Captain Shelton — Roleplayer Guild

Matt smiled a little and took the handful of dandelions, his other hand reaching out to stroke Shan's cheek. She looked so beautiful, despite their present conditions. Her little gestures like this had kept him sane for so long and her knowledge of the local flora had kept them decently fed when hunting was scarce. A single word whispered past her lips for the first time in a long time and he broke into a full grin, leaning forward to kiss her cheek.
"Hey lovely."
He whispered back, their noses almost touching.
"You know I love you forever right?"
Matt kissed her tenderly, petting her face while their lips locked together for a long, peaceful moment. Once they separated, he began calmly eating the dandelions, staring off at Mount Rainier with a thoughtful gaze. Lethargically he dug through his backpack and removed a map of Mt. Rainier National Park, their previous homes marked off on the map. He glanced back and forth between it and his compass, chewing on the dandelions like a cow with its cud, totally carefree and distracted though his rifle was easily within reach (like always) .
"There's a place we might check out, it's about three miles east of here. Cougar Rock Campground. There's bound to be a couple Walkers there, but I'm thinking the amount of camping supplies and food and etcetera will be worth it. I think we should hike over there and hide in the trees, watch the place for a little while then sneak in, grab what we can and get back out. We can't keep living under tarps and hammocks. It's gonna' get really cold before too long and we need the right gear for it. We need more food too. We could probably live off of what's out here for a while, but it'll suck if we do."
He explained calmly, pointing out the spots on the map he'd mentioned.
"We can really start to settle down out here if we get some good camping gear. We might even find a group that needs some extra hands."
He kissed her on the top of the head and handed her the map,
"What do you think?"

Matt materialized out of the greenery and shadows of the forest, his rifle cradled lazily. He arched an eyebrow at Shan, smirking slightly.
"This again?"
He asked teasingly, referring to the time she'd nearly shot him, months ago. He strode over to her side, scooping a palmful of water from the stream and washing his face. The water was cool and crystal clear, as well as some of the cleanest he'd ever found in the wilderness. The sprawling forests at the base of Mount Rainier looked like the forest moon of Endor once you got deep enough into them. The land was virtually untouched by man and for this he was infinitely thankful. They'd lived without issue for two weeks here and had seen only four Walkers the entire time. The lack of people and infected had allowed the wildlife to continue thriving and he'd shot a small buck deer a few days after they'd made their camp. It had been the biggest meal they'd had in a while and the jerky he smoked from it had helped stave off the hunger pains until today.

"Once we're over this next hill I think we'll be good."
He said, walking across the stream with Shan.
"I couldn't find any berries in the brush and all, but I've got a good feeling about this next little area. I think we'll have some luck with it."

As they walked, he wrapped an arm around her tiny waist, stroking her side with his rough fingertips. The feel of her ribs was a poignant reminder of their situation. He himself wasn't in great shape. He'd thinned considerably since the apocalypse, especially after their home was burnt (again) and their group killed off (again). He'd retained much of his muscle purely because of the near constant activity of hunting, gathering and surviving. His dark brown hair, once shaved into a tight buzz and kept well within military regulations had grown down the back of his neck and around his ears while his once smooth face had grown out into a scraggly beard. His scavenged plate carrier was blood stained and the camouflage pattern faded, a single hole in the front where he'd been shot once and had since replaced the armor plate itself. His overall appearance was a decent indicator of his emotional status. He was completely exhausted in life, having endured so much loss and having fought so many enemies for so long. His leg and one arm had faded scars from long healed gunshot wounds and he knew without asking a doctor that he'd have a bad back and knees by the time he was middle aged. He would live an exciting, eventful and productive life but a short one that would see his body break down from overexertion quickly. All he could hope for was to delay this penalty until he'd taken care of his loved ones (currently just Shan) and killed a few more Raiders and Walkers. Raiders were his preferred prey. By now, everyone had adapted to the threat of the Walkers, avoiding or fighting through them with relative ease as long as they didn't get surrounded. But other humans were just as dangerous as ever. Desperate, angry, usually a little insane and frequently well armed, they were a serious threat to human life and Matt craved exterminating them with a disturbing fervor. It had given him a real, attainable purpose again, like he'd had in Afghanistan. He had an enemy he could understand, righteously hate, close with and destroy. He wondered in the back of his mind at times, how would the story end? He was a soldier. That was his entire personality and being, not just a vocation he'd once taken up. Most soldiers' lives had one of three endings. They either died young (which was what he realistically expected), they grew old and retired, their lives largely over, youth spent fighting and suffering for various causes that might or might not be worth it or, the lucky ones, grew old and retired into a peaceful and happy life, enjoying the boredom rather than becoming restless. They grew gardens and raised grandchildren. They became the kind old man down the street that neighbors sought advice and aid from who could always be found on his porch or in his garden, smiling contentedly while he went about his daily routine. Such was a life of monotony and predictability, a thing to dread for most, especially in the old world. But for someone who never knew if they'd be alive literally seconds or minutes into the future, knowing what to expect out of life was a comfort, and the calm and silence of retirement was highly preferable to the chaotic wail of battle. Maybe some day he'd be able to relax on the front porch of his permanent home, humanity having outlasted the walking dead and rebuilt. He'd sip tea peacefully while Shan, now old and gray like himself, sat beside him, reading a book and listening to the birds sing. Their grandchildren would gather around his seat, begging to hear of another one of his adventures (always cleaned up and sanitized for their sake) and maybe every now and then he could pick up a rifle and just go shoot tin cans for fun instead of human beings.

Fantasies of such an existence helped to keep him going in this dark world, but he had to shake his head clear, focusing his mind on the task at hand. The ground beneath them, damp and covered with moss and various greenery, began to slope upwards, the trees thinning slightly toward the top of the large hill. Constantly running around and climbing over/up things had granted the two powerful, muscled legs and they reached the top quickly without as much effort as they'd expected. When they crested the hill, Matt slung his rifle over his shoulder and plopped down by a towering fir tree, gazing at the view. Miles away, Mount Rainier reached to the heavens, clouds and a layer of snow clinging to its peak while rolling forests surrounded its base, a truly breathtaking sight.

"We'll have a nice view at least, even if the place does suck for game."
Matt said quietly, hesitant to disturb the peaceful silence. Not far away, a bird chirped softly to its mate, a rare sound in more populated areas where the walkers had frightened away all the animals. Glancing down at Shan's revolver on her hip, he was reminded of something he'd been meaning to do. He took the revolver from her holster and swung open the cylinder, surprised that it was totally empty. He'd forgotten about this problem and felt bad for his irresponsibility. He dug through his backpack and lifted out the ridiculous Desert Eagle handgun he'd taken from Jackson, the raider boss. He ejected the magazine, emptied it into his palm and then loaded the .357 magnum cartridges into Shan's revolver, handing it back to her along with the extra rounds from the magazine.
"We don't have the time or space to be too worried about sentimentality nowadays."
He lamented, removing the beautiful Luger pistol he'd taken from a Neo Nazi gang leader long ago, the first fight he'd helped his group win. He repeated the process, dropping the loose rounds into his shirt pocket and placing the pistol down with the Eagle. Finally, he withdrew the scratched up Beretta M9 Jamie had given him. This gun had belonged to Desmond, a charismatic Lawyer and the leader of his first group and had been passed on to Jamie, a fellow soldier and a trusted friend who'd followed along with the second group. Both men were dead now (to the best of his knowledge, he'd never see Desmond's corpse) and on his deathbed Jamie had given Matt the pistol, knowing his appreciation for sentimental value as well as quality firearms. It had served its purpose well but now only took up space and weight in his pack. He handed the weapon to Shan, this one would not be left with the other two.
"I'm going to leave these two guns here, under this tree. You should carry the Beretta. We have more ammo for it."
He explained, sealing the Desert Eagle and the Luger in a couple plastic bags along with a few packets of desiccant he'd taken from food containers. In this wet environment, that wouldn't protect them for very long, but it would keep them from being totally rusted out by the next day. Once they were sealed properly, he slid the bag between the exposed roots of a tree and pushed some brush over it, taking a rock from the soil and placing it gingerly between two roots as a marker.

Once done, he returned to Shan's side and continued gazing at the mountain, trying to clear his head of the memories he'd brought up, once and for all. He needed to forget previous losses and distractions, not forever, but until they were a little safer. More secure. Eventually he'd return and dig up the two trophies while Jamie/Desmond's keepsake would be placed in a case somewhere. But that wouldn't be for some time. For now, his only focus had to be their safety. They needed a group...

Captain Shelton Member

All American Rebel

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