[IC] Flight of the Angels: A Zombie RP

[Wayne]

June 28th, 2014
4:07 AM
Clear skies, just before sunrise
Tom Bradley International Terminal
LA International Airport

Olivia looked up at the large screen above her. Every single flight to and from LAX was cancelled. On the right-hand side of the screen, a picture of Chicago was shown. That's where she just got back from, visiting her grandmother in Harvey. Olivia thought about how much her grandmother, a lonely widow, appreciated Olivia's company so much. But yet, the thought of being stranded at the airport with the local state of emergency still had Olivia worried. Every single flight in LAX being cancelled was enough to remind her of that. It's been 4 hours since she arrived, and 2 hours since the state of emergency was declared. The fact that she, and everyone else in LAX, was legally stuck in this airport was just a matter that Olivia knew she had no control over. It's no wonder why Dwayne wasn't able to get here yet. Just another reason why Olivia was worried. Are Mom and Dwayne going to be okay?

Olivia got herself off the bench she was sitting on, and went to one of the fast food restaurants in the terminal. She sat down in a spot where she could watch the TV on the wall, broadcasting news on the local situation in Los Angeles. What was shown on the TV was like something out of a new zombie movie, with those runners instead of the walkers in Romero's films. Two or three dozen people running down the road, all of them seemingly crazed and rabid, screaming in ways that sounded to Olivia like they were both really angry and in excruciating pain. That alone was scary, but what was even scarier is that Olivia recognized where it was. It was a road just a couple blocks away from where Olivia lived with her mother. It even said in that live broadcast on the TV that it was in Inglewood. One of the crazed people, an African-American man in a bloodied white shirt and black shorts, ran up to the camera before it cut out. Olivia was scared for the sake of Mom and Dwayne, and she knew she could not do anything about it, being stuck in the airport. Olivia then remembered that she hadn't prayed for a while now. Not since Dwayne got a twisted ankle playing basketball last month. Olivia thought about how if she can't do it, then maybe God can help. Olivia thought about how maybe now was the time to care about God a little more than she normally did, so she held her hands together on the table, put her head down on them, and prayed so silently that only God could hear her. Dear Lord. I know I haven't been the most faithful follower, but I am deeply concerned about my mother, and my best friend, Dwayne. I'm stuck in the airport and have no way of reaching them, so I hope that you can take care of them through all this crazy shit that's happening. I just want them to be safe, and I hope I'm not asking too much for that. Amen.

A few tears ran from Olivia's closed eyes. She blocked out as many thoughts in her head as she could, hoping for a clearer answer. However, just as she thought she had some silence, a gruff military-type voice blared on the airport's intercom. "Good morning, LAX. This is General Adam Matthias speaking. A quarantine has just been issued across Los Angeles County, and we will be enforcing tighter security measures here. Stay where you are, and listen to any orders you may be given. No one is coming in, and no one is getting out until we resolve the current situation. Failure to comply to these regulations can and will result in severe punishment."

Watching army soldiers coming into the terminal, Olivia burst into tears. What kind of answer is this? She buried her face into her hands at the table. It's as if God wanted her to stay stuck here, not being able to know if her mother and best friend are safe or not. She wanted to curse God, but held it in. A lingering thought gave Olivia the idea that maybe she still has to find God's answer somewhere, but she had no idea. She wanted to just run out of the terminal and walk all the way back home herself, but a sense of logic still remained. She wasn't some hero in a goofy Hollywood movie. If she tried to escape, she would be shot.

So Olivia stayed at the table, and cried. Maybe some kind stranger would come by and try and comfort her, but even if that happened, the fact remained that Olivia was stranded at the airport and that her loved ones were in danger.

[Grim327]

I guess that's enough walking around, maybe now I'll be able to sleep. Bo thought to himself as he was walking across the beach. The only sounds at the moment were the crashing of the waves against the beach., that is until he heard glass shattering and screams of terror. What the hell's going on? Bo raced toward the nearby stairs and made his way up. The image before gave him a mix of emotions; worry, confusion, terror. People were running all across the streets, screaming bloody murder while others were starting to riot. Bo knew that some of kind of virus or flu was going around, but he didn't think it would be this bad. Maybe it's something else. "Ya, a few of guys must have gotten too drunk, that's all." He was contempt with this thought, until a man with blood all over his right arm and tears and terror in his eyes.shattered the self-delusion.

"Get the fuck outta here, man. Something's happening to people, they're becoming, m- monsters. " He said trembling.
"What the hell are you talking about man?" Bo quickly shot back.
"Look, all you need to know is, that virus that was going around, is not no simple virus. I think it's doing something to those infected with it. Just listen to me and get somewhere safe." And with that, the man ran off to god knows where.

If what the man was saying is true, then real shit is going down. But where would he go? The only places nearby are simple shops and restaurants; not some place that he would consider "safe." The next noise he heard only reinforced what the bloody man was telling him. Bo looked up to see Army helicopters flying parallel to the ocean, probably on their way to the airport. That's it! If those guys are going to the airport, then maybe that's where their going to set up camp." It seemed logical, but there was still no way of knowing for sure. It was worth a shot, however, for he couldn't think of anywhere else to go besides the university, which seemed like a bad idea. The only problem Bo faced now was exactly how to get there. He still wasn't sure of how to get around LA, and he might just end up getting lost in the streets. "Ahhhhh!" Bo wanted to curse, but what point was there. He had to think of something quick before even more shit went down. Wait a minute, Bo thought. He pulled out his phone and looked up Google Maps. "Yes!" He accidentally shouted. It looked like there was a municipal airport a lot closer than LAX. That seemed like a good place to hunker down for the time being.

Let's see. It was still a long ways by foot, but at least it was a plan. By the looks of it, he would have to go down Ocean Ave, up Ocean Park Blvd, and across 23rd Str. to get there. Simple enough. He put his phone away and started down Ocean Ave. to his new destination.

[Wayne]

EDIT: Accidentally posted an OOC comment here.

[Yotta Yocta]

Barely a squeak escaped Klara's worn, red sneakers as she strode across the international terminal of the LAX, as if she were entering the circus ring albeit at somewhat more of a frantic pace than was customary. The increasing chaos supplied by these foreign and hence altogether stranger strangers, huddled around every television, door and window in terrible curiosity, made it more like wading through snow. The American airport already had an air of another country - expansive and unfamiliar. Moot did her best to remain focused despite this and her increasing jet-lag, eyes scouring the masses for any sign of her fellow performers or, more importantly to her, Daniel the clown and her lover.

It had been an hour and 45 minutes since they disappeared but still no sign nor response to calls and texts. The people were less than helpful, perhaps due to their current focus on the 'quarantine' on this state or simply their difficultly communicating with the speechless. Klara tapped another on the shoulder, a shorter and balding man with a coffee-like complexion. He flinched in surprize, not having heard her approach and cautiously turned to face the acrobatic young woman. Moot waved a little hello and held up a smallish, slightly damaged photograph - it was of Klara and Daniel, she point to the latter. With a free had she began to sign a question but he was already shuffling away mumbling something about charities. She sighed in exasperation, wandering in to the nearest restaurant selling coffee and sitting in the vacant chair by a young african american woman. Klara rubbed the bridge of her nose, eyes scrunched closed.

As the military annoucement blares out across the building, Moot strained to translate it. She knew english but was somewhat out of practice. Something about soldiers and a lockdown of somekind on the area. Klara made a silent prayer that Daniel was not outside - true enough, she had no religion but the news screens showed such horrors.... it was then Moot finally noticed the tears running diwn the woman's face. She made a thoughtful grimace at rapped her fingers twice sharply on the table beside her.

[Playerpvbm]

"How bout that..." Joe thought as he examined the flight schedule. Seattle was cancelled. Everything was cancelled. The crowd busied themselves with the television screens detailing some kind of epidemic. He thought maybe he'd grab a cup of coffee while he waited, then he saw the prices. Four dollars for a small black coffee? No thank you.

A voice came over the loudspeaker. Every head turned to look. "This area is now under military lockdown. Please remain calm." Joe remembered the News. Rioting, it looked like. Maybe some sort of terrorist thing. Either way, he was stuck. Not good. He had work the next day. An aissistant manager is an important organ in the beast of designer retail, and JC Penney is no exception. But, it was outside of his control, so he just sat and waited.

Just waiting.

A squad of soldiers entered the terminal. Army, maybe. They wore the uniforms. But the guns weren't right. Instead of the M4A1 standard carbine, they bore what looked like M240 light machine guns. Those weren't for peacekeeping, they were for suppressive fire. Joe stood up suddenly, understand what was happening. He forced his way through the crowd toward the restrooms. As soon as he entered, he shut the door, and bolted it. It didn't matter if he would get in trouble later, he was at least safe for now. He checked his carry-on bag for anything that could be used as a weapon. He found his baton, a 21-inch piece of segmented steel. A flick of his wrist, and it was ready. A stall door swung open. It was a woman.

