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[IC] #StillNotBitten [Invite Only]
- Post-Apocalyptic
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- GM Carlyle Co-GM mickilennial
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Group 1
Location: Rushford, Ohio -- Jenkins' Diner
Date: May 15th, 2019
"The dead are at it again." Karen brushed her hand against the curtain, and gently peeled the sheet back to catch a short glimpse of the outside. Across the street were around a dozen infected gathered around an electronics store, having been drawn by the light and noise coming from the TVs. "I'm sure they're well-intentioned, but those announcements are going to get us killed if we stay here any longer."
She bit down on her lip, still gazing out the window. Though Karen had qualified as law enforcement, she struggled to shake away the uneasiness that consumed her thoughts. No one—absolutely no one—could've been mentally prepared to handle a disaster like this, and yet the situation required Karen to retain her sanity. Karen could've fled homewards, just as a few RPD officers had done when the situation could no longer be controlled, but running went against her conscience. Her duty required her to protect the public, even if Karen was simply a lowly park ranger rather than a cop.
Turning her gaze from the window, Karen snagged a copy of the free map brochures near the register, and flattened the paper across a booth table. "I'm not saying we should leave now, but sooner or later, we'll have to. If it isn't those damned broadcasts that bring them down on us, it'll be them running out of food to eat—like when an animal seeks new hunting grounds after prey is no longer abundant."
At least that degree she earned wasn't just another piece of paper in the apocalypse. Or maybe it was simply common sense not to announce yourself as a tasty meal whilst a hungry wolf hunts.
With her index finger, Karen followed the map along one of the back exits out of Rushford to the Findlay-Gratton bridges. For a split second, she paused, having remembered the chaos that happened there. Hundreds tried to flee with their families, but the noisy panic only drew the undead to the bridge. Even though she had volunteered to assist the evacuation process, Karen—and the other officers of the law—lost control of the situation faster than they could blink.
Some jumped in the river to avoid the terrible fate that befell many that night. Others grabbed their weapons that they had stashed, firing bullets into the crowd and at anything that could've been a threat.
Karen sighed—there would be time for remembrance later. "If anything, I think we should take up their offer." She explained, looking upwards at the group. "Problem is is that we have no way to contact them. There's a CB in my truck, but it's sitting in the station lot. Suppose we can try the phones, though who knows if the towers are still up and running at a time like this. Not like we have a number to call, either."
She snuck another glance at the map, and crossed her arms. They would have to come up with something—one way or another. Their lives depended on it.
She bit down on her lip, still gazing out the window. Though Karen had qualified as law enforcement, she struggled to shake away the uneasiness that consumed her thoughts. No one—absolutely no one—could've been mentally prepared to handle a disaster like this, and yet the situation required Karen to retain her sanity. Karen could've fled homewards, just as a few RPD officers had done when the situation could no longer be controlled, but running went against her conscience. Her duty required her to protect the public, even if Karen was simply a lowly park ranger rather than a cop.
Turning her gaze from the window, Karen snagged a copy of the free map brochures near the register, and flattened the paper across a booth table. "I'm not saying we should leave now, but sooner or later, we'll have to. If it isn't those damned broadcasts that bring them down on us, it'll be them running out of food to eat—like when an animal seeks new hunting grounds after prey is no longer abundant."
At least that degree she earned wasn't just another piece of paper in the apocalypse. Or maybe it was simply common sense not to announce yourself as a tasty meal whilst a hungry wolf hunts.
With her index finger, Karen followed the map along one of the back exits out of Rushford to the Findlay-Gratton bridges. For a split second, she paused, having remembered the chaos that happened there. Hundreds tried to flee with their families, but the noisy panic only drew the undead to the bridge. Even though she had volunteered to assist the evacuation process, Karen—and the other officers of the law—lost control of the situation faster than they could blink.
Some jumped in the river to avoid the terrible fate that befell many that night. Others grabbed their weapons that they had stashed, firing bullets into the crowd and at anything that could've been a threat.
Karen sighed—there would be time for remembrance later. "If anything, I think we should take up their offer." She explained, looking upwards at the group. "Problem is is that we have no way to contact them. There's a CB in my truck, but it's sitting in the station lot. Suppose we can try the phones, though who knows if the towers are still up and running at a time like this. Not like we have a number to call, either."
She snuck another glance at the map, and crossed her arms. They would have to come up with something—one way or another. Their lives depended on it.
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mickilennial The Elder Fae
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0-24 hrs ago
Group 2
Location: Rushford, Ohio -- O'Neal Family Tavern
Date: May 15th, 2019
“It’s not going to get better.”
It wasn’t the best thing to say in the middle of a crisis, but it came flying out of her mouth.
As a special agent with the FBI for the last half-decade, Jennifer Schwarzenberg had seen a lot of things. Dealers, terrorists, the occasional ‘most wanted’ criminal. She was pretty used to the reality of how things were rather than some naïve fantasy. The idea of the living dead? Zombies? That was something in a novel or movie. But here she was, in the middle of Ohio, dealing with the infected and the people who were trying to survive. Rushford wasn’t Cinncinatii or Colombus, it was a blip in the greater Toledo Area; a place that was so far down the totem pole of government assistance and disease control that it was pretty much up to the local police to try to contain it.
There was no chance in hell local police were going to contain this epidemic. She was pretty sure all important law enforcement had become infected by this point in time, or at least, that was the train of thought until the announcement came about refuge in Camp Whispering Springs.
Jenn knew the camp well enough. Before her parent’s split she had spent a few summers there. When she had heard it closed down in the Spring of 2007, she had been a little bummed. It was a nice place. It had good memories.
“Whispering Springs is pretty far down-river. But, it’s a better fighting chance than anywhere else right now.”
Her eyes moved to the travel map that had been laid out on the countertop of the bar she and the rest of her group had occupied for the last few hours.
The hike from their location to the camp in optimal conditions was around four hours. Obviously, there was no such thing as optimal conditions in their situation, or in anybody’s situation anymore. They had to account for infected crowds, blocked off roads, and so many other factors. Jenn wasn’t a survivalist; even with her FBI training and history camping she was just pointing at a direction and hoping for the best. But considering the group she had found herself with—a unemployed teacher, a teenager, and a writer of some-sort. Who else could have led in her situation?
“We don't have a lot of supplies and this place has almost been picked clean. If you can find a drink, I don't think there's a better time for it.” She shook off the thought. “But, maybe we missed something.”
Jenn pulled out her handgun, checking it as she took a heavy breath.
“What do you three think? I don't like the idea of sitting in this bar for too long.”
It wasn’t the best thing to say in the middle of a crisis, but it came flying out of her mouth.
