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| Dead Men Walking | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Nov 28 2014, 02:20 AM (71,067 Views) | |
| DoctorYerishi | Jan 26 2015, 07:31 PM Post #136 |
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Dude, wake up! We've got a world to save.
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"Stinks is underselling it," Jeff said with a disturbed frown. "Then it's a good thing we're not stickin' around," Eli replied as he surveyed the lawn of bodies for the second time. A few paces away, Jose scratched at his scruff and looked around. He pointed to the large building across the street, the one that caught Eli's eye before. "What's that place over there?" Jose asked, turning to Brandon, the one who would know. "It's big." |
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| Strompy | Jan 26 2015, 08:22 PM Post #137 |
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More posts, more Busey.
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Brandon was surprised by Randall's pragmatism, he knew it must be difficult for a father to admit when he couldn't protect his child from the world. Brandon didn't know if he could do the same were he in Randall's position. "That's the Recreation Centre. It got steamrolled by rotters in the first fortnight. It could be worth looking into but I doubt it, they didn't have too much even before it happened, scavengers would probably have taken the rest. Still, we're a big group, we can be a lot more thorough. Maybe we should check it out after." He answered Jose. "Okay then, here we go." Brandon said gripping his screwdriver tighter and advancing warily on the house. From outside he could see and even hear the flies. There were so many glutting themselves on rotting meat. As he neared the front door he had to fight not to start wretching at the smell. He pulled his shirt over his nose and stepped over the threshold. He looked to his left, the living room. It had been rumaged through slightly but there was little of apparent value to a scavenger in there. The family photos and mementos still sat proudly, Kyle's numerous trophies and medals, an old picture of papa and gran-gran. The walls were spattered with dried gore and peppered with bullet holes, spent shells and bullets casings littered the floor. Down the hall the kithen was to the right and the dining room was to the left. A few more dead biters lay here, they'd come through backdoor. All the cupboards and the pantry were open, what the human scavengers didn't take the animals had helped themselves to. There was barely a scrap of edible food left. Back up the hall were the stairs, just to the right as one entered the house. His parents had fought a running battle up these stairs clearly, as Brandon had to step over and around numerous bodies. The bathroom was the same as the kitchen, any helpful medicine kept there was gone, now that Dr. Tu was dead people would only know what to do with the most basic meds. His and Kyle's rooms had been turned over, his .22 rifle from whdn he was a kid had been filched, also his baseball bat. His parents door was still closed though. He tried the handle. Locked. He began trying to bust it, only hurting himself in the process, there was something blocking it. He needed to see what was behind that door. With a hint of desperation he pushed past some of the others and trotted down the stairs. He spared a moment at the back door to lookout for rotters. The vegetable garden had been completely trampled. His mom's prize tomatoes pulverized underfoot. He made his way to the back shed. The lock had been busted, some tools were missing. He pulled out an extension ladder and propped it up so he could reach his parent's window. Cautiously he climbed just high enough to see over the fence. He could see some rotters around, but they were too far away to be able to see him with their decaying eyes, even so he wanted to be back I side as soon as possible. Using his screwdriver he was able to wedge the window open, a fresh wave of stench spilling out in his face causing him to turn away in revulsion. He scrambled in, landing onhis belly opposite his parent's bed. That's when he saw them. Sitting up against their bed, his mom and dad. Their final moments captured in a telltale scene. They had their arms around each other. His mom had a bite wound on her forearm, she was leaning against dad's chest. There was a hole in her head. Dad's head hung forward a hole blow out the top of it, his favorite pistol hanging loosely in his right hand. No escape for them, but as far as they knew their sons had made it out. A fresh pang of anguish hit Brandon as he took a sheet from the bed and covered his parent's remains. He choked back his grief and with shaking hands took his dad's gun. His mother's lay on the floor just inside the room, an excellent weapon. There was a thump at the door as somebody else tried barging it. Brandon saw the problem, his parents had pushed their heavy silky oak armoire against the door. Brandon undid the lock. "Okay, push." He said as he began pushingthe armoire back. With the door unlocked and Brandon pushing the armoire from a different angle Andre could easily get thd door open. He and Jose stood just outside. Brandon handed his mother's shotgun to Jose and his father's revolver to Andre. "Mossberg 500 HS410. S&W Model 686 Plus." He said, walking back downstairs. |
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| DoctorYerishi | Jan 26 2015, 11:11 PM Post #138 |
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Dude, wake up! We've got a world to save.
