in the hiking coats, granted extra warmth by the traditional wrappings of pelts. It also served to make them look the business, to those who encountered them. A few more damaged souls had run screaming at the sight of the 'barbarians.' That had been amusing.

"You're sure?" The words that finally left his lips were not accusatory, simply seeking confirmation, but the look he got from her, beneath the hood keeping the snow and wind out of her face, made it clear she had taken it as such. It was unnecesary really, but the hope that they might encounter humans beyond raiders and mad men seemed a distant one, and came along with a series of doubts.

"No, I was just making it up to fuck with you." She half snarled, although, the slight grin that eventually picked up at the corners of her mouth spoke more of the harsh banter between them, as opposed to being genuinely pissed off, even still, she thumped him on the arm as she approached, having collected the arrows she had expended on the dead, returning them to the quiver at her waist, her back taken up by the presence of her own survival pack.

"Maybe, that or you're so tired of me you're hullucinating." He grinned back, turning his full attention to the church. The story seemed a little odd, a man throwing snowballs at another, then the pair of them going inside, but he'd heard weirder stories, hell, they were living in a world with walking undead people. He slid the blade back into the side of his belt, keeping a hand on his gun holster, he approached the door to the church, concious that Maela would be more cautious, hanging back with an arrow already poised for flight. They didn't need to discuss things anymore, mentally they aligned more than any bond he'd ever shared. It scared them both in a way, part of the reason why finding other people was such a relieving plan. With that thought, his fist banged against the door.

"Hello, we saw you both. Not looking to steal anything. Just some shelter and company, if you could be so kind." It sounded foolish to even say, in a world so twisted, but Marcus hadn't exactly taken the class in 'how to sound nice during the end of the world.' Even still, he felt he'd messed it up a bit, which was supported by the sigh from Maela behind him, although equally, she was as much teasing him as venting any real frustration.

Minutes later there was a knock at the front entrance and a distinctly masculine voice followed, though it was muffled by the wood. Not looking to steal anything, huh? Who the fuck comes out and says that right off the bat? I'm not going to get tricked again.

"Take these and go get your gun." Yes, he had noticed the empty holster and remembered the pistol dropping into the snow after Abel had attempted to shoot him. The priest tossed him his keys. He wanted to tell him sober the fuck up, but that would have just made him a hypocrit.

"Then come meet me on the roof. We should be able to look down on them from there. Figure this out." If there was anything the priest knew, it was his church. He didn't hesitate to follow through, turning on Abel to make his way through the sacristy and to the stairwell. From there it was only a minute or two to the front edge of the roof. He'd wait there for Abel assuming what happened next might require his expertise. The wind up there was harsh, but he pushed through it.

Abel fumbled with the keys as they landed in his hands. The toss was perfect as they were only standing a few feet from each other but Abel misjudged the distance and ended up juggling them before getting them in a firm grasp. Without a word, he turned on his heel and made his way to the side door where they'd entered earlier that day. Pushing the corpse of the shuffler to the side, he unlocked the door and pulled it open. The frigid afternoon air poured it's way into the church but with the alcohol in his belly, he ignored it's bite and stepped outside, shutting the door behind him. The cold did little but sober him up some... allowing him to better think straight and come up with a plan of his own.

On the ground before him were two sets of tracks, one belonging to himself while the other belonged to Daniel. They lead back to a small patch of snow not more than twenty feet away from the side of the church, a patch of snow that'd been disturbed greatly. Luckily for him, the patch was in such a spot that the two at the door wouldn't be able to see him when he made it out there. Wasting no more time, he began a strenuous wobble over to where his pistol waited. Within a few minutes, he'd recovered it and slowly made his way back. He was inside by the time more knocking against the door was heard. He did his best to ignore them as he made his way to the roof and over to Daniel's side. They both peered down at the two.

"Bow and arrow... wow." Abel hadn't come across too many survivors who could wield the weapon.. proficiently. But with the way the woman had it already drawn, tension tugging against the tail of the arrow, he could tell she knew how to use it. The other had a machete on his back and his hand was pressed to his hip... most likely brushing agianst the butt of the gun.. the gun they'd heard earlier. From here and from experience... they looked fairly hostile and in Abel's mind... the remedy was simple: You'd kill them... and take their things... but it was different now. He wasn't alone and although it put him in danger, he had to think with the mind of someone who still believed in chances. The next logical step then would be to have them drop their weapons... or die. At least that's what he was planning to threaten them with. He pulled the pistol from his hip... this time making sure it was loaded and began to aim the barrel down at them. His eyes turned to meet Daniel's, not sure how he would react to this.

"You know them?" He asked... the brow over his right eye raising a bit. He wasn't sure if that was the alcohol talking or not.

Daniel returned Abel's gaze. The man said something he hadn't expected to hear. Before answering, he took one more look down below. It looked like these two had been wandering for a while. And were they wearing animal pelts? That, along with the size of the man offered Danny no comfort, as he recalled the beating he had taken months prior.

"No. I don't. Haven't seen anyone but you in four months." The wine had his short term memory reeling a bit, as he couldn't recall if he had told Abel how long he'd been alone. He looked back down at the two. Abel hadn't said anything or assumed anything negative about their intentions... so that meant he could move forward, right? He tried to think of something Abel might say, and before he spoke he leaned back so he wouldn't catch a surprise arrow.

The priest cupped his hands around his mouth to make sure he was heard. "I could be so kind! But you have to leave your weapons outside!" He looked at the man crouched next to him almost as if asking for his approval or praise.

Maela's eyes darted up to the roof at the sound of the man, perceiving no immediate threat, she resisted the urge to turn the bow upwards, instead keeping the arrow knotched by aimed downwards, instead motioning for Marcus to back off from the door, with little more than a click of her tongue. The larger man backed away from the entrance to the church, boots once more crunching in the snow as he turned to face those on the roof, keeping his hands away from his weapons now, although Maela kept her bow ready.

"I don't think that's going to work out, once we're inside we'll relinquish them...but otherwise well we'd be putting ourselves at your mercy." It was still Marcus who spoke, Maela keeping her eyes on the men above, even if she remained silent. Unlike Marcus, she wore her pelt in the traditional style of hunters, her own head sheltered by the jaw of the timber wolf she had slain. It added, rather dramatically, to how intimidating she was, something she'd long learned to put to good use, less she be mistaken for the weakest member of the group.

"She can lose the arrow, if that helps." Marcus continued, earning a glance, if still no words, from her.

Abel inched closer to the edge of the roof, his gun aimed down at the two even as it seemed they hadn't the notion to do the same in return. The sun hadn't kissed the horizon just yet but the shadow cast by the church itself basked the pair in a dark that was hard to see through. He tried to make out the two... pick out any defning features, read them... there was still a slight buzz that hindered him, prevented him from thinking completely straight. He could only see them for who they presented themselves to be.

The man on the left, standing a step behind the woman was tall and dark. Most likely African American in descent. He looked unusually large... too large to say that he was simply cut. In fact the overal appearance was near menacing. With the man's large size he figured that most would simply avoid the pair. Not to mention... the woman held her own in looks as well. She wore pelts as well although her outfit ended with the head of the animal over hers. He could just make out the milky white of her eyes under the fur staring up at him... there was a familiar darkness in them that he'd come to recognize. Nearly every survivor he'd crossedd had no amount of trust for another and although they were knocking at Daniel's doors, these two were no exception. He shared the same sentiment for them... who knew what they really wanted? Having heard Daniel's story and from past experience, he wasn't going to let them in until he knew they weren't threats.

He turned to meet his friends gaze, the look in his eyes as if to say "It's my turn". "Do whatever you'd like with the arrow but the way I see it..!" He turned out toward the line of trees in the distance. More of the dead were beginning to appear... a lot more, all drawn by the sound of the gunshot earlier. "... It's either our mercy or theirs! Difference is we have food and water to share! Only drop the weapons! We'll escort you both inside and..." He looked at Daniel once more. If Abel were alone, the words in his mouth would be the same but the truth behind them entirely lost. "...return your things once he deems you both safe!"

In Abel's eyes... no one was safe.

As Abel finished speaking, Marcus turned to Maela, communicating with a brief shrug. They'd anticipated what other survivors were left would be hardly trusting, even those who weren't murdering raiders and by this point, compromise was something he was willing to do. Maela sighed once more, relinquishing the bow which had saved both of their lives on many an occasion was hardly something that brought her comfort, but arguing with Marcus and by extension the people on the roof, wasn't going to get them anywhere. She wasn't scared of the undead threat, but she'd rather not get herself covered in ichor when they could be inside. The shrug she returned was all the affirmation he would get from her, but it was followed up by the handing over of her bow.

Marcus made somewhat of theatrical display of placing the weapons on the ground, before stepping away from them. He turned away from the church to watch the approaching zombies, still a few minutes away in the difficult slush of the snow, before his eyes returned to those on the roof.

"Deal."