As a special agent with the FBI for the last half-decade, Jennifer Schwarzenberg had seen a lot of things. Dealers, terrorists, the occasional ‘most wanted’ criminal. She was pretty used to the reality of how things were rather than some naïve fantasy. The idea of the living dead? Zombies? That was something in a novel or movie. But here she was, in the middle of Ohio, dealing with the infected and the people who were trying to survive. Rushford wasn’t Cinncinatii or Colombus, it was a blip in the greater Toledo Area; a place that was so far down the totem pole of government assistance and disease control that it was pretty much up to the local police to try to contain it.
There was no chance in hell local police were going to contain this epidemic. She was pretty sure all important law enforcement had become infected by this point in time, or at least, that was the train of thought until the announcement came about refuge in Camp Whispering Springs.
Jenn knew the camp well enough. Before her parent’s split she had spent a few summers there. When she had heard it closed down in the Spring of 2007, she had been a little bummed. It was a nice place. It had good memories.
“Whispering Springs is pretty far down-river. But, it’s a better fighting chance than anywhere else right now.”
Her eyes moved to the travel map that had been laid out on the countertop of the bar she and the rest of her group had occupied for the last few hours.
The hike from their location to the camp in optimal conditions was around four hours. Obviously, there was no such thing as optimal conditions in their situation, or in anybody’s situation anymore. They had to account for infected crowds, blocked off roads, and so many other factors. Jenn wasn’t a survivalist; even with her FBI training and history camping she was just pointing at a direction and hoping for the best. But considering the group she had found herself with—a unemployed teacher, a teenager, and a writer of some-sort. Who else could have led in her situation?
“We don't have a lot of supplies and this place has almost been picked clean. If you can find a drink, I don't think there's a better time for it.” She shook off the thought. “But, maybe we missed something.”
Jenn pulled out her handgun, checking it as she took a heavy breath.
“What do you three think? I don't like the idea of sitting in this bar for too long.”
Location: Rushford, Ohio -- O'Neal Family Tavern
Date: May 15th, 2019
Percy Moore had sat himself at the bar, phone with a charge of less than 20% in one hand and his head in the other, eyes fixed at the screen. As if that'd make a message come back faster, though. He's been staring at the long, long, long line of texts he'd sent to his ex-wife, easily summarized with three little words: Please call me. But no answer, not since the last time he'd tapped out a very long, strongly-worded paragraph. Maybe her phone was just dead. Maybe she was more focused on protecting Ana and herself than answering frantic texts - which, if he had Ana right now, and Laura was the one panicking and bombarding him.. Yeah, it makes sense. It makes sense that she'd be more focused on surviving right now. It doesn't stop his brain from coming up with horror scenarios, though. Like, what if his texts were what ended up getting them killed? The undead seemed to be attracted to the noise.
“It’s not going to get better.”
Well isn't she just a pocketful of sunshine? Percy grimaced slightly before turning his head to look at her. Yeah, she's done plenty of good by now but jeez, she's not one for optimism. Not that he is either necessarily, but.. Shit, Jennifer, little white lies never hurt anyone.
"Whispering Springs is pretty far down-river," she continues, "But, it’s a better fighting chance than anywhere else right now."
After checking that his phone is on vibrate and not blare-so-loudly-it-attracts-zombies-from-every-which-way levels of volume, he turns off the screen and lets out a huff of breath. Whispering Springs, from everything he knew about it, seemed nice. He could vaguely recall asking his parents if he could go - his mother would always say yes, and his father would always say no. "It's too far," he'd insist, "We wouldn't be able to come get you quick enough if something bad happened." And then his mom and dad would lightly fuss back and forth over it before finally coming to the conclusion to do something fun over the summer. They never really did, though - which, at the time, Percy was furious over it, but now that he has his own small child he's worried about? He gets it.
"We don't have a lot of supplies and this place has almost been picked clean," Jennifer starts up again, breaking Percy's little train of thought, "If you can find a drink, I don't think there's a better time for it. But, maybe we missed something." She then pulled out her handgun - the same kind he has, which he'd been so very observant to point out after the metaphorical dust settled in here. "You have a Glock," he'd blurted out before proceeding to duck behind the counter and kick himself mentally. Like, no duh, she has a Glock. At least he didn't say something way more stupid, like, "Oh, we're twinsies!"
"What do you three think? I don't like the idea of sitting in this bar for too long."
Percy turned his whole body around as he went to reply, but a harsh, I-need-to-be-oiled-type of creak came from the barstool under him. He winced, muttering a "Well fuck me," under his breath. After half-standing up to look through the window and make sure he didn't just summon a swarm of zombies to come at them - as far as he saw, he didn't - he then plowed through to what he was going to say anyway, "We should probably definitely get a move on, yeah. Whispering Springs seems like the smartest thing to do, probably." And as long as Laura and her fiance had any sense in their heads, they'd be going there too.
“It’s not going to get better.”
Well isn't she just a pocketful of sunshine? Percy grimaced slightly before turning his head to look at her. Yeah, she's done plenty of good by now but jeez, she's not one for optimism. Not that he is either necessarily, but.. Shit, Jennifer, little white lies never hurt anyone.
"Whispering Springs is pretty far down-river," she continues, "But, it’s a better fighting chance than anywhere else right now."
After checking that his phone is on vibrate and not blare-so-loudly-it-attracts-zombies-from-every-which-way levels of volume, he turns off the screen and lets out a huff of breath. Whispering Springs, from everything he knew about it, seemed nice. He could vaguely recall asking his parents if he could go - his mother would always say yes, and his father would always say no. "It's too far," he'd insist, "We wouldn't be able to come get you quick enough if something bad happened." And then his mom and dad would lightly fuss back and forth over it before finally coming to the conclusion to do something fun over the summer. They never really did, though - which, at the time, Percy was furious over it, but now that he has his own small child he's worried about? He gets it.
"We don't have a lot of supplies and this place has almost been picked clean," Jennifer starts up again, breaking Percy's little train of thought, "If you can find a drink, I don't think there's a better time for it. But, maybe we missed something." She then pulled out her handgun - the same kind he has, which he'd been so very observant to point out after the metaphorical dust settled in here. "You have a Glock," he'd blurted out before proceeding to duck behind the counter and kick himself mentally. Like, no duh, she has a Glock. At least he didn't say something way more stupid, like, "Oh, we're twinsies!"
"What do you three think? I don't like the idea of sitting in this bar for too long."
Percy turned his whole body around as he went to reply, but a harsh, I-need-to-be-oiled-type of creak came from the barstool under him. He winced, muttering a "Well fuck me," under his breath. After half-standing up to look through the window and make sure he didn't just summon a swarm of zombies to come at them - as far as he saw, he didn't - he then plowed through to what he was going to say anyway, "We should probably definitely get a move on, yeah. Whispering Springs seems like the smartest thing to do, probably." And as long as Laura and her fiance had any sense in their heads, they'd be going there too.
Location: Rushford, Ohio -- O'Neal Family Tavern
Date: May 15th, 2019
Daniel Marlowe was tired. He’d spent the majority of the time since the first time he saw one of these...creatures running as fast as he could from them. He’d slept maybe three or four hours in days, and the toll was obvious in his face. He’d scavenged food and water, but he knew he couldn’t keep up the marathon forever: that’s when he found other survivors. A woman; specifically an agent of the FBI, a young man and a teacher. And here he was; probably the most useless of the group. For chrissakes, he didn’t even have a gun.
He listened intently as the agent began laying out the plans: this bar had no supplies to use and their best chance was heading down river to some summer camp. “Summer camp sounds like a good place to hold up, actually,” Daniel started as they were busy with their own business. “They’re usually far out from civilization, meaning we won’t deal with so many of those freaks like we have here in Rushford. Plus, camps tend to stock up for the summer with nonperishable foods, medical supplies and other tools. The only thing I feel we’ll be lacking there would be weaponry--” he stated, looking at both the agent and the teacher. “But honestly, guns are probably a bad idea unless there’s no other situation. Regardless of their mental acuity; we’ve seen how they react to sound--” he nodded at the cacophony of the speakers outside. “The less firing we do, the better. I’d assume, anyway.”
He moved through the bar looking for anything of use; wooden sticks, glass bottles, he was careful to examine everything he could possibly find. “A bottle of high proof liquor would be better put to use for medicine or for a firebomb,” he muttered, digging through shelves. “We can sanitize cuts and scrapes the same way we’d use medical alcohol, or we could use the flammability to ignite something. Hell, even those freaks outside burn.”
He stopped for a moment, realizing he’d been talking for a minute now. “Sorry, I don’t mean to act like a know-it-all. I guess i’m just trying to recall my days in the scouts back in the 90s.”
He listened intently as the agent began laying out the plans: this bar had no supplies to use and their best chance was heading down river to some summer camp. “Summer camp sounds like a good place to hold up, actually,” Daniel started as they were busy with their own business. “They’re usually far out from civilization, meaning we won’t deal with so many of those freaks like we have here in Rushford. Plus, camps tend to stock up for the summer with nonperishable foods, medical supplies and other tools. The only thing I feel we’ll be lacking there would be weaponry--” he stated, looking at both the agent and the teacher. “But honestly, guns are probably a bad idea unless there’s no other situation. Regardless of their mental acuity; we’ve seen how they react to sound--” he nodded at the cacophony of the speakers outside. “The less firing we do, the better. I’d assume, anyway.”
He moved through the bar looking for anything of use; wooden sticks, glass bottles, he was careful to examine everything he could possibly find. “A bottle of high proof liquor would be better put to use for medicine or for a firebomb,” he muttered, digging through shelves. “We can sanitize cuts and scrapes the same way we’d use medical alcohol, or we could use the flammability to ignite something. Hell, even those freaks outside burn.”
He stopped for a moment, realizing he’d been talking for a minute now. “Sorry, I don’t mean to act like a know-it-all. I guess i’m just trying to recall my days in the scouts back in the 90s.”
HokumPocus RATS WE'RE THE RATS WE ARE THE RATS
Member
Seen
10 mos ago
Location: Rushford, Ohio -- O'Neal Family Tavern
Date: May 15th, 2019
Damien listlessly wiped the blood off his golf club with the bar´s napkins, steadily creating a pile of dark red and off white in front of him. He knew wetting them first would have probably been better than just rubbing the dry blood around, but this was about distracting himself. In the same building as him was every possible alcoholic drink he could have ever desired, but he wasn´t in the mood to take even a single sip. Damien the party animal, looking for the juice and water. Even he couldn´t believe it.
It had been a few days since the world as he knew it ended, and the memory of seeing that first infected lumber out of the country club´s restroom carrying the limp body of an infant was still raw in his mind. Things had only gotten worse from then. Their elderly customers had been surrounded while on golf carts, slowly being mauled to death with no doors to protect them, with the few who managed to run damned by the open pastures. He and most of his young coworkers had managed to get away, but not without having left dozens behind. He wanted to feel bad, but it was survival of the fittest now.
Damien now found himself in a bar alongside adults twice his age, planning their next course of action. Seeing them worry over their spouses and children made him feel strangely grateful for being just a teenager with a dysfunctional family. After the past years of falling out with his friends and dad, it was hard for him to say whether he really missed anyone. He sighed, at last satisfied with making his makeshift weapon partly silver again.
"The more we wait, the less they're gonna have for us," he grumbled, "but, we're gonna bump into a lot more people that way." A smirk spread across his face as he stated the obvious. Would it really be a good idea to barrel into the rest of humanity?
From the drawn out divorce between his parents and the gaggle of teachers that made his old life hell, he had come to harbor contempt for his elders. These adults were different though. Rational, to his surprise. He had assumed that most people stopped thinking once they got comfy at their job and gave up on their dreams. The same couldn´t be said for the imaginary adults in his mind, however, all squabbling for resources in that park he never cared about. It was funny, the park his parents dismissed as entertainment for poor people was now his ultimate priority. He wondered if his dad would be able to swallow his pride and go as well. A part of him wished the old man was dead.
It had been a few days since the world as he knew it ended, and the memory of seeing that first infected lumber out of the country club´s restroom carrying the limp body of an infant was still raw in his mind. Things had only gotten worse from then. Their elderly customers had been surrounded while on golf carts, slowly being mauled to death with no doors to protect them, with the few who managed to run damned by the open pastures. He and most of his young coworkers had managed to get away, but not without having left dozens behind. He wanted to feel bad, but it was survival of the fittest now.
Damien now found himself in a bar alongside adults twice his age, planning their next course of action. Seeing them worry over their spouses and children made him feel strangely grateful for being just a teenager with a dysfunctional family. After the past years of falling out with his friends and dad, it was hard for him to say whether he really missed anyone. He sighed, at last satisfied with making his makeshift weapon partly silver again.
"The more we wait, the less they're gonna have for us," he grumbled, "but, we're gonna bump into a lot more people that way." A smirk spread across his face as he stated the obvious. Would it really be a good idea to barrel into the rest of humanity?
From the drawn out divorce between his parents and the gaggle of teachers that made his old life hell, he had come to harbor contempt for his elders. These adults were different though. Rational, to his surprise. He had assumed that most people stopped thinking once they got comfy at their job and gave up on their dreams. The same couldn´t be said for the imaginary adults in his mind, however, all squabbling for resources in that park he never cared about. It was funny, the park his parents dismissed as entertainment for poor people was now his ultimate priority. He wondered if his dad would be able to swallow his pride and go as well. A part of him wished the old man was dead.
Hero Sincerest of Knights
Member
Seen
2 mos ago
Location: Rushford, Ohio -- Jenkins' Diner
Date: May 15th, 2019
I wonder if this is a good time to admit I don't really know the area.
The thought came to the young woman as her green eyes followed the ranger's finger. Sure, she had gone out with the team and was a social person, but it wasn't like she was an expert. Such was the curse of a college student in a situation way out of her league. At least she was alive, which was more than she could say for anyone unfortunate enough to have gotten caught by those freaky monsters out there. Yup, the world was going to shit and they were all probably going to die. Whether it be from getting ripped apart or shot or even just starving to death, things looked really, really bad.
At least the burger she was finishing off was amazing.
After carefully wiping her mouth, Isla licked her lips as she turned in her seat, left hand tapping the table as she looked outside. She wasn't entirely panicky, but she figured it was because the heaviness of the situation hadn't hit her yet. Or that was what she told herself, her leg jittering as she tried to think of what they could do. And here she thought she wanted to be captain of the team, but shit, she wasn't really good with responsibility, was she?
"I wonder if it's, like, any noise that attracts them," She spoke up as her gaze was at something outside, not really looking at anything in particular. "Because maybe trying to sneak out to the car would be easy if we timed it so that the noise from the announcements could cover our tracks. Or something, I dunno." She shrugged at the end, perching her chin on the palm of her hand as her eyes widened.
The thought came to the young woman as her green eyes followed the ranger's finger. Sure, she had gone out with the team and was a social person, but it wasn't like she was an expert. Such was the curse of a college student in a situation way out of her league. At least she was alive, which was more than she could say for anyone unfortunate enough to have gotten caught by those freaky monsters out there. Yup, the world was going to shit and they were all probably going to die. Whether it be from getting ripped apart or shot or even just starving to death, things looked really, really bad.
At least the burger she was finishing off was amazing.
After carefully wiping her mouth, Isla licked her lips as she turned in her seat, left hand tapping the table as she looked outside. She wasn't entirely panicky, but she figured it was because the heaviness of the situation hadn't hit her yet. Or that was what she told herself, her leg jittering as she tried to think of what they could do. And here she thought she wanted to be captain of the team, but shit, she wasn't really good with responsibility, was she?
"I wonder if it's, like, any noise that attracts them," She spoke up as her gaze was at something outside, not really looking at anything in particular. "Because maybe trying to sneak out to the car would be easy if we timed it so that the noise from the announcements could cover our tracks. Or something, I dunno." She shrugged at the end, perching her chin on the palm of her hand as her eyes widened.
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mickilennial The Elder Fae
Member
Seen
0-24 hrs ago
Location: Rushford, Ohio -- O'Neal Family Tavern
Date: May 15th, 2019
Jenn considered what everyone had commented about.
The teenager, whom she had met when everything went to hell, mentioned that there were going to be less supplies if they waited but also less infected to deal with. It was a response that Jennifer didn’t expect from some kid working out of a country club, but then again it didn’t surprise her that much considering the circumstances.
That idea also contrasted with what the teacher wanted to do. He wanted to move as soon as possible. His phone had a lock screen with a child and he had muttered things about a “Laura”. He probably was hoping that he’d reunite with his daughter at the campgrounds. If she had any children she’d probably feel the same, though in this case she wasn’t sure it was the best idea. You couldn’t holdout at a place like Whispering Springs. A few cabins and a lodge did little for defenses. It might’ve been better to head west along the river—toward Indiana. She wasn’t sure.
“Whispering Springs isn’t that far out, actually.” She commented as she turned toward the writer. “I spent a few summers there as a kid. It’s only a few handful of miles out, off Route 65. As for supplies? I don’t know what kind of supplies people brought for the evacuation, but well, the camp's been abandoned for around a decade. I doubt there's a lot there.”
She didn’t mean to throw out his theory, but he wasn’t a local as far as she could tell. He didn’t have all the facts.
His remarks about guns and alcohol, however, she agreed with. He might’ve been a talker, but perhaps that’s what the group needed if they were going to survive. Him being a former boy scout was also useful, too. He probably knew more about camping then she did.
“Well, we should get a handle and take what we can find. We should check the kitchen and utility closets.”
The teenager, whom she had met when everything went to hell, mentioned that there were going to be less supplies if they waited but also less infected to deal with. It was a response that Jennifer didn’t expect from some kid working out of a country club, but then again it didn’t surprise her that much considering the circumstances.
That idea also contrasted with what the teacher wanted to do. He wanted to move as soon as possible. His phone had a lock screen with a child and he had muttered things about a “Laura”. He probably was hoping that he’d reunite with his daughter at the campgrounds. If she had any children she’d probably feel the same, though in this case she wasn’t sure it was the best idea. You couldn’t holdout at a place like Whispering Springs. A few cabins and a lodge did little for defenses. It might’ve been better to head west along the river—toward Indiana. She wasn’t sure.
“Whispering Springs isn’t that far out, actually.” She commented as she turned toward the writer. “I spent a few summers there as a kid. It’s only a few handful of miles out, off Route 65. As for supplies? I don’t know what kind of supplies people brought for the evacuation, but well, the camp's been abandoned for around a decade. I doubt there's a lot there.”
She didn’t mean to throw out his theory, but he wasn’t a local as far as she could tell. He didn’t have all the facts.
His remarks about guns and alcohol, however, she agreed with. He might’ve been a talker, but perhaps that’s what the group needed if they were going to survive. Him being a former boy scout was also useful, too. He probably knew more about camping then she did.
“Well, we should get a handle and take what we can find. We should check the kitchen and utility closets.”
Lord Orgasmo Professional Disappointment since 1999
Member
Seen
3 days ago
Location: Rushford, Ohio -- Jenkin's Diner
Date: May 15th, 2019
Kale stood silently behind the Diner's bar, cleaning off his newfound utensils he had found in the kitchen. It had been a while since his days of flipping burgers, but he was glad to see he still had what it took.
But then came the decision: do they leave now? And how do they do it? Kale had little experience fighting off zombies, and most of the stuff he knew came from movies. A car seemed like a good idea, but it's not like a car is just going to have the keys in it. Though it's possible one of these people knew how to hotwire a car. Doubtful.
"Well, if you ask me, we should probably leave sooner, rather than later. But I suppose if we really need to, we could use this place as a base of operations for a short while. I'll try to make the food last as long as I can, but I'm not a miracle worker."
With any luck, there'd be minimal activity with the zombies. Everyone here seemed to be more or less athletic, and could probably run for quite a while, or fight off the zombies if push came to shove.
"I will say, if the dead are attracted to noise, it's entirely possible that we could make some kind of distraction with some sort of noise makers. I could play a loud noise on my phone and leave it somewhere, and run while they're distracted. Just a thought."
Location: Rushford, Ohio -- O'Neal Family Tavern
Date: May 15th, 2019
When Jennifer gave the word to, he stood up from the barstool to start looking around for... Well, basically anything. That writer guy - Dan? He thinks? - mentioned that the alcohol could be used to treat wounds, so that narrows his focus at least. Honestly, if he were to find some beer he'd probably just steal a big healthy swig of it to calm his nerves - maybe even stop the compulsions to check his phone for a reply from Laura or Ana. Hell, he'd take a reply from that Zach guy, or really anyone that could tell him that yes, his daughter is safe. It didn't matter who, just that it was said and was truthful - because anyone could just say that she was safe, but- Well wait, then that doesn't really work, does it? Because then it would matter who says it. He'd have to have no reason to believe they'd lie. Laura and Zach have no reason to lie about that sort of thing, but anyone else? They could lie, but that's sort of a pessimistic view to have. Why would someone lie about someone else's child's safety? He couldn't think of any reason, let alone a good one.
...What was he looking for again? Dammit.
He quickly checked his phone, hoping to see a reply. Of course, there was nothing. Just his own frantic ramblings, his desperate begging - and, regretfully, his threats driven more by fearful anger than actual malice. God, if the police weren't otherwise occupied these last few days, Laura could definitely go to court and make a case for him being an absolute monster, even if he knew why he was saying the things he said. He was panicking, and though he had every right to panic he shouldn't be such a dick about it.
With that, he takes the few seconds to tap out an apology for the most recent awful things he's said... And then apologizes for the rest of it too. It's.. It's sort of been a vicious cycle, actually. Overwhelming panic, begging for Laura to answer him turning into lashing out via text, and then apologizing for being such a douchebag. It's not like he can scream his frustrations out into the wind, or talk to these people about how terrified he is. If he screamed, the zombies would get him, obviously, and everyone here had a life that likely got turned upside down just like his had. They wouldn't want to hear it, or they'd turn it into a competition of "who has it worse." They all have it bad. They don't need to soak in that. He doesn't need to soak in that.
...But the quiet - aside from the rummaging around, anyway - was starting to get to him. Maybe they need not compare tragedies and all, but... Jenn mentioned going to Whispering Springs as a kid! That could be a good talking point, surely. Right? Yeah.
"Sooo," Percy started, "Uh, what- er, how was- I mean- You said you-" Oh, he loved stuttering like an absolute dipshit. Nerves. It's just nerves. "Fuck, sorry, I just- Frazzled. I'm frazzled. Words are hard. Sorry. Yeah, but- Whispering Springs. Jenn, you said you- you went there? As a kid. Uh.. what was that like? Was it.. Fun? Was it all the fliers cracked it up to be?"
A beat of silence fell before Percy quickly asked, "Actually, uh- is it ok if I call you Jenn? Is that ok, or should I.. Not do that?"
...What was he looking for again? Dammit.
He quickly checked his phone, hoping to see a reply. Of course, there was nothing. Just his own frantic ramblings, his desperate begging - and, regretfully, his threats driven more by fearful anger than actual malice. God, if the police weren't otherwise occupied these last few days, Laura could definitely go to court and make a case for him being an absolute monster, even if he knew why he was saying the things he said. He was panicking, and though he had every right to panic he shouldn't be such a dick about it.
With that, he takes the few seconds to tap out an apology for the most recent awful things he's said... And then apologizes for the rest of it too. It's.. It's sort of been a vicious cycle, actually. Overwhelming panic, begging for Laura to answer him turning into lashing out via text, and then apologizing for being such a douchebag. It's not like he can scream his frustrations out into the wind, or talk to these people about how terrified he is. If he screamed, the zombies would get him, obviously, and everyone here had a life that likely got turned upside down just like his had. They wouldn't want to hear it, or they'd turn it into a competition of "who has it worse." They all have it bad. They don't need to soak in that. He doesn't need to soak in that.
...But the quiet - aside from the rummaging around, anyway - was starting to get to him. Maybe they need not compare tragedies and all, but... Jenn mentioned going to Whispering Springs as a kid! That could be a good talking point, surely. Right? Yeah.
"Sooo," Percy started, "Uh, what- er, how was- I mean- You said you-" Oh, he loved stuttering like an absolute dipshit. Nerves. It's just nerves. "Fuck, sorry, I just- Frazzled. I'm frazzled. Words are hard. Sorry. Yeah, but- Whispering Springs. Jenn, you said you- you went there? As a kid. Uh.. what was that like? Was it.. Fun? Was it all the fliers cracked it up to be?"
A beat of silence fell before Percy quickly asked, "Actually, uh- is it ok if I call you Jenn? Is that ok, or should I.. Not do that?"
coGM
mickilennial The Elder Fae
Member
Seen
0-24 hrs ago
Location: Rushford, Ohio -- O'Neal Family Tavern
Date: May 15th, 2019
“Jenn's fine.” The blonde-haired woman responded, not paying attention to the man’s nerves.
His question was an odd one, but she supposed with everything going on with him he needed to take his mind off of the chaos. Not everyone had her… particular issues. It was something her therapist liked to remind her in their meetings.
Whispering Springs held good memories for Jenn, though she would be lying if she said it was a time in her life that was good. Her parents were still together back then, sure, but it was on the downslope. Between the drinking and the fights, she didn’t like thinking about it much. She had met many friends at camp back in those years and it helped serve as a getaway from what was going on at home, though that was probably why her parents sent her there in the first place—to put something else in her mind and try to create the illusion of a stable household. It didn’t work. But still, she enjoyed the vacation. It was the closest thing she got to one as a kid.
Her hands moved through the cabinets underneath the bar, moving things aside she didn't need such as glasses and mixing kits.
“Don’t remember many fliers.” She remarked, “But, yeah, it was fun, I guess. There was canoeing, hiking, everything horror movies tell you. Except, you know, no crazy murderers looking to kill us.”
It was a weird joke. Why’d she make it?
She shrugged the thought off as she placed a bottle of vodka in her backpack.
His question was an odd one, but she supposed with everything going on with him he needed to take his mind off of the chaos. Not everyone had her… particular issues. It was something her therapist liked to remind her in their meetings.
Whispering Springs held good memories for Jenn, though she would be lying if she said it was a time in her life that was good. Her parents were still together back then, sure, but it was on the downslope. Between the drinking and the fights, she didn’t like thinking about it much. She had met many friends at camp back in those years and it helped serve as a getaway from what was going on at home, though that was probably why her parents sent her there in the first place—to put something else in her mind and try to create the illusion of a stable household. It didn’t work. But still, she enjoyed the vacation. It was the closest thing she got to one as a kid.
Her hands moved through the cabinets underneath the bar, moving things aside she didn't need such as glasses and mixing kits.
“Don’t remember many fliers.” She remarked, “But, yeah, it was fun, I guess. There was canoeing, hiking, everything horror movies tell you. Except, you know, no crazy murderers looking to kill us.”