"Shit. This is... the women's room." She gave him a disgusted look, and sped past him, unlocking the door before reuniting with the mob outside. Someone screamed, so Joe slammed the door shut again, and spun the bolt back into place. He sat on the floor on the other side of the restroom, facing the door, just waiting.

[Wayne]

Olivia, with her face and hands wet with tears, looked up at the stranger sitting beside her. The stranger had very Russian features, and looked quite toned. She also had her hair cut short. Olivia guessed she was some sort of actor. Yet still, this stranger's sudden appearance made Olivia anxious. She wasn't comfortable around strangers, but Olivia held her anxiety in nonetheless. She held her hand to her chest, took 3 deep breaths, and then looked at the stranger.

"Who... who are you?" Olivia said in an anxious tone.

Just near the restaurant where Olivia was, a young boy vomited on the floor. Soldiers rushed in and forced the boy down, while his mother screamed, cried, and begged the soldiers to leave her child alone. The boy's mother was beaten to death, her screams washed out by soldiers shouting, and the boy was put down with a rifle bullet to the head. The shot rang through the terminal, and people panicked while the bodies of the young boy and his mother laid motionless on the floor. More soldiers came in to the terminal hall, and they put an end to the brief unrest by lining people up against the wall, and beating down any disobedients like they did with the boy's mother.

Olivia buried her face and hands into the table, and sobbed uncontrollably. "Oh my God... Mom... Dwayne..."

[Yotta Yocta]

Klara heard the dark, tear-soaked woman taking three deep breaths before so much as turning to face her. The anxiety was clear and she new it well from her earlier days as a performer - one does not leap through the air without safety nets and not take a few good breaths. She had a squarish, rounded face but was not unattractive, "Who... who are you?" Moot almost smiled but stopped herself - grinning to a stranger was rude, she'd look like a madwoman.... At least in Russia, though she supposed it was different here. Then again, a lot of Americans seemed at least halfway insane.

Klara quickly began to sign the letters of her name but paused partway through, thinking better of it and making a waving off motion with the same hand. She doubted the woman new any sign language, frankly. A thoughtful expression crossed her face and then delved into her carry on rucksack. There was suddenly the sound of struggle, crying and screaming in the near distance, Moot slowly looking up to investigate. The violence and desperation unfolding made her jaw harden and eyes go wide with shock as well as anger. She stood slightly as if to move to confront the soldiers but a look at their guns told her this was not the time.

The African-American woman was sobbing again - something about her mother and maybe another family member. Klara quickly produced a pen from her bag and snatched a nearby napkin, scrawling something in her best English. She placed the improvised note in front of Olivia and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.

It read:
Are you alright?

People are idiots,
But I do not think staying with them wise.

Do you want to leave?

[Wayne]

Olivia yelped in fear as the stranger put her hand on her shoulder. "Oh my God... Oh my God..." She closed her eyes as tight as she can, hoping that this was just a simple nightmare. But ultimately, it wasn't a simple nightmare. It was a terrible fact that Olivia had to get used to. Upon opening her eyes again, she saw that the stranger had put a napkin used as impromptu note paper in front of her on the table. It appeared she was mute. Olivia didn't know if she was deaf too or not. It looked like the stranger was trying to help her, but Olivia couldn't be too sure.

Olivia breathed deeply. "I want out... I just want to leave and go back home... my momma..."

Olivia continued to take deep breaths, and pulled out her smartphone. She opened up an app for taking notes, and typed into it. She then showed it to the stranger.

yes I want to leave. I don't know who you are. can I trust you?

[Playerpvbm]

Joe heard the crack of a rifle, dulled by the thick bathroom door. He thought he could smell gunpowder. He also though he heard someone shout in Arabic. He could taste sand in his mouth. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Just wait... just... wait...", he told himself.

Someone knocked on the door frantically. It was another man who called to Joe. "Please! Please open the door! Let me in!" Joe shouted back,

"Occupied, man! Find your own restroom!"

He closed his eyes and rested his head against the tile wall behind him. It was cool and smooth, like glass. The sound of pipe hitting ceramic broke the tranquility. He'd accidentally dropped his baton. No surprise, considering how sweaty his hands were.

[Kilune]

Sometimes, it's worth being a trouble maker at times... Sometimes, not so much.. Myztii's hidden eyes watched in fury as she sat up ontop of a drink machine that someone had pulled away from the wall in a feeble hope to make it drop the contents with enough force. Across the way, someone's child had gotten sick, and the men wearing heavy firearms had beaten her to death for trying to protect him. No matter. Myztii had gotten it on film. She took silent photos of everything going on near her.

She glanced down to the side of the machine. A man was beating on a the door to the women's restroom. "Occupied,man! Find your own restroom!" Her jaw worked slowly. Someone was hold up in there trying to keep whatever measure of saftey they felt to themselves, and it didn't sound like a woman.

Myztii watched as the man walked away in a hurry. She waited, no one else seemed to notice what was going on with the bathroom. She put away her camera and small video recorder in her pocket and her camera back that she had wrapped around her to ensure no one would take it, or its contents. She slid off the machine and moved to the door.

"Psh, an easy fix." She pulled out a couple of bobby pins and began working on the door almost silently. After a moment she twisted the pins in the lock and heard the gentle click. It unlocked. She pushed the door open and made her way inside, closing and relocking the door behind her as she entered. She looked around slowly, making sure to make no sudden movements in the event someone wanted to jump her.

"You know.... it isn't polite to hide in plain sight with so many chaotic things happening out there..." She said calm and quietly as she made her way deeper into the bathroom, her eyes settling on Joe.

[Yotta Yocta]

The woman began to hyperventilate again before regaining some semblance of composure, Klara simply watching patiently for her to be ready to speak again. She kept talking about her mother and home, obviously worried about their well being but seemed to think going their would make things normal. Such hopes were not well grounded but nevertheless... Moot would need someone who knew the area and Olivia needed a friend. She watched with curiosity as she procured and typed into her phone before showing it to her.

Moot almost laughed - She thought she was deaf. It certainly wasn't the first time someone had assumed this and right now couldn't be bothered pointing it out. Instead she gently took the phone and began to type a response. Klara held out the phone:

Klara Marinovski.

Call me 'Moot'.

I want to find my friends,
trapped outside I think.

Klara paused a moment to examine the surroundings as the soldiers, and their victims, calmed somewhat. She began to write again, this time smirking to herself deviously.

There are windows close.

If I make distraction, can you get through them?

[Playerpvbm]

Joe looked some strange woman in the eye. Sure, this was the women's restroom, but he'd seen things like the event outside before, and knew that it was smart to take safety as soon as possible. While the bathroom was no fortress, it was the best he had at the moment. "I get that this room isn't really for my gender", he started, "but this really isn't the time to argue about this sort of thing. I- wait a sec, how'd you get the door open?"

Unfortunately for Joe, an expandable baton was just barely cleared for the plane, so it was his only weapon and means of defense at the moment. Still, a piece of solid, heavy steel is nothing to shakea (wooden) stick at. Keeping his weapon at the ready, he backed himself against the rear wall, waiting for the odd woman's response.

He'd noticed quite a scene of turmoil outside as she'd shut the door again, and, while he did enjoy excitement now and again, wisely decided that he'd rather stay in safety. He scanned her body for weapons, and didn't see any readily visible. It didn't mean that she wasn't packing, however.

[Wayne]

Olivia took a moment to think about Moot's response. How the hell was she supposed to get through the thick glass in the terminal? Break it? Never mind the soldiers that would be taking pot shots at them running across the airport, or what was happening with people outside the airport for that matter. This wasn't some Hollywood film where the bad guys couldn't hit the broad side of a barn. These were soldiers who have been trained to shoot and kill. Olivia perceived it as an overall dumb idea.

She took her phone back and typed.

am I supposed to break the glass?

But then Olivia spotted a crate and a lone soldier smoking a cigarette, right beside a terminal window. Plus, the other soldiers didn't seem to be giving too much attention to this part of the terminal "Grenades, M67, High Explosive" read a label on the crate. It was odd that they'd be this negligent with dangerous explosives, but it was an opportunity nonetheless. And just to the left of the soldier was an open jet bridge, also seemingly lacking the attention of the soldiers. Maybe they could make a less noisy escape there.

Olivia typed into her phone, and then pointed at the two options for Moot.

loud or quiet?

[Mr_Wiki_96]

Harrison stood amongst the crowd staring at the flight timetable hanging above. All flights to and from London were cancelled. In fact, all flights to and from anywhere were cancelled. This created great frustration for Harrison. He can't afford to spend even one more day in America. He has no change of clothes for the following morning and no place to sleep for that matter either. He would have booked a hotel but there is no way in or out of the terminal. everywhere you look there are soldiers marching up and down the terminal floor like mechanical robots. They were packed like Arnold Schwarzenegger. They were wearing fully blown body armor with grenades and big guns. Not regular guns that Harrison normally sees at most major airports but BIG guns.

Harrison sat down at the nearest seat and took a closer look around. This was not normal and it doesn't take an idiot to notice that something is very wrong. Windows are being boarded, announcements are being loudly made across the terminal and people are on edge and more paranoid than a junkie on LSD. According to the general speaking through terminal speakers, the whole place has been locked down into quarantine. This caught Harrison's attention and made his heart leap in fear. He was a doctor for nearly two decades and has read on famous quarantine cases around the world and even experienced minor ones himself. This is nothing like anything he has read about. The first thing he knows about a major quarantine case is that if it is so bad that the military is called in then usually they were simple soldiers, used to scare and control. The men here look like they are prepared for an invasion, but an invasion of what? Secondly, the windows are boarded up to the extreme. Harrison assumed this is to stop people from getting out but there appears to be very little patrol by the boarded up the windows. He can see lots outside but why not inside. Boarded up windows won't prevent disease from getting in. So what else are they trying to prevent?

Harrison decided to take out his smartphone and searched up local news stories. Each one he looks at mention a high number of Hospital admissions and words like 'virus' and 'contagious' but they are still vague and confusing. None of them are specific to why the military is needed or why every flight is canceled. One of the articles mentioned people fainting as well as excessive vomiting and bleeding. The symptoms have no correlation to the excessive military control around him. He gives a worrying sigh and places his phone away. He stands up to go get himself some sort of drink. On the way he hears a deafening gunshot and the roar of a crowd. He looks behind to see people screaming at the site of a dead kid with a bullet in his head. Harrison noticed the pile of stale vomit around the boy. Was he infected? Harrison thought. He has read of cases of extreme quarantine control but none have ever mentioned shooting a child on sight. Harrison ignored this out of denial and partly fear.

He continues to drag himself to the nearest airport bar which was still open. The bartender was washing a glass with a cloth and staring intently at the TV screen. It was a CNN news story about the events happening in L.A. People were running and screaming and in the far distance you can see other people chasing after them but they didn't seem like people. There was...something peculiar about them. Before Harrison could make it out, the camera fell to the ground smashed with a giant crack on the screen. The TV went blank with its 'off the air' screen. The bartender went immediately to the phone, ignoring Harrison at the bar.

"Hey! Can I get a drink, please?", asked Harrison. The man continued to ignore, his fingers were nervously twiddling on the wires. It seemed like he was calling someone important to him. Harrison started to get impatient.

"Hey! Over here!", shouted Harrison. The man continued to ignore him. "Fuck sake..", he said under his breath. He then reached under the bar and took out a small bottle of Jack Daniel's Tennessee Honey whisky. "Jackpot", he said again under his breath. The man was unaware of this but even if he was, it was the least of his problems. Harrison walked out of the bar and into a fast food restaurant nearby. Just in case the bartender does care about his alcohol. He took a plastic 'coca-cola' cup and filled it with some whisky. He sat down at a table not so far from an interracial couple across another table nearby. They seemed to be the only few people in the fast food place. The staff were either busy on their phones looking for loved ones or were not caring at all and using the situation to slack off. Either way, Harrison didn't care. He continued to take sips of the cup, watching the whole terminal shape and shift from an airport to a police state.

All he could do was watch.

[Freelancer]

Allen and his daughter, Caitlyn, were violently shoved in to and through the airport doors. A grimace upon his face and a scowl on his daughter's as they held each other's hands, walking deeper into the interior of the airport they were just locked in. The girl peered up towards her father and spoke ever so lightly, as if she were afraid of her father. "Daddy... what's happening? Why was mommy acting funny..?" Of course, Allen could not bear to tell Caitlyn the fate of her mother, who was zombified at the hands of the infected, yet he knew there was a time for it. Shaking his head slightly as he found one of the long benches to sit at, Allen placed both of his hands on the girl's shoulders.

"Don't worry, okay? Everything is gonna be fine. Mommy... was just tired. She needed some rest. Now you get some rest, Caitlyn." With that, Allen gently pushed his daughter on to the bench and sighed heavily. "I'll be right back, okay?" The girl just gave a nod to him as he slowly walked off to his own ventures. If anyone within range of the two examined them, they would find that Caitlyn looked almost identical to her father except for the darkish green eyes. Also, one could swear there was a bandage around the little one's ankle, though it was covered by black stocking that went up to a bright purple knee-high skirt on the girl. She also adorned a neon pink tee shirt, which made the girl seem a tad out of place. She peered around, obviously concerned and confused about what had happened, why Allen made them suddenly leave her mother's house, why they fled to the airport, why all of those people were in her mother's home... She shook her head as she kicked her legs in the air, seeing as she could not reach the floor of the airport, and hummed to herself.

On the other hand, Allen was peering about and looked nearly desperate to find something useful to arm himself with. His boots made a loud, yet soft patter against the tiled floor as he observed a construction wrench that was left about in the chaos. Even though it would probably be taken from him at a later time, it was better to be safe than sorry... sorry for his daughter. He cocked his head to the left and right in a hasty fashion and moved towards the weapon, quickly grabbing it up and attempting to conceal it as he made his way back to Caitlyn. Once there, he sat beside, placing his hands in to his hands as he rested his arms on his knees. Caitlyn quickly looked over at her father, smiling even though she was worried.

"Don't worry, daddy, we'll be okay!" The child exclaimed in an inside voice, to which Allen nodded slowly with a smile stretching itself on to his experienced face.

"Yeah... we'll be okay, sweetie."

[Yotta Yocta]

Moot follow Olivia's finger with her eyes before looking to the phone, holding her hand to her jaw in a thoughtful manner for a few moments. As much as she liked to make a bang and maybe pay those murderous soldiers a bit of karma, drawing such attention would be dangerous for them and everyone else. Besides her jet lag was already giving her a headache. She held a finger to her lips, a universal signal for quiet before standing, noticing another civilian had entered the shop.

Let's get closer.

She typed. Klara hoped they wouldn't have to resort to typed messages for too long, much more accustomed to sign language. The baseball bat she had borrowed from the communal troupe luggage was peeking out of her rucksack, quickly pushing it down to remain inconspicuous. She wandered in the direction of the jet bridge.

[Kilune]

Myztii shrugged a bit and crossed her arms, tilting her hip against one of the sinks near her. She glanced back to the door, listening to the sounds of people trying to spread out so that they weren't so cramed near each other. She looked back to Joe quietly for a moment, as if wondering what would be the best way of answering his questions.

"Well, that's really for me to know and you to not find out. A lady never tells her tricks. What I find most interesting though, is how do you have that baton in an airport? That's clearly a weapon of choice.. And with all the newest air restrictions I find it a bit suprising that they allowed you in the building with it... Or even on a plane, unless you are in fact from this area?"

More voices could be heard as someone else had come up to the door and began beating on it once they realized it was closed. Clearly upset, a woman outside tried calling to them. "Open this door! Who's in there?! Hello!! Open the damn door!!"

Myztii tensed slightly and held her finger up to her lips making a gentle Shhh to Joe. Moments later, the sound would ease off, then stop all together. Sighing lightly she looked to the door then back to the man huddling against the wall. "There are plenty of bathrooms on this level of the airport, but if anyone knew you were using this place as your own personal bunker... I'm sure there would be total hell to pay." She offered a light smile, hoping to ease his nerves a bit as she clearly wasn't a threat to him... Unless he had a fear of cameras. "What is your name?"

[Vertical]

After his flight had landed, Jay planned to get as far away from the city as he could. There would probably be some small town a couple of hours away that would hire him with little personal information, allowing him to start over, so to speak. He was jittery. Spending time in prison was the furthest from home he had been, and that was still in Minnesota. Now he was in California with nothing but a few dollars and a disposable phone his friend had given to him. It was a smartphone but it was not a high-end one, it was very cheap and worked poorly. Shortly after departing from his terminal and entering the main section of the airport, a large group of police officers scurried across towards Jay. Instantly his skin paled and became clammy. His heart started racing, sweat began to form around the top of his forehead. And, just as quickly as his anxiety built, it was melted away. The officers sprinted right past him, not even batting an eye. Jay let out a sigh of relief as he wiped the sweat from his brow.

Jay continued walking through the airport, and this continued to get weird. Every few minutes he would see a police officer or a group of them rush by him, or down a hallway. The first few times it made him nervous but then he began to think that something else was happening. Jay neared another large atrium-like room and as he passed into it, a gunshot rang out. Throughout his life he had heard gunshots many times, but considering what he had done only hours before, it made him very uncomfortable. People began screaming, running, and trampling over each other. Jay quickly sidestepped to the wall of the hallway. The crowd thinned after a few moments, and then he continued walking. In the distance he could see the list of flights, all canceled. He paid no mind to it. Something crazy was happening inside of the airport. There were groups of cops, and now soldiers, plus the gunshot. Jay was completely on edge, the slightest thing could push him over. Three separate people passed him, he asked what was going on, and they ignored him. Worry was now starting to creep into his mind. Did I just land into a spree shooting? he thought. Finally there was a sight that brought a shed of relief.

About fifteen feet away, with their backs to him, was a man and a girl. What made them stand out was the fact that they were simply sitting on a bench, not running, not panicking, just sitting there. Maybe they knew what was going on. Considering what was happening all around them, Jay wondered if it would be a good idea to approach or not. Maybe this man was more on edge than Jay, and would attack. Or maybe he was no longer "all there", so to speak. At this point, it did not really matter. Jay could hear soldiers yelling at people all over, barking out commands. Well, if the man was "nuts", Jay was going to find out. He slowly walked up, almost creeping from behind, until he was behind the bench. Taking three large strides, he placed himself in front of the man.

"Do you know what's happening? I just landed about a half hour ago... I think"

[shivershiver]

June 28, 2014
4:18 AM
Room 10
Archstone Santa Monica Apartments

Long before the sun pierced through the bleached blinds, Werner Coetzee was out of his unmade bed and dressed for the young day. Fitful sleep was common for him as of late, his mind forever occupied with the same problems. Werner usually ended up four hours early to work, already wrenching on cars long before his boss came in. The stark-white apartment was still shrouded in darkness, but the man navigated through sparse furniture from memory. Outside the building, he could hear the occasional whine of a police siren, but other than that it was fairly quiet. Donning his grey leather jacket, Werner slammed the door shut behind him and walked down the long hallway to the stairwell. Usually, he was the only resident of the building awake at this time, but this was not the case today. Several occupants were leaving their rooms, loaded down with luggage and suitcases as if they were leaving for vacation. From the hall, Werner could hear those within their rooms either packing or talking in hushed voices. The overall atmosphere within the building was tense at best, with residents looking at eachother with suspicious gazes. Werner continued through the hall, rough hands buried in his coat pockets, when he spotted his neighbor, Conrad, also lugging two suitcases behind him. Werner caught up to the man, who greeted him with a tired smile. Conrad, Werner gathered, was a young college student with rather wealthy parents, though he certainly didn’t behave like it. He was tall, slender, and generally an unremarkable person aside from his background, but a kind soul.

“What’s going on Conrad?” Werner asked as the two walked along. Conrad shrugged wearily before replying.

“Nobody knows, really. Some say rioting, others think its a virus, could just be nothing. A big panic,” Conrad replied.

“What do you think?” Werner knew that Conrad was smart, certainly smarter than him, a high school dropout. If anyone in the apartment complex knew what was going on, it would be him.

Conrad waited a few seconds before replying, his mind still sluggish with sleep. “I don’t know, Werner, I really don’t. But I do know that the media… They’re wrong. This is something new, and its gonna be big.”

Werner frowned at the response, hoping for something a little more straightforward. He wished the college student luck and parted ways with him as the two left the apartment. Outside, the situation was quickly escalating. While none had resorted to looting yet, the air was thick with desperation to prepare for whatever was coming their way. Werner decided it would simply be another infamous LA riot, and doubted it would ever reach Santa Monica. Work would be the best choice for him, as it always was. Working away beneath cars always put his mind at ease.

Werner walked to his parking spot, perhaps a little quicker than usual, but managed to find the time to admire his car for a moment. The grey third-gen Chevy Nova sat exactly where he left it, the soft glow of street lights shimmering on the reflective paint. It wasn’t anything special to look at, but the work under the hood was something of a masterpiece. Werner hopped into the car, and with a swift jerk of the ignition, the beast roared to life. He made his way through the growing crowd of pedestrians in the parking lot and onto the street, which had a little more traffic than usual.

As he drove, Werner turned through the stations, all of which broadcasted an emergency signal that he listened to briefly. He shook his head and instead popped in a CD, which slowly began pumping dark electronic music into the small cabin, the old crackly speakers warping the music even further. The route he usually took to the autoshop was fairly simple and quick, usually a five-minute drive in the early morning. He would take Broadway and turn off onto 14th Street, and with a right turn at Pico Boulevard Werner would arrive at Santa Monica Autoworks. Today, he would not be taking his regular route.

Werner drove through the poorly-lit streets, with several police cruisers soaring past him towards downtown LA. The sight of blue and red lights in his rear-view always made the man tense up, even when he wasn’t hauling three criminals loaded down with bags of stolen currency in his backseat. It did comfort him, though, that they were heading away from his neighborhood and deeper into the city. His thoughts were interrupted when, at an intersection, a massive H3 Hummer slammed into his passenger door at frightening speeds, slamming Werner’s head into the side of the door. All his senses faded away, and the last he heard was the grinding of metal against tarmac.

The mechanic slowly awoke, and was a little confused as to why he still saw his leather steering wheel as opposed to the bright, sterile interior of an ambulance. He’d been in several car accidents with the scars to prove it, and after each one he was hauled to the hospital. Werner felt the sensation of liquid running against his cheek, but it was traveling up towards his hairline. In the crash, his precious Nova had been flipped on its back. Now, only a seat belt held Werner in his place, the force of gravity acting against him. He unbuckled himself, a decision he soon regretted as his head slammed against the crumpled roof, causing his ears to ring. Werner crawled across broken glass and out the passenger window, where he shakily gained his footing. Nothing was broken, no severe lacerations, only a few minor bumps and scrapes. His right knee ached, an old injury from a separate wreck, but it wasn’t debilitating. Werner took a few steps away and knew that he would never be able to salvage the pile of twisted metal before him. It pained him, but he had others, and he was simply glad to be walking away from the nightmarish crash. Werner walked to check on the Hummer’s driver to find she wasn’t so lucky.

The woman was about 30 or so, with long blonde hair and pale skin. Her neck was soaked in coagulated blood, and a giant gash ran across her forehead, with even more blood seeping from every orifice in her body. She was slumped in her seat, eyes rolled in the back of her head. Werner opened her door, and the seemingly dead woman suddenly came to life, thrashing around in the car, restrained by her seatbelt. A horrible, gurgling scream of agony ripped from her mouth, and Werner scrambled to help, tearing her seatbelt off. She was quick to reward his help by lunging at the mechanic, pinning him to the ground. He held up an arm to protect himself, using the other to keep her at bay, and she sank her teeth into his leather jacket, though failing to penetrate through the thick material. Primal instincts took hold of Werner as he managed in his weakened state to roll on top of the crazed woman, grabbed her by the roots of her hair, and pounded the back of her head against the cold pavement. After a couple strikes, her skull gave way, spilling the contents onto the black road, though he did not stop. When her screams silenced, Werner slowly stood up, chest heaving. He slowly came to the realize just what he’d done in his haze, looking down at the crumpled corpse splayed before him. He turned away, hands on his knees, and emptied the acidic contents of his stomach. Looking up, nobody seemed to notice. In fact, nobody even cared. Windows to stores were being bashed open like piggy banks, seeking the wealth inside. Collided cars filled the street. Cops tried to restore order, but their shots in the air were drowned out by the roaring crowd. The virus had barely touched Santa Monica, but panic was already in full swing.

[Playerpvbm]

"Call me Todd. Everyone else does. As for the baton... call it military service privilege. The folks in camo tend to get nice perks." Joe knew he had to draw the woman's attention away from the fact that he was using the women's restroom as a home base. "Sweet camera. Digital?"

She seemed to be relatively harmless at the moment, but all the same, Joe remembered his bartitsu experience and steeled himself, just in case. It was, however, a good sign that the woman didn't open the door for everyone. "Keep that locked, by the way", he reminded her. He set his bag on the floor and pulled out four protein bars and two bottles of water and set them on the counter. Then, he plugged all ten sinks and filled them up with hot water, not knowing how long he would be stuck there. He also drew out a AA battery Maglite, in case the power shut off too. Then, he set his own camera bag on the counter and unzipped it. Inside were two cameras, and six batteries for the digital one. The two cameras came out next, going onto the counter as well, a Sony Alpha 77, and a Nikon FM-10. Nine rolls of film, all in their canisters were the last item on his unpacking agenda. He laid a jacket on the floor, then rolled it up, and laid his head head on it, lying on his back, getting comfortable. He obviously expected to be here for a while. "So", he started, "what do you call yourself? I keep referring to you as 'That Woman' in my head, but I'd prefer a real name."