[IC] Our Evil Ways

[Hey Im Jordan]

For the first time since it had been built, Interstate 35 was perfectly still.

A cool summer breeze flowed across the highway, knocking glass from windows of overturned cars. Above the dilapidated cars a committee of vultures hovered, waiting for their meal. Their food would be provided either by those left in their vehicles, or… the fresh entrees the kettle had been stalking for a while now.

Off the side of the road, a little ways, was the real prey of the vultures; a group of humans walking alongside it. Such a sight was hardly unusual these days; with roads all but backed up with abandoned vehicles or ones scrapped for parts and supplies it was far more sensible to trek on foot, least of all because feet didn’t have the roar of an engine or the blinding gaze of headlights. What was unusual about this particular group of humans, apart from the fact that they were a group at all, was the size. While they weren’t the size of a troupe in the traditional sense, most groups above a certain number tended to not remain such a size for long. Be it from splintering off or losses along the way, big groups were almost as much a liability as they were a boon. Strength in numbers was a great concept in theory - but when their numbers always remained higher it mattered little.

The travelers spread along the stretch of road, an arm’s length from the guard rail and another from a still, stagnant pool that ran beside it. It stank of disease and death, but, mercifully, no corpses (or stray body parts) could be seen from their position. Clouds of bloatflies stood as the only indication that there was anything amiss with the water at all.

Even with filtration, there would be no drinking that if their supplies ran low. An inevitability. It was only a matter of time until they couldn’t scavenge enough to support a group as large as theirs while on the road, ‘til they came across a town picked clean and had to eat into their reserves. Already, those who kept track of their rations would notice that they were barely breaking even, with clean drinking water at a premium in the hot weather and good eating required to avoid fainting on the long journey northwards.

Around noon, when the sun was at its apex and the breeze did little to cool them down, those at the front of the party stopped beneath a large road sign. Within a few minutes, even the stragglers at the rear of the group had caught up to gather in what appeared to be a safe spot: no trees for the dead to hide in, and an area fairly clear of cars to an overturned truck a few metres away. Animals and people alike paused to drink from bottles of water. Restraint was necessary to prevent from drinking all that they were allotted for the day in one large gulp.

The committee had been stalking the humans for a few days now, flying overhead constantly. They’d followed the group of people from the last place they’d stayed a few days. The humans had left because they’d realized they needed to scavenge before they ran out, and the only way to scavenge was to keep moving forward. Picking out old towns, and stores, and taking what they could find. It wasn’t often they won, but…

The vultures had a feeling the humans were feeling lucky. One of them had noticed a sign just that morning, and had seemed happy. Perhaps, the committee was going to lose its food… But, for the heroes of this story? Their luck may have just turned around.

The direction they were heading, the sign they were following… it was pointing them toward a store.

Thump thump
thump thump

Freddie Jones had been staring down at the inside of the car for a few minutes now — a little bit ahead of the bulk of his group, as he often was. It wasn’t really a morals question of whether or not he should do it. The monster trapped inside of the car was already dead, and really, he was putting it out of its misery, but… the way it was now? It was damn near harmless.

Thump thump
thump thump

Its seatbelt had it strapped into the driver’s seat, and all it could do was thump its hands against the car door in an attempt to get at him. At this point, Freddie Jones was almost completely out of remorse when it came to killing these things. Times like this? It was a waste of energy. It wasn’t hurting anything… maybe he could just reach into the backseat and pull out what he wanted… that was too dangerous though. There was a chance it would grab him and bite him, and then what? Alexandria was raised without her mother and without her father by some random nurse who liked Ben & Jerry’s too much, a sword wielding museum curator, a guy named after a gun, and his annoying little sister.

Not happening.

Freddie Jones sighed and lifted up the fire poker he’d borrowed from June, and thrust it through the car door, and through the head of the zombie, whose incessant thumping against the car door ceased almost immediately. Brain trauma seemed to do the trick. Freddie Jones yoinked the poker back out and leaned it against the car — he’d have to remember to clean it before he returned it to June, but… that wasn’t important. What was important was the case of Kirkland brand bottled water sitting in the back of the car.

Rémy leaned against the trunk while Freddie Jones worked, keeping one eye on a silhouette in the distance as it limped in their direction. Their slow pace may have been faster than the gait of the dead, but the dead always found them in the end, attracted by the noise they were trying desperately not to make. “Nicely spotted, by the way,” he said, nodding to the contents of the back seat. As soon as the car was still and silent he pulled the case out and onto the roof. “We’re running out of –– well, everything –– but the three days without water rule’s the one I’m most worried about. Didn’t want to say in front of the others.”

“Water, I think, is the most important thing. I don’t know, I’m not really a survivalist. I’m learning though, wasn’t given much of a choice. We’re lucky we found this too, ‘specially me. Gave what I had left to Alex.” Freddie Jones explained, while eyeing the case of water. He’d wait until it was rationed out before he drank any, he could at least be patient. “I think we should go to the Costco. I really do. It’s probably been picked clean, but at this point, it’s either go to the store and find food, or walk past it and die in two to three weeks anyway. I choose life. Might even have twinkies.”

“I agree.” Rémy might have agreed with Freddie Jones simply by virtue of him keeping his sister alive for so long, but this time they were on the same page. “We need to settle down for a night or two in a town to resupply. This ‘scavenging as we go’ thing tides us over, but the closer we get to the Twin Cities, the less there is left.” There was, of course, the promise of shelter in Minneapolis proper, a safe-zone run by what was left of the military, but the road was still long in spite of their good progress. What would be the point of heading there if they let their own people die of thirst or starvation or exhaustion on the way there?

The doctor ripped open the plastic covering the case and eased out a bottle, rolling it over to Freddie Jones with a look that said, ‘don’t be a martyr, take the damn water’. “Let’s go see what the others think of this plan, shall we?” he asked with a strained smile. “Maybe it’ll be the last straw, the one issue so divisive that the group splits up. Wouldn’t that be neat.”

“Something like that.” Freddie Jones said as he took the water bottle and cracked it open, taking a drink. “Either way, I’m going in the place, though I don’t know why they'd disagree. The whole group thing works for us, even if we’re a bit large.” Freddie Jones was nothing if not optimistic.

“It’s true, I suppose. We haven’t lost anyone yet.” A grimace followed, wondering if he might have jinxed it. Two weeks wasn’t a long time to prove that there was safety in numbers, even if it felt like an eternity. Readjusting his backpack and picking up the case under one arm, he tilted his head in the direction of the group, milling about along the road.

Freddie Jones led the way back to the group, carrying his bottle of water with Remy behind him, carrying the case of water. Once they arrived back to the people, Freddie Jones looked over at Remy, gesturing for him to raise the case of water like a trophy — which it basically was. “It’s warm, but it’s water. I think we should press forward; there’s a Costco a few miles off the Interstate from here. I think it’s important that we go check it out; we’re not doing so hot on resources, and Costcos have fucking everything. We might get lucky.”

The first person to react to Freddie Jones’s words was his daughter, who looked incredibly disappointed in her father.

“Sorry, I meant freaking everything.”

[Fabricant451]

The group was far too big for its own good and why did no one seem to care? Back when she first came across the doctor and the bartender the group was considerably smaller. There weren't so many children. There weren't so many animals. There weren't so many liabilities. In more positive terms, there were fewer expendables than there were now. Because of the size, it made it unfeasible to stay in one place for too long - supplies had to now be shared between more people and when she first brought up the idea of carving up one of the animals she was treated like she was suggesting they cut up and eat one of the children or something. That treatment lasted up until they needed her to secure a campsite. Funny, that.

There were few things anymore that brought a smile to Daisy Becker's face, but now more than ever she was constantly nursing a disapproving scowl.

Daisy, or 'KT' as everyone seemed to call her for reasons she didn't know nor have the care to ask, was decidedly near the front of the group, checking over her shoulder periodically just to make sure that there weren't any major stragglers. She had a system in place and really it was quite a simple one: if you couldn't keep up, you paid the consequences. Half of these people she wasn't sure how they had managed this long. The other half she was just wondering how she hadn't offed them herself - though the fact that doing so would be a great waste of time for her and her sword was likely what kept her from indulging in her annoyances. She was probably being too harsh, but a large part of what had kept this group alive prior to the Grand Expansion was KT's strict guidelines for security within and without.

But KT wasn't the one who determined who was brought into the fold. Not exclusively. She had a voice and on the instances where she used it most came away from the exchange understanding why KT was better at keeping people alive than keeping them motivated.

In front of her, KT could see Fred and the doctor discussing something while the nurse was bringing Fred's kid along. Above her she could see the birds circling, no doubt they could see what KT had: sooner or later a group of this size would suffer a lose, be it from exhaustion or ambush. The animals in the proceession would no doubt make a valued prize for the vultures - another reason why KT made her opinion on that matter known but once. Better it go to them than the birds. After another glance behind her she returned her gaze forward, noticing both that those at the head of the pack had stopped by a car and the moving shadow in the distance. Whatever this stop was it had best be a quick one. Out in the open with no good defensible positions made them easy pickings for a horde. If there was going to be a moment's pause, KT would take the chance. Slowing to a stop, KT ran her hand over the metal side-railing that once served as the barrier between cars and the offroad; now it would serve as a makeshift leaning post as she waited for the group to catch up.

