“It's not about surviving. It should be about love. When you know love...that's what makes this life worth it. When you live with it everyday. Wake up with it, hold on to it during the thunder and after a nightmare. When love is your refuge from the death that surrounds us all and when it fills you so tight that you can't express it.”
― Carrie Ryan
"Hey Anthony, found a few rounds. You want 'em?"
"I'm going to regret it, those damn things are more trouble than they're worth, but sure. Might be able to take out one or two more. If not I'll trade 'em to Brick. That stupid kid collects them." The larger man said, taking the bullets from the girl's open hand. He pulled out his Glock-17, and began the process of reloading. His hands slightly shortening the time of loading due to practice. They were currently in the wooded area of a park. The older man was on the ground, his large black fire axe in hand. The blade of the axe was freshly bloodied, and at his feet was a mutilated corpse, it's head split open. A little ways to the left there was a smaller girl, probably no more than 120lbs if not less. She was crouched over a zombie, who had an arrow through it's head. In one of her hands was a hunting bow. She seemed to be studying the corpse, her big and attentive blue eyes moving along the slightly decayed facial features. The old man couldn't help but be happy that he had someone to spend the last few years of his life with. Her and the boy and his dog. In another time and situation, they would've been a little happy family financing their first house with maybe a kid on the way. But no, they were hardened and survivors. They were smart, both of them. Hell of a lot smarter than he was when he was their age.
"Take a picture, it'll last longer." He said gruffly, stepping over the corpse at his own feet and remaining attentive of the surroundings in case something snuck up on them. He turned back to look at the young woman again, who was still studying the creature.
"I'd help if I had a camera. My phone ran out of battery six years ago." she sniped.
And clever. He couldn't forget they were clever asshats. The both of them. Only one bearable enough to be around for a few hours straight was the dog.
"He wasn't a walker too long ago." she said, moving over and stepping on the corpse's neck with her shoe, holding it down, and then pulling the arrowhead that was imbedded in it's forehead out. The corpse twitched, they always did that, but otherwise remained dead and still. The way it should be. "He had ammo on him. Not too much. He still had his gun in his hand." The older man looked down. It was true. There it was, dented and beaten and probably no longer functional as a weapon, but still tightly clenched in the man's hand. He looked over the one he had killed. An asian woman, probably in her mid thirties. She was probably attractive in life. Half her cheek had been torn off and her eye was gone, but the other half of her face was nearly intact. She was relatively fresh too. If she was infected any more than a week ago she probably would've decayed more than this by now. "I see what you mean," he said, looking over to the young woman a few feet away from him, who had dug out a small toy car from one of the man's pockets. The way her face crinkled up while looking it over caused him to guess that she was confused. He laughed, "Give it here." he said, moving a bit closer and moving her hand to take a look at the toy.
He chuckled again. "That my girl, is a Matchbox 1984 Mercury Classic. I fixed one of them up back in the day." he said, releasing the girl's hand and letting her look over the toy once again. "My first car was a Mercury Marquis," he said. "1984 model, same year as that." he smiled as she did. She had told him around a campfire once that she was, at one time, working to become an engineer. Someone who designed and built things like cars and buildings. She said she didn't know what field she'd work in in that respect, but she knew she wanted to be an engineer. A strange choice for a lady like her, but he couldn't knock her for it. His face returned to it's normal, almost angry look when her look of wonder transformed to a look of worry. "You think Brick's alright? He's been gone for a while." she said, unconsciously feeling at the handle to the shotgun she had tied to her backpack, which had replaced her hunting rifle. She had lent it to Brick and in replacement was given his sawn off M37 shotgun for the time being. "He's fine. It'll take more than a zombie or a bullet to take that fucker out." He said. "If I thought it could, I would've tried by now."
She sighed. "I wish he wouldn't go off on his own though. It's not safe." He sighed after her. "You know him, he'll be fine. He always is." The girl nodded. "I'm holding you to that." The older man gave a small smile. "I am too."
Their conversation was cut short by a dog, large, black and brown. "Diesel!" the girl said. "Oooh I missed you!, where've you been?" She said, shouldering the bow and kneeling down to hug the Rottweiler. "Where's Brick?" she said, looking at the dog, who panted, it's tongue lolling out. The dog licked her face causing her to sputter and fall back on her butt. "No kisses!" She said, chuckling. The old man smiled at this. It had been a long time since he had been content and actually happy. A damn long time. "Where's Brick?" Anthony said, causing the dog to move it's attention to him, then back to Allie. It growled into a low woof, and then ran off a little ways away. It stopped and looked back at them, woofing lowly again, knowing to try and be quiet. "He's telling us to follow." Allie said, standing up, and moving after the large dog. The old man shook his head and followed after them.
The dog led them through back roads and took a stealthier route, as to avoid the streets and anyone or thing that would be in them. "Good boy Diesel." Allie said, petting the dog, who licked her hand in response. Diesel had led them to the fire escape of a building. Brick was probably up there. "I'll stay here, knees wont like me climbing that much on them." Anthony said, resting his axe on his shoulder. "I'll stick with Diesel. You go check it out." he said, whistling to the dog, causing it to lay down and keep alert, listening, smelling, and keeping watch for anyone who wasn't Anthony, Allison, or Roark.
The trip up the fire escape was uneventful, but she got a good view of the roads. Backed up cars that had been degraded with a few aimless walkers meandering around here and there. Nothing super special, but the sight in the early morning light was... brisk and beautiful in it's own fucked up way. As she came up to the top, she noticed a few tents had been set up on the roof of the building with what looked like a fire pit laid out. It was long out, and most of the stuff looked like it wasn't going to hold up much longer. She drew her pistol out of habit, and kept a close eye on the tents just in case one of those weird boney motherfuckers was around. Some other survivor called them Hoarders or Collectors or something. She took a few cautious steps forward, and was about to open up one of the tents when...
"Three cans of food on the right, six bottles of water. 'Some ammo in the other tent, but the weapons are rusted and the guns are pretty malformed by now." A voice said. She spun around on her heel, pointing the gun in the direction of a man who was sitting in a lawn chair with a beer right next to him and a jar of a yellow liquid on the other side. He wasn't facing her, but it was obvious he was focused on the road below. He was looking through the scope on her hunting rifle, using them as a pair of binoculars. It was obvious he hadn't shot it based on the fact that there were no shells around on the ground and no hoard of zombies pilling around each other on the building. "Jesus Brick, you scared the shit out of me." Allison said, lowering her gun with an exasperated sigh. "I nearly shot you!"
"But ya didn't, thank ya fer asking first and shooting later." Brick said, turning around and looking at her with what she could tell would be a shit eating grin based upon how his eyebrows were. She couldn't see his mouth through his bandana. Hers was pulled down right now, lying around her neck. "Find anything?" she asked, walking over and placing a hand on his shoulder. "Ye," he said in his heavy Australian accent. "First two floors below me are clear, nothin' worth shootin' at in 'em based on what I saw. Haven't checked for supplies yet. Thought I'd 'ave Diesel fetch you two in case I was wrong. We'll search through on a little supply run, but we should grab the food I've found from here before heading down." he said, standing up. Allison for a moment wondered if this little camp belonged to the zombie she had killed earlier when it was a man. "Didn't see much besides a few walkers on the street." he said, passing her rifle back to her, Allison grabbed his shotgun and gave it back to him in trade. "Thanks." he said simply. He stood up and grabbed his gun, holstered it, then can of beer, and finally the jar of the yellow liquid with his other hand. He looked at her for a moment, before he looked over the edge of the building. "Ey, see that one over there?" Brick said, pointing with the hand that held the jar at a zombie across the road that could be easily seen from the building's vantage point. "Watch this." he said, before winding his arm back and chucking the jar into the air. As it fell back to earth, the combination of gravity and the power of Brick's throw caused the jar to fall and shatter on the walker's head, causing it to fall to the ground from the force and not get up. A few others in the general area turned toward the noise and began to walk towards it, but most otherwise remained where they were. Allison crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow at Roark, who had walked in and out of a tent carrying about size bottles of water in one of his arms. He simply shrugged at her look and gave what she guessed to be another shit eating grin.
"So whatcha think? Zombie kill of the week?"
― Carrie Ryan
"Hey Anthony, found a few rounds. You want 'em?"
"I'm going to regret it, those damn things are more trouble than they're worth, but sure. Might be able to take out one or two more. If not I'll trade 'em to Brick. That stupid kid collects them." The larger man said, taking the bullets from the girl's open hand. He pulled out his Glock-17, and began the process of reloading. His hands slightly shortening the time of loading due to practice. They were currently in the wooded area of a park. The older man was on the ground, his large black fire axe in hand. The blade of the axe was freshly bloodied, and at his feet was a mutilated corpse, it's head split open. A little ways to the left there was a smaller girl, probably no more than 120lbs if not less. She was crouched over a zombie, who had an arrow through it's head. In one of her hands was a hunting bow. She seemed to be studying the corpse, her big and attentive blue eyes moving along the slightly decayed facial features. The old man couldn't help but be happy that he had someone to spend the last few years of his life with. Her and the boy and his dog. In another time and situation, they would've been a little happy family financing their first house with maybe a kid on the way. But no, they were hardened and survivors. They were smart, both of them. Hell of a lot smarter than he was when he was their age.
"Take a picture, it'll last longer." He said gruffly, stepping over the corpse at his own feet and remaining attentive of the surroundings in case something snuck up on them. He turned back to look at the young woman again, who was still studying the creature.
"I'd help if I had a camera. My phone ran out of battery six years ago." she sniped.
And clever. He couldn't forget they were clever asshats. The both of them. Only one bearable enough to be around for a few hours straight was the dog.
"He wasn't a walker too long ago." she said, moving over and stepping on the corpse's neck with her shoe, holding it down, and then pulling the arrowhead that was imbedded in it's forehead out. The corpse twitched, they always did that, but otherwise remained dead and still. The way it should be. "He had ammo on him. Not too much. He still had his gun in his hand." The older man looked down. It was true. There it was, dented and beaten and probably no longer functional as a weapon, but still tightly clenched in the man's hand. He looked over the one he had killed. An asian woman, probably in her mid thirties. She was probably attractive in life. Half her cheek had been torn off and her eye was gone, but the other half of her face was nearly intact. She was relatively fresh too. If she was infected any more than a week ago she probably would've decayed more than this by now. "I see what you mean," he said, looking over to the young woman a few feet away from him, who had dug out a small toy car from one of the man's pockets. The way her face crinkled up while looking it over caused him to guess that she was confused. He laughed, "Give it here." he said, moving a bit closer and moving her hand to take a look at the toy.
He chuckled again. "That my girl, is a Matchbox 1984 Mercury Classic. I fixed one of them up back in the day." he said, releasing the girl's hand and letting her look over the toy once again. "My first car was a Mercury Marquis," he said. "1984 model, same year as that." he smiled as she did. She had told him around a campfire once that she was, at one time, working to become an engineer. Someone who designed and built things like cars and buildings. She said she didn't know what field she'd work in in that respect, but she knew she wanted to be an engineer. A strange choice for a lady like her, but he couldn't knock her for it. His face returned to it's normal, almost angry look when her look of wonder transformed to a look of worry. "You think Brick's alright? He's been gone for a while." she said, unconsciously feeling at the handle to the shotgun she had tied to her backpack, which had replaced her hunting rifle. She had lent it to Brick and in replacement was given his sawn off M37 shotgun for the time being. "He's fine. It'll take more than a zombie or a bullet to take that fucker out." He said. "If I thought it could, I would've tried by now."
She sighed. "I wish he wouldn't go off on his own though. It's not safe." He sighed after her. "You know him, he'll be fine. He always is." The girl nodded. "I'm holding you to that." The older man gave a small smile. "I am too."
Their conversation was cut short by a dog, large, black and brown. "Diesel!" the girl said. "Oooh I missed you!, where've you been?" She said, shouldering the bow and kneeling down to hug the Rottweiler. "Where's Brick?" she said, looking at the dog, who panted, it's tongue lolling out. The dog licked her face causing her to sputter and fall back on her butt. "No kisses!" She said, chuckling. The old man smiled at this. It had been a long time since he had been content and actually happy. A damn long time. "Where's Brick?" Anthony said, causing the dog to move it's attention to him, then back to Allie. It growled into a low woof, and then ran off a little ways away. It stopped and looked back at them, woofing lowly again, knowing to try and be quiet. "He's telling us to follow." Allie said, standing up, and moving after the large dog. The old man shook his head and followed after them.
The dog led them through back roads and took a stealthier route, as to avoid the streets and anyone or thing that would be in them. "Good boy Diesel." Allie said, petting the dog, who licked her hand in response. Diesel had led them to the fire escape of a building. Brick was probably up there. "I'll stay here, knees wont like me climbing that much on them." Anthony said, resting his axe on his shoulder. "I'll stick with Diesel. You go check it out." he said, whistling to the dog, causing it to lay down and keep alert, listening, smelling, and keeping watch for anyone who wasn't Anthony, Allison, or Roark.
The trip up the fire escape was uneventful, but she got a good view of the roads. Backed up cars that had been degraded with a few aimless walkers meandering around here and there. Nothing super special, but the sight in the early morning light was... brisk and beautiful in it's own fucked up way. As she came up to the top, she noticed a few tents had been set up on the roof of the building with what looked like a fire pit laid out. It was long out, and most of the stuff looked like it wasn't going to hold up much longer. She drew her pistol out of habit, and kept a close eye on the tents just in case one of those weird boney motherfuckers was around. Some other survivor called them Hoarders or Collectors or something. She took a few cautious steps forward, and was about to open up one of the tents when...
"Three cans of food on the right, six bottles of water. 'Some ammo in the other tent, but the weapons are rusted and the guns are pretty malformed by now." A voice said. She spun around on her heel, pointing the gun in the direction of a man who was sitting in a lawn chair with a beer right next to him and a jar of a yellow liquid on the other side. He wasn't facing her, but it was obvious he was focused on the road below. He was looking through the scope on her hunting rifle, using them as a pair of binoculars. It was obvious he hadn't shot it based on the fact that there were no shells around on the ground and no hoard of zombies pilling around each other on the building. "Jesus Brick, you scared the shit out of me." Allison said, lowering her gun with an exasperated sigh. "I nearly shot you!"
"But ya didn't, thank ya fer asking first and shooting later." Brick said, turning around and looking at her with what she could tell would be a shit eating grin based upon how his eyebrows were. She couldn't see his mouth through his bandana. Hers was pulled down right now, lying around her neck. "Find anything?" she asked, walking over and placing a hand on his shoulder. "Ye," he said in his heavy Australian accent. "First two floors below me are clear, nothin' worth shootin' at in 'em based on what I saw. Haven't checked for supplies yet. Thought I'd 'ave Diesel fetch you two in case I was wrong. We'll search through on a little supply run, but we should grab the food I've found from here before heading down." he said, standing up. Allison for a moment wondered if this little camp belonged to the zombie she had killed earlier when it was a man. "Didn't see much besides a few walkers on the street." he said, passing her rifle back to her, Allison grabbed his shotgun and gave it back to him in trade. "Thanks." he said simply. He stood up and grabbed his gun, holstered it, then can of beer, and finally the jar of the yellow liquid with his other hand. He looked at her for a moment, before he looked over the edge of the building. "Ey, see that one over there?" Brick said, pointing with the hand that held the jar at a zombie across the road that could be easily seen from the building's vantage point. "Watch this." he said, before winding his arm back and chucking the jar into the air. As it fell back to earth, the combination of gravity and the power of Brick's throw caused the jar to fall and shatter on the walker's head, causing it to fall to the ground from the force and not get up. A few others in the general area turned toward the noise and began to walk towards it, but most otherwise remained where they were. Allison crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow at Roark, who had walked in and out of a tent carrying about size bottles of water in one of his arms. He simply shrugged at her look and gave what she guessed to be another shit eating grin.
"So whatcha think? Zombie kill of the week?"