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Eli was nearby when Brandon handed over the guns, his own shirt pulled up over his nose to dampen the stink of rotting flesh. He stepped side to let Brandon down the stairs. "Nice," he said, but not with much enthusiasm. He knew how to use one, but he wasn't much of a firearms aficionado. He recognized the brand names, but most of those letters and numbers didn't mean much to him. They sounded impressive, though. He glanced in the direction of the room Brandon had just emerged from. He could guess from Brandon's body language that it didn't contain a pretty sight. Armed with their new guns, Andre and Jose stepped inside, probably to make sure Brandon didn't miss anything useful. "Shit," Andre said when he was out of sight, which pretty much confirmed Eli's suspicion. Eli didn't bother seeing for himself. Instead, he trailed Brandon back down the stairs. He didn't relish the thought of continuing this macabre tour, but he figured there must be more to do. "Don't mean to be pushy, 'mano, but I assume you brought us here for more than those two heaters," he said. "Where can we find the rest?" |
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| Strompy | Jan 27 2015, 02:28 AM Post #139 |
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More posts, more Busey.
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Brandon waved for Eli to follow him into the living room. The least disturbed and most valuable room in the house. "Kelsey, can you please bring me a magnet from the fridge?" He asked as he passed the hallway. Brandon walked over to a trophy on the bookshelf, Kyle's first competetive shooting trophy. He lifted it to reveal a key taped in place in a fitted groove on the underside. Taking the key he walked over to the coffee table, pressing a panel on the side to reveal a hidden compartment with a lock on the inside. The lock was for a drawer about the size of the coffee table which Brandon slid out to reveal two AR15s. One with a red dot sight, flash suppressor and foregrip, and the other with a holographic sight, modular flash light and foregrip. There were also three empty magazines for each, a kukri and a machete. "AR15s, 'nuff said." Kelsey came into the living room and handed Brandon a chicken shaped fridge magnet. He thanked her and got his feet, walking back to the bookcase. "You wanna see something cool? This bookcase has secrets." he asked her, before pulling down on the huge blocky bookcase's molding. There was a solid click and Brandon then swung the molding up and out of the way to reveal another hidden compartment. Inside was an auto-loading shotgun and a bolt action rifle with a forward mounted scope. "Berretta A303, Ruger Gunsite Scout chambered .308." he listed off, handing the guns behind him to who ever was there. Brandon continued pulling at hidden switches, using the magnet to disengage a hidden latch. All in all there was the top compartment, four hidden drawers and three verticle compartments concealing another carbine, a battle rifle, five pistols (two with threaded barrels), assorted hunting knives, a ka-bar, a bowie knife, extra magazines and, two suppressors for the pistols and two deep drawers full of ammumition. Brandon took a deep breath before taking inventory. "M4A1 with foregrip and ambient light holographic sight, FN FAL, HK 45 with suppressor, HK MK23 also with suppressor and laser, FNP-45, Ruger 22 Target, Browning 1911-22 Compact. Help yourselves." he said standing back and gesturing with open arms. He knew this collection by heart, it was his dad's pride and joy. Brandon had heard his dad gush about the merits of each and everyone one of these pieces, in actuality Brandon knew comparatively little about guns he was just parroting his father. |
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| Make-7-Up-Yours | Jan 27 2015, 04:30 AM Post #140 |
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Is that so?
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"Holy shit..." Randall uttered his breath. "These things couldn't have been legal." "Holy shit." His daughter repeated, more to mimic her father than to make a point as the value and quality of these firearms was not as immediately apparent to her. "That was cool!" He had believed Brandon when the kid told him he had a stash of weapons, but this was beyond anything he had imagined. This stuff was military grade weaponry they had just stumbled upon. Randall was no expert of guns; in fact he had been rather opposed to them before the apocalypse. But it turned out having the dead come back to life could change someone's opinion on the matter very quickly. What would have made him cringe a month ago now took his breath away in awe. In a similar manner, his little girl dropping the s-word a month ago would have made him mad, but now it seemed almost petty to get hung up on it. "Sweet, an upgrade." Willow smirked a little as the bolt-action Ruger had been handed to her. Randall didn't say anything, but he had been a little impressed with her shooting in the last week. Glenda had done a good job of training her, a long range bolt action rifle would play to her strengths right now better than anything else. Although the concept of a sniper with pink hair seemed like something out of a children's cartoon. He was just glad that she was taking all of this seriously. Randall reached forward to pick up a new weapon of his own; the FNP-45 was calling out to him. Randall had only learned how to fire a gun recently and from experience. Contrary to Willow, he was uncomfortable with larger guns. Not only were they more difficult to carry and use, but after running away from rotters for a month, he had learned to appreciate the ease of use and lack of encumbrance associated with a trusty sidearm. The FNP-45 felt right at home in his hand as he gripped it. "So, we can take anything we are comfortable with?" Glenda inquired. "That seems to be the rule." Randall agreed. "Just make sure to leave enough for everyone back at the lodge. They shouldn't need much, but..." The sandy-haired woman slid forward and grabbed only one item; the bowie knife. She held it out in her hand for a moment before she nodded her approval and tucked it away. Her green eyes met Randall's confused gaze. "All I need." She affirmed simply. "Is it really okay to be taking all of this though?" Willow intervened. "I mean... it just feels weird is all. Taking all of this stuff. Like... I dunno... robbing a tomb." |
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| Make-7-Up-Yours | Jan 27 2015, 05:05 AM Post #141 |
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Is that so?
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After a few awkward moments with no response, Willow's face became flushed. "S-sorry!" She quickly stammered. "I know that... I just didn't mean to imply... I mean this is hard enough for you already, Brandon. That was a thoughtless comment." |
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| Strompy | Jan 27 2015, 08:20 AM Post #142 |
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More posts, more Busey.
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What Willow said did hurt, but he couldn't help but smile as she frantically scrambled to apologize. "It's okay, I know what you meant. Though now that I think about it, if the law were still a thing this house and everything in it would be mine now, and I'm still kicking. This house has been home to three generations of my mother's family. I don't plan on being the last, so take what you want and keep me alive. One day after this is all over I'll have everyone around for a barbeque and you can compliment me on how well I cleaned this place up." he said, only half jokingly. He couldn't see how he, let alone the rest of the world would go about rebuilding once it was all over. He sincerely wanted to see this house restored along with the rest of the world though, it was home after all. "Yeah, most of this is illegal. This one is completely illegal; pistol grip, foregrip, telescopic stock and flash suppressor. This other one was legal, until dad put that foregrip on it. All these magazines are illegal, way over the ten round limit, dad "sold them" to a friend out of state, money changed hands, inventory did not. The A303 is perfectly legal, so is the Ruger Scout, the pistols are legal I think, the suppressors are not. M4A1 is again totally illegal. FN FAL is legit, fixed stock, no foregrip, no threaded barrel. It does have a pistol grip but dad owned it before the new revision to the definition of assault weapons, back then it could have two features, so all he had to do was register it. Still I guess that's only really two guns and a lot of magazines that are completely illegal, that's not so bad. Make your choice quickly though, we've got a fu- we've got a lot work to do still." he explained, minding his language. Brandon grabbed the rug that the coffee table stood on, pulling it and the coffee table back to reveal a trap door. It was long, almost the length of a proper door. He swung it open on its stiff hinges and began to climb down the steep steps into the basement. "Dad walled off the door to the basement a few years ago, mom was pretty angry about it. The basement was built by professionals but the stairs were built by dad, so be careful." he said his voice reverberating as he descended. He stumbled around in the dark for a few moments until he found one of the battery powered lanterns they had. He switched it on to reveal a substantial cache of canned food, bottled water and various non perishables like commercial jerky, dehydrated fruit and some twinkies which were probably stale but would never spoil since they were only barely food to begin with. Most important however were the packets of seeds for all kinds of produce. "Do any of you know anything about reloading?" he asked as he caught sight of the reloading bench. |
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| Make-7-Up-Yours | Jan 27 2015, 01:17 PM Post #143 |
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Is that so?
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Randall furled his brow at the question. Was this a trick question? Of course he knew how to reload! "I've gotten pretty good at it over the span of the last month." The contractor commented as he helped his daughter down the last of the rickety stairs. "But I've never needed a bench for it. Is there another kind of reloading I don't know about?" |
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| Strompy | Jan 27 2015, 06:31 PM Post #144 |
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More posts, more Busey.
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"Handloading. I was thinking it might be worth sending this stuff back to the club." Brandon specified. Brandon just didn't like the idea of all the powder, bullets, primers and cases sitting there. He wanted to strip this place of everything of use. He'd have better peace of mind knowing the others could make additional ammunition, the less reasons they had to leave the club the better. |
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| DoctorYerishi | Jan 27 2015, 11:45 PM Post #145 |
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Dude, wake up! We've got a world to save.
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From the compartments full of weapons, Eli wordlessly removed one of the AR-15, the one with the flashlight. He whistled as he positioned it in his hands. It was the first time he had held a gun that size. It made him feel like a bad-ass. He put it down on a nearby table, and went back for seconds as the others continued talking. He scooped the ka-bar knife and its holster, which clipped easily onto his belt. Then he shrugged his backpack off, and started loading .45 ACP cartridges by the hand full. That's what his Supergrade took and he wanted to be well stocked. When Brandon revealed the trap door, he whistled again. "That's some James Bond-level shit," he marveled. His eyes widened a little as he descended the staircase after Brandon and Randall. "Damn, you got a real survivalist party pack here," he marveled again. He opened his pack again and started wordlessly calling dibs. Jose and Andre were down the stairs a moment later. Above, Jeff was probably still waiting by the living room window, keeping an eye out for danger. Mac was probably still helping. "We'll take it," Jose said with a grin, nodding to the reloading table and its miscellaneous supplies. "I'll get some more boxes from the van," Andre said, also grinning. He immediately headed upstairs and out of sight. When Eli was done taking his initial look around the lantern-lit room, he came to a stop beside Brandon again. "This is amazing, man," he said, a little swept up in the excitement himself. "This stuff here -- this is gonna get you guys to Chicago." |
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| Strompy | Jan 28 2015, 12:18 AM Post #146 |
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More posts, more Busey.
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Brandon kept forgetting that Eli wasn't coming with them to Chicago. Eli was like him, he'd been on his own out there, he knew how to get by. He'd be okay on his own but even so Brandon couldn't understand why somebody would choose that. "Yeah, whoever came through here would be pretty mad if they found out how close they came to the mother lode. You know, you're about the same size as my brother, you may want to check his room for some new clothes. Should be some winter wear up there." he suggested as he stuffed some twinkies into his bag. |
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| DoctorYerishi | Jan 28 2015, 12:40 AM Post #147 |
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Dude, wake up! We've got a world to save.
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"Thanks, man," Eli said. "I'll do that. Good lookin' out." As he headed back upstairs, he passed both Andre and Mac in the living room. They both had crates in their arms that used to belong to vendors of the club. The loading had begun in earnest. |
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| Make-7-Up-Yours | Jan 28 2015, 12:51 AM Post #148 |
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Is that so?
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"Yeah, it would be." Randall nodded to himself in response to Brandon's thought that they should take the hand loading equipment back to the lodge. It certainly was doing nobody any good here, but it could do a lot of good towards keeping the lodge secured. Randall had no idea how to use it, but he was sure it wasn't too hard to figure out. Of course, he didn't even need to make the order to start packing. It didn't take long at all, it seemed, before everyone was busting out the boxes and loading up as much stuff as they could. Even Willow had taken the initