Azseth

Surviving: The End (character-centric; modern zombie survival)

Somewhere in Missouri.

Several uneventful days passed since clearing the house, and uneventful equated to godsends. They slept well enough, ate well enough, weren't attacked, and didn't have to make any potentially life altering decisions. There was odds and end bickering about whatever, but typical of the two, nothing of real substance was spoken about and both were fine with that. On the fourth day, they came upon the scene of what seemed to be a person or two having been trapped in a small convenience store that came under attack from zombies. There were several fresh bodies and a bloody spot on the floor that was all that remained of one of those that had been alive prior to the attack.

They approached quietly, listening before actually entering. Whatever zombies had attacked, they were gone now and the place was quiet. Fuad went in first and didn't find much of anything Terry grumbled, disappointed about wasting time and having nothing to show for it. They were quiet a bit more alert since the signs of activity were obvious, but they still talked occasionally. After leaving the building and moving on, they moved off the road slightly when he all-too-familiar raspy breathing sound could be heard ahead and low and behold, the two men snuck their way through some trees to see 3 zombies standing about, seeming to have no real purpose.

"Looks like it's your lucky day T-Burn. Need some help with these or what?"

Terry set his bag down with a shake of his head as they drew up on the zeds, grinning.
"Nah... I haven't broken any skulls in a good three days, this'll do me good."
So saying, he pulled his crowbar from the side of his bag, cracking his neck and quite simply striding forward towards the zeds with no sense of stealth or ceremony, wrapping the crowbar on a tree as he passed to get their attention.

"Heeeeeeeeere zeddy zeddy zeddy. Come and let T-burn break you a little bit."

He patted the crowbar in his hands with a broad grin, shifting slightly and digging his heels into the dirt, seeming ready and rearing to turn the three zombies into puddles of leprous mush.

Fuad shook his head even as he smirked. He did keep a look out on the surrounding area as Terry descended on the trio. Hopefully Terry would be quick about this. While Terry didn't necessarily delight in the prolonged death of the undeads, he seemed to just thoroughly enjoy smashing their skulls and helping send them back to wherever it was they went when Terry was done with them. "Go easy on the blonde, I think she has a thing for you."

Terry rolled his eyes at Fuad's comment.
"Never liked blondes. Always been a red-head kinda guy."

Fuad muttered under his breath, but loud enough for Terry to hear. "Oh, didn't know redheads ran in your family..."

So saying, the blonde promptly took a crowbar to the face, collapsing in a re-dead heap of bloody rotten flesh. He shot a glance over his shoulder to Fuad.
"Bah, at least we only marry -once-, like proper people. Even if it is a third cousin, or something. You idiots take on how many wives? Two dozen? Must be a bitch, dealing with that many women bleeding at once, especially once they start having kids. How long did it take before they teamed up and castrated you?"

Another one of the zeds found its skull thoroughly hammered into a tree by his elbow.

He chuckled at the man's response, always finding it oddly amusing how Terry could talk shit while doing what he did. It wasn't so much just talking, anyone could talk in the middle of fighting, it was that he would actually have well thought out replies. Granted the same could be said of Fuad, but he would like to think he had higher mental capacity than the old redneck. "I never married asshole. I didn't have any sisters like you. Anyway, those were hardcore, old school Muslims. I'm pretty sure you people did that too." He did his best redneck impression. "I dun show'll did havem my some sex withum ma mum. I need to work on my redneck voice. Anyway, you down south people perfected that shit. And to make it worse, you didn't even get virgins when you died. Virgins can be trained you know?" The whole time he spoke up, he kept looking around and behind, even though he was sure that the immediate area was safe--well, safe enough as it could be with a handful of zombies around.

Terry gave a short, barking laugh. He was more or less toying with the last Zed, hopping out of its way every few moments. He wasn't making it suffer, merely stalling. Probably needed the stretch.
"You're doing it all wrong. Here."
He cleared his throat.
"I'm fixin' t' blow this here hajji sky high if'n he keeps chattin' on my mum like that. Ricky, hold my beer an' hand me ol' bessy."
Ol' bessy no doubt a joking reference to whatever rifle he would have had on hand back in red-neck-ville.

"And you can't tell me that you -want- to train sixty nine virgins."
He knew the real number. He just didn't care.
"I mean, who wants to hear this sixty nine times- 'Oooh, ahhhh, awwwooooaaahhhh... You're gonna call me, riiiigggghhhhht?'"

The last zed finally lost its head to a baseball-esque swing of his crowbar, the skull thunking solidly against a tree as the body fell without it.

Fuad stepped up into the clearing as he dispatched the last zombie and looked around cautiously. "You can't even count to 6, let alone 69." While Terry looked around at his handiwork, Fuad simply stepped forward and continued on in the path they were on originally, it seemed as if the violence from moments ago was already lost on him. In a moment, he became aware that it was cold and he pulled his jacket a bit tighter around him, zipping it up. He found it interesting how the body changed when the slightest trace of adrenaline entered the system; cold, pain, fear- all being ignored. Out of nowhere, Fuad asked "do you think anyone survived from that store back there?"

Terry shook the excess blood from his crowbar, retrieving his bag as he answered. The joking conversation gone and replaced with a serious question, he let the sarcasm fade from his voice.
"I think one of them got turned into a puddle of goo, but there were too many dead zeds for one person alone to have handled. I didn't see any fresh dead aside from puddle-guy, so one or two people had to have at least made it this far out. Didn't see any blood trailing from the building, either, so either they had plenty of bandages on hand or they got lucky and avoided serious injury. They could have gone anywhere, but my bet is they went for the main road and are a day or so ahead of us."

It was remarkable how he showed brief flashes of intelligent insight like this between beating up zeds and poking racist comments at Fuad.

"Or it could have been one person when he or she was gone, the zeds just kind of moved on their own way." There were a few dead-again zombies but not many. Fuad liked to think that if he was in that situation, there'd be a heap of corpses where he fell. More often however, he'd like to think he'll never be in a position where he was dead--a heap of undead with him walking away was much more to his liking.

As they walked in relative silence for a few hours, the sun started to descend in the sky and it got slightly cooler. Just as he was about to mention slowing down and finding a place to stay for the night, a few flurries started to call from the sky. Being born and raised in Arizona, he still wasn't used to the snow. He'd been in it a few times, but it was when going to the mountains, or traveling. The clouds were thick and dark up ahead, which would mean rain if it were warmer.

Surviving: The End (character-centric; modern zombie survival)

Ok everyone. Today is the day. Kinda. I'll be around more basically.

Gunna get some reading here and maybe a post done soon, but I have to cut the lawn today at some point.

Hope all is well with everyone, and thanks for the patients and understanding.

Az

Surviving: The End (character-centric; modern zombie survival)

Hey everyone, so, I just finished my english final essay, so now I have studying to do this week.

I'll get a post up tomorrow MOST LIKELY, assuming something doesn't happen all crazy like.

I fucking appreciate the HELL out of you guys, gals, and your patience.

With that said. Check this out. Short end of it, this is me. I also made it on ESPN top 10 plays, which I'm trying to get a clip of.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kUGF-PmGOQE

Az

Surviving: The End (character-centric; modern zombie survival)

Just to reiterate, busy as hell this week and my Mom was admitted to the hospital this morning some mild heart beat issue, so I will be out of pocket a lot this week.

I'll be in and out however.

Dark, I'm trying to get with Arlear about getting a post togetherto put Fuad and Terry near you, if he cannot, that's my next post.

Final, Exit (who's ghost ATM) and Zach, I'm going to PM about that situation in a moment.

Az

Surviving: The End (character-centric; modern zombie survival)

(( To avoid confusion, this post takes place sometime over a year PAST the current events in. Aka, this is a flashforward. ))

The two men walked about 20 feet of of the main road in the early light of the day, trudging along in silence for a long while. Finally the first of the two homes that they were to go through came into view and Jon looked to his side and broke the silence. "There they are."

He was wearing relatively light clothing, but dressed in a way that did not expose him to needless injuries. Even though it was getting warmer, Jon elected never to wear short sleeved clothing or shorts, not ever. In addition to the cargo pants and long sleeve shirt, he had a relatively small back pack on with some of what he considered essentials: socks, a change of clothes, some food and water and ammunition. He also carried a can of WD40, which he'd have never thought about if it wasn't for Fuad. In hindsight, not thinking about that had him kicking himself in the ass. Lastly, he had a M14 assault riflle slung over his shoulder, hand resting on the butt casually, and a 9mm Smith and Wesson on a holster on his hip. Out of sight was a pilot's knife on his other waste and a pair of brass knuckles in a cargo pocket.

He took a deep breath that may have been construed as a sigh, which it might have been, and then he kept his eyes forward when he asked, "you ready?"

Dan followed along behind Jon, trudging with a certain jaunt as if the gravity that ground him to the earth was stronger. His shoulders were hunched beneath the weight of his backpack. All of the usual stuff, water, food, ammo. Whatever he had scavenged and deemed worthy of using valuable bag space. Tucked in to a makeshift pouch that ran along the right side of the bag was a Remington 870 shotgun with a forward pistol grip and a sawed off barrel. It made it easy to carry and was also quick to retrieve. He'd also acquired an old cop's duty belt which holstered his 9mm glock. The two pouches on the back of the belt were reserved, one for ammo, the other for that pocket knife he'd managed not to lose all this time.

Dan had lost any personal grooming habits well before they'd set out, but he almost regretted it in a way now. His beard was several inches long, and his hair had grown enough that it had to be tied back into a ponytail with a torn piece of fabric. The thick masses made him sweat more than he would have liked. He still wore his old uniform, only it had changed to match what he'd seen in the past years. The white collar was smeared with so much dirt that it almost matched the black cassock. The robe and the black pants were torn at the bottom from the typical apocalyptic wear and tear. His shoes were the only thing that didn't match and what he'd learned he needed to change most often. Currently they were dark brown boots that were about a half size too large. He'd greedily taken them from a dead body they'd come across at another house two weeks earlier.

The Reverend gave a grunt and nod to Jon's first words, managing to look up for a few moments when the houses came into view. He quickened his step to catch up and walk alongside the man and look at his face. “Yeah... I'm ready.”

Jon actually turned to study Dan for a moment in light of his response he received. Dan had changed a lot and while some of those changes were good, some were not positive--granted "good" was a subjective term. Regardless of semantics, he turned his head back to watch ahead. Jon himself didn't change much, looking almost the same as he had the day he went into, and then came out of, the CDC center. His face, on a bad day (after months of not shaving) had a slight stubble and even that was in patches. His face was generally smooth and he did his best to keep his hair cut accordingly: in the summer, he kept it short to stay cool and avoid being grabbed, and then let it grow out in the winter to stay warmer. The only thing that seemed to change about Jon was his clothing.

"Can I ask you a question Dan?"

The beard was itchy too. Dan found his fingers working their way through it several times a day. The man had let himself go, to say the least. As they got closer, he pulled the shotgun from its resting place and held on tight. He preffered it to the pistol when they were indoors.

When Jon asked him the question, he paused in his movement for a few brief moments before continuing. It was a question he'd heard a lot through the years, even back before all of this started. Before his mind had a chance to rest on any of those memories he shook his head.

“Sure. Shoot.” He shrugged a bit, eyes back on the ground.

Jon took a moment to mull over how to ask the question, thinking about Dan for a moment. Jon and Dan were an odd combination based on their morality and past, and Jon found that odd to a certain degree. He shook those thoughts away and focused on the situation at hand. He could tell Dan was off, this was obvious to anyone who knew him at all, especially the past that Dan came from--again, the opposite of Jon's own. But Jon was very intuitive and unparalleled at reading people and deducing factual information from them based on seemingly trivial things, and he knew almost exactly how far "off" Dan was. He just had to figure out a way to attempt to get through to him. Jon's biggest obstacle was that he was not adept at emotional reciprocation. That is, Jon could easily recognize emotions in people and use them accordingly, even acting in certain ways to exploit them, but that was just the thing. He wasn't practiced in feeling emotions, only using them to attain goals. He was not used to using these things to attempt to fix or help people, and it wasn't easy.

After a few more seconds he finally just decided to ask. "How're you feeling? I know the whole Miguel thing wasn't easy."

Daniel had gotten to know the man pretty well since they first met. It had taken a long time for Jon to 'warm up,' to him, if you could call it that. More so than anything, they both had a subconcious understanding of one another. Through their time together with the old group they'd learned how to feel each other out. They didn't always have to rely on speech for communication. Having been alone together only intensified all of it.

When the Rev heard the name he felt like stopping, but he kept going. There were all these... emotions... clawing their way up his throat. He got a sick feeling, like he might vomit, but he gulped it all back down as he'd done so many times before.

Daniel had met Miguel at a confusing time in his life. His time with the others had made him question things. He'd blamed the old group for getting him involved in all of this shit. For making him leave the church. One man, in particular who he'd long since forgotten. Priests were good at not letting the resentment get to them, but he was still green before the end of the world. He hadn't had enough experience to realize when it had taken him over. And being the only religious person in the group, he had no one to bounce his thoughts off of. Miguel, on the other hand, had been a true God-send. He was raised Catholic and had a good understanding of how the church worked. Since the Episcopal faith had been termed 'Catholic light,' they had a lot in common.

“Well... I can't lie.” It was true that the priests morality and integrity had faltered, but he still held true to some of his principles, one being his honesty. “It still hurts. And the WAY he died...” And he was ever his contemplative-self. “Was god damn awful.” It wasn't the resentment that was eating him this time, but the guilt. “I could have stopped it. I know I could have. If I'd only...” He let his words trail off to be replaced with a sigh. “Or at least spared him some pain...” He had always viewed that as his primary reason for becoming a priest... helping people to resolve their pain. Walking through it with them.

Jon nodded and mulled over everything for a bit. Generally, he was quicker on the tongue, but this was something a bit different, this was a situation where he wasn't acting a certain way, he wasn't trying to hide something, or playing an angle. This was relatively new territory to him. He almost said 'I know how you feel,' but the truth is, Jon didn't, and he wasn't going to lie to him. His true past was a mystery to most, but he was known as tactical and maybe even ruthless, but most knew that at this point, he'd do anything in his power to make sure the most people who could live did so, even if it meant sacrificing others. Some could deal with that, some couldn't, and Jon didn't really care who viewed that in what way.