Part 2 of Collab between AnriUSB and Darkraven (sorry for the wait)

The witch had called to Valentina, and so the young girl floated over to her, half afraid that she might bite, and half enthusiastic about her chances to get more things. Of course, the fear in her won out, and she was looking more frightened than anything else. Putting more than an arm's distance between herself and the icy-faced woman, Valentina peered over the store counter where she had flattened a map on, her eye cautiously shifting between the map and the woman, least she suddenly decided to just kill her like she said she would.

Before the young girl lay a worn and unkempt tourist map of Waynesville, Missouri. Many old pen marks were scattered across its surface. A coffee stain had tainted the bottom right corner of the parchment, partial obscuring the town's apparent 'Catchphrase' before the apocalypse. Valentina's one good eye swept across it lazily, impartial and disinterested. The only thing on her mind was the prize that the witch may or may not grant her. Excitement and enthusiasm were long gone. The sparks in her eyes were taken away from her a long, long time ago, one forcibly by a glass shard, and the other by the pain and death of everyone she held dear. Slightly of to the left hand side of the map was a large circle made entirely of red ink. Within it was a picture of a cartoon dog that seemed to jump from the roof of one of the buildings. The witch's finger lay here.

"This is where you are going, and this.."

Her finger then moved down and further to the left, where, on the very edge of the map and by an apparent high way, was the cartoony letters 'Dominic's Gas An' Go'
".. is where you are coming from."

Ivy then looked up to the child and gestured for her to do the same.

Valentina obeyed the witch's instruction gingerly but obediently, like a slave who had been abused and overworked for most of her life, entirely held in the iron fist of another, setting her soulless eye on her captor, trying to hold it there least something bad happens. Whenever her eye would begin to shift away, Valentina would shift it back to the woman again.

Ivy held the child's gaze and explained the next portion carefully, making sure the child understood. "Now, lucky for you, the undead have mostly dispersed from the area in the past while. There are still some stragglers, nothing big, but you are going to need protection." Ivy then set a Sig Sauer P230 on the table in front of the girl. "You know how to use this right?" She asked momentarily before brushing off her own question. "Of course you do, its a gun."

Ivy then brushed away a rebelious strand of hair that had ventured into her vision. "I am going to come with you too the store. I know a good route, only a twenty minute walk from here. Once we arrive however, is when it gets a bit more technical on your part. In the back warehouse there is a small hole in one of the metal gates. The only problem is that it is half my size. I can escort you too the store, but only you can get in and get the goods. Once you are in you are on your own." Ivy set a small stop watch on the table beside the pistol. "You have ten minutes to get in and out, after that I leave and you have to find your own way back." She paused for a moment, studying the girls' response. "Any questions?"

Valentina's gaze had fallen off the witch as she was explaining the mission. The child could not take the sudden explosion of words, but tried to make sense of it all, and got the idea in general. 'Go to the blue building, get in, take it and get out. Being afraid of the woman, Valentina did not dare to speak, and was instead staring at her legs again. "N-no, missus." Valentina managed to mumble out, ensure of how she even managed to think of what to say.

Ivy nodded and continued. "Good, once you get through the hole you will find yourself in a back warehouse, find the black doors with plastic windows and head onto the main floor. From there you should be able to easily find the cashier's desk at the front of the store. On the counter is a strange box, underneath it will be a key. Open the box with the key and take out the envelope. That is the package, do not open it, and do not lose it. you will deliver it to my hands only and when we get back we will arrange your payment." Ivy looked at the girl for a moment and then said, "That's it, we leave in five minutes, be geared up by that time." Ivy then left the girl to her own thoughts and went to prepare her own equipment.

Valentina skittered to the room she was locked in earlier. Closing the door behind her, she began changing into the black clothes, remembering that the woman had said that it was part of the rules to wear it. Having been plagued by both the living and the dead for months, Valentina was able to take off her clothes and put on new ones quickly, transferring her various holsters and 'surprises' into her new clothes. One of the first thing she noticed was that it was colder in the track pants and shirt, but she didn't dare complain.

After making sure that all her equipment was with her, she left the room and picked up the steak knife that she was forced to drop, and the small pistol the woman had given her. Immediately, the girl was seized with the desire to kill, the temptation to rid herself of the witch, the same way that Gretel had stuffed the witch into a fiery furnace. Valentina considered doing the same thing, except with fire from a gun. She gazed down the back of the witch with renewed intensity, every horror that had happened to her returning. Lieutenant Hugh's voice returned. 'You see this button here?' He had said months before. 'Every gun, big and small, has it, just like how you and me, we both have eyes and ears.' Valentina pushed the button, and the magazine was released. Peering into it, she realised that the pistol had no bullets. The feeling left quickly, and Valentina was staring at the floor again.

3rd Collab between Darkraven and AnriuSB, part 1

The crisp winter air tugged at her bones, the former blizzard conditions had settled into a strong snowfall. A menacing chill had penetrated her outer wear and crept beneath it into the sanctuary her bare skin resided. She dawned her hood and reached into her pocket out of habit. A few moments afterwards a pack of ciggarette's appeared from within her hands. She popped the flap and frowned slightly. "Fuck," she cursed under her breath as she retrieved the last ciggarette within the pack. She stuffed the empty pack back in her pocket and retrieved a single match from behind her ear.

The woman took a long puff and blew the smoke into the air infront of her, drawing it out so that it almost seemed theatrical. Resting the smoke between her lips, she continued trudging ever onward. Beside her was a small child, looking to be nine to eleven years of age. The girl held a dead look in her eyes, following the woman in an almost mechanical fashion. The woman glance at her briefly, the girl wore a black winter jacket, given to her moments before leaving as nothing more then a passing thought. She then turned her head back to the dark expanse that greeted them.

Neither spoke, for there was no conversation to be had.

Neither smiled, for the situation held no joy.

Neither rested, for fear of the dead that roamed the night.

that was, until, the woman finished her last cigarette. The moment the used butt fell too the ground she began to whistle. It was a simple children's tune known as 'Row your boat', but to the woman it had great meaning, and held memories of happier times.

Valentina trailed behind the witch, and upon hearing her whistling, became confused, unsure whether to be afraid or... She knew not how else to feel. The tune to which she whistled sounded familiar, but the past had become a blur between what had transpired in the year, the miserable conditions in which she lived day by day, hour by hour, minute by minute, and the ravages of time itself. Valentina was always looking at the woman's legs, like a servant waiting on instructions. She couldn't help but to steal a look or two at the woman as she whistled. The tune was buried somewhere deep in Valentina's memories, six feet under, and it could only dig up inch by inch.

The young girl held her new pistol nervously, waiting for the witch to set her loose again, albeit to do her bidding. She wondered what would be in store for her; she vaguely remembered the woman telling her that most of the biters had wandered away, but the girl knew that it meant more people prowling in the night, looking to snatch her away and... do things to her.

A few minutes past without incident, nothing changed, nothing happened.

and then..

The woman stopped whistling.

Her hand shot infront of the child, stopping her in her tracks. "Wait a moment.." The woman spoke in a low voice, surveying the area around them. (response?) (if any.)

Valentina could not help but to suspect that everything wrong that could happen would happen. Backing away slightly, she bent a little low, afraid that someone might shoot at them, or that the woman might murder her in the middle of the dark nowhere. Shivering in the cold despite the black jacket the witch had deigned to give her, she waited for something to happen, and knew that she would have to dart away if something big happened. The pistol the woman gave did not contain bullets, and their silent, dreadful walk out, she had given her only one, which the child deftly fixed into the small pistol's chamber as a shortcut. It was a neat little magic trick Lieutenant Hugh taught her - it was something the soldier had learnt in a place he called West Point.

An eerie quiet fell over the pair as the older woman's keen eyes scanned the edges of discernible landscape. Had it been a whistle in the wind? The gravel under her foot? The sound of her own tune?

No, she had heard it.

It had been distinct, a shuffling of stiff feet, quick, but awkward.

All she was greeted with now was silence however, that was, until she heard it. A dull moan, followed by a shrill cry. "Fuck"

She turned to the child.

"Run."

And then she took off into the night, expecting the younger woman to follow.

Valentina was suddenly unsure of what to do. For a moment she contemplated running away, back to Dominic's Gas An' Go', to catch the man in there by surprise to steal back her things, and in another moment she thought about shooting the witch in the back, yet she was afraid of doing that, afraid of going back without the woman - the man seemed just as capable of killing her just like how the woman promised if she misbehaved. For another moment she was overwhelmed with the submission to just do as the witch told her to do. Plagued by decisions that she never had to make, Valentina did as she was told. It was the easiest thing to do, following what the adults said. It was just like school, and once again Valentina succumbed to it.

Valentina ran, following the witch, able to easily keep pace with her, as running was something she had been doing for months, other than hiding, stealing and killing. The biters screamed in their feeble but menacing way - even after so many months of dealing with them Valentina was still terrified of them, as she remembered very clearly of how her father was slowly, very slowly devoured by a sea of biters as he struggled hard against it. She remembered seeing people time and again slowly devoured in that way, and thought that biters were bad, more than bad, that they were evil, something that even the all-loving God would hate.

Even in the haze of panic, Valentina was still able to come around enough to switch the safety on her new pistol off, believing that she would need to shoot a biter or... someone soon.

The two reached a small building, Gary's Fi--ing St-p was all that could be made out of the worn sign on the door. Ivy pulled it open, finding it unlocked. She gestured for the child to enter. As she did she scanned the distance, 7, 9, 13, ...21, a fucking lot Where had they come from? and why so suddenly? Ivy cleared her mind and formulated a plan. Directly next to this building was an apartment complex. She scanned the wall briefly, hoping to find some way of scaling it, but the curb of the shop roof blocked her vision. She cursed and stepped into the pitch black store confines, closing the door behind her.

She flung her bag over her shoulder and opened it. It took her a few extra minutes to find it in the dark, but soon her hands had wrapped around her prize, a small flashlight. She flicked it on for a moment, the light shining directly in the younger woman's face.

Valentina looked away from the light, shielding her face - the light was glaring, and she knew that it would take away her ability to see in the dark. It felt strange, running with another person again, almost working together. The young girl wasn't used to it anymore. She wondered what to do next, but couldn't figure it out. Instead, Valentina returned to doing things her own way. Hiding behind the closest store shelf, she began sneaking her way to the other side of the store, hoping to find a door that would allow her to leave the biters behind and escape. Yet at the same time she was more hesitant than usual, as things were no longer the same anymore. After taking a few steps, she looked back at the witch, half-expecting her to punish her for disobedience or give her instructions.

The moment their gaze's locked, The woman began spouting orders. "You, find a way onto the roof. This shop doesn't have a back door, and even if it did, I wouldn't trust it at this time of night. I'll work on blockading the entrance. She then went to work on one of the shelves, it barely moved with the strength she was capable of mustering up and she cursed at her weakness. "Fuck this," she announced, bringing her leg up and kicking the shelf slightly above its center. The thing rocked slightly, and that gave the woman an idea. She readjusted her postion and pushed the shelf from it's upper half with her shoulder, putting the whole of her weight into the movement.

After a few moments of stifled grunts, and determined pushing, the shelf toppled over on its side. It landed on the top of the shelf counter, successfully blocking the door with its weight. No sooner than it had fallen into place, did the sounds of fists beating from the other side began to ring throughout the small shop.

Successful in her own mission, the woman stepped to the back of the store to check on how the girl was doing only to find her missing.

In the meantime, Valentina did as she was told again. Quickly, afraid of both what was outside and what was inside, Valentina searched for a way up. When it became clear that her night vision was all but lost due to the witch's mistake, Valentina took out her own flashlight and started swinging it around the room, looking desperately for a way up as fists began pounding on doors and window. The store wasn't that big, so it didn't take too long before some stairs hiding behind the cashier counter caught her attention. Glad to find a way out, Valentina ran to it, and at the same time, could not help but to contemplate abandoning the woman behind out of fear, and decided that she would finally do it - Valentina was afraid that the woman would begin to really hurt her, as the others did. For months she avoided others for this reason, and Valentina wanted to do it again. Thoughts of whatever food and supplies she had scrounged up that the witch had forced her to leave at Dominic's Gas An' Go' were lost to impulse and her flight away from what seemed to be certain death at the hands of the witch.

Darting to the stairs, she looked back, afraid that the woman might be chasing her, but was relieved to find nothing. The cashier counter stood in the way, and the swivel door was locked, so she climbed over it quickly, her prepubescent muscles easily able to support her from months of threats to her life, and landed on the other side before ascending the steps, smiling, actually smiling that she would soon be free again from everything - the biters, the witch, only for the smile to fade, and her blood to run cold when she was greeted by a locked door, and the feeling of a hand on her shoulder.

"Good work, Dumbass..."

When the little girl turned around to face Petra, she just smiled and stared back, still dumbfounded as to why a little person would be in a place like this. A few moments later the girl rushed her. She jumped back a bit when the smaller body settled onto hers. Petra felt something hot and wet on her skin. The tears had soaked through her sweatshirt. She put a hand to the girls head and began stroking it to help calm her, her fingers finding their way through the long blonde hair. Petra tilted her head back. She almost felt like joining the girl... but she held back her tears.

Several minutes later the girl stopped crying. Petra looked back down at the top of her head, but something had changed. The long blonde hair was black, short, coarse, shaved almost down to the scalp. The white skin was many shades darker, on the opposite end of the pigment spectrum. Petra's forehead and brows creased. Her hand stopped stroking and both hands went to the girls shoulders. Her fingers formed a firm grip around them. Petra nudged the girl back a step away from her to get a better look. She inspected the changed face... no longer a little girl, but a little boy, a ghost from her past. Her eyes closed for a tight, extended blink. This wasn't happening.

When they reopened, there was an abrupt moment of hysteria. Half of the boy's head was missing, his jaw hanging open unnaturally. He was covered in blood. “No,” she whispered. Petra held her breath in anticipation and closed her eyes once more. Tremors seized her hands and fingers.

One...

Two...

Three...

Natural reaction. High stress. Nine months in a cell. Confusion.

Petra freed her eyes once more, and expelled the air from her lungs. She took a few seconds to take in the environment. Clean, clinical. Not the bush lands. Not the desert. This was reality. When she dared a peek back at the little person, he had morphed back into the little girl. No more gore. Just a little girl. Who might be afraid now. But what felt for Petra like twenty minutes, had really only been a few seconds. She loosened her grip and let her hands fall to her side.

“I'm sorr--” Then words... male and female... from behind. Petra spun around from the girl and took a few steps toward the group to listen. Inherently, she extended her left arm out at a slight angle, palm open for the girl. Maybe she liked to hold hands. She hoped so, anyway. Petra already knew she wanted to keep her close... to protect her... at least until she could get her back to her parents. Call it instinct. Petra didn't want to miss the introductions, and wanted to make sure the little one got a chance as well. They'd both need to listen up if there was any prospect for light at the end of the tunnel. This man, Jon, seemed to know more than most about the situation.

Petra watched everyone with narrowed eyes. Her natural inclination was to start sizing everyone up... determine how they were valuable... determine what their skills were... to see how all of the pieces fit together. With her high IQ and experience with the UN and other international organizations, she had become a keen investigator through the years.

First there was Jon. His knowledge could be useful. Claims to be a computer nerd... but clearly there's a lot more to him. Just killed an armed man with his bare hands like it was nothing. Can he be trusted?

Next, Will. Petra recognized him now. President's son. Kid. Uses a bow. Other survival skills? Will come in handy. Depending on what the situation was outside of the facility, potentially could be someone very important to the country. Political asset.

Harris. Government contractor. Cyber crimes. How is that useful in terms of widespread contagion? Has to be more to him. Either he doesn't know what, or he's hiding it. Didn't admit whether he was brought by force or not.

Fourth, Kim. Obviously useful. Depending on what the landscape is now, will help rebuild. Or... perhaps since she knew she was being brought here, they used her to help maintain this facility.... which seems to be exactly what she's describing --- self-sustaining. Have worked with many people like her in the past. But why did she get to know why she was brought here, whereas I was kidnapped?

Then it was her turn. She'd speak with a straight face. Smiles were reserved for the little one and Petra didn't want to let on to her emotional state just yet. Like some of the other people here, she had some things she wanted to hide too. These past five days with no contact from the outside had forced her into a heightened sense of anxiety. She'd slowly begun the transition into hyper survival mode. She wanted to figure out what was going on and start setting priorities.

“I'm Petra Malik. One of the people that were quote helped inside unquote.” Her gaze rested on Jon for a moment. Then to Kim. “I was a human rights officer with the United Nations.” Then to Will. “Most recently assigned to help with... foreign aid.... for the US Government.” Then to Harris. “My work has spanned many different areas of the UN... a lot of my experience lies in criminal investigation... and in crimes against humanity.” And then to the little girl. “But a large majority of my time has also been spent helping governments form, reform, rebuild.” Slight smile to her. “In simplest terms...” and back to Jon. “Well, there are no simple terms to describe the scope of my training and background.” No reason to include her intelligence level. Not yet.

Petra looked behind the man and saw the Armory label next to a room. And next to that room, the Control Room. Like the rest of the rooms, it seemed they were secured by a key card lock. She really didn't want to waste any more time.

Jon was absolutely right in his last words on 'bad thing,' and 'investigating.'

“Did you find a key card on that guard? We need to get into those rooms, specifically the Control Room. Maybe there's a facility map... a newspaper... anything to let us know what it's like inside and outside. I think it's safe to assume that since this is the only guy around,” she looked at the body now covered by a sheet, “and the fact that we were suddenly released after no contact for almost a week, that something went wrong.” She paused. “At least, that's what I've observed. After all, we were... imprisoned... here for nine months without a hitch. We know that there's food and water... and weapons.” She looked back to the armory. “We need to find out if there is anything else useful here.” Options and outcomes raced through her mind. Petra also knew that there had to be medical supplies somewhere, based on what had transpired her first week in the facility. Her withdrawal. She licked her lips. There might even be morphine.

He look on his friends face helped to alleviate the stress and strain of isolation, it was one thing to survive this pandemic but it was another thing entirely to have do it alone. Ryan was glad to have his friend back and was beginning to feel the benefits of companionship already.
He headed through the kitchen doors and retrieved his bag, bringing the whole thing back into the dining area with him rather than just retrieve the cards.

Ryan shuffled the deck and opened the bottle of water sat before him, he ogled the ckear liquid passionately before lifting the bottle from the tabke and sipping it graciously. There was no better feeling these days, Ruan thought, than feeling cool water touching ones lips and gliding down the throat, It was beyond refreshing. Although, a good bourbon wouldn't have gone a miss. Oh how he craved a drink, it had been about two weeks since he had found a good bottle, and it had gone in just as many minutes.
Ryan set the bottle down and looked at his friend.

"Theres not much of anything left here at all... ive been here two weeks and have pretty much scavenged what wasn't looted. We can go and see the sights but thats about as good as gets now" he sighed as he took a look around the room.

"Means we'll have to shut up shop in about week. A shame... a damn shame. I've grown to love this place."

Ryan dealt a new hand to Luke, then to himself, and then placed three cards face down in the centre of the table.
Ryan sat bolt upright in his seat and grinned, a thought found its way to the forefront of his mind, Ryan excused himself and heades back into the kitchen, the sound of a refrigerator opening and closing was just audible in the near distance.
Ryan emerged seconds later clutching a bottle in his hand.
He sat back in his seat and produced the bottle... a Budweiser, it was a larger bottle and it was one he was savung for a special occasion... if one ever arose... and now was the perfect time to crack it open.

"A celebratory drink..." He raised the bottle.

"Reunion" he said before taking a savoury swig. He then passed the bottle over to Luke.

"So, what have I missed?"

Luke nodded as he took the bottle from Ryan and raised it as well. He said, "Brothers to the bone." Luke took a swig and set the bottle back next to Ryan.

He studied his cards and said, "Talk about a rough hand." Luke whistled a bit and then put three cards on the table and said, "Okay Candice. No long after you left I began to have my suspicions about her. The old C-I-A training began to kick into overdrive there was just something off about her, and I began to realize that when I saw her hide something in a drawer."

Luke took a swig of his water and said, "Well I waited 'til she thought I was asleep one night, and in the drawer I found a syringe and three vials of diazepam otherwise known as Valium." Luke shrugged his shoulders and said, "Well you know me I couldn't just leave well enough alone, so I slipped out and followed her. Got to about 5 miles away and she was meeting up with someone. Big mean looking dude and I was able to get an understanding by body language and the environment I was in."

Luke took three cards and shook his head. He said, "Not much of an improvement over the three I just threw out, but anyway back to Candice. Candice was working for a local Warlord. She would lure people in, charm 'em, and then stick a needle in them. When the poor person came to they were now 'in-service' to the Warlord and she got a cut of everything."

Luke took another drink and said, "I made it back to the cabin and filled the syringe. Candice entered the cabin and..." Luke moved his finger in a downward motion as he said, "Lights out for Candice. I tied and gagged her to a tree, took some of the kerosene, and poured it on the side of the cabin. I waited until she came to before I did anything else. When she did she saw me spark one of my good arrows, and I fired it at the cabin." Luke pushed his hands apart and said, "The place was engulfed in a matter of minutes. I left her there tied up. Oh I left a knife just out of reach. I figure either she got the knife and got free, the fire spread and got her, the zombies got her, or maybe another group set her free. Either way she's not our issue anymore."

Luke shook his head and said, "Yet I can't quiet that little voice that keeps telling me I should've killed her when I had the chance. Oh well done with her and moving on."

Luke put his cards on the table and said, "2 Pair 4's & 9's what do you got Bishop?"

Trinity Episcopal Church, Southwest Missouri
Approximately five months after the Rising
Part II

Daniel convulsed and moaned throughout his restless sleep that night. It would be the first of many nights filled with nightmares.

When he awoke he shot straight up, drenched in sweat and breathing heavily. Daniel lurched his shoulders forward and groaned in pain. It was pitch black. Either it was a new moon outside or the clouds had covered up any remains of the waning light. He guessed he had only been asleep about four hours judging on the light when the others had shown up and how long it took the other... events... to transpire. Must have been around three or four in the morning.

The priest put his palms to the ground and began feeling around him. Eventually one landed on something wet and squishy. He shuddered. The big man. After recalling the scuffle took place near the altar and that he had fallen asleep between it and the dead man, he crawled toward it until he felt the base, then reached up to grab its edge. He slowly pulled himself up and braced himself against it for balance. The next step was getting the two altar candles lit so he could see.

Daniel lifted himself up onto the altar itself and propped himself on his knees. He pulled a pack of matches from his pocket and lit one on the sole of his shoe. Easier than trying to find the black strip on the packet.

“MMMMaaaaaa.... MMMM. Aaaaghhhh.” The dead moans bounced through the dark off the walls of the sanctuary. It had great acoustics.

“Who's there?!” Daniel extended his arm and match in the direction of the sound. It was coming from somehwere in the middle of the church. There was no answer, only the sound of movement. One shuffle on the carpet, pause. Two shuffles, pause. The priests widened eyes watched the outskirts of the light provided by the tiny flame until it finally burned out. “Shit.” The shuffling sound continued. This time after lighting the second match, he immediately lit the two altar candles, hoping it would give him more light.

Just as the second was lit, there was a loud thunk. The priest's eyes followed the light on the floor once more until he finally saw it. The zombie had fallen on the first of the five steps to the altar, but was clawing to try and get itself up again. “Of fucking course!” How had he forgotten?

Destroy the brain, or the person remains.

A clever phrase he'd heard from one of his visitors.

Zombie Cole continued to totter toward Daniel, succumbing to yet another of the stairs. The priest took this as his chance to kill it before it could advance any further. He hopped down from the altar and began searching around for the knife before he realized he had left it buried in the larger man's chest. He gripped the handle tight and grimaced at the sound it made as it was being pulled from the dead flesh.

The zombie had its arms stretched out toward him. He approached it carefully and kept his distance until he was behind it. It was slow to turn on him. He pounced on its back, struggled with it for a few seconds, but then rapidly stuck the tip of the knife in at the base of its skull and gave it a sharp thrust up and in. It stopped struggling beneath him.

He let out a long sigh of relief and wiped the accumulating sweat from his brow.

Will this madness ever end? Why have you forsaken us?

The larger body started to wiggle. The priest wouldn't give it a chance to completely re-animate. As he had done hours before, he settled himself on top of the man and shoved the blade in through it's right eye.

And then more tears.

Daniel had already bashed the females head in, so there was nothing more to worry about, at least in terms of bodily harm. He decided to go back asleep until daylight.

____

When the priest opened his eyes later that day, he sincerely hoped it had all been a dream. He forced himself to his feet and looked around at the place. He focused in on the bloodstains and bullet holes... all the evidence that would show others what had transpired... all the evidence that proved he was a filthy murderer before himself and his Lord. He decided then that no one could know. He went to the closet near the church entrance and took from it a chain and padlock. He used them to further secure the threshold. Dan made the decision then that no one could see. No one would see the dirty sanctuary. If they couldn't see it, then they couldn't see him either. How stained he'd become.

From there, it was all about the cover up... all about creating the facade, even if only for himself. He figured it was the only way to protect himself from the man he'd become.

First were the bodies. He lugged each outside into a pile about ten yards out from one of the side entrances then set them ablaze. He stripped naked and threw his clothes into the fire as well.

Second were the stains. The priest scrubbed at them until his fingers bled. Much of it he was able to get rid of with water and cloth, but what he couldn't inevitably dried and turned brown.

Third was himself. Daniel walked to the vesting sacristy and looked at himself in the full length mirror on the back of the door. What he saw, he couldn't comprehend. He propped himself up with one hand to the door and leaned in close to examine further.

“Who... are... you?” He was covered in red. Much of his face and body was swollen and bruised. The back of his head pulsated in pain as the blood was pumped through it. He put his left hand there and felt a sizeable knot. When he pulled it back there was red on his fingers.

Daniel dunked a large container in the sink and filled it with water. He then carried it to the vesting sacristy bathroom and gathered some towels. He proceeded to wipe himself down from head to toe. He finished with his face, gently patting it down. When he was done he looked back into the mirror. “There you are. Daniel. Son of Patricia and Jacob. Little brother of Lillith.” His mind was slowly rebuilding and reforming the jigsaw. He smiled at himself before finally dressing.

When he made his way to the working sacristy later that night to get some food, he paused in front of the altar and stared at the brown stain for a good five minutes.

“Shoot. Must have spilled some wine there last night.” He laughed. “Clumsy goof.” Then continued on.

You do what you have to do to survive.

Southwest Missouri
Plains land

They had been walking for god knows how long. Joseph considered himself an outdoors man. Before the world went to hell, whenever he could gather enough vacation days, a trip to a nearby state park wasn’t uncommon. A day away from the congested city of D.C was always welcome. He loved the place, but only in sparing doses.

“It’s already that late?” Back when batteries and electricity were commonplace, there wasn’t any need to read the sky. Now, he depended on the sun’s position to tell him exactly what time it was — approximately anyhow. “How you doing back there, Sam? If you see a good place to hunker down, don’t be a stranger.”

Samantha Walker. Joseph met her during the days of the initial outbreak. When they fled the cities, he was worried that the FBI agent wouldn’t last too long out here. For a time, it seemed like that. She complained and was downright miserable. The thought of abandoning her had crossed his mind until she pulled him out of the clutches of a walker. Damn woman had undergone a mental shift or something. Docile and strong, there wasn’t any indication of her past bratty persona. A morbid side also emerged from her.

“All I see is plains.” Taking a canteen from her pack the two had looted from a camping store, Sam brought the opening to her lips. She was frugal with the precious remaining water. “No trees either. Oh, meant to tell you earlier, our purifiers are running low.”

Joseph shrugged. His eyes stared into the bland distance. “Give it another few months, and we won’t care how clean the water we drink is,” he said. “Shit, we already eat snakes — those few bars we got saved for emergencies. Yeah, I don’t really care if those purifiers go out.”

As she always did, she ignored the cop. Like anyone living, he had the right to bitch and moan. Hell, she did too. It was peculiar. Back at in the city, she hated the traffic — wanted to personally break every car horn, alarm, and anyone else that jarred her from he restful evenings. Now, the silence which she had been craving for so long became her personal demon. Moderation. That’s all she wanted. But now, there was nothing unless the walkers were after them. That moan drove her crazy. Every time she heard it. Unlike the cars in traffic, this sound never became normal. It woke the fear that she hadn’t felt since she was a kid.

“Holy shit! Would you look at that?”

Sam stopped her feigned surveying as she came to stand by her companion. “Is that what I think it is?”

Joseph grinned. “Where there’s a fence, there’s a building. Shelter. We can find it and barricade it till we’re on the move again. In?”

Sam shrugged. “I think I can free up my schedule,” she said. “I’ll try to make it work.”

Joseph laughed as he rubbed the hilt of his hatchet. “Dusk’s setting in. Let’s go.”

—

“Now just what the fuck do you want to do with them?”

“Keep the woman. Kill the man. The bitch’s got one hell of punch. The fuckin’ brute put you on the stretcher for a moment.”

Sam stirred as the voices gradually grew louder and louder. As she moved, a jarring sensation of pain shot through her side. Her things were gone except her dirty black and grey long sleeve, jeans, and hiking boots. Inching towards a corner, she felt the smooth surface of cement against the palm of her hands.

“You’re awake.” She turned to the voice as a smilingly, badly beaten Joseph stared back at her. “Goods news or bad news first?”

“Bad news.”

“You look like shit.”

Sam shook her head as the voices from upstairs seemed through the thin flooring. They were inside a building. A building! It all came back to her. They found shelter, cleared it anyways. Right as they began to settle in, others came back. If she remembered correctly, they were dragging something in a sack. She hoped it was wildlife they were out hunting.

“The good news?”

“We’re alive. Found shelter too.”

Sam rolled her eyes. “How bad is it?”

“Looks worse than it is,” Joseph said as he wiped his bruising face against his shirt. “I’ve got a plan to get us out. It’s risky, but I’d rather take my chances than be one of their … ah, meals.”

The woman’s jaw dropped wide open. No way.

“You don’t want to be here either. I’ve been up for some time, and those guys up there? They’re into some really, really fucked up shit, Sammy. And yeah. They … fuck I don’t want to say it. Makes me sick. They eat people. Christ! There was another woman in here with us. They took her.”

Sam tried to stand, but her legs saw to it that she remained sitting. “I’m not going to be someone’s meal,” she said, her teeth clenched to subdue her desire to scream. “What do you have in mind?”

“They’d probably ‘tender’ you up before that,” he said before nodding apologetically to Sam. “How’s your acting?”

“Did undercover orientation. BAU doesn’t deal with any of the ‘going deep’ shit. Why?”

Joseph stared at her pointedly. His canter all gone. “Here’s what we’re going to do. You’re not going to like it, but if you want to live, you’ll do it. And do it well. You get me?”

Sam nodded.

“Good. Here’s what I got…”

—

The stairs leading down shook. Sam took in a deep breath as she received a nod of encouragement from Joseph. Whatever happened after this point would determine if they would live or die. She prayed for it to be the first. Joseph was right, she didn’t want to do this. It disgusted her to even think she would do this with a canabalistic fuck.

The wooden door swung open when the after it was unlocked. A kid, no older than maybe twenty stepped in. His caution peaked when he walked by Joseph who gave him the meanest glare. He looked at her. He licked his lips. “If you don’t shut your goddamn mouth, Eric’s going to come down,” he said. “You don’t want that, so why don’t you just shut the fuck up.”

Sam smiled. She had worked with unsub’s who had acted in ways that pointed to a personality such as this kid. Fuck Joseph’s plan. She could do this her way without selling her dignity. “Your walls are pretty thin,” she said. She chose her next words carefully. “What’s your name, kid?”

“Doesn’t matter, does it?”

“I’d like to know who I’m talking to, if that’s alright.” In her peripherals, she saw Joseph silently swearing to her, to himself, to whatever. She refocused. “Heard about what you did. All of it. I can’t imagine you would ever participate in such a thing. Eating people? In my eyes, you’re no better than a walker.”

“We don’t fucking eat people!”

“There was a lady here before. Where did ‘Eric’ drag her off to?”

“You two are the only one’s we’ve had the pleasure of knowing.”

Sam rose an eyebrow. “I smelled something pretty tasty half and hour ago,” she said. “Some soup, vegetables, and the unforgettable scent of meat. Fresh. Meat. I didn’t see any cows outside. There was a lady here with us and now she’s gone.”

The man paled a shade. He walked towards the wall the wall. The repugnant scent filled the room as he exhumed his recent meal. “Fuck! Eric said it was a deer!”

“I don’t want to be eaten,” Sam said. “My friend doesn’t want to be eaten either. You know? We came looking for shelter away from the walkers. This things that tear the very flesh from bone. Those things aren’t human, kid. Now, when I hear that our kind is doing the same thing as them? Well, what do you think? How many bowls of fresh meat have you eaten? Did they tell you it was an animal’s? Let us go. You can still do the right thing.”

The man looked at her. His eyes were sunken as he breathed deep. “Eric saved me. There were ten of those … monsters, and he saved me.”

“Just let us go.”

“I…”

The man’s eyes grew wide. Joseph had sprung from behind him. A still bleeding hand covered the kid’s mouth as a large torn piece of jagged metal rammed straight up through his mid side. Joseph stuck him repeatedly until the silent screams stopped. Fresh blood plastered against his shirt.

“Sam? What the actual fuck was that? Seduce him, not fucking baby him! Jesus, come on. Grab his gun.”

Sam stared at the kid’s lifeless eyes as a pool of blood poured out of his body. It was surreal. Before she could dwell on it any longer, she heard sounds of fighting coming from upstairs as she grabbed the poorly maintained pistol and moved up as quickly ad silently she could.

As she entered the kitchen, another man was on the floor bleeding out, while another had Joseph pinned to the ground. The man looked up, as his eyes went wide when he saw the muzzle of a firearm trained on him.

Without a word, Sam shot him in the leg. He fell off howling in anguished pain. Oddly, she didn’t feel bad about it for one bit. “You okay?” she asked as she helped Joseph off the ground. “Nice job with that one.”

“Could have been easier, if you’d stuck with the original plan.”

Sam ignored him as she went to where their things were, stacked in a corner. She grabbed her climbing ax and walked back to the man she shot. “Are you Eric?”

“I was only trying to keep the kid and my boy alive.”

“By eating people? You sick shit.”

Eric laughed as he shook his head. “Whatever it takes to survive. Hell, you were prepared to take my home by force.”

Joseph chuckled. “A hypothetical outcome that can’t happen now,” he said. “We only stay in abandoned places, leaving folks to their own business or asking permission. We would have done the same for you.”

“Don’t insult me! Too many charle—“

“Whatever might or might not have happened,” Sam said loudly enough to silence the man, “devouring other survivors is indisputably and morally wrong.”

“Whadd’ya going to do with that axe, missy? Should have killed your pretty face instead of keeping you alive.”