Maybe one of them would even try and talk to her again.

In the days before the storm, Jimmy Sandoval was assigned to the pediatrics ward. This wasn't that unusual, the hospital was short staffed and it was easier to shuffle the nurses around before reaching out for help elsewhere; of course knowing well the way things were now she was sure that half the reason for the short staffing was...well...limping along in dark alleys and empty streets. Her brief stint in pediatrics and her job as a nurse came with two unseen benefits in the wake of this tragedy. The first was her recognizing Dr. Crowe; even if he didn't remember her, Jimmy remembered every doctor she'd ever worked with. Her familiarity with the man was what helped her decide to travel with them even before the group ballooned somewhat considerably. The second benefit was that it made her good with children. So many doctors had terrible bedside manner even in pediatrics which made her much more suited for the task of distracting them from needles and such.

Her way with children was why Freddie saw fit to trust her with walking with Alex Jones. Jimmy was a firm believer that a child needed two parents and now more than ever that was proving to be the case. Granted, it was more technically accurate to say that the children travelling with them had multiple parents now but some of the parents seemed rather militant about their charges and Jimmy could understand that. A parent's love for their child was an incredible thing. Jimmy would've liked to experience that. It seemed unlikely now.

Jimmy had Alex Jones by the hand, walking with her and asking her if she felt tired or anything of the sort. Her greater goal within this ragtag band was always to be something like the Star of Bethlehem, the guiding light to happiness, the glue that kept things from falling apart. Even though they were walking past fetid water and had seen many corpses arranged in a way that made it rather clear they had taken their own life before being torn apart, Jimmy still had to smile. Because children took after their adult influences - and if Jimmy could smile then so, too, could Alex Jones or any of the other kids, and so too, hopefully, could the group as a whole. It wasn't always an easy task, but it was no less important than KT being good at killing things or Doctor Crowe being good at doctoring or the farmer family being good at rearing horses.

Jimmy passed the resting KT with a nod which wasn't returned and rather than get hung up on it - seriously, KT seemed not to like anyone but that was okay - she instead approached the car where Alex's father let loose some profanity just in time for Alex to overhear. Jimmy couldn't keep herself from giggling along with the reaction; it was one of the more normal interactions she'd seen and those were almost as treasured as water. "You know, when I was a kid that would have you putting a dollar in the swear jar." Jimmy unscrewed the top of her canteen only to find that she was down to barely a few droplets. "Anyway, are you sure about going to a Costco? Those were probably the first kind of place raided plus..." Jimmy turned and gestured towards the group. "That's a lot of people in one place."

"Whatever the decision, it needs to be decided sooner than later." KT spoke up from behind Jimmy, giving the nurse a startled jump. When she wanted to be, KT was even quieter than normal, like some kind of American ninja warrior. "This place is way too open and I give us about fifteen minutes before that shambler is close enough to be a problem. And it's never just one shambler."

"How far are we from Minneapolis? One of the cars mentioned an Owatonna dealership. KT has a point, though, Freddie. We can't stay on this highway forever. Plus...I think some of us could do with a rest." Jimmy now turned to look at the rest of the group. It would likely be hard to come to a consensus in the short window of time they had...but these were the challenges presented to a group where numbers were the key factor.

[CaptainMarvel]

Violet Smith glanced over her shoulder, brushing a stray lock of hair away from her face. She could only wonder how their group had gotten so impossibly large in what felt like so little time; all the new faces sort of blended together after a while. Violet could feel the sheath on her belt move with each step she took, almost as if it was a subtle reminder of their predicament. Thankfully, they hadn't had any particularly troublesome encounters with those...things, yet.

Emphasis on yet.

She wasn't stupid. She was acutely-almost painfully- aware that today could be the end. No matter how safe she felt at any given time, she could die. At the very least, though, she'd made it this long. She did her best to be helpful-finding berries to eat was easy this time of year-but it never felt like she did enough. Freddie always seemed tense, even when the group had "good days." That is, if "good days" even existed anymore. Violet closed her eyes for a moment, letting her mind trail off before a quiet whine interrupted her thoughts. A sort of sad smile crossed her face as she looked down to see Argos walking next to her.

"Me too, buddy," she sighed, caressing his head. "Me too."

Just behind her, Lily Rodriguez watched with narrowed eyes. You talk to your dog too much, she thought, though she remained silent. She figured it helped whatshername cope with all this shit going on. In fact, she almost felt a little envious; as a more recent addition to the ever-growing group of survivors, she didn't really know anyone. People didn't talk to each other much, except for Freddie's little gang up at the front. There was that family of farmers or whatever, the psycho redneck dude, and that skinhead guy that kind of creeped her out...not to mention that crazy chick with the sword. Lily scoffed, realizing it took the actual apocalypse to bring together such a weird group of people.

Her student planner was meant more for the actual school year, but it still had a tiny section dedicated to the summer months. It was almost six months exactly from the day her life had basically ended. Lily could still recall a time when her biggest problems were fighting with her girlfriend or accidentally staining her uniform; now, she didn't even know if Cassie was alive and her uniform was basically unrecognizable. Her only real comfort was knowing that if she needed to, she could probably outrun a lot of the people in this trainwreck of a group. At that thought, though, she felt a pang of guilt in her chest; what was she, a fucking psychopath? She was pretty reliant on these people right now. Thinking about outliving them wasn't too kind of her.

Fuck, she missed Cassie.

Further behind Lily-actually, much further behind Lily-Wyatt McCarthy felt like his lungs were about to burst. They'd been walking for what felt like way too long. His feet hurt, there was a rock in his shoe, and it was hot. Like, really hot. So hot, in fact, he could feel sweat steadily dripping from his chin. Which was actually pretty bad, he realized, knowing it was just making him even more dehydrated than he already was. He stared down at the ground in front of him, practically panting from his exhaustion. Wyatt knew he needed rest, and soon, but he'd feel pretty lame asking for a break considering how far behind he was compared to the others. He remembered the thermos he used to have that kept his water cold all day, and cursed himself for not bringing it with him when he left home. Of course, there were reanimated corpses trying to eat him, so a fucking thermos wasn't exactly his highest priority; and yet, here he was, kicking himself for not grabbing it.

What a load of shit.

He felt significantly better when he noticed the front runners of the group stopping. "Thank Christ," he mumbled, actually picking up his pace a bit. By the time he caught up, he nearly felt like collapsing. Instead of humiliating himself, though, he just lied down on his back and tried to get his breathing under control. He didn't notice how vulnerable they were, or how dangerous it was to be on his back in the open. All he really cared about was resting for a few minutes. Or days. Preferably a week. But he knew that staying anywhere for very long was a luxury this group did not have, considering their numbers. Three horses and a dog-whose owner seemed painfully aware of the possibility of said dog being eaten-made them stand out a bit. He hadn't run into any particularly bad people, but Wyatt knew that as each day passed it was more and more likely that he would. But all of that was purely speculative, and they had much more pressing concerns to deal with right now.

Meanwhile, Violet gently poured a tiny amount of water into Argos's mouth. She could feel hear heart breaking as she took the bottle away, taking just a small sip for herself. The water was warm and not all that pleasant to drink, but it was necessary. And besides, Argos needed it more than she did right now. The German Shepherd sat back on his haunches, panting rapidly as he did so. Violet grasped one of his paws in her hand, gently removing the splinters that Argos had picked up along the way. She knew that having him around wasn't the most practical idea in the wake of the apocalypse, but the thought of leaving him behind-or worse-brought out a visceral anger in her that she didn't know she had. He'd saved her life on more than one occasion, mostly due to his sharp hearing and sense of smell; he developed a habit of quietly warning Violet anytime he could sense one of those things nearby. She was fairly certain it was the only reason he was allowed to stick around.

"Hey."

Violet turned her head to the right, locking eyes with Lily. "Yeah?"

"I just...your dog. He reminds me of my old Rottweiler," Lily said, twisting the cap of her water bottle shut.

"Oh," Violet mumbled, unsure of how to respond. "What was his name?"

"Capitán," Lily answered, a fond smile on her face. "He was dumb as a pile of rocks. But he was sweet."

Violet nodded, returning Lily's smile. Honestly, she was just grateful for the conversation. "It's the sweet that matters, right?"

"Yeah." Lily sighed, feeling that same horrible thought cross her mind again. Capitán was probably dead, along with everyone else, right? She shook her head, knowing that thinking that way was pointless. Regardless of whether he's dead or alive, the good memories of Capitán-of everyone-were all she had left.

[Zoey Boey]

Mary and Juniper Wolgast

The two blondes walked in the middle of the group, sweat dappling their forehead. Both of them had jeans rolled up to just above the knee, and plaid shirts. The smaller one, walking on the right, had her plaid shirt cropped and her hand placed on her bare waist. She was the younger sister, Juniper, and was lost in thought.

The older sister, Mary, who had her hair tied into a tight bun, held a double-barreled shotgun in her hands and a backpack slung over her shoulder. Inside the shotgun were two shells- both expended, but to any raider who got funny ideas it would be a worthwile deterrent. Tucked into a pocket of her brown backpack was a half-empty flash of alcohol. The drink, of course, kept her moving. It was a weapon against the existential crisis that was stalking her sure as the undead creatures, and would almost certainly tear her apart. Right now, she could just worry about her sister, which was all that mattered to her.

Her sister and that ridiculous outfit.

"I wish you wouldn't wear your shirt like that." Mary grumbled, gesturing towards Juniper's tummy with her hand. It was unbecoming, she thought.

Juniper wiped the sweat off her forehead and looked at her sister with an exasperated look. "Really? It's really fu--reaking hot out." The younger sister said, moving her shirt up and down to create any movement of air at all. It wasn't working.

Mary didn't look back at her sister, instead she kept her overshadowed eyes on the road ahead. "Just because it's the apocalypse doesn't mean you should dress like that."

"Oh, my God," Juniper said, smiling a little, "You're such a fucking prude!" She exlaimed. Mary was way too much like their parents. Unbecoming this, unchristian that. Juniper would be practically be hanged for showing her ankles. Even now?

"Maybe, but I'm your older sister and you should listen to me. Plus, what if one of those things grabs you?" Mary said, still not making eye contact and instead glancing over her shoulder.

"Grabs my...belly? At that point, I think I'm already screwed." Juniper said. "I'd've already died of exhaustion before that could ever happen." Talking about death was a mistake. Despite her joking tone, just mentioned the word reminded her of everyone she had already lost.

Mary didn't say anything for a moment. "This group is too big to keep moving like this, Juniper. We need to find a place to stay. To fortify. Farm. It would be hard, but it would be worth it. Going on like this, people are going to start getting demoralized."

Juniper scratched the hair around her high ponytail, her face scrunching up. "I dunno, Mary. I guess." Sometimes her older sister just started going on like this. Like Juniper could do anything, or would even know what was best. Though, she did have a cursory glance at everyone's rations over the last couple of weeks, and it wasn't looking good. Eventually, their income would not match their losses. A farm would be nice. Agriculture was what seperated us from the animals, after all. But it would be so hard to set up, wouldn't it? Maybe even impossible.

Mary watched as the group came to a stop, and began discussing their next move. The eldest Wolgast figured it would be a good idea to see what was up. She motioned her head for Juniper to follow behind her, and approached the small group forming underneath the sign. Mary rested the shotgun on her shoulder. A costco might, might, might have something. It would certainly have more than the cars on the highway- all they had were hungry corpses. Scavenging was important, and if the Costco had nothing of value...well, they would just have to keep looking. In Mary's mind, they were just looking for a lucky enough break to finally find a place to stay.

"Costco sounds good." Mary said bluntly, making eye contact with Freddie Jones. Freddie was a nice guy, but Mary had purposefully tried not to get too attatched to anyone yet. She and her sister had only been in the group for about a month and half, and Mary had really only spoken casually to her sister. Juniper had tried to make friends with some people, and was standing behind her sister currently, looking at the gravel and kicking at it with her worn-out shoes. It was moments like these when the 24 year old woman felt useless. Her sister was so brave, it was ridiculous. If Juniper had been in New York when this all went down, either the military saved her, of she was one of them. The thought disgusted her, and she often had nightmares of the two of them shambling about brainlessly in the darkness. Juniper shuddered the thought away and focused on her sister, who was "conversing" with the potential scavenging party.

Mary noticed Jimmy seemed warm to the idea, as well as the woman that went by KT. Mary doubted they would get much more rest than usual, however, if any at all.

[Sazama]

Jasmine Kim

Jasmine mostly kept to herself, made small talk to others in the group when she can but nothing too extravagant. She hadn't planned to join such a large group. After seeing what was happening in the cities and shelters, you'd think gathering in the middle of the highway would be at the bottom of the list. But it's better than going off alone.
The memory of the morning she woke up with her boyfriend abandoning her to head East flashed across her mind. Normally she'd head to the gym and blow of steam but due to the predicament the world got itself into... that would be a luxury. She wondered if Peter was even alive, it wasn't that long ago that they went their own ways. Perhaps one day when things go back to normal and she finds her parents, the next thing on her list would be to rejoin Peter. The rate of how things were going and by word of mouth, things weren't going to be normal for a while.

At the mention that the group would go to costco, Jas was skeptical that there would be anything useful left in a place like that. But looking at the grim faces around her, the promise of supplies was probably the best thing to get people moving.

[Eric Horst]

William Sutherland

Expendable. Many of them were. At least, that's how he saw it. Will had been with the group long enough to know that about half of them were about dead weight, and the others had useful skills that others had, so most of them could be replaced, William included.

He knew his way out of tight fixes, it was one of the reasons he was still alive, but he was simply one of the many, and when things went down, the law of the jungle applied to them all. The vultures certainly knew it. Will wasn't sure if anyone else had bothered to take note of them, but the flying buzzards had been following them for quite some time now, and where there was death, there was vultures.

He had been half tempted to get one of the crack shots in the group to take a shot at a few of the flying annoyances, gaining them both a bit of extra food, and less things to linger in the backs of their minds.
He'd love to do it himself, but years of experience told him that it was better to make comments to others, and slowly make them believe it was their idea. The problem with his entire plan, was the noise. They were directly out in the open, and as much as he wanted to rid themselves of their constant stalkers, they didn't have any means of knocking the blasted birds down to earth that wouldn't make a lot of noise.

Shame really.

He hadn't spoken to any of the others within the group in a few days now. He'd had little reason to make things crazy just yet.

Shifting the digging tool he carried more comfortably onto his shoulder, the ex-grave digger slunk his way out of the center of the group and closer to the front, where several of their numbers, including that one guy, Freddie, discussed possible routes to take. This might have been the opportunity he needed to 'thin the herd' as it were. Large groups only lasted when they had a fortified place to stay for an extended period of time, as proven by his temporary stay with a group holed up in the Apartment he lived in.

They would probably still be alive if he hadn't have 'Accidentally' left the ladder he had used to get down the across the large gap in the stairway they had made. He might have also 'Accidentally' rang the dinner bell as it were, when he set off the fire alarm within the building.

Poor sods, they had such a good thing going to, but then they got paranoid that someone who dug graves was some sort of witch doctor and kicked him out.

William stepped forward, the blade of his shovel touching the ground with a light clang, as he leaned against it, deciding to help out with the conversation.

"if there's a Costco nearby, then maybe we can find some poor shambler caught underneath a shel-I mean," His eye had twitched several times until he corrected himself, as he proved once again why people avoided him, "Ahem, there might be something left over in the storage areas, or something else worth our while. Worth a shot, I'm in."

Danger was something he practically lived for at this point, and Costco had plenty of things he could turn into useful survival items. Wood into shields, metal into spears, cloth into bags. The possibilities were endless, of course, the trip would also depend on what kind of members decided to go.

William had volunteered, and since the chance of not returning growing when out on scavenging missions, he was rather certain he would be selected to go. He had a tendency to creep others out and he was certain at least one or two in the group wouldn't mind if he never came back.

[Dusty]

By in large the world hadn’t changed much for the smallfolk. Those little woodland creatures whose very existence was threatened by the ruthless, expert killers that patrolled the skies and lands day and night. As such they were less than impressed by these new, shambling humanoid monsters concentrated in urban population centers, who upon occasion wandered into their forested home. For many they worried about the normal hunters, and upon one scent of the decay that heralded the approach of the walking corpses they would scatter, flee down their respective burrows and trees hunkering down until the threat inevitably passed over. Content to live another day, and be the prospective meal for a more competent hunter. Unfortunately for this rabbit, Bubba did not stink of death, and his natural aroma gave no warning concealed downwind. Even his massive bulk, towering six and half feet high gave no clear warning, as the giant moved as soft and low as a snake through the leaf littered forest. Not even the tall twitching ears, sensitive to the whistle of an airborne rock, or the soft padded paws exploding into evasive maneuvers could save the doomed lapin from the inevitable. The rock, more akin to a small boulder smashed into the buck’s head sending it reeling, crushing its brains and skull and leaving a sizable dent in its small, fuzzy head.

Snorting at a stone well thrown Bubba stood from his hiding spot, dusting leaves and dirt from his red flannel button down, and blue jeans. He’d been sitting motionless for the better half of an hour, waiting for the unfortunate rabbit to warily sneak from its warren. He’d already bagged two others and a squirrel, and his fourth kill of the day, lying broken before him, its feet twitching in its death throes was a particularly large buck. Alone it could feed three hungry men, or Bubba. The catch had been difficult to be sure, the rabbit being as cautious as it should be, and Bubba had worried more than once that the wind would change and the creature would dart away unscathed. His concerns it seemed had been unfounded and he bent to tie a twine about the rabbit’s hind legs, pulling the cords tight and throwing the carcass over his shoulder. He strode easily through the woodlands, the rabbit bouncing on his broad shoulders, and the morning sun just peeking over the horizon, filtering soft light through the foliage overhead. In his free hand Bubba bounced his throwing rock, it was a good find, round, about the size of a large orange and made of a heavy granite of some kind. He’d found it in Arkansas along the banks of the Buffalo River, and ever since countless scores of small animals across four states and hundreds of miles had fallen victim to its stunning impact.

Storing the stone in his backpack Bubba splashed into a cool, fast flowing stream, that ran over sparkling pebbles, filling his bottle on the fresh water. Above him hung his other three catches, similarly tied by their hind legs and left on a low branch over the inch-deep water, just high enough so that an enterprising coon, or bear wouldn’t find themselves privy to a free breakfast at Bubba’s expense. Unknotting the staying rope Bubba tossed the three to join the fourth on his broad back, before striding purposely northwest.

His long legs ate up the miles easily but even so the sun set high at midmorning by the time he reached the Highway. The road was deserted of the living, and Bubba counted only a few roving undead as his company. For the most part they ignored Bubba, even as he hummed his tuneless hum, and strode boldly past them, unperturbed by their moans and unsteady gait towards him. The Glock at his hip remained holstered, and even though he wrenched his wood axe from its place, bit deep in a handy pinewood tree he made no move to clear the few zombies away. Scratching idly at his beard Bubba continued on his way, seemingly unconcerned that the group had left without him. He didn’t blame them, he was well known for being hanger on, a disjointed part of the whole and oftentimes he was gone for days at a time, generally bringing back a few kills, some fish, and even a few bottles of whiskey at one point. He always found the group again, or a new one. The group being the scattering of nomadic peoples whom he attached himself to. He’d been a part of at least seven different gathering so far, or had it been eight? Bubba could recall. They were different people in different states that Bubba either lost or abandoned once their interest diverted from his own. This group seemed to have an interest in traveling north however, which matched Bubba’s own so he remained with them, letting them do their thing, as he did his, their relationship symbiotic in full. This group was large too, and most unfamiliar with woodcraft making them easy to find. Their unconcealed spoor was practically a flashing neon signpost for Bubba. Still, they had half a day’s journey on him so it was best to set to with a vigor. So, he did.

The flat interstate made travel easy, and it was a little before midday when he finally spotted them in the distance, and an hour after that he reached their rearguard. They’d stopped for a breather it seemed, and Bubba frowned at this. To him it appeared they were going slower and slower every day, and the lackluster pace couldn’t be solely blamed on the six-year-old. Sure, disease was rife in their unsanitary conditions, Bubba had beaver’s sickness himself, but their lack of true progress did not bode well with Bubba. He’d thought it would have been evening before he located them, and here it was barely past noon.

Bubba stepped over a man named Wyatt McCarthy who was lying upon his back and past a girl he whose name he could not recall with her dog. All around him those of little consequence were settling down, while the self-elected leaders gathered. Bubba paused, eyeing the discussion with contempt. Letting the kill fall from his shoulder he dug around his pocket, locating his dip can and stuffed a healthy pinch into his lower lip. He was uninterested in their debate. If they’d bothered to ask him, he could show them where plenty of food and clean water was. Fresh water streams flowing from underground waterworks were plentiful, one only had to follow a deer trail to find them, and in a single morning Bubba had bagged enough food for six or seven people. Sure, they wouldn’t be living the high life like before, they’d be hungry and wanting and fighting for survival but it was better than this self-inflicted desperation for abundant resources. They never would ask him though, so Bubba felt no need to tell them just how bountiful Minnesota was.

Taking a seat Bubba drew his knife and began making small incisions in the first rabbit, squeezing the feet and dripping cool blood on the asphalt, watching the process in fascination. Taking his smallest finger, he inserted it under the rabbit’s flesh, wiggling it about watching the fur bulge and pulse, a morbid grin plastered on his face. Turning he looked straight at the girl with the dog, his blue eyes fixed on upon them with a sudden intensity. “I like your dog,” he informed her his voice flat, almost emotionless. He held up his rabbit, his finger still inserted beneath its skin. “Would it like something to eat?” In a single deft motion, he slit the rabbit from throat to rump, it guts spilling open for the world to see. Grinning he ripped out the heart and liver and lungs from the spinal cord, holding them out for Violet to take. “Here, he’ll like ‘em I know.”

[smarty0114]

Silence hung over the large cabin, tucked away in a neat little clearing in the woods. That had been the biggest change. Before everything had happened, it had never been truly silent. Now though, the sounds of humanity had died, leaving only the soft sounds of nature, seemingly oblivious to the chaos that had gripped the world.

Danny and his family had been at the cabin for six weeks now. When shit hit the fan, they’d been here, playing board games and watching tv. His father had tried to call everyone he could, get a helicopter, a plane, but nothing had worked. People had been panicking too much, rushing around. With no help in sight, his parents decreed they’d stay at the cabin. They boarded up most of the doors and windows, tried to make it look run down so no one came looking. It had worked for a bit.

Now though, their supplies were running low, not that his parents wouldn’t admit it. They were trying to hide things from him and Marina, but he’d snuck down to the pantry the night before and seen that their food was dwindling. They needed to find food, soon.

That’s why his dad had gone out that morning. As the sun was rising he’d gotten up early, picked up the rifle he used to keep over the fireplace, and headed out. That’s why he came home carrying a deer, and sporting a fresh scratch on his arm.

The gunshot was the part that stuck with him. The sharp, piercing bang that rang out through the night, sending a bullet tearing through the reanimated corpse of his father. The gunshot is what invaded his thoughts, haunting him. That damned gunshot…

---

“Danny?” Charlotte Foster stared up at the hardened face of Daniel Esposito, who had trailed off mid-sentence. His gaze was vacant, as if he was somewhere far away. She couldn’t blame him. This place sucked.

Charlotte and Danny had only known each other for a week, maybe less, but they’d found a strange rapport already. Danny had vouched for her to stay, when she’d initially stumbled upon the ever expanding group of survivors. Her company was calming, and she could tell Danny needed someone to talk to, so she made an effort to be around him. The end of the world happens, and here she was, still trying to do her job.

These episodes seemed commonplace for the former college student, Charlotte had observed. During their talks, he would occasionally drift off. Sometimes it was slow, subtle and unnoticeable. Sometimes, it was abrupt, and jarring, like this time. She’d dealt with traumatized patients enough times to recognize one. Then again, who wasn’t traumatized right now.

“Danny?” Charlotte repeated, this time successfully pulling him from his trance. Startling slightly, the boy regained his composure after a short moment of confusion, and turned his head to Charlotte.

“Sorry, sorry. I got… distracted.” he said, shaking his head as the duo pushed on, doing their best to ignore the muggy heat that had them all gripped tightly.

“Seems to happen to the best of us nowadays,” Charlotte said, offering Danny a slight, but encouraging smile. Those were still hard to come by since the world had ended, and if she could add to the supply, well it couldn’t be that bad.

The pair walked in silence for a few more minutes, somewhere in the middle of the pack. Eventually, Danny broke the quiet, with a question for the therapist. “What do you think about us heading into the city?” he asked, his eyes focused on the interstate that stretched out in front of them.

Charlotte stayed quiet while she mulled over how to answer the question. She’d come from Minneapolis, and she’d seen what it was like when she left. She wasn’t very sure that there was much for them there, but then again, she wasn’t in charge. The only reason she was sticking along was the security the group gave her. It was nice, having people to rely on somewhat. Being out there alone, it had taken a toll. It was harsh, and exhausting. This, well, at least she could sleep at night.

“For now, it’s a plan. I don’t think we should head to far into the city, but we need more supplies, and that’s gonna be the best place to scavenge I think. We need to find shelter too,” Charlotte said, sighing. The groups list of needs was long, and discussing it only reminded her of their grim reality.

Danny nodded along as Charlotte spoke, but refrained from voicing his opinion. When it came to bigger issues like this, Danny tended to go with the pack. He didn’t have the expertise to take a stand, nor the desire. He figured that following Freddie was better than being alone out there.

Their trek had led them to an unremarkable spot on the interstate, where the group milled about while Freddie and the doctor messed around with a car. Seeing them return with water sent both Charlotte and Danny’s hearts soaring. Water was becoming a greater luxury every day.

“I think Costco’s a good bet. Even if we can’t find resources, we might be able to camp out there,” Charlotte said, while Danny nodded along gripping the handle of his machete tightly.

[SkeankySnack]

Arnold Myers

High noon with a hot sun, stretch of open road with practically zero cover, nearly fifty people in a less than fifty foot radius, if there wasn’t a more literal term for, “out of the frying pan…” than Arnold sure as hell couldn’t think of one. Wiping the sweat from his brow, Arnold had to contemplate his more recent decision making. How long had it been since he joined? Maybe a little over a week now? The days seemed to blur together, and between the heat and lack of water, the days only seemed to have melded moreso. Even so, he’d been through a hell of a lot before this, he was just more well supplied. Watching people screaming as they were being eaten, cops and military were practically ineffective in the long run, bases being overrun by the sheer number of ’them’. It was only a matter of time before the people around him were taken, or even he was taken, hell at this point everyone in this party was just biding their time.

Arnold sighed rather frustratingly, a hand grazing over his torque wrench gently carried in the makeshift sheath that was a belt loop, before breathing deeply. ’Get a hold of yourself, he thought, ’sure shit has hit the fan, but you can make it through this, a day at a time.’ Though he really wanted to believe that, this sorry lot of pack scavengers wasn’t going to last long unless they actually banded together and formed a stronghold somewhere. The city wasn’t a viable option, too many of them already had a hold of it, the forest wasn’t a great option either, plenty of game, but there were too many blind spots amongst the foliage that they couldn’t afford the ambush. Nearly a year ago, Arnold wouldn’t of thought of this crap, he’d be working on a Ford Mustang or a Ducatti or some kind of fuckin’ car and just zone out. Now, he was literally planning on what kind of forward base a group of survivors could call their home, something they could build, fortify and protect, even with half of the assclowns that were around. Sure most of them were ‘troubled’, but if it was either food and water vs. the wasteland, they’d turn around and settle in line.

It wasn’t until the group stopped and he nearly ran into the big muscle head of the group, Don? That he realized that Freddie was speaking. A trip to Costco? That seemed like a fruitless endeavor...however...a lightbulb went off in his head. ”Food and water might already be gone, but hopefully there’s other useful stuff that no one would even think about.” In his mind Arnold was already thinking of the possibilities of different tools that could be available as well as scrap that could be converted into other items. ”Clothing for one would be a good start,” not only was it flammable, but to be fair, everyone was as dirty as..well a mechanic, and fresh clothing could be a useful morale boost, since hot water was nowhere to be found. ”Any camping or travel gear we can find can store more items for later scavenging, tools and scrap are useful too.” For the first time in a while, Arnold felt excited, even forgetting about the current water and food situation. Hand gripped tightly around his ‘club’ he smirked at the hulk before him before turning towards Freddie, ”I’m willing to go with anyone else who wants to, I can help spot out the stuff we need in the long run.”

---

Donald “Don” Ackerson

Six months and ten days since it nearly all started, even now he could still remember Freddie Jones words that they needed to get out before Don nodded assuringly, getting as many people out of the bar alive. He wasn’t a bodyguard, he wasn’t supposed to protect people with his life, he was a bouncer, someone who roughed someone up when they were being too rowdy, touchy, or plain old creepy. Most days he thought about Day Z, thought about how most of the patrons...didn’t make it, in a way it haunted him, it haunted the oath he swore by and broke at the same time. At the end of the day though, he saved his bro, and he saved his bro’s daughter and that...that was enough to console him; at least long enough.

Donald Ackerson on the outside was a stoic and intimidating man, but on the inside he actually cared about those around him, particularly Freddie Jones and especially Jones’ daughter Alex, ‘lil firefly’ he’d call her. Even in this gloom, cruel and disgusting land, she always had a way to shine among those around her. He’d known Freddie Jones and his kid long enough that both were practically family, she was, in notion alone, his niece. At one point in his life Don thought the only people he’d have to protect her from would be the boys trying to get a piece of her. Nowadays he didn’t think he’d literally have to protect her from ‘things’ trying to get a ‘piece’ from her. Well...so long as ‘Uncle Don’ was around, she wouldn’t have to worry about nuthin’, same with her pops.

Coming back from his thoughts, he noticed that the mechanic was slowly invading his personal space, clearly engaged in his own thinking. Fortunately he noticed before ‘popping Don’s bubble’ the one that would have left him on the ground. Even so, the mechanic didn’t seem like a threat, not unlike some of the other knuckleheads, the ones that clearly needed a swift fist to the teeth if they even sneezed out of place. Out of the few that came to mind he trusted was probably KT, didn’t know why she was called that but she was a fighter, and just as quiet as he was. In a way if Don was Freddie Jones’ right hand, she would have been his left, hell maybe she was. Out of everyone else, there were too many kids and too many unwilling to follow people, both presented a problem in and of itself, but even though Don didn’t make the rules, he certainly helped enforce them.

Even as Freddie Jones told his plan of going to Costco, Don silently observed the group around them. Some seemed hesitant, while others eager, there were some...individuals who his gut didn’t trust, the grave digger seemed like one of them, that redneck (not quite right in the head) who brought back food seemed like another, the gangster and ex-con were top on his list of who to fuck up if shit hit the fan. All in all, there was a group of good, a group of bad, and a real~ nasty group of ugly that he had to keep an eye on all the time. So long as they didn’t stir up the hornet’s nest they’d be fine, but who knows how long that’d last.

---

Ollivander Clarke

Back in his younger days, Ollivander Hemingway Clarke, along with his late wife the beautiful Emily Diana Dickenson, would have enjoyed a day like today. A day out on the safari, a harsh sun beaming at their backs, a lion poised to roar as they drove their jeep in the savannah, pictures ready to be taken. Today...was not one of those days, i hoʻohalahala lā, or ‘harsh sun’ as the Hawaiians would say was not one to be taken for granted. It weakened and dehydrated the body, lost will to the spirit and in this case...made them a perfect target for Cathartes aura, or the Turkey Vulture as it were. Normally such a genus would rest along the Mississippi river, but chances would have it due to recent events they have migrated towards this area along with many others in search of food; Darwin would certainly be proud.

Ollie would have no doubt been one of the last survivors to join such a rancorous group, but as luck would have it he was in a bit of a pickle and truly needed their help. Now having joined them, roaming the land and the current Minnesota highway he was grateful for the temporary rescue from the uncomely beings that gave chase to him. As he continued his travels with the rather large group he noticed that the children had grown fond of him and his stories, along with any adults that wished to indulge him. Certainly there were some unruly characters, but they mostly kept their distance.from the rest of the group. This was no problem to the elderly professor as he shared his knowledge when he could, while also listening to those who desired his council. In this particular case, they were stopped, alone and debating and all he could do was stand about and wait.

What did catch his eye during the debate was the sword that the woman ‘KT’ wore. Perhaps it was an acronym, perhaps it meant nothing more than Katie and it was simply a misnomer. In the end, Ollie was glad to be amongst individuals with both a shared skill set and hopefully a mind open to all possibilities; even ones such as his. Curiosity has its constraints though, he limped over towards the swords-woman, his cane guiding every step, before leaning on the railing next to her.

”I apologize madame,” he nodded in respect, ”Indulge an old man like myself, but...I’ve been observing your sword for some time now, it appears ornate, yet most of its stones have either lost luster or fallen off completely.” Perhaps he was entering the lion’s den, but a scholar never loses a chance to ask a question. ”Given the intricacy...can I assume it's a Falchion? Something of the 15th century, possibly belonging to an Arabian warlord?” Even among the current discussion and the arguments being presented, Professor Ollivander had a knack of learning before debating.

[McHaggis]

.

[Grimoire Gaming]

The sun blazed hotter than the eighth circle on this late summer day. Ffiona brushed a stray strand of hair back, which consequently stuck to her sweat-slicked forehead, while the rest of her auburn locks were braided over her left shoulder. The heat might be oppressive, but it wasn’t anything that the ex-forest ranger wasn’t used to. Even before the dead walked among them, FiFi spent most of her days in the great outdoors. With her hair braided, her blue jeans rolled up to her knees, and her flannel unbuttoned and tied just below her breasts, Ffiona was doing the best she could to combat the scorching temperatures.

Liam, Ffiona’s younger brother, was far less fortunate. Although the Lewis’ all were born with the same unfortunately pale complexion, Liam’s had seen far less of the sun’s rays over the years. While his father and older sister seemed to be faring well, save for gaining a considerable amount of new freckles, Liam was roasting alive. This was his karmic payback for all of those days spent playing video games inside instead of helping with the farm chores, he was sure of it, though he’d never admit that aloud. Instead, he rode beside his sister, a cloth tied around the lower half of his face like some kind of cowboy outlaw, but really he was just trying to protect his already red cheeks and damned-near crispy fried nose from the sun. At least he had the familiar tones of Dream Theater’s “Pull Me Under” playing through his headphones to keep him company in these trying times. Images and Words was one of five albums in Liam’s ‘Survive the Fucking Apocalypse’ collection… a growing collection, housed in his scuffed camping backpack.

The patriarch and remaining parent of the Lewis family, Gareth, trotted his horse up alongside his children’s, returning from his place at the head of the pack with news. This was how the Lewis’ had been travelling with the group for a number of days now — Gary, serving as their family’s natural leader, usually stayed with Freddie Jones and the others at the front of the group while Ffiona, Liam, and the Carter’s stayed close together to keep each other safe first and foremost. Once the three horses were side-by-side, walking at an incredibly slow pace to stay in the middle of the group, Gareth spoke up. His voice was quiet, as he’d grown accustomed to speaking these past few months, lest he attract the dead’s attention. “Freddie Jones ‘n them found some water up ahead. And some signs pointin’ towards a Costco. Thoughts are to head there next.”

“Oh… that’s good, right?” Ffiona asked, looking over to her father. At this point, Liam decided he might as well take out an earbud to see what they were talking about. He passively looked over at his family, waiting for them to continue whatever conversation they were having.

“Well… we’ll have to see, I guess. My thoughts are the place has probably already been looted for the common supplies, but that don’t mean we won’t find some useful stuff.” Gareth responded with a shrug. He patted Lucy Loo’s neck encouragingly after she blew out a sigh. Horses sigh when they’re tired, but they were always tired these days, and unfortunately they had to keep on walking.

“Right. Costco’s have a bit of everything, I think it’s a good idea.” FiFi agreed with a nod, even going so far as to smile. Not even a zombie apocalypse could knock her positive outlook on life.

Liam perked up at the thought of a Costco. They might have cigarettes! Or aloe! Or both! Sweet respite was in sight, maybe this new world wasn’t as bleak as it looked. “I’m in!” The teenager chimed in, whether or not his opinion held any merit.

“How far out is it?” Fi asked curiously.

“Eh, a few miles out still, I reckon. Plans are to see what we can find there, then head towards the Twin Cities. Now, that plan… I ain’t as fond of.” Gareth voiced his opinion to his family. Heading towards any city was just flirting with danger in his opinion. This thing was a plague, and plagues have always had the most devastating impact on highly populated areas. That, and he just plain didn’t like cities, he was a country man, through and through.

“Well…” Ffiona pondered that, running her hands through Genie’s mane. “That might not be so bad, could be where mom is headed too.” She said, naively still believing that Gwyneth and her mother got separated from them by the horde, and that they were still alive and out there somewhere.

“Oh, Jesus Christ, Fi! Are you seriously that dense?” Liam retorted and rolled his eyes. While rampant positivity might work as a coping mechanism for Ffiona, it felt like battery acid in his own wounds.

Following Ffiona’s comment, Gareth had fallen silent. Mournfully silent. It wasn’t until Liam snapped that he spoke up himself. “Hey, don’t talk to your sister like that. Ya ain’t so old I can’t give ya a whoopin’ for it, ya hear?”

“No. Just, no. You’re all talk, Dad, and Fi needs to stop this. Mom is dead. Gwennie is dead. They’ve been dead for months.” Liam stated firmly, his nostrils flaring with equal parts sadness and anger. Why did he have to be the adult here? “And if it weren’t for Dad and I convincing you to leave, you’d be dead too. You would have stayed at the house waiting for them to come back until the shamblers busted down the front door. They ain’t coming back, Fi, and we’re never going to find them. Not alive, at least. And no amount of positive thinking is going to change that.”

Gareth sighed defeatedly. His son wasn’t wrong… he could have said it with more tact, but, he wasn’t wrong. In an attempt to comfort his daughter, Gary spoke with a soft voice. “Ffio— ” He was cut short by Ffiona pulling back on Genie’s reins and turning the gray horse off to the right, away from her brother and father.

“I’m going to go update the Carter’s on the group’s plans.” Her voice was hollow and stony as she took her leave.

[LovelyComplex]

Her mother warned her to not drink one of her energy drinks until she absolutely needed one. Usually, around night time when they had unexpected visitors and she was rudely shaken awake by frantic humans — because let's be real, Eden Carter could sleep. Only if circumstances allowed it (if only). For about six months, though? Nah. Sleep was not a thing. Sleep was for the dead, literally! Every day on Zombieland meant another day of hyping yourself up to survive and stay awake, to find some silver lining at the end of this forever pestilence ridden age. Eden's silver lining? The little things. Like her now empty can that gave her a Redline energy boost. A can her mom could use for storage or a lantern or something, but something she was using to play with, like a hacky sack.

They had come to a stop and rather than bother all these people she barely knew, she juggled the can with her feet, legs, and knees. There were only a handful of people she'd go out of her way to try and communicate with. That of an old historian (he actually knew ASL, so that was dope), a little girl that was the daughter of the 'big man' (he who was named after a Scooby Do character), and the other being a farmer family of three. She had yet to find a reason to click with the others and right now she wasn't in the mood to achieve her month goal, which was to make a new friend. Maybe she'd just make the dog her friend and check that off her list...

The usefulness of her opinions and thoughts weren't useful at all when there were all these adults, all with their own ideals of how they'd deal with 'circumstances'. A giant melting pot of people that wanted to live as long as they can. Nothing new. Some thinking they knew better than others, some not thinking at all. They've grown in size, which had yet led to a disaster. That was good! Right?

Eden chose not to assume the worst when the worst had yet to happen. Things could always get bad and more bad. Death was everywhere!

• In the sky: those vultures making her feel like 'somebody's watching me'. No one got privacy. Ever.
• In the water: please, why else were they running low? People died in those rivers, duh.
• In each other: Yeah, there was probably someone in this group that would use her as a meat shield if they could. Trust was earned and as far as she was concerned, it was her and mama versus hell itself.

And yet here they all were, still alive. Who would've thought they'd last this long? The world may never know!

Too bad they weren't cats, then they'd have nine lives, but if they were, they'd be the perfect species for experimentation. Eden's theory to this epidemic is a science experiment that went wrong, like damn Resident Evil. Why else did it spread so fast? Because it was God plaguing them with his hate and rage? Ha. Hilarious.

Even if she had a good idea, she was seen as a liability and too young to have something worth saying. That deaf girl, amiright? So. She'd be exactly the way they expected her to be, a kid. Ignorance was truly bliss. She will say if they didn't find shelter by nightfall, they'd join the walking dead, by being zombified because of sleep deprivation. Unless most of the adults were like her mom who had a futile tussle of conflicting thoughts that kept her up, which honestly could be the case, since some of these people undoubtedly had PTSD after D-day. The day that changed it all. Happy death day!

Her mom seemed to somewhat like Freddie Jones and his gang, so if her mom trusted they'd find a resting zone by nightfall, she would too. Eden didn't mind the exercise but the only people she noticed that had caffeine, on their person, was her and her mom, and they were running low. Or, she was. Oh well! In this moment, none of that mattered. She was fired up, trying to keep the can up for as long as possible, behind the adults being adults. Where was her mom anyways? Probably lurking near everyone, trying to find out what's going on in brooding silence. Her mom was good at going unnoticed. Quiet, like a ninja, but with a crossbow instead of knifes like KT carried.

She, on the other hand?

Eden caught the can with her hand, threw it high in the air, and when it came back down, she kicked it with reckless abandon, accidentally darting it to the hulk's head _{@BeastofDestiny}. Ah, man. Her mom was going to get pissed.

[Klaykid]

"I'm hungry."

"I know you're hungry. We have a schedule to stick to."

"No, Gus, you don't understand. I'm really freaking hungry."

"Well, you ain't eatin' 'till the group does."

"Well, Victor always lets me eat when I wanted to."

"Yeah? And your manager's dead isn't he?"

There were times Gustavo Acosta debated whether or not he should have taken Aveline Donnelly under his wing. Rarely there were times she had made his efforts worth it. But then his memory came back to when he found her starving in that run down building, her manager desperately searching for something to split between the two. There was pity, but he did not want the responsibility of taking care of two more mouths. He could have robbed them but there was doubt they had anything worth of value. Yet, he saw his sister in her eyes. In her entitled and useless eyes.

"I thought you said traveling in big groups was a bad idea, Gus."

She was simply teasing Gustavo for changing his mind. Aveline knew how set in his ways the man was, and how hard it was for Gustavo to admit when he was wrong. Were it not for Aveline being so insistent on traveling with this horde of people, the two of them would have continued traveling with just themselves. To her, there were no downsides. So many of these people probably seen her work on television! It was exciting! So many fans! But Gus did not let her talk about her status as the (likely) only living celebrity left in the United States. He says "they don't give two shits whether or not you were on some television show". Which, may she add, was absolutely rude.

"Yeah, a big group is a bad idea. But there's doctors, builders, useful people in this group. So we stay with them as long as they're useful. And in turn, we make ourselves useful."

"Is that why you always make me come along with you?"

"Pack mules are useful."

"That was rude."

[Bee]

For a country that produced one of the world's worst dictators, they sure produced one hell of a gun. The Glock 22 that was currently in Leonard's hands was being held gingerly, all 2.14 lbs of it. He had the misfortune of having to fire this gun off a multiple amount of times. Some bullets were rightfully spent on the undead inhabitants of the world, and other bullets were spent on the... more alive inhabitants of the world. However, spending this much time with the group and staying alive for as long as he did had meant that he had developed quite a strong sense of discipline when it came to using his gun. With bullets being more and more scarce as time went on, ammo became as hot of a commodity as ammunition did. It was rare that they come across actually useful ammunition that his gun could take. As common of a cartridge as it was in the pre-apocalyptic world, .40 S&W was harder to come by than its smaller brethren.

Leonard sat atop a log, checking his gun and making sure all was fine, at least the best he could do without taking the gun apart. He pulled the slide back, revealing that there was a round in the chamber. If Leonard had to pull the trigger anytime soon, he would've been able to do so almost immediately. But, with that aside, that was as far as he was going to get with his gun. With so many people around, it was almost useless to use. It would've just caused undue noise and ultimately be a nuisance. They had the manpower to get through things with the sheer force of their muscles and wills. At this point, it seemed like the gun was more for other people, instead of measly zombies who seemed to be made of plastic based on how easily everyone seemed to bash their skulls in. Not to say that Leonard hadn't used his retractable baton to bash some heads in either.

Sighing, Leonard placed the gun in his holster, standing up and slinging his bag over his back as he made his way closer to the group. Right now he was within eyesight of some members, but it was better to get closer to everyone else. They had been walking for a pretty long time, and it was pretty easy to tell that the majority of the members of the group were exhausted and needed the rest. Leonard was fine for the most part, he could've kept going for a bit, but he understood having to stop for the time being to let the less physically fit catch their breath. They were safe for the most part right now, so he figured it was okay. The worst case scenario was that a horde came at them right now. Then... they would've had to figure out how they were going to haul ass. But that was a bridge they were going to cross when they got to it. Right now, it was just time to rest, or for Leonard, check up on some other people he had grown familiar with during his tenure with this group. There was still some time to kill, and Leonard wanted to make the most of it.

Violet was someone he had grown to be familiar with over their tenures within the group. It helped that she had the coolest dog he'd ever seen, and that was saying something since he had known many police dogs over their lifetime. But, for whatever reason, he had grown rather fond of Violet and Argos. Not saying that he wanted things to get steamy, that was something he didn't want to think about, especially since the person who held that slot in his heart was more of the... stabby and slashy variant. But, Violet was a nice friend to have and someone nice to talk to, and Argos was a good boy. You could never neglect the fact that Argos was about as good of a boy as they got. He was reliable and trustworthy, more so than other members of the group, especially some ex-criminals here. They might not have said it, but Leonard knew a criminal when he saw one.

Maneuvering his way around some people who were still resting up, he was stepping up behind someone who was already interacting with Violet already. Maybe they wanted a piece of Argos as well? He understood, after all Argos was one of the goodest boys around. It was hard not to play with him. In a way, he had more roles than just being the obligatory group dog. Some people found him as good morale. some people took comfort with his presence and the fact that he was so receptive to the other people in the group, at least he hoped Argos was receptive to people. Leonard found that Argos was receptive to him, at least, he wasn't sure about other people. Getting closer, he watched a knife be pulled out. On instinct, Leonard put his hand on his holster before realizing the man's intentions, which was just as bad as he witnessed him slit the rabbit's guts and absolutely desecrate its course as he offered its remains to Violet.

What... the fuck? Leonard had to step in before Violet got into a situation he didn't want her to be in. "Whoa, whoa! Hey!" Leonard stepped in, putting his hand up toward... Bubba and looking over at Violet and Argos. "Listen, buddy, I don't think Argos would be very receptive to... that. Haven't you ever had a dog before? They're all used to processed shit. I don't think he would do very well after eating whatever you've got hanging from your hand over there." Looking at the corpse of the rabbit, he cringed a bit, "Also... did you really have to do that in front of them? Not a cool move, my dude. That's some serial killer shit..."

Dallas had been hanging out toward the back of the group as they traveled. At some point he just straight up lost track of how far they were going. Did they even know where they were headed? It seemed so aimless and random that there just had to be a discrepancy when it came to what exactly their goal was. Dallas was fine with trucking on, but not as fine with trucking on without a purpose. Were they trying to get somewhere with supplies? Somewhere that could provide them with supplies and get everyone back into shape? It might not have been apparent right now, but at some point supplies were going to run out. It might not have been anytime soon, but it was better to accumulate as many supplies as you could before it got uncomfortably close to becoming empty. But, he wasn't the leader of the group. He was just here so that he wouldn't be the first one eaten if things turned south.

Eventually they rested. Some people immediately sat down and got their bearings, other went off to do things, and other people? Well... they did things that Dallas didn't want to think about. Dallas still had the energy to keep on trucking, but he didn't really know who he could stick to for their resting period. Everyone seemed to be preoccupied, whether it'd be complaining or checking cars for any stray supplies that might've been useful. It was more than likely that most of these cars had been cleaned out. But, if they had gasoline around, they would've been able to get some of these vehicles working and maybe make transport a little easier. There was no telling what was going to be done about the horses and whatnot, but... it wasn't like he had to worry about that anyway. Wasn't like there was enough gas around to get things going anyway.

Wandering toward the front, he found Freddie Jones trying to poke a zombie's head out with his furnace fork thing. That was a weird tool to use, but based on how bloody it was after the encounter, it appeared to be effective. It wasn't going to be something he questioned. Slinging his baseball bat over his shoulder, he then soon went somewhere else to have a group powwow of sorts. Based on what he said, it seemed like there was a Costco nearby -- great, so there was a goal in mind! Costco! Where people could buy shit they didn't need in amounts they didn't need. But, given the context of the situation they were in, it wasn't a bad idea. However, it also wasn't an original idea. He was sure that other people had the same idea.

"How are we so sure there's fuc- I mean freaking stuff in there?" Dallas put his bat down, dragging it against the ground, "I don't think we'd be the first ones there."

[Hey Im Jordan]

Freddie Jones

---

Everyone had made some valid points, in their own ways. Most of them were agreeing with him, and he appreciated that. Still, though, the ones that had raised concerns raised some valid ones. Jimmy in particular, though he had to admit — he felt a bit attacked. It wasn’t his fault that the group had grown so large. Freddie Jones found it hard to condemn people to being alone in what was left of the United States of America.

Truth be told, Freddie Jones knew that more than a few of the people and animals in their group were liabilities at best, but he felt like he had to keep everyone alive. By this point? He felt like more than a few of them were his responsibility, and knew a couple of them were. Running around with nearly thirty people? They looked like an army, and if they ran into someone who wanted what little they had… well, they weren’t exactly well equipped to fight back. A few of them had guns, and Daisy had the samurai sword, but… well, Freddie Jones tried not to think about things like that. He liked to keep things positive, and do his best to keep the group moving forward. In his head, the right play was Costco.

The others made good points though. They couldn’t keep out in the open forever. Eventually, night would settle upon them, and for reasons he didn’t know, or didn’t understand… the zombies were more active in the night. That meant, staying out in the open was not a good idea, without a watch crew. The amount of people they could have on watch at night? That was the biggest benefit of their troupe.

Jimmy and Remy made good points. Finding shelter and looting the nearby town, that was something they could do… it was time to explore the second best part of their size: splitting the party. “Okay, okay… It’s possible that there’s nothing left in the Costco, that I can agree with. While I still think it’s a good idea for us to check it out… it’s a Costco. They carry stuff in bulk, and there’s a chance people haven’t checked something; the loading bay, the trucks in the back... something like that.” If anything had been missed, Freddie Jones wanted it in their group.

“If I remember how downtowns work, the Costco won’t be the only store. Maybe we can split up, search the others. I know we could use some medicine, so if we find a pharmacy or something similar, that’d be ideal. We should be on the lookout for food, meds, water, and maybe some vehicles — along with gas cans. Traveling along the highway? We can siphon gas from all of these tanks, there’s probably something left here and there. I think that’s a good way to push us forward to Minneapolis.” It was blind hope that there was something left in Minneapolis, blind hope that Freddie Jones held onto that there was a ‘safe zone,’ or something of the like. He knew the reality was Minneapolis was probably just as fucked as the rest of the world… but, it was worth a shot

“If you guys think it’s a good idea, we can find a place to hole up for a few days, maybe even a week, while we check out the city and see what kind of supplies we can find. Staying nomadic has worked for us so far though, so I think I’d like to keep it that way until we find the ideal spot.” Freddie Jones took note of something happening in the back, but realized that the cop seemed to have it under control. He’d step in if he needed to.

“I think we could do with splitting into a few smaller groups. Some to loot the city, look for vehicles, stuff like that. A few people to the Costco, and them another group looking for suitable shelter. Some place we can stay while we gather some stuff for a little while. We should be loaded by the time we leave here.” Freddie Jones’s mind was made up.

[Fabricant451]

If this were a democracy then the decision would have already been made; the vocal majority all seemed in favor of pushing forward with the idea of going to the bastion of capitalism and consumerism that was Costco. Of course, if it was a democracy then everyone in the group would have a say, but some seemed content to simply be taken under the umbrella of general safety. Jimmy still had her doubts no matter what people said. She found herself agreeing with one of the groupies that she hadn't really had time to get to know - she was sure he was named after a major city just that she wasn't sure which one exactly. Costco dealt in bulk and in socks that people enjoyed way too much, and a place like that was probably ransacked when the news first made a reporting of the undead. By now what would be left? Dog food? Only one member of this group would enjoy that.

"I won't stop you from going, I just don't want to run afoul of some people who might have decided to make Costco their new home. We're not exactly built for that." Jimmy hated sounding like the negative Nancy, but when something like a Costco presented itself it was easy to see why some would see the trees but not the forest. Still, she didn't have a better solution and it was better to think positive. Maybe there would be a box of cookies that fell under one of the shelves or maybe one of the coolers still had power and there was a trove of Ben and Jerry's ripe for the taking.

"I think I should go with the town group. If there's a drug store or pharmacy then I should be there to see what can be used. I'll go with whoever wants to come. I assume you're taking KT to Costco?" Jimmy looked to her side expecting KT to speak up, but she had gone back a ways and seemed to be speaking with an elderly member of the band. Regardless, it seemed the nearby town would be their next stop which was as sensible a decision as could be made. It got them off the interstate and a town at least had all the familiar trappings of how it used to be; not to mention that it was easier to hide from potential threats amongst buildings and such than it was on open road with clear sight lines.

"Whatever we do, we should take a headcount first. Just so we can be sure that we all reconvene no matter what we run into."

They were going into town. It was just a matter of who was going where, and Daisy didn't need to be there for that. She just needed to know where they were going and hoped someone knew how to get there. Navigation wasn't her job. Getting them to their destination safely was, and so far? She had a good track record. She couldn't take all the credit, it was a group effort even getting this far, but if anyone was keeping score like some kind of video game, Daisy was sure she'd be top of the leader board here. Every shambler sent back to the ground was another minute of survival for this group and it was another bullet saved.

While the adults, or the ones who pretended to be, talked it out, Daisy returned to the side rail to lean against it, taking stock of the immediate area and their place within it. The group really was large for the amount of supplies they had, and sooner or later the numbers would have to course correct however they could. It wasn't something she figured most people wanted to talk about, but the unfortunate reality of their situation was that some of these people belonged to the camp of expendable. With any luck it wouldn't even come to that, but the only luck around these days tended towards the bad side of things.

Daisy kept a list in her head of those she would just as soon excise like a bad tumor, but given that many likely disliked her for what they considered immoral and she considered pragmatic she kept that list firmly in the vault that was her mind. By the time their stop in Otwatonna County had concluded she wondered if her list would need to be updated, or names crossed off. It was no wonder damn near everyone kept their distance and saw her as a necessary evil; even Daisy wasn't a fan of the thoughts she was having of late. These people were more than just percentages, and yet...when she looked at them it was hard to remember that.

As if to nudge Daisy with a reminder, one of the members of their group had come to rest next to her. Old Man Ollivander (@BeastofDestiny), as she referred to him (though often without the 'Ollivander' part), with his cane and his composure. She was about ready to remove herself from the railing and the conversation as a whole...but then he had to go and talk about the one thing that sparked her interest. Sure, he might have been wrong in his assumption, but Daisy wasn't going to belittle him for that; he seemed a learned man but even the well educated had room to learn.

Maybe she would've taught him under better circumstances, assuming he was the type to frequent museums.

"You've got a decent eye, but it's not a falchion." Daisy was trying not to sound like how she spoke now. Brusque. It was difficult, but this was the first time anyone had asked her about the weapon at her waist other than one of the teenagers calling it a knife - which was damn near insulting. How rare it was, now especially, for her to be able to 'geek'. Once upon a time she led tours. Maybe one day she'd be able to do so again, but for now this would have to suffice. "Falchions are European swords that are similar to the more ancient Chinese sword known as the dao, which, interestingly enough, was one of the four traditional weapons along with the gun - or staff -, the qiang - spear -, and the jian which is a sword with a double edge." It was around this part where people visiting the exhibits typically nodded their head, said how interesting that tidbit was, and promptly moved on to go find the dinosaur bones.

"I don't recall of many Arabian warlords in history who would have used a falchion, theirs was more a curved blade. A scimitar or the Persian shamshir. Scimitars date back as early as the Abbasid Caliiphate, or the ninth century, where it was also used by Turkics." She was geeking. She was actually geeking and it was to Old Man Ollivander who probably was just trying to be nice and not move along to talk to someone else. Someone who wouldn't geek out about ancient weaponry and Asiatic cultures. "The Turkic scimitar is known as a kilij, by the way. But no, my sword isn't a falchion or a scimitar. It's South Asian in origin, Bhutanese. It's a patag, one of a select few to belong to the Lungdri Chenm family. If you're interested, the next time we make camp I'll tell you the myth about Dupthob Jangkha Lap and the first Lungdri Chenm."

Daisy cleared her throat, suddenly aware of how much she has spoken about. She had to remind herself of where they were, or else she would be caught rambling on about swords as a shambler ate her good arm. Still...it was nice to feel...normal, even for that brief moment in time.

[SkeankySnack]

Donald “Don” Ackerson

---

---

Most of the people in the group were making valid points, whether or not they liked it, Freddie Jones was a man of determination and so far, Don trusted his intuition. There were things going on in the group that he had to pay attention to, but at the same time, he was also willing to voice his own opinion to his friend. "I agree with the group split, while some of us gather supplies others can go scout out for a shelter, while also protecting those with us. So long as we have an even distribution of combatants and non-combatants, I think we'll be-" clunk Did...something just strike Don? Looking down he noticed an empty can rolling and spinning around before settling, the aluminum resounding against the asphalt. Turning his attention to the crowd he quickly scanned before noticing a rather guilty and embarrassed face. Maintaining eye contact with the offender @Lovely Complex, he gently crouched down and picked up the can, "Excuse me for a moment Freddie Jones..."

Slowly, but with purpose he walked towards the young woman, eyes remaining in contact with her at all times, a deathly silence upon the group as they parted for him. Once in front of her, his hulking mass more than apparent compared to her tiny frame, he slowly crouched down, face to face, eye to eye. He was still for a few moments before swiftly taking her hand, palm open and placing the can in it, "It may be the apocalypse, but that's no reason for littering young lady." A small grin, barely noticeable plastered on his face. Standing back to full height he warned the girl, "Others...even now, won't be so kind to litterbugs." Stoic expression resumed, he returned back to his original position alongside Freddie Jones, arms crossed, an intimidating pose. "As I was saying, so long as we're evenly distributed, we should be fine."

---

Ollivander Clarke

---

---

Ollie listened to her as she ranted on about different blades of different ethnic origins. Despite her appearance, she certainly had the mind of a scholar, and he could only wonder what kind of profession this young woman had before the rug had been pulled from under them all. As she finished her tangent, stating that she'd tell him a specific tale of mythos and legend, he couldn't help but laugh. It wasn't a very loud laugh, but loud enough for anyone close enough to them to hear, but it was well a well needed laugh considering the circumstances. "You wouldn't happen to mean the same Dupthob Jangkha Lap, who was killed by his own creation, now would you?" He smiled considerably, having found another learned person who appreciated history as much as him. "I may not be as well versed in ancient weaponry as you are, but I certainly know of history's tales and lessons, and one that certainly speaks of how pride can sometimes be a vice."

Ollie's smile was warm as he gently raised his cane, "Considering your knowledge, I'm sure I don't have to tell you what this is." Presenting a slight visual for her, he lowered it back down, lowering his voice somewhat, "That being said, I'd rather it not be repeated out loud, stoicism is as much a vital tool as frailty is." His head turned as much as he could, he gave her a subtle wink, "Hopefully when it is calmer, we can certainly share some stories among ourselves and the group as a whole. Reaching in his pocket, he grasped a rather well worn handkerchief, dabbing at his face lightly as he scanned what was going on in the group. He noticed that they had decided to separate some of the members for gathering and others for shelter, but most concerning was his newest pupil Eden, supposedly being harassed by the rather muscular body guard of Mr. Jones.

Putting the cloth away he turned once more to the woman known as KT, "Thank you for indulging me in my curiosities Ms. KT, I look forward to speaking with you more, but for now, it seems that you are needed in more dire places." Pushing himself from the railing he started trotting away before turning back, "If at all possible on your journey, you are able to find a book of obscure, yet historical aspect, I would be greatly appreciative." Nodding in respectful departure, he made his way towards the young Eden @Lovely Complex. Ollie hadn't learned many languages, but one of them was ASL, which was particularly useful for this girl.
Placing his hand on her shoulder gently so as not to startle her, he started signing, "Are you alright my dear?"

[Zoey Boey]

Mary and Juniper Wolgast

Juniper's mind had trailed off from the conversation at hand. Staring around, her eyes wandered from group member to group member. Aveline, as always, caught her eye. Not only was she very pretty, but Juniper had seen several of the shows she was on. She was very talented. Juniper hadn't brought it up, because she was sure that would only annoy her. Still, her eyes lingered on Aveline for a moment or two before she looked away.@Klaykid

Mary sniffed and scratched the back of her head. The plan Freddie Jones was making seemed agreeable with most. Perhaps they could find a more permanent shelter than just a week or two, but Mary would voice her concern when the moment was right. Group cohesion was important, and her dissent and nagging wouldn't help anyone until they were in a position to act upon it. "I'll go where I'm needed. But until then I'd like to move out and try to find someplace safe while we scavenge for supplies." The elder Wolgast un-shouldered her empty shotgun and held it in both her hands, indicating her eagerness to get going.

"Anyone wanna come with?" Shelter was one of the most important parts of survival, and Mary was hoping the group hadn't forgotten that fact. Finding a good place to hunker down was Mary's priority, but until then she would help the group out however she could. Mary was open to pretty much anyone coming along. It made sense to her that they would watch each other's backs, and she was confident in her ability to take care of herself.

Juniper, of course, did. But they had this argument many times, and Mary always wanted Juniper to stay behind if Mary went out on a mission. Though it was stressful to be apart, Mary knew it would impossible to protect her younger sister while successfully completing the objective.