He mulled over many things, wanting to comfort Dan, wanting to say that "ONE THING" that would make it all go away, and he realized that it wasn't possible, not in light of all this, not in this world. All of those "one things" died but never rose, never reanimated. They were gone. "Some things you can't stop. Some things that happen are outside of your control. Man's biggest misconception is that it had power. We think decisions we make are our own when the truth is that decisions you make, they're often simply reactions to something you have no power over. If it were otherwise, even before all this, people would have made the choices to stop dying, cure cancer, stop wars. There is nothing you could have done for Mig. Nothing I could have done. Nothing he could have done. Can I tell you something Dan?"

Daniel thought about the mans words while he continued shuffling along. “All of that is true, I suppose.” He nodded. The priest really could understand what the man was saying, but there was still a disconnect for him. There certainly was nothing wrong with the sentiment. Most people, he'd observed, did in fact go through life making decisions, reacting how they deemed appropriate, but for people like him, it was different. People like him believed everything was predetermined, and that's where the disconnect was. On one hand, it should have offerend comfort... that all of the wasted lives had moved on and left this terrible world for a better place, or at least a place of peace. On the other, it meant that God had put some planning into all of this... that in his infinite wisdom, he'd meant for all of these good people to die in these terrible ways. That he wanted humanity to be lost. Dan bit at his lips in thought. You could always tell when his gears were turning.

“Before all of this it was smooth sailing, you know? I was HAPPY. Things were at peace within me. I didn't have to worry about all of this anger and rage bubbling up.” The first people he'd killed, he'd tried to bury and move on, sweeping them under the rug like a mess he didn't want to dirty himself with.

“You can tell me anything you like, Jon. Just warn me if I need to sit down.” And maybe that southern, easy-going, laid-back humor was something still alive in him too.

If Jon got the humor, it was lost on him as he didn't react beyond putting one foot in front of the other, and then going on with his thoughts. "I envy you. All of you. Everything that you had before all of this, hearing you all talk about it, find some happiness in it and form your bonds over it. Sometimes, I know it's hard for you. Granted, it's hard for everyone, and hard in different ways. But for you and your faith, it's a lot more unique and difficult. I'm not sure where I'm going with this exactly. But, just don't create and shoulder guilt that you don't need to. It'll break your back eventually. There is enough justifiable guilt, loathing, and questioning to go around without creating more of it for yourself." He opened his mouth for a second and closed it, about to say more than he had intended.

Daniel nodded in response, his attention now fully on the man. "I'll be ok. Maybe not now, but sometime." Half truths could still be considered truths, right? Dan was never the one to comfort people by saying time was all they needed to heal. Some people didn't heal. The only comfort they got was in death. "Is that all you wanted to tell me? I get the feeling that you're thinking about something else." The priest was good at reading others too, but in a much different way. He had a strong sense of empathy and usually that was the only tool he needed to use to break through any tough exteriors. He had indeed never heard the man open up about what it was like for him before the rise, other than what he told everyone before, which seemed more like a cover story than anything else.

"I'm sure you've noticed, I'm always thinking, there's always stuff going on up there, most if it you wouldn't want to know about. Anyway, I know I'm not the most...insightful or morally driven person but if it helps at all, you can always talk to me. About anything." He took a deep breath and thought long and hard about where to go next. Very easily, he could have simply said they had to focus on the house, even though they were a very long distance away and Jon was watching it the entire time. He didn't think there was a real reason for him to open up to the priest. If anything, there was a very strong possibility anything he said about his true past would be 100% counter-productive. But maybe something he could say would help Dan in some way. Jon was a firm believer in 'tough love' and sometimes, it would help people to see that things weren't always so bad. Sometimes, seeing how bad, or at least how different, another had it, or how things could have been, it helped one take things into perspective--but it could also shake their faith or make them lose it. Jon understood that all too well.

"Dan, I'm not really sure I'd even know where to start, if I wanted to. What do you think of me Dan?"

That question may have come suddenly, but it came to him just as suddenly. Jon didn't ask others, didn't care and didn't do things to try to sway their opinions of him, but he knew that he was viewed in many different lights, understandably so. He killed without explaining, he didn't try to placate others or allow them to understand. He did things quickly, and although that speed made it seem as if he did things on a whim, it couldn't be further from the truth. Jon was programmed to see things, recognize situations and people and act on them. He was also trained never to question that instinct. Jon could see a man's intent by the position of his feet, hands and the direction of his gaze sometimes. He could tell if someone was lying by their tones and the way they sat.

But he never explained this to anyone, never felt the need. If Jon did something to save someone, even if what he did was questionable, he didn't feel it necessary thinking it was self explanitory.

Eventually, it was most likely clear to everyone that Jon wasn't a CIA computer tech as he said originally, but only a select few knew the truth. Few ever approached him about this however, and those that did were shot down to some degree or the other. This was the first time Jon ever straight up asked someone this question however.

This. THIS was the only thing the Reverend felt comfort in now. His old job. Listening to others, offering them a helping hand when they needed it. His roots were glued to philanthropy. It had even gotten him into trouble in the past, but it was his burden to bear. When most people thought of their 'happy place,' they envisioned themselves on a snow white beach under the shade of palm trees with a pina colada in hand, but Dan, he saw himself in the booth or behind the screen listening while others divulged their darkness. One thing he believed in more strongly even than the presence of God, was the fact that everyone had a darkness inside of them that they needed release from. Whether they were born that way or were turned by a series of events or interactions didn't matter to him.

Jon's question though, was one he'd only heard a few times. He tried to control their pace more, slowing down a bit before he answered. If it were up to him, they'd stop completely, but it seemed Jon was easier when moving.

"Well... let's see.." It was never a priests place to pass judgement, so he picked his words carefully. "You're a deep thinker. Like me. You don't talk a lot. You're a loner. None of which are bad things, mind you, but they lend themselves to certain... personas." What he saw in Jon was similar to what he'd seen in abused children, or other similarly broken people. "I can tell there's some sort of trauma there... since before all of this. It's different. Engrained in you. A part of you." You could always tell the difference in people who'd suffered prior to the rise as opposed to people who only suffered because of it. It was in the way they carried themselves, the words they used, the way they looked at you. Like a broken doll that couldn't be repaired because they no longer manufactured the right parts. You could use replacement pieces, but it just wasn't the same. "You wouldn't believe the things i've heard through the years. People were fucked up before all this shit too, you know? Anyone that only tells you about the happy memories... they're hiding something, either from you or themselves." He thought back to that first tough confession years back. The abortion. And then to another. Abel the cannibal. He hadn't seen that one coming. Then there were the confessions from inmates. Those got pretty grizzly. The war veterans, always depressing. He tried to bring himself back to the matter at hand.

"Nothing you say is going to surprise me. I guess all in all... I think you're a person, Jon. And with that comes the good and the bad." He spoke with a certain ease of understanding and honesty that could be translated through tone.

Initially, Jon took what Dan said somewhat abrasively, he felt that it was someone patronizing or just casually general. Jon hated cliche responses or offhand anecdotes that people just spouted. He immediately swallowed it down though and listened, trying to at least focus on Dan if anything. Truth be told, Jon didn't think there was a benefit to talking, despite having heard countless times about the positives that would come of it. He wasn't worried that Dan, or anyone else would think any less of him. They'd seen Jon kill, torture, leave people behind and make all sorts of questionable decisions, nothing in his past was much worse necessarily. It was just that Jon didn't think any benefit would come of it. Perhaps part of him was even put off by opening up because of where his thoughts eventually went...

The other truth of the matter is that Jon recognized, on a few separate occasions now, that no matter how bad things were with Dan and the group, he was always at his best when he was helping or consoling, listening and doing what he could, even if it was something minor and trivial. Dan changed a lot since they'd met, and even if it showed itself less frequently now, Dan was still altruistic. Jon didn't understand it, but that side of Dan was admirable.

"I'm not sure you'd be surprised if I told you the truth, my past, whatever you'd call it. Well, you might be. Anyway, if anything, I think it would. I don't know. Things would be a lot more clear." At this point, Jon was somewhat torn between the want to help Dan and the desire to simply shut up and do what needed to be done. He looked ahead, studying the houses intently off in the far distance.

"Jon, why don't you just say what you want to say?" Short of taking the man by the shoulders and shaking him, he wasn't sure how to get him to spit it out. He was also a little afraid of how that might turn out. 'Patience is a virtue,' never sat well with him.

Jon frowned slightly, more to himself than anyone else. The reality is that he was hoping to focus more on Miguel and Dan but somehow the conversation veered off onto him. "When all is done, well, assuming things get easier, maybe we find some place, some where that's safe and there are other people, new people. Do you think you'll be ok?" It wasn't the best way to steer the conversation elsewhere, but it would work.