A sadistic grin crossed Sam’s lips as she bent down to stare into Eric’s green eyes. “I am, in fact, going to kill you, but how quickly or how slow? Well, lets play that one by ear.”

Collab between Darkraven and AnriUSB Final Part

Upon being tracked down again by the witch, Valentina was given a shock, and resignation quickly followed. Turning around timidly, the woman's stomach greeted her first. "The... Thing is locked." Valentina said awkwardly, still having a lot of difficulty speaking. Twisting the knob and pulling it, she showed it to her - actions came easier for Valentina in expressing herself, anything other than words. Although the loss of most of her speech skills was lost on Valentina in all the terror and action, her pre-reawakening self would have been appalled by it, considering that she was once doing very well in school and was even an actress for a blockbuster movie, no less.
The noises of the undead had grown louder in the few minutes they had spent scouring the small store for a way to freedom. The revelation that the only foreseeable exit was impassable added an ominous weight to the situation.

The woman glanced nervously down the staircase behind her, the blockade she had erected would most definitely fall to the brute force of the creatures that pressed against it, and each passing moment brought the pair closer to death. The woman's mind began frantically looking for a solution. Sweat began to bead down her forehead. Her knees began to grow weak.

On the precipice of shock she remembered her training, everything came down to the next few moments, they would need a key, and they would need it fast. "Quickly" She announced suddenly to her small companion. "A key, we need to find one.. Run down there and check behind the service counter. If it is going to be anywhere, it is going to be there." The womans' voice had an unique urgency to it, that was both commanding and desperate. She would need Valentina to cooperate fully with her, if she refused in even the slightest way, both of their lives could be forfeit.

Before even letting the witch finish, Valentina was already on the way down the stairs, understanding from her words vaguely that she needed to find the keys. Secretly though, she was still looking for a way to escape from her, but with the door locked, that desire was almost gone. Looking side to side at the walls, hoping to find a ventilation grating, Valentina could not find one, as if the building itself was taunting her, conspiring with the biters that were breaking down the windows and doors quickly. The closest thing to it was a ventilation fan several meters up and... some lines drawn in the shape of one using blackboard markers.

Running back down to the cashier counter, Valentina started shoving things around underneath. Heaps of junk were flying around, but no keys. She tried ripping into a box of tissue to no avail, pouring out the contents of opened food cans only to find spare change, nuts and bolts, and she tried shaking magazines to reveal the contents between the pages, but there was nothing. The sound of wooden planks and glass breaking, of metal furniture grating against the floor made Valentina panic, the only thing keeping her from curling up into a ball or fainting were fading memories of the past.

Turning her head in all directions for more solutions, Valentina could not find anything that she hadn't exhausted... Until she looked up to find a box mounted on the wall, half-opened such that she could see a hint of a keyrack with her tactical light. Turning around, she ran for it, but something had caught the collar of her jacket, something stiff and strong. Instinctively turning her head to investigate what it was, she screamed as she found that the biters were closer than she thought.

It was one of them, and it had climbed over the counter, and it was pulling her back. Valentina tugged at her collar, but she was no match for it. Screaming, Valentina pulled Lieutenant Hugh's combat knife out and swung it around behind her in panic, catching the biter in the face, but only the face. It had both its hands on her now, and it was pulling her closer, and closer towards its teeth. She could practically smell its foul breath as she recoiled away from its maws, which were just inches away. She promptly planted her knife into its eye with a shaking hand, barely managing to overcome the creature.

The biter's grip loosened, and Valentina tore herself away from it, running for the box, opening its lid. Some of the keys were just out of her reach, and as she read the labels, she found that it was just her luck that the key to the roof was on the top row. She tried jumping and catching it, but could not reach it at first. On the second try, she nearly did. The pounding of flesh on floor was killing her inside. She could hear another scrapping against the wooden cashier counter as she jumped again, this time managing to pull it off its hook, but also bringing down the rack in the process. For a split second, she was hanging onto the key, and when the rack's loosened screws gave way, she fell on her back with all the keys in the store, hitting her head on something hard.

Adrenaline was working even within Valentina's young body, and she did not feel much pain. Over the counter, a head popped out, much of its face gone, with eyes the same colour as her blind right eye still in its sockets staring down at her, as if asking for her to join it. Standing up again, Valentina held the key firmly in the ball of her fist, running for it, but something had caught her leg and tripped her, sending her crashing to the floor face first, the second head trauma she suffered this time too much, sending her close to unconsciousness. Her vision was a blur, and for several seconds, her mind was blank. She could feel darkness returning again as she fought against it, and was losing...

A deafening roar sounded the arrival of the childs' savior, the bullet flew through the head of the undead that had latched on to the childs' leg, and burried itself in the wooden floor beneath. Ivy grabbed the child, swinging her over her shoulder and making a break for the stairs.

She was just barely able to grab the keys from the childs hands before they fell too the floor, and by the time Ivy had made it to the top of the stairs, the undead had completely overrun the barrier she had created.

Three more roars sounded as two of the demons fell, and another stumbled backwards from the force of the bullet. Even more undead followed after them as Ivy struggled with the lock. Moments passed in what seemed like ages before the door finally gave way and the two made it out onto the roof.
within moments Ivy was able to find the fire access located on the side of the apartment complex beside the store.
She ran..

Pursued by death itself, she did not think twice before leaping the gap between the roof and the metal grated stairwell. The seconds she spent airborne seemed to be in slow motion as she looked behind her to see the dead following in close pursuit.

When she did land, she felt a sudden and sharp pain pierce her ankle. She winced as she began limping up the metal stairway, slowly making her way to the apartment roof.
The Jocks followed in close pursuit, flinging themselves at her as she made her ascent, most either missed completely, or smacked head first into the sharp metal grating, and dieing on the spot. Two survived the leap however and began to pursue the pair further..

As Valentina was still fighting the darkness enveloping her, she could feel herself flying, flying away. She could even feel the direction of where she was flying. Backwards, away from the ravenous biters. For some time, she thought that she had died, and was being carried away to heaven. After all, she saw bright light after hitting her head a little too hard when she was tripped. For a moment, she smiled, and was happy, because she thought she would soon see her family and all her friends. For some time, she could see and hear nothing but them, which was all she could ever want. Then the darkness returned again, and so did the haunting noises that came with it.

Opening her eyes, she could see figures running towards her. Had it not been for the direction of her flight, they would have caught up with her. Faintly, she recognized that someone was carrying her, and faintly, she knew what to do. Pulling the pistol that the witch had given her for the mission out from the back of her pants, she took aim in the general direction of one of the figures, at the smallest blob on her target, and squeezed the trigger. It fell, as if a puppet cut off from its strings. Valentina shifted her aim, her arms shaky and her sight waxing and waning, she fired again, but there was no explosion, only a dry click in its place.

The pain in her ankle spiked as she slowly made her way up the fire escape. Each step covering less distance, and each moment shortening the distance between her and the last remaining undead. The woman was sweating now, fully aware that in all likely hood, she would be joining the others in the afterlife. She set the child down and smiled at her, time seemed to slow in that moment, "Go on kid, Dylan can take it from here.." A hot, and powerful pain shot through her right shoulder as the beast sunk its teeth into her. As its jaw released to come in for a second bite, she turned, sinking a combat knife into the creature's skull with her one good arm.

It was then that the real pain hit her and she was forced to sit, she gritted her teeth as she could feel the taint spreading through her. "Well fuck," She cursed to herself, "I'm out of ciggarette's.." With sigh, she leaned back against the metal railing, wincing in pain as her shoulder made contact with the metal. Darkness began creeping in at the edge of her vision. She fumbled at her belt, trying to get a hold of her pistol.

Slowly she brought the thing to her head, checking too see if the girl had ran, she chuckled to herself as she saw that she had disappeared. "See ya kid," She whispered the goodbye, half to the child and half to her own sister...

And with another lions' roar, the life of Ivy Ellenheart came to an end.

Fuad and Terry kept on a straight course for several hours, keeping to the side of the road as was their norm. As was also the norm, the two were prone to bouts of silence. It was odd that as long as the two had been with one another and the things that they’d been through, the two rarely spoke about much of substance, at least in terms of their past. Terry once spoke of him being a fireman, but it wasn’t that Fuad asked, or that Terry was speaking of it; it was because he asked why the hell Terry knew all he did about flammables and explosives. Both realized early on that the past meant nothing at this point, and the important thing was what the future held, and what you could do to delay what most people knew was the inevitable. They’d met cops and mothers who killed without thought or remorse, while having met a recently paroled gang banger who laid down his life to save members of their party. As Pantera sang, “yesterday don’t mean shit.”