It was a weird joke. Why’d she make it?
She shrugged the thought off as she placed a bottle of vodka in her backpack.
Location: Rushford, Ohio -- O'Neal Family Tavern
Date: May 15th, 2019
Percy snorted before having to cover his mouth to try to restrain the sudden onset of giggles. It really wasn't that funny, but.. Something about the way she said it; it struck him as absolutely fucking hilarious. Maybe it was just how matter-of-factly she said it? So nonchalantly? Or maybe it was the fact she said it at all? It was morbid, especially considering their situation - they were, in a very broad sense, being hunted by multiple crazy murderers that would then proceed to eat them if they got a hold of them. Maybe that's why it was so funny, cause.. Now they were kinda living that situation. They weren't in a summer camp, but.. They were going to one, which is the opposite of where those summer camp kids would want to go, and.. And now it's stopped being funny. Not because it's in bad taste, or he's come to the realization it's somehow offensive or whatever. It's just that over-explanation of a joke ruins it, and.. Yeah.
Anyway.
Percy sort of smiles a little lopsided smile as he replies, "Well would it have been more fun if there was a crazy axe murderer, like.. Jason, or whatever?"
Anyway.
Percy sort of smiles a little lopsided smile as he replies, "Well would it have been more fun if there was a crazy axe murderer, like.. Jason, or whatever?"
GM
Location: Rushford, Ohio -- Jenkins' Diner
Date: May 15th, 2019
Karen crossed her arms, and leaned back in the booth while Isla spoke. "Smart thinking. That could give us an opening, but we'd have to account for time. The second the announcements end, they'll surely flock right to us." Her eyes then went upwards to the tacky Americana-inspired clock on the wall as Karen began to calculate some numbers in her head. The alerts were roughly an hour apart, and usually went on for ten minutes or so. Certainly, unless something went wrong, they'd have enough breathing room to make a getaway, whether to somewhere more safe or to a radio, like the one in her truck.
"We should have enough time to make a break for it whenever we're ready to leave. If our end goal is this... camp, however, I still think that we should try to contact them first. To make sure it hasn't already been, well, overrun or isn't a recorded message set on a timed loop."
A part of Karen was certain that she had been overthinking. Maybe it was the mental stress brought on by the world ending quite literally on her first day as an officer, or maybe it was that Karen felt driven to ensure not only her survival, but those with her. Who knew if her overly cautious approach was the right play? Then again, no one was prepared for the resurrected dead to come back with a thirst for flesh even if they all saw the movies. Ensuring that they cover all bases could potentially mean the difference of life and death, or so Karen figured.
"I imagine the phone trick would work, but I think it's best left as a last resort, if anything. Even if the cell towers go down, they still have a flashlight and other features." Karen replied to the muscular Hawaiian who had been cleaning his cooking utensils by the bar counter. Being able to eat a juicy burger right after the end of the world certainly seemed like it'd be a thing of the past, but apparently the group had struck lucky with finding Kale in this chaos.
Climbing out from the booth, Karen stood up, and walked towards the kitchen door. "Anyway, we probably should see what supplies are still stocked. I don't think you really can call it stealing at a time like this, but taking what we can will probably get us through for awhile. Maybe we can cook and ration some of it before heading out, and, y'know, save our actual rations for later."
"We should have enough time to make a break for it whenever we're ready to leave. If our end goal is this... camp, however, I still think that we should try to contact them first. To make sure it hasn't already been, well, overrun or isn't a recorded message set on a timed loop."
A part of Karen was certain that she had been overthinking. Maybe it was the mental stress brought on by the world ending quite literally on her first day as an officer, or maybe it was that Karen felt driven to ensure not only her survival, but those with her. Who knew if her overly cautious approach was the right play? Then again, no one was prepared for the resurrected dead to come back with a thirst for flesh even if they all saw the movies. Ensuring that they cover all bases could potentially mean the difference of life and death, or so Karen figured.
"I imagine the phone trick would work, but I think it's best left as a last resort, if anything. Even if the cell towers go down, they still have a flashlight and other features." Karen replied to the muscular Hawaiian who had been cleaning his cooking utensils by the bar counter. Being able to eat a juicy burger right after the end of the world certainly seemed like it'd be a thing of the past, but apparently the group had struck lucky with finding Kale in this chaos.
Climbing out from the booth, Karen stood up, and walked towards the kitchen door. "Anyway, we probably should see what supplies are still stocked. I don't think you really can call it stealing at a time like this, but taking what we can will probably get us through for awhile. Maybe we can cook and ration some of it before heading out, and, y'know, save our actual rations for later."
Location: Rushford, Ohio -- O'Neal Family Tavern
Date: May 15th, 2019
Daniel made himself busy by checking out the kitchen and backrooms. There wasn't much to find; cleaning supplies and a few items; a mop and some tools; nothing that would be a great upgrade to the steel pipe he'd been lugging around. He'd heard that you could create simplistic explosives with cleaning materials, but he was far from an anarchist to know any of that.
He checked in a cabinet and found paydirt: a plastic "first aid box" from a big-box store. They came packaged with gauze, bandages, antiseptic; usually enough to take care of cuts and scrapes along the way. He opened it and looked inside: a half-used bottle of iodine, some gauze strips, and bandages, as well as some over the counter pain and fever relief pills. "It's not perfect..." he muttered,"But it'll work for little wounds. I doubt it'd disinfect a bite from one of those...things." He stashed the medical supplies in his bag and grabbed a half-dull knife from the kitchen as well. It wouldn't work as a good weapon against one of those things, but it could cut a rope or string at least.
He returned to the main room with the others. "I found some medical supplies. It won't be enough to fix any big wounds, but it'll keep any scrapes or cuts we have treated. So we don't have to stress about infection...unless we really get hurt."Gauze and iodine wouldn't heal an internal wound, after all.
"Once we're done picking this place clean, I say we survey the area and make tracks. At least we can relocate somewhere safer on the way there; maybe with some food and supplies too."
He checked in a cabinet and found paydirt: a plastic "first aid box" from a big-box store. They came packaged with gauze, bandages, antiseptic; usually enough to take care of cuts and scrapes along the way. He opened it and looked inside: a half-used bottle of iodine, some gauze strips, and bandages, as well as some over the counter pain and fever relief pills. "It's not perfect..." he muttered,"But it'll work for little wounds. I doubt it'd disinfect a bite from one of those...things." He stashed the medical supplies in his bag and grabbed a half-dull knife from the kitchen as well. It wouldn't work as a good weapon against one of those things, but it could cut a rope or string at least.
He returned to the main room with the others. "I found some medical supplies. It won't be enough to fix any big wounds, but it'll keep any scrapes or cuts we have treated. So we don't have to stress about infection...unless we really get hurt."Gauze and iodine wouldn't heal an internal wound, after all.