The priest couldn't help but chuckle a tad at that. "I'm not even sure I can be around other people right now. You're enough for me. Just fine for me." He ran his hands through his beard. "Right now I just want to lose my old self... have some sort of fresh start. If that's even possible. I want to forget Miguel and the others." Dan missed his guitar. And singing too. He hadn't sang since Miguel died and hadn't had his hands on a guitar since well before then. "I need to find my music again. My voice. That'll heal me. It has to." He paused for a good second or two before continuing. "I think it will, anyway. I was dating this great girl back before all of this. She committed suicide. I couldn't console her, no matter what I tried. And I moved on from that, after a trip to Europe and taking a job in Missouri. Then after this... when I killed my first people... people, mind you, not zombies... I had a hard time resolving that. Really went off the deep end for a while, but I got there after realizing I had done it out of necessity. I hadn't been a part of this survivalist world for long enough to justify it. But as time went on, I learned. The others taught me. You taught me. And eventually I had to kill more people anyway. All the while, my faith relationships morphing, being molded by the resentment I felt. Why had God taken these people from me? What did he want from me? My strong sense of purpose was stripped from me. Then Miguel helped me find my way again.. He... really understood me. We had a connection I hadn't felt since my family. We came from similar backgrounds. Our Catholic guilt." Dan laughed again. "Our Catholic guilt made us close."

Daniel sighed, trying to blow out those thoughts and emotions that were creeping their way back in. He had always been an extremely sensitive person, and everyone in the group knew he was prone to crying. But that had changed with Miguel's death, as had everything else. He looked up from the road and back toward Jon once more. "What about you? Who do you miss? Are you hoping to find others?"

Jon adjusted his arms, rolling them to adjust and get some comfort back. The rifle and backpack weren't heavy exactly, but walking with them and their straps for hours with them digging into one's shoulders could have an affect after a while. He listened as Dan talked, happy that he was at least laughing and talking, not really sinking into any form of depression as Jon was worried would potentially happen. "You know, I hate when people start a sentence by giving the disclaimer that they're 'gunna be honest with you.' It implies that up to that point, they weren't being honest with you. Anyway, I'm gunna be honest with you. Don't lose your old self. Nothing you've told me about your past screams out hide or deny it. Adjust it, yeah, that's good. In this world, you have to adapt. And nothing I've witness first hand makes me think you need to forget anything. Remember it. It's what makes you different from that first person you killed. It's what makes people seek you out, enjoy you, feel they can talk with you."

Jon couldn't help but think, but refrained from saying, it was something that makes Dan different from Jon.

"And I'm not a very religious man by any means, but from what I understand of God according to Christians, he can be a pretty forgiving guy. If God didn't want you to kill that man, he'd have struck him down with lightning, or smited him. From a more..." Jon took a second to think, coming up with a word that didn't sounds condescending or accusatory. "Relevent view of that time, think what that man would have done elsewhere. Think if he came across a mother and a child who had a can of food. Or maybe a mother and daughter who had nothing. You may not have done it thinking about that, your intent may not have been to stop him to prevent harm on anyone else, but you did. Maybe what God gave you was a chance to make a difference in people's lives now. Today."

He took out an old beat up bottle and took a quick sip before continuing. "In terms of the future," Jon made an indifferent look with one eyebrow raised as he shrugged. "I'm not sure." He took a long few seconds to pause and think the next part out. "Frankly. I'm not sure I miss anyone. Or anything. It's... I guess for me, all of this is the same as it was before. You know that old saying, the more things change, the more they stay the same. I'm damn sure that today, or before all of this, no one missed me. Yesterday, today. A year ago. I've never had anything or anyone. My parents died early, they were my only family. After that. Fuck, I don't know where to even begin. Anyway, regardless. I'm not even sure I have anything to miss. Or anyone." Jon's tone changed a bit at this point, it seemed to be a bit bitter. Maybe cynical. There seemed to be hints of longing too. In essence, it didn't seem to be Jon talking, at least not Jon as everyone else knew him. Cold, concise, to the point. Short and relatively emotionless. Any form of emotion in Jon would catch people by surprise, let alone these specific ones.

"Do you know...." He seemed to be aloof slightly, and it wasn't that he didn't know what to say, it was that he seemed to want to say numerous things at once. "Before all this, I had nothing, no one. The only thing I had is what I did, my job. I found comfort in that. Everything I did, I convinced myself that it was to make the world a better place. Years of isolation, lying and decieving. Years of worse. And as long as people could sleep at night, the world was better for it, I guess I was fine with that. I've..."

Part of Jon almost looked ashamed as he spoke, either ashamed or simply empty. Or maybe a bit of both. "Killing. Surviving. Hiding things. None of that is new to me. All that was there before all this. Now I feel like I wasted my whole fucking life for nothing, because the simple truth of the matter is that nothing I did mattered, because now the entire fucking world is dead and over, and nothing I did meant a fucking thing. Not to anyone. I don't get to see people just, I dunno, enjoying whatever it is about what you people did when you went about. That was sometimes the only thing I had. Aside from work. I'm going to die some day on this fucking earth and no one is going to know me, remember me, think of me or mourn me. Not here or anywhere else. You talk about forgetting the past, and maybe I'm taking it out of context, or a little too literal, but fuck. You have stuff to remember. People. Things you did. You know people some where will remember you, even if you were just a guy on the other side of some screen. But you loved, you did all that. Those memories make you who you are. Who you were has kept you from becoming a thieving,raping, scum of the earth murder like so many of the other people . And if you don't think that means anything, you really need to get back to who you were, before it's too late." At the end, Jon seemed almost angry, but if anything it wasn't that he was angry at Dan, just angry. Maybe angry at everything.