It was still light out and they had several hours before it started to get dark. While neither Terry nor Fuad were what one would deem an outdoor survivalist, they were good enough survivalists to like outside. Both were more comfortable in buildings of some sort, and even resorted to sleeping in vehicles from time to time. Contrary to what others in the past thought of them based on their almost carefree attitudes coupled with the fact that the two seemed complete opposites, the two were ruthlessly efficient and mindful of situations and the dangers they presented. They knew it was better to go for several days with little food than to go into high risk situations because rations were low. They knew when to avoid people, to scout, to take their time and many other small things that people overlooked.

On top of that, they had each other. They were opposites and that aspect saved the other from letting their true nature drive them to death for many, many days now.

When Fuad looked up, he stated flatly and casually, “getting dark soon. We should find a place to shack up.”

“Yeah, it’s not too cold. Worst case, we stay out tonight, but keep an eye out for something with some form of roof.”

Fuad nodded and continued on, looking about casually. Eventually, they found what they were looking for in a small main street for the small down of whatever the name was of it that they were in. It had the typical small town buildings: barber shop, a grocery store, sporting goods and guns, coffee shops and the like. No McDonalds or Starbucks or anything of the sort. While that was not ideal because these places were smaller, it WAS ideal because this place would have been passed over by many people who made the mistake of heading towards larger cities.

The two looked at one another, nodded and settled down, simply watching and trying to get a feel for how safe the street was or was not. There were few signs that this place had been ransacked or looted because, while some cars on the street were abandoned and had doors left open, there were no windows broken or corpses in the street.

That could also mean that this place was a territory claimed by others, and those others may be violent to any newcomers. The two skirted around the city’s edges and all was quiet when they poked into buildings. When they made it to the grocery store, they were happy to find that, while much of the food was gone, it wasn’t looted. That told them both that the store was open and selling things at the beginning of the outbreak, but closed when things got bad. Looking in, there were plenty of canned food, dried goods and other non-perishables on the shelves and on the floors.

Terry looked over at Fuad and smiled, a genuine smile—not one of sarcasm or out of sheer cynicism. It was something neither had seen in a long while. “Jackpot,” Fuad said as he continued around the building. The store seemed secure, and looking in, Terry noted that there was dust everywhere and no footprints. Lots of food but no one taking it meant the town was either empty or full of idiots. Terry assumed it was the first of the two, so he began to speak a little louder, just above a whisper.

“Ok, let’s get organized first and not let our stomachs do the deciding here. See that big, stone building? It looks like a storage facility, it’s got a second floor and few windows, so if that place is clear, I say we set up shop in there, then come back tomorrow since we have enough food for a week or so.”

Fuad nodded and said, “makes sense, but I’m shocked your fat ass can ignore what your stomach tells you.”

Terry snorted derisively and made his way out across the street and the two approached the large building that Terry mentioned moments ago. All was quiet on the street and in the buildings, there were no sounds, no movements. Nothing. They moved to a door and Fuad pulled out one of his most important, life saving doom’s day aids: a can of WD40. He sprayed the hinges over and let it sit for a minute or so, and then nodded to Terry who pulled the door open. It made almost no sound, which was a godsend at times. They entered, closed the door behind them and looked around slowly. It took several long moments for their eyes to adjust to the difference in light. When their eyes adjusted and they took a few steps in, both stopped and looked at each other.

Something was wrong.

There was a humid, odd feel and smell to the place and they kept their eyes peeled as they continued on. After walking to the center, they moved to look around and Fuad was hit on the arm by Terry, who pointed to a corner by a work bench…there was a pile of skulls sitting, staring at them with lifeless, empty eyes. It normally wouldn’t shock them, but they were cleaned, polished to a shiny white and placed as if it were some short of shrine. The two looked at each other in silence and it was then that they both heard an odd sound.

It was not far away, and after staring at each other a moment longer, they turned towards it and it became obvious that it was something dripping. It was a steady, slow, but large drip and Fuad tapped his chest and pointed, indicating he would go check it out. He moved around a shelf and a few tables and got to a point near the sound. Looking down, he took a knee and looked closer.

Terry was watching him, looking around when the hair on the back of his neck started to stand up. He looked around and took his shotgun out, immediately thinking they should get the hell out of here. He was about to speak up when in front of him, the air seemed to shimmer or seemed displaced. Terry squinted and looked closer when that mass of something shot forward and before he could say anything, Terry felt 2 blades rip into his chest with enough power to lift him up into the air. He was shocked and surprised, and so was Fuad who’d just turned around to see Terry come off the ground and blood fly into the air.

He couldn’t form words, he was confused and scared. He could see the air in front of Terry was shiny and distorted, but he didn’t know what to do. “Terry….”

Terry could taste blood and knew he was going to die, so he took the shotgun and pulled the trigger. He got slight satisfaction as the lead pellets hit—something—and a bright green liquid shot out a split second later. There was a deep, angry growl and the air moved again, knocking the shotgun from his hand.

Fuad watched, frozen as Terry did the last thing he could which was pull his pipe out and smash down into what he hoped was something vital, which ended up knocking into something electrical because there was a shower of sparks from the impact, but also in the air around him.

A moment later, in front of Terry stood…something. It was over 8 feet tall and had a smooth steel looking helmet with two eyes. It was well muscled, so much so that it had two blades attached to one arm that extended well over 4 feet—both of which currently had Terry impaled. From the back of the helmet were what could only be described as braids or some sort, and the hands and feet had claws on them. Had Terry not felt the excruciating pain clear as day, he’d have thought this was a dream.

He brought the pipe around, attempting to hit the thing in its face, but its other hand grabbed it midswing and ripped it from Terry’s weakening grasp. Terry felt rage and anger and started cussing at the thing, a stream of obscenities until he finally convulsed and died halfway through telling the thing about how he had sex with its mother the night prior.

It flung the corpse aside and focused on Fuad. Neither moved for a solid minute before the thing reached up slowly to its mask and flipped several switches that hissed loudly. After the last one, it pulled off the mask and Fuad swallowed in fear. The creature seemed to be making a clicking sound, almost as if it was talking to him. It was something out of a nightmare, scary beyond thought. Its face was flat, puggish looking, with spiderlike mandibles. Its eyes were even scarier still, being almost human, but cruel and bloodthirsty.

At this point, Fuad knew what was coming, knew he’d die this day, and it came as no surprise. Months ago, the two were talking and both laughed at the fact that they knew they’d die at the same time. They’d lived together, survived together this long and it was only fitting that they’d meet their end together. Fuad looked at the thing and smirked, spitting at it and saying “you’re one ugly mother fucker,” before lifting his own shotgun up and firing twice at the thing. The first shot hit something that sent sparks flying again while the second bit into the things thigh, splattering more of its bright, almost neon green blood out to the side. He was racking another round home when a series of three red lights, almost like laser sights, shot up from the things shoulder, focused on him and in a split second, fired a bright blueish white beam of energy at him.

Fuad couldn’t help but think that the lasers and the beam were bright, almost beautiful, like a light show. They were the last thing he’d ever see as it took him full in the face.

November 3rd, 8:49pm, Abandoned Apartment Complex, Southwest Missouri

Valentina kept running without stopping, her path a zig zag as she had trouble running straight. She could not see right, and everything was a blur, as if the darkness itself was not enough. The biters were not the only things plaguing her. The witch was on her mind ever since she left her. Her face was plastered inside her head, in a different light: that of a guardian angel, something close to a mother. She saw her face in her mind again, surrounded by bright, white light, her lips moving, but silent. She was fair, clean, beautiful. Then she was gone, as if an angel returning to heaven. It kept Valentina confused - everything was a conflux of uncertainties, chaos.

Running down flights of stairs down the apartment building, Valentina descended quickly, her ears peeled for any sound of the dead at all, since her eyes and mind were giving out, but she had trouble even hearing right. She couldn't see... Couldn't see... And slipped on a step, tumbling down a flight of stairs, crying in pain, the pain coming in bursts every time her small frame hits the jagged edge of the steps. Her head had felt tender, so she shielded it first and foremost.

Valentina came to a rest at the foot of the stairs, groaning in pain, clutching her knees as she felt sharp pain in the both of them. Remembering that she wasn't in a safe sleep spot, she soon got up and took a second to check herself, realising that by some miracle, perhaps the protection of the witch, that she wasn't hurt... badly. She could feel bruises forming and skin cut, but that was all she felt.

Moaning was coming from a short distance away, from the floor she had fallen from. She had made too much noise, Valentina knew that. A figure appeared at the head of the stairs she had descended painfully, and as if following her example, took a step down, missed and came tumbling down, a heap of broken and rotten flesh. The young girl ran before it came crashing into her, coming to rely more on the railings of the stairs, having learnt the hard way to do so.

Floor by floor, the scared, confused little girl managed to make it down to the ground floor safe, but that was where her luck ended, or perhaps when her guardian angel left for heaven. There were more of them than there were above, and as soon as she stepped out of the stairwell door, she was greeted by several of them, which shambled towards her, forming a wall of death. Looking around desperately for an exit, she saw the green exit sign, just barely - but the exit was blocked by the biters. One of them began to walk faster, breaking into a jog, and Valentina ran in the same direction, hoping to find more exits.