"Once we're done picking this place clean, I say we survey the area and make tracks. At least we can relocate somewhere safer on the way there; maybe with some food and supplies too."
coGM
mickilennial The Elder Fae
Member
Seen
0-24 hrs ago
Location: Rushford, Ohio -- O'Neal Family Tavern
Date: May 15th, 2019
Jenn laughed at the mention of Jason and considered a response until Daniel returned to the counter from the bathrooms. Apparently he had found some medical supplies, which was good because all she had in her backpack was some painkillers and her personal prescription of quetiapine.
“Good job.”
Outside of finding food that wouldn’t go bad on the trail, they were off to an alright start. Though, they could use some other things that were probably in the utility closet—if they hadn’t been already plundered in the panic. A flashlight and batteries would be useful once everyone’s phones went dead. Old rags could create molotovs or simple help for putting pressure on a wound. If the stoves in the kitchen still had working gas a decent meal or two could’ve been made as well, though Jenn was no cook. She could barely make ramen work. She was a certified kitchen disaster, which was one of the reasons she often lived on take-out, tv dinners, and bad dates.
She moved over to the tables in the bar, looking over anything that looked useful, checking in-between the booths. She was thorough, like an agent trying to comb a room for clues leading to a criminals location. However, unlike her time chasing down America's Most Wanted, all she could find was a few coins.
“If the stove still works, we should try to cook something. Before we leave. It’d be an easier hike if our stomachs aren’t empty.”
“Good job.”
Outside of finding food that wouldn’t go bad on the trail, they were off to an alright start. Though, they could use some other things that were probably in the utility closet—if they hadn’t been already plundered in the panic. A flashlight and batteries would be useful once everyone’s phones went dead. Old rags could create molotovs or simple help for putting pressure on a wound. If the stoves in the kitchen still had working gas a decent meal or two could’ve been made as well, though Jenn was no cook. She could barely make ramen work. She was a certified kitchen disaster, which was one of the reasons she often lived on take-out, tv dinners, and bad dates.
She moved over to the tables in the bar, looking over anything that looked useful, checking in-between the booths. She was thorough, like an agent trying to comb a room for clues leading to a criminals location. However, unlike her time chasing down America's Most Wanted, all she could find was a few coins.
“If the stove still works, we should try to cook something. Before we leave. It’d be an easier hike if our stomachs aren’t empty.”
HokumPocus RATS WE'RE THE RATS WE ARE THE RATS
Member
Seen
10 mos ago
Location: Rushford, Ohio -- O'Neal Family Tavern
Date: May 15th, 2019
The adults that accompanied Damien picked the tavern clean in a flurry of heavy footsteps, making Damien feel out of place with his far less tactical mindset. He had been itching to just run out of the place and head to the camp, where unconditional safety would be granted. This fantasy of his was something he knew in his gut wouldn't be all that it was cracked up to be, but that's just how teenagers were. He wanted to act now and face the consequences later. Unfortunately for him, "consequences" had gone from a phone call home or a suspension to a slow and painful death. He could feel himself growing more cautious these past few days, and he didn't like it.
He entered the kitchen, not content with just sitting around, and tossed cans of whatever was edible into his backpack. It was a tavern, so he had options. Watching his already respectably full backpack fill even more, he couldn't help but feel both proud and lucky. His dad had always stressed survival of the fittest as far back as he could remember. Damien knew that this was the man's justification for screwing people over in business, and it wasn't uncommon for him to hear about a bankruptcy here or even a suicide there caused by his dad's greed, but damn, it felt good to be the fittest.
Jennifer brought up the idea of cooking something before leaving. It was obvious, but survival had frequently caused him to forget about having to eat regularly, so it was a helpful reminder to him. He approached the stove and raised his eyebrows at it still functioning.
"Anyone up for omelettes?" he asked, in a tone too jovial for a teenager caught in the middle of a pandemic. "Can't promise they'll be MasterChef level though. The club only put me as a cook when everybody else was too hungover for it." A memory of the club's head chef telling him that it wasn't a kitchen unless there was at least one person on something rang in his mind. He tried not to think if he was still alive, and opted to instead check the fridge. The refrigerated ingredients looked good enough. He wasn't completely confident, but nothing smelled funny, and that had to count for something, probably.
He entered the kitchen, not content with just sitting around, and tossed cans of whatever was edible into his backpack. It was a tavern, so he had options. Watching his already respectably full backpack fill even more, he couldn't help but feel both proud and lucky. His dad had always stressed survival of the fittest as far back as he could remember. Damien knew that this was the man's justification for screwing people over in business, and it wasn't uncommon for him to hear about a bankruptcy here or even a suicide there caused by his dad's greed, but damn, it felt good to be the fittest.
Jennifer brought up the idea of cooking something before leaving. It was obvious, but survival had frequently caused him to forget about having to eat regularly, so it was a helpful reminder to him. He approached the stove and raised his eyebrows at it still functioning.
"Anyone up for omelettes?" he asked, in a tone too jovial for a teenager caught in the middle of a pandemic. "Can't promise they'll be MasterChef level though. The club only put me as a cook when everybody else was too hungover for it." A memory of the club's head chef telling him that it wasn't a kitchen unless there was at least one person on something rang in his mind. He tried not to think if he was still alive, and opted to instead check the fridge. The refrigerated ingredients looked good enough. He wasn't completely confident, but nothing smelled funny, and that had to count for something, probably.
Lord Orgasmo Professional Disappointment since 1999
Member
Seen
3 days ago
Location: Rushford, Ohio -- Jenkin's Diner
Date: May 15th, 2019
Kale put down his newly cleaned utensils onto an equally shiny and clean bar top. Upon hearing Karen's opinion on the phone trick, he shrugged his shoulders. She had a point. But as for looking around here...
"Yeah, I looked around a little back here. The cooler and freezer still work, so as long as we still have electricity, the food here should still be good if we ever need to come back. Well, at least for about 10 days. Most of the stuff in the cooler and freezer we can't take with us, but I imagine most of the stuff in the dry storage should be good. Breads, potatoes, probably juice and water, stuff like that. As for cooking things now, I have a few things on me, but if you want something cooked for later, let me know."
Kale nodded his head to his left towards the dry storage room. "This way towards the dry storage."
Kale began to walk towards the dry storage, when a thought struck him: is this disease transmittable through food or water? As long as he had clean surfaces, tools, and properly prepared food, they should be fine, but eventually, he doubted that they'd have such a luxury. Kale grasped at the tooth Necklace he wore and muttered to himself.