The priest stayed silent as Jon went on. He let several minutes pass before he attempted a reply, choosing carefully what he'd pick at first. It was surprising that he seemed to actually be expressing some emotion, however muted or hidden.

Finally, he smiled. "I must sound like a real dickhead, huh?" One hand left the shotgun to wipe the sweat from the back of his neck. "Still though... I think there's a lot more complication. I killed those people, and maybe in doing so I was able to help other victims... but ultimately, when it really comes down to it, weren't they just there because they were hungry? Because they wanted shelter? There's no denying the way they went about it was fucked... but I guess I can't help but try and sympathize with them even though they terrorized me. Not sure what that says about me. But they had faith in something too. Maybe not in anything good. I dunno. We were all thrown into this impossible situation with little warning. People do what they have to do to get by. It's selfish and violent in most cases, but I'm not on the level yet where I can just say 'fuck 'em,' blow them to hell and not give it a second thought. You've been able to resolve that. But you're telling me I shouldn't lose sight of who I was, that I should remember all of the things that made me who I am. And it's that mentality that's stuck with me. I just wasn't built for this new world. I'm not even sure how I'm still alive, really. Well, to be honest, it's thanks to you and everyone else that I am."

"God. God is a different subject all together. I became a priest because my relationship with God has never been easy. I always had plenty of time to ask questions in doubt. And that still continues to this day. I never saw him as this omnipotent, peaceful father figure. When you think about it, he kind of just threw us to the wolves, if you believe what the bible says about creation and all that. And furthermore, he murdered thousands of people without a second thought, just because they disagreed with him. Again, assuming you believe what the bible says... which people like me kind of have to. So, in my mind, this is just him doing his thing. Not interfering. We're as alone now as we always have been." Maybe those words sounded strange coming from a priests mouth, but he hadn't become a priest because he was devout in the first place. "I wonder how the rest of the loners are faring."

Jon's face and tone lost the majority, if not all, or the feeling and emotion that was there a moment or two ago. When he looked up and spoke, it was just as it was before: concise, cold, and almost robotic. "If there's one thing I hope you do leave behind and forget, it's that people do things out of common sense or need. If they wanted food, they'd have killed a rabbit, or foraged berries. If they wanted shelter, they'd have gone about it differently. Not everyone has faith, not everyone's affected the same way by all this. People like that, who go in with the mentality to kill first, that was there before. It just didn't have a chance to come out because society kept it in check. If they came into your church and all you offered them was food, shelter, and more and the their intent was to kill you and take, then the issue is that they weren't there for those things. They were there to kill, steal, destroy. The idea that there is good in everyone is a fallacy Dan. I'm not saying the potential isn't there, but the potential for something to be doesn't make it so."

"Most people, who and what they are today is simply who and what they were before, just multiplied. People who are alive are not alive because of luck, well, only to a degree. But your faith kept you alive, because it kept you safe where you were. It made people feel like they could come to you, made them feel guilty thinking of stealing from or harming you. People who are alive had it in them to survive this whole time, while others were geared towards other things. Those that hid behind things, or put up facades, those were exposed when this happened. Not all of that is bad. A man may have been a family man to the end, willing to die to protect his family instead of being worried about himself and fleeing. I'll bet those kind of people died happy and content. Some could argue they died happier than most of us are happy being alive."

Jon looked over at Dan, waiting for him to look over in hopes that it would make this next part sink in. "But Dan. For your sake, and for the sake of those around you, don't ever think everyone is like you, that they find happiness where you do or that they do what they do for reasons the same as yours. Not everyone has faith in the things you do, some have no faith in anything. Never forget that when you meet someone, they may cut your throat and take your gear, but they may only take the gear as an afterthought. You can still have faith in people while letting caution guide your actions. That'll keep you alive a lot longer."

The priest listened intently, but Jon only half convinced him. Even after everything he had seen he couldn't believe without fail that people like the ones who had attacked him were evil. Maybe it was his ego. That he thought that he could reach everyone if he was just given a good opportunity.

"I hear what you're saying... there's just something in me that makes me only see gray. I can't see black and white." And then a moment of pure honesty. "And.. if what you're saying is the absolute truth then it means that all along i've had this evil inside me. That I've had the capacity and motivation to murder. I don't know if i'm ready to accept that yet." He made an audible gulp and his eyes started to water a tad. Such a crybaby.

The priest did look over for the last part and nodded. But all of that was really a given, right? To be cautious when around others? Dan had long since moved on from that wide-eyed attitude toward outsiders and newcomers. Sure, he was more willing to give other survivors a chance than his fellow people might have, but there was always hesitation now. Afterall, he had made a vow to himself that he would never get tricked again. Trust was not doled out with ease to anyone who hadn't proved that they deserved it.

His gaze turned back to the houses ahead. He squinted and craned his head forward. There was a shape near one of the corners of the house. And it moved. "Did you see that?" Could have been an animal. Could have been his imagination.

"Yeah," Jon replied flatly. He'd seen it for a while and while he knew it wasn't a living person, he didn't know what it was exactly. From this distance, it looked like a human sitting down but it hadn't moved this entire time until just now. Prior to that, Jon could have easily wrote it off as a pile of junk or debris. Now Jon wasn't so sure, but he was convinced that it if was indeed human, it was not a living one. They were about 2 minutes away if they walked at a fast pace, but they'd slow down now since they were not only closer, but there was some sort of activity. Jon found himself checking over his gear without even thinking about it; making sure gear was tight and in it's proper place, firearms were in the right order and things were not missing or out of sorts. When Jon spoke next, his voice was significantly quieter and what Dan would recognize as his "business tone."

"Just keep quiet for now, the usual. We'll get closer and take a better peak, listen a bit and go from there. You good Dan?"

Dan simply nodded and went to step off but Jon put a hand on his shoulder, stopping him. "Dan. With people, today, all this, tomorrow. It's better to be cautious today and give people the benefit of the doubt tomorrow. But here is some advice. When you want to guage a person quickly there are a few things to look for. These things are more important than what a person looks like, what they say, what's in their hands, and what your initial impression is. Look at their eyes. An honest person will look at you when you're speaking. If you come up to a group of people, all pointing guns at you and one man speaks...you'll want to trust him, so you'll focus on that. If you're scared or nervous, or lying, you'll be worried about them seeing or sensing that dishonesty, so the guy talking isn't the threat. It takes a lot of training to make the eyes lie which is why people avoid eye contact. Next, their hands. An honest, good person won't fidget. Ask them a hard question and watch. Nervous people move their hands, play with fingers. The better ones, we use it to distract you." Jon made a point to say 'we' at that point.

"Have you look one way or focus on something. They say that subconsciously, it's the psyche looking for a shield, or trying to find something to hide behind because it knows it's lying and trying to find some way to hide the guilt. I don't believe that myself, but whatever. Next, the hips and feet. Watch their posture. If I know I'm going to attack someone, I'm prepared with my feet and my hips. If I think someon is a bit more spot on than most, I can mask it, but most people don't look at that, they look to the eyes and hands, look for weapons, look at what the person's face is like. People are not used to hiding things like that, it's natural to them. The body does what the mind thinks. Period. Unless you've been trained otherwise, one thing will slip and reveal a person's intentions."

He took a moment, breathing in deeply and exhaling before saying. "Unless they're already dead and walking. Then, just assume they're going to try to eat you. They're a lot easier to assess than normal people."

Surviving: The End (character-centric; modern zombie survival)

Shit. Arlear's back.

I see the assassins have failed yet again....

Az

Surviving: The End (character-centric; modern zombie survival)

Everyone. This week and next week are going to be very spotty for me because I have a project, several papers to do and then exams.

The GOOD news is that once that's done, I have the summer off!

So be patient with me. Any of you who know me know that I may be gone for a bit, but that's only short durations and for good reasons. I'm like a really bad rash though, I always come back.

But seriously, I'll be around and checking in, just a bit slower to post.

Those of you who don't know me, well. The above still applies!

Az

Surviving: The End (character-centric; modern zombie survival)

Blue Dog,
It's not "too late" to join, but it's too late to join right now.

Right now, the RP is closed to new joins, but it will open up soon enough. Hang around and feel free to talk in the mean time though, and we'll open up soon enough.

Az

Surviving: The End (character-centric; modern zombie survival)

The time for them would be ASAP, it is more limited by the fact that with this semester coming close, and the Easter holiday and visiting family, MY time is limited. Within the next post, I can get them in the general vicinity of Val. The date/time of Fuad and Terry is moot because I leave it purposefully blank so I can just adjust their RP accordingly.

In terms of what/how they meet and all that, PM me. I'm open to anything from a simple walk up, to a conflict with shots fired, to them being thrown together via swarms of zombies. I try not to, I dunno....form ideas in my head and make them concrete, I like to have both myself and the other person(s) have input.

So this post with Terry/Fuad making their way to the GasNGo is next, which will be done tonight or tomorrow.

Az

Surviving: The End (character-centric; modern zombie survival)

Man, I'm gunna kill the zombies are going to be fed very well in the upcoming days.

Az