She found one at the end of the corridor, but it was locked or blocked, Valentina could not think with her head throbbing so horribly, and she did not have time to. The fast biter had broken into a run. Desperate, Valentina tried every door near her - apartment room doors. Most of them locked, just like in every other apartment buildings, until her guardian angel smiled down on her again, and she found a door that was hanging open.

Rushing in, Valentina tried to lock the door, but before she could slam it shut entirely, a pair of hands shot out from the rapidly closing gap, blocking the door. Behind the scuffle to get the door closed, she could hear more feet shuffling towards her. Soon, Valentina knew, she would be surrounded by the biters. But it wasn't the first time, and she knew what to do. Letting go of the door, the blocking biter suddenly found itself free to fall forward, and when it had cleared the door frame, Valentina shut and locked the door quickly, trapping herself with the running biter - though it was better than it sounds. Valentina had to choose between getting trapped with one rather than many, and she chose the former.

Before she could turn back to check on the running biter, she could already hear it getting up... And lunging at her, but Valentina managed to get out of the way, running into a wall in panic. What little she could glimpse of her enemy, she saw that he was huge, and all covered up. He had a helmet, and pads like those used for rollerblading. Pulling out her flashlight in a hurry, she began looking for a way out, or something that could help her overcome the armoured biter, and the only thing she could find was another dead body... But alongside it was a pipe, which Valentina grabbed as the biter was recovering from crashing into the door.

As it came closer, Valentina swung the pipe at its knee, as hard as she possibly could. There was a crunch, and the biter fell. Wasting no time, the girl began pummelling its head over and over, without stopping. Sometimes her pipe would bounce harmlessly off its helmet, but the blows directed to its face eventually killed it.

When it finally stopped moving, Valentina stopped, and took a few steps back as she eyed the creature, worried that it might get up again. But as the blobs that she could see did not even stir once more, she dropped her pipe and sat down, leaning against a wall, her knees to her chest. Clutching the back of her head, she realised that her hair was very wet, and when she withdrew her hand to see what it was, she saw that her hand was covered entirely with blood. The lower half of her blonde hair was dyed red with blood. Similarly, she could feel blood trickling down her forehead. Her memories of recent events were hazy, but she knew that they were the result of her falls in the store back with the woman. She remembered hitting her head on something sharp around the first time, and cutting herself on a loose tile the second time.

Valentina could not tell how long she'd been there. As she was deciding what to do, she could feel moments of time being lost of darkness in between, slowing her down. She considered finishing what she set out to do, but by now, without the woman to guide her and help her, it seemed impossible. After another black out or two (Valentina could not tell), she decided that she would rather go back to Dominic's Gas An' Go'. By now, she could not longer care about earning anything but her life, and any consequence for abandoning the mission seemed much more desirable than what was in store for her if she tried to do as the woman had asked of her.

Feeling a little better from resting, Valentina tried to stand up, but could only barely do so. But she could hear and see better. Pointing her flashlight at the biter she had just killed, she realised from its label, badge and colour that it was once a police officer, but dressed like a soldier. Spotting some things on the former-policeman she covets, Valentina walked over to it, her knees nearly giving way, but did anyway when she tried to bend down. Undeterred, she grabbed the handle of a gun that looked like a cross between a rifle and a pistol and pulled, but it was stuck to the biter because of a sling. It took her a while, but eventually she managed to get it off. An MP5K, Valentina found the weight to be manageable, unlike the rifles that she tried to use before.

'Guns are like people, darling.' Lieutenant Hugh had said, 'We all have arms and legs, a head, two eyes, a mouth. Guns all had the same things too. You see this? Every gun has a place to put a bullet in.' Valentina remembered him kissing her like a loving father, except he was not her father. 'Just like how we all have cheeks for people to kiss.' Valentina pressed a button on the submachinegun and pulled the magazine out. It was nearly full. Checking the chamber, she found that the gun was already charged and ready to shoot.

Checking the pockets on the biter, Valentina had found three more magazines for it, one of them empty, the other two full. Before she could continue, Valentina could not resist being reminded of her late soldier friend because of how much the former-policeman reminded her of him. As she became trapped once again in her memories, watching over and over again how Lieutenant Hugh had died in just an instant, blood pouring down the back of his head, Valentina ceased searching the body, and even when she recovered from the mental whirlpool, didn't want to search it any further. Instead, she took a blanket from a nearby couch and laid it over the corpse of the policeman, feeling sad for both men.

His hand was good but he was wholly reliant on the three cards lying facing up on the table... nearly a straight but not quite.
He dropped his cards face up on the table.

"Nothing, so close yet so far" he said

He took another pull on the beer bottle and gathered up the cards ready to reshuffle. His attentiln was captured however by loud muffled sounds coming from outside it seemed.

"Whoa whoa, shhh... can you hear that?" He raised his hand in a silencing gesture as he spoke, slowly rising from his seat, he saw Luke doing the same and readying his weapon, it was like autopilot, he reacted whenever Ryan did and vice versa.
He made for the exit and pulled the heavy door open, checking his zones before exiting into the hallway beyond. All was clear, he signalled for Luke to move up. The hallway was more of a balcony, looking around, Ryan could see the main lobby below, it's intricate decor and towering pillars gave the inpression that his would have once been a grand and thriving hotel, but in this day and age all Ryan saw was good cover.
The sounds were more defined now he was outside the large dining hall, the metallic clang and thumping of wood paired with the vicious snarls of whatever was smashing against barricades door, made for a strange collaboration. It was coming from the main entrance down in the lobby and so Ryan signalled for luke to take cover by the low cut wall of the balcony so he could get a good vantage point down into the lobby.

Ryan pulled his baton free and quietly proceeded down the grand staircase, he headed toward the first of the four pillars and glanced up at luke, who gave him the ok. As he moved out if the cover of the pillar he could hear the splintering of wood as the creature seemed to be finding some success in its endeavors, he felt his heart in his chest, solidly pounding, almost as if it were reminding him of its presence and insistence to remain beating. He took a few deep breaths and then jogged carefully for the second pillar which he hugged with his back. His body was working overtime now, the creature beyond the door grew more and more impatient, he guessed it could sense his fear or maybe smell the blood that was now flowing even faster around his body. Again he took a deep breath and breathed the words. Fuck It. He ran from behind the pillar and darted for the door, he saw the creature, which turned out to be three instead of one, half hangung througb the door and pushing through the barricade. He raises his baton and slammed it down into the base of the skull, the sickening crack resounded loudly throughout the lobby and the creature fell limp for a few seconds before continuing its advance. Ryan repeated the process, the baton smashing through the weakened bone and finding some brain, the creature didnt have time to react this time as the baton forced itself once more into the soft tissue of the brain, the creature collapsed into a second, and permanent, death.
The two remaining creatures pushed forward still, the events they had just witnessed clearly failed to register any kind of threat, their brain was driven by one simple, primitive notion. Feed.
The second creature grabbed hold of the motionless body of the first and dragged it back through the hole it has created through the door. This second creature however, dive through the hole, landing on Ryan and dragging him to the ground.
Ryan squirmed and looked around for Luke, he saw him sprinting down the stairs toward him, weapon drawn.

"We got a brainer!" Ryan shouted, he grabbed his baton and held it infront if his face ready to shield himself from the creatures bites.
The creature opened wide and snapped its jaws around the baton, the sound of smashing teeth rang in Ryans ears and he could feel the shards and blood fall onto the side of his face. He took the opportunity to lower the baton and throw a fierce headbutt into the nose of the creature, which now rolled over to one side freeing Ryan from its vice like grip, he turned to stand up and follow his attack up when he was met with deafening crunch and a spatter of blood as Luke brought his weapon down into the head of the creature. Ryan immediately turned his attention to the creature still stood outside the door... just another shuffler, not going to cause any problems. In the distance however, Ryan could see a small horde, they weren't charging, bit they were heading his way.
He pulled a splinteree steel bar from the barricade and thrust it through the gap in yh thee door and into the head of the last creature.

Ryan looked over at luke.

"That noise may have attracted more..."

He pointed out through the gap in the door, showing like the horde.

"If more than one Brainer turns up in that group we're going to have a real problem..." ryan moved to drag the sofa at the far side of the lobby over to the holey door.

"... ah, little bastard.. Sprained my ankle cos of that little shit" he said as he pointed to the dead brainer on the floor.

"We can stay the night, but I think we should make a move out of here soon... the hordes seem to have made the rounds and we dont want a whole swarm of those fuckers catching our scent" he said.

He hobbled up the stairs and took a seat back at the table they had been sat at previously, picking up the beer he took a swig and then lifted his left foot for inspection, it felt like a sprain but he couldnt risk any chance of there being a cut and getting that infected, however his diagnosis was accurate.

"Just a sprain. It'll heal.. gather you stuff, we'll head out at last light"