Annie2002

"Aftermath" (closed, but feel free to read along)

"Aftermath"

A post-apocalyptic tale.

Closed

In the future, a virus known as the Pox has nearly wiped out Human life. Additionally, global warming -- which had only gotten worse through the 21st century -- has left the locale of our story, Greenland, free of ice and snow and now partially covered in grasslands and maturing forests.

Annie, a local girl of 15, discovers a stranger -- to be named shortly by my writing partner -- on the shore while she is hunting.

And that's our story thus far...

"Aftermath" (closed, but feel free to read along)

"Aftermath"

A post-apocalyptic tale.

Closed

Annie sat atop a huge boulder looking down upon the man lying unconscious on the beach of sea-worn pebbles, cradling her bow across her knees. She'd discovered him quite some time ago but hadn't approached him. There hadn't been a case of Pox amongst her people in more than a generation, but some of the Elders believed it was still out there, ready to spring forth at any time and finish off what remained of the People.

The man eventually stirred, struggled into a sitting position, and surveyed his surroundings. There wasn't much to sea, really: to the southeast was the open water of the bay, today relatively smooth, while in other directions he would find nothing but rocky cliffs rising from the sea, their faces alive with millions of birds in the midst of nesting season.

(OOC: They are at the yellow dot on the southeast shore of a now ice-free Greenland.)

Finally, the man looked up and to his left and caught sight of Annie atop her rock. Even at a distance of almost 10 meters, she could tell that his eyes were taking a walk over her from head to toe and back up again. Annie had, of course, taken a long moment to look the stranger up and down, too. He was practically naked, lacking shirt or shoes and wearing short pants of a fabric Annie didn't recognize.

She'd noted during her time of studying him that he was a handsome and very fit man, what Mama would call an exciting example of perfection. Her Papa would have similar commentary on the man, likely suggesting that he was just the right man to father Annie's first children when she eventually reached the Clan's breeding age in eight months.

For her part, Annie had been described as an exciting example of perfection, too. She was cute in the face, tall -- for a woman -- and curvy in the body with well-proportioned hips perfect for childbearing. Her father had already entertained breeding offers for Annie from men of both their village and two neighboring ones, but as she was only 15, those deals would have to wait.

"Hej," Annie said, smiling down to the man. When he didn't respond, she asked, "Forstår du mig?" He didn't respond to her question of whether or not he understood her. "Dansk...?" She switched from Danish to Islandic: "Íslenska...?"

Still, no response. Annie began to wonder if it was something other than a language barrier. Looking to her bow, which had a notched arrow in it, even if it wasn't pointed at the man, she wondered if perhaps that wasn't the issue. She returned the arrow to the quiver over her shoulder, then asked and quickly corrected in yet another of her known languages, "Engelsk...? English?"

Int. Chk: "Pulse", an apocalypse story

When will it be starting?

@Atlas Shark

I'm sorry, I meant to respond to your question and forgot. We had already started, and -- another mistake on my part -- I forgot to put the link to the thread in this thread.

Doesn't much matter, though. We (meaning me and KingOfNowhere) decided to go with a different concept. He's been on vacation but is back, so I'm going to post the IntChk for the new idea this afternoon, in case anyone is interested.

"Pulse" (a story of the apocalypse)

Kimberly Jones -- Organic Farmer, east of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania
(continues from here.)

The past 3 days had been the scariest of Kimmie's life: the Pulse had destroyed anything and everything that worked off electricity, meaning no truck, no cell, no lights, no furnace. It was getting cold at night, and the only thing keeping Kimmie warm was the wood stove in the kitchen and fireplace in the living room, both of which she'd kept burning since.

The airliner crash at the property line had been a total disaster with no survivors. People had come from every direction in response to the fireball, authorities and civilians both. Kimmie wasn't sure what she'd expected: an investigation or simply the removal of the bodies? Neither happened, though. Yellow tape was put up around the site, everyone left before nightfall, and no one had returned. Had this been the same at the two-dozen other plane crashes Kimmie had seen within a minute or so in every direction of her farm?

Twelve hands had been on the farm when this all began: three year-round residential hands; three seasonal workers from nearby Monroeville; and six from WWOOF, World Wide Opportunities on Organic Farmers, two from Washington DC and four from France. The residential hands had initially remained, while the seasonals had left for their own homes. The WWOOF members from DC had also left, while their French counterparts -- with no way to travel -- had remained behind.

Ignoring the whole end of the world part, things had initially been pretty calm on the farm. The mayhem seeming to be taking place in all directions stayed at a distance. Then, the second night, armed men showed up, trying to force their way into the house. Kimmie was no stranger to guns and wasn't about to let thugs take what was hers.