"Mālama iā mākou"
Supermaxx dumbass
Member
Seen
1 day ago
Location: Rushford, Ohio -- Jenkins' Diner
Date: May 15th, 2019
Cassidy Montoya was growing restless. Ever since the start of the apocalypse she'd developed a routine to ensure her own survival: daytime was spent either scavenging for supplies or staying on the move, trying to make her way out of town. Nighttime, when the Dead were obscured by the dark, was when she'd hunker down and get a few hours' rest. It was draining, of course, but Cass figured it was her best chance at staying alive.
Ever since she'd wrapped herself with these other survivors, though, things had changed.
They didn't travel for as long as she would've liked. Took a little too long whenever they stopped to scavenge. Spent too much time resting or strategizing. It made her anxious. Every second they spent sitting around in this diner felt like a risk. What happened when that broadcast ended and the dead descended on them? There were too many to fight off, and the building didn't have enough exits for Cass's liking- if those things managed to surround the group before they could scamper away, they'd be royally fucked.
There were strength in numbers, but...why'd she get stuck with these guys?
"How much longer do we got before that broadcast ends?" She spoke up suddenly, turning to look up at Karen as she started to make her way toward the kitchen. Cass had collapsed up against the diner's far wall when they first arrived, setting her overstuffed bag down beside her so she could use it as a makeshift pillow. Now that they were talking about actually picking through the supplies and moving out, though, Montoya was quick to get back to her feet.
"I don't like the idea of waitin' another hour fer the next one 'fore we get outta here. There's way too many'a those things right outside to risk it."
She glanced briefly at the other members of their little troupe, trying to calculate how the four of them would do if they ended up cornered. All of 'em were armed to some level, and at least appeared to be healthy and active; neither of those would matter much if they didn't have the stomach for a fight with, y'know, the living dead. Not that Montoya could really blame 'em or anything. She was still having trouble accepting that this wasn't a fucked up fever dream or a trip gone horribly wrong.
Sooner we get to that camp the better. We'll be able to wait this shitstorm out there, n' maybe...maybe Riley'll have made it out there too.
Ever since she'd wrapped herself with these other survivors, though, things had changed.
They didn't travel for as long as she would've liked. Took a little too long whenever they stopped to scavenge. Spent too much time resting or strategizing. It made her anxious. Every second they spent sitting around in this diner felt like a risk. What happened when that broadcast ended and the dead descended on them? There were too many to fight off, and the building didn't have enough exits for Cass's liking- if those things managed to surround the group before they could scamper away, they'd be royally fucked.
There were strength in numbers, but...why'd she get stuck with these guys?
"How much longer do we got before that broadcast ends?" She spoke up suddenly, turning to look up at Karen as she started to make her way toward the kitchen. Cass had collapsed up against the diner's far wall when they first arrived, setting her overstuffed bag down beside her so she could use it as a makeshift pillow. Now that they were talking about actually picking through the supplies and moving out, though, Montoya was quick to get back to her feet.
"I don't like the idea of waitin' another hour fer the next one 'fore we get outta here. There's way too many'a those things right outside to risk it."
She glanced briefly at the other members of their little troupe, trying to calculate how the four of them would do if they ended up cornered. All of 'em were armed to some level, and at least appeared to be healthy and active; neither of those would matter much if they didn't have the stomach for a fight with, y'know, the living dead. Not that Montoya could really blame 'em or anything. She was still having trouble accepting that this wasn't a fucked up fever dream or a trip gone horribly wrong.
Sooner we get to that camp the better. We'll be able to wait this shitstorm out there, n' maybe...maybe Riley'll have made it out there too.
Location: Rushford, Ohio -- O'Neal Family Tavern
Date: May 15th, 2019
“If the stove still works, we should try to cook something. Before we leave. It’d be an easier hike if our stomachs aren’t empty.”
Daniel dug through his bag, pulling out a few items. Jerky, chips, granola bars and bottled water. "Nothing really to cook here, unless someone found some food in the other rooms. But-" he tapped on a bag of jerky. "If we have any stock, vegetables and noodles, the jerky can rehydrate in a soup. It would make it a little less tough to eat at least," he said, looking to the others. "Or...if anyone else has anything before we make a break for it."
Daniel dug through his bag, pulling out a few items. Jerky, chips, granola bars and bottled water. "Nothing really to cook here, unless someone found some food in the other rooms. But-" he tapped on a bag of jerky. "If we have any stock, vegetables and noodles, the jerky can rehydrate in a soup. It would make it a little less tough to eat at least," he said, looking to the others. "Or...if anyone else has anything before we make a break for it."
Hero Sincerest of Knights
Member
Seen
2 mos ago
Location: Rushford, Ohio -- Jenkins' Diner
Date: May 15th, 2019
Not one to argue (at the moment) Isla nodded, standing up and grabbing her backpack. Right, best thing to do was stock up on stuff. She followed the dude into the food storage (wait he called it dry storage or something, right?) and opened up her backpack. Canned stuff was good, right? She figured taking as much as she could squeeze into her bag was good enough, though she took a second to put a majority of her belongings on the outside pockets. She had no idea if anything she had was useful, but she wasn't going to abandon anything except for the textbooks weighing her down.
Once she made the space, she went about looking around for what to take. Having to pick and choose was hard, but it was needed. Food was important but for someone who was used to ramen noodles and sleep for dinner with the occasional mass eating of sweets, she didn't really know what was best or lasted longer or whatever. Now she wished she had paid more attention in health class, but she just started grabbing things and stuffing them carefully into her bag.
"Anything we should be prioritizing?" She ended up asking out loud, hoping for a little guidance.
Once she made the space, she went about looking around for what to take. Having to pick and choose was hard, but it was needed. Food was important but for someone who was used to ramen noodles and sleep for dinner with the occasional mass eating of sweets, she didn't really know what was best or lasted longer or whatever. Now she wished she had paid more attention in health class, but she just started grabbing things and stuffing them carefully into her bag.
"Anything we should be prioritizing?" She ended up asking out loud, hoping for a little guidance.
Lord Orgasmo Professional Disappointment since 1999
Member
Seen
3 days ago
Location: Rushford, Ohio -- Jenkin's Diner
Date: May 15th, 2019
What food should they prioritize? "Good Question. I haven't seen what's back there, but we should probably take things high in carbohydrates, like potatoes and bread. Carbs will provide long term energy." And it would. Though Kale admittedly didn't know a whole lot about nutrition, other than just some basic things he learned from school. He was more concerned about making the food taste good rather than knowing its molecular structure.
But that's being hopeful. They might not have put in a grocery order recently, or it may not have arrived. Or it could have arrived just in time, and the room would be fully stocked.
As for what could be in there, Kale only had a quick look at the menu. It was mostly just regular diner stuff. Burgers, breakfast stuff like eggs and bacon, and he thought he saw something like Salisbury Steak. Unfortunately, none of that stuff they could really take with them. If they made things from scratch here, they might have some raw ingredients they could use.
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