She blew one of them away with a shotgun blast to his chest, causing the other four or five of them to scatter into the darkness. Out at the cabins, one of Kimmie's men -- a former Army Sergeant with experience in Northeast Syria -- had also opened fire using the Beretta pistol he'd kept hidden away. He put bullet holes through three more men before the shooting ended.

The next morning, when they got a chance to survey the damage, they would find two dead bodies on the property and -- at the end of a blood trail -- one out by the perimeter fence line. They would count more than 100 bullet holes in the exteriors of the home and cabins, with most of the windows blown out as well.

There was an exodus from the farm that morning. One of the three residential hands packed his stuff and hurried away. The Frenchies -- despite having no way of getting back to their home country -- also packed and left. They said they would head north, toward Quebec, where one of them had relatives who would take them in until they could find a way back to Paris. Kimmie doubted very much that they would make it to Quebec, let alone France, but she wished them well.

With just three of them left -- Kimmie, her ex-Army man Cliff Reed, and her food preservation guru, Stella Abrams -- they went to work boarding up the buildings and planning security measures for future attacks. They put up signs warning in English and Spanish, Trespassers will be shot first and questioned later. Trip wires were run all about the property, hooked up to noise makers that, hopefully, would alert them to anyone coming close to the buildings.

They hadn't experienced any more attacks after that. They'd seen strangers coming up the gravel road toward the farm on three occasions, but a shot into the sky had caused them to quickly turn and hurry away. After that, they left one person watching the property's sole entry road while the other two worked. Kimmie and Cliff split the work harvesting by hand, while Stella concentrated on preserving what they delivered to her.

Yesterday morning brought them some good news for a change. Initially, as they saw more than a dozen people heading up the drive, it looked like there was going to be more trouble. They were carrying a white flag, and after Kimmie allowed them to get closer, she began recognizing faces. Two of them were the seasonal workers who'd left after the shooting, and two others were their family members, people who'd visited the farm on occasion.

Kimmie went to the gate, met them, and learned they were looking for a safe place to stay. She welcomed them in with the understanding that one and all -- even the children -- had to earn their keep through work. There was no argument, only appreciation. Since then, then adults had split their time between harvesting, planting, and protecting the property and its residents, while the children split their time between tending to the stock animals, various easier chores, and continuing their education, seeing how the school year had just begun.

"Pulse" (a story of the apocalypse)

Day 4: September 15, 2024

Annie King had never spent such an extended time either inside her apartment or on her lonesome, let along both. It had been 72 hours since the world went dark, and she hadn't left her apartment. People had knocked on her door more than a dozen times, in the beginning simply to check on her welfare. She'd told those she knew that she was fine; the others, some of whom had tried the knob, she'd ignored.

Life inside was becoming unbearable. She was about to run out of bottled water. There was no water at the tap, of course. The toilets ceased working as soon as the pressure from the rooftop tank had ceased. Annie had anticipated this, of course, and as gross as it was had been pooping into a variety of sealable containers and setting them out on the balcony.

For the past three days, Annie had prioritized her diet to consume as much of the fresh and perishable food as possible before it went bad. She'd always shopped on or had food delivered on nearly a daily basis, so there wasn't really much to go bad quickly anyway. That was the good news. The bad news was that now, three days later, her cupboards were nearly empty.

She looked to the master key in her hand. She'd gotten it from the doorman's desk that first day to gain access to the stairwell and return to her apartment. She hadn't taken it for any other purpose, certainly not for gaining access to the homes of her neighbors. But she was running out of options. She was out of water and nearly out of food.

From the level of silence recently, Annie believed that most if not all of her neighbors on the 42nd floor had left their homes and their city. It was getting late in the afternoon, meaning only a few more hours of natural light. If she was going to do this today, she had to do it now.

Moving slowly and quietly, she entered the hallway and made her way to 4212, the home of the Fords. She'd been sociable with Frank and Carol, meaning she doubted they would kill her on the spot as an intruder or looter. Still, she knocked softly, then louder, then spoke their names before using the master key. It work, allowing Annie to turn the lock and pushed the door slowly open.

There was no chain, meaning she doubted that they were home. Still, she called their names again, then louder as she entered and closed the door behind her. She took a long while simply to listen for signs of the Fords. Nothing. Again, nothing. From the signs of things, they'd packed in a hurry to get outta Dodge.

Annie began poking about for things of interest or of use. The Fords had been can and box eaters, so Annie was delighted to find their cupboards filled with processed foods. She reeled back at the smell of the spoiled meat in the fridge and freezer, closing both quickly and reminding herself not to go there again.

Over the next hour or more, she hauled anything and everything edible from the Fords back to her place. Then, she went on the search for something very different: Frank Ford's gun. The very macho Frank had shown the pistol to Annie once, showing off. It had been big and scary to her, and when offered a chance to hold it, she'd passed. But now, with the situation as it was, Annie would have loved to have the weapon, just in case. But the search was to no avail. Annie found the gun case laying open on Frank's desk, empty as could be.

She closed and locked her condo door behind her, then popped open a can of chili with beans and ate the whole thing while staring out on the city from her balcony. There were still fires burning in every direction, the result she assumed from the pillaging and rioting. What was going to become of her beloved city? What was to become of her less-beloved species? Down there on the streets, people were presumably killing one another over the most basic of things, food and water amongst them.

It was the end of life as Annie had known it.

"Pulse" (a story of the apocalypse)

Caroline Timms -- US Speaker of the House

Physical Description:

• 54 years old.
• Description coming when I find an appropriate picture.
• Pic coming.

Personality:

• Coming.

Education, Training, Experience:

• More detail coming.
• Local politics led to State politics which led to the US Congress.
• She quickly rose to Speaker of the House, a position she's had for 1 term.

Personal History (continuing with what's above):

• More coming.
• Normally, as Speaker of the House, she would travel in a medium armor SUV with a driver and a pair of Secret Service agents.

Roleplay Experience:

• Day 1: September 12, 2024: she was driving in Washington DC when the Pulse occurred. She was involved in an auto accident that might cause harm down the road; don't know yet.

"Pulse" (a story of the apocalypse)

Day 1: September 12, 2024

Capital Building
Washington, DC

Speaker of the House Caroline Timms, from the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania, was pulling out of one of the many parking garages near the Capitol building when the Pulse occurred. Normally, she would have been traveling in a heavy, medium armor SUV with a driver and a pair of Secret Service agents. But today she was heading home inconspicuously to speed the long weekend with her family.

The unexplained electrical incident caused her 2025 model Prius to coast to a stop in the middle of an intersection, where it was slammed in the front passenger side by one larger vehicle as a second even larger one hit her simultaneously in the rear driver's side. The collisions caused her tiny Toyota to spin full around once before rolling slowly backwards down a slight but increasingly steeper incline until it came to a stop in the median's ditch.

She remembered voices of people coming to her aid but no faces. Time passed as she was carefully removed from the crushed car and laid out on the ground. Caroline was only half aware of what was happening around her, her mind foggy from the trauma. What she did realize was a lack of emergency vehicle sirens. People took turns tending to her, but without her glasses, all she could tell was that they were in turn male or female or both.

"What's wrong with me?" she finally asked one of them. "I don't feel any pain. Am I paralyzed?"

One of the men helping her turned out was a medical student. He tested the reflexes in her limbs, finding her sense of touch fine. He told her, "I don't think you're hurt, ma'am. I think you're just in shock."

He turned out to be right. After a while, Caroline was able to get up and walk, though, there wasn't really anywhere to go. All of the cars surrounding her were dead. Hell, the entire city was dead. She asked a man in uniform, a DC police officer, "Were we attacked?"

"No one knows, ma'am," he told her honestly. "Do you need a hospital?"

She considered the offer, realizing that if she said yes, there was no way to get her there. She told him, "No, no, I'm fine. I'll, um ... I'll walk. I live just a couple of blocks away."

Caroline headed that way only a few steps before looking the other direction, toward the Capitol building. Maybe that was where she should be?

Int. Chk: "Pulse", an apocalypse story

<Snipped quote by Annie2002>

I know it doesn't quite fit perfectly, so I was planning to modify it some if that's okay

@Atlas Shark

That's fine, you bet. Just so each of you knows, there will be one more tragedy occurring, but it won't happen for about an RP month. It will push us deeper into the apocalypse. I would really rather keep it secret for now, but I think you'll all like it.

Int. Chk: "Pulse", an apocalypse story

I have actually a great character for this.
rprepository.com/character-site/1489065

I am definitely interested

@Atlas Shark

Great character ... if this were a zombie or mutant apocalypse. I don't think we're there yet, though. ;)

I definitely appreciate the interest, though.

Int. Chk: "Pulse", an apocalypse story

I'm thinking of a character that could be interesting in this setting. I think someone who was literally a gaming addict before the Pulse could be used for both comedy and drama.?

@Cleveraptor

I like it.

Both of you can post profiles when you are ready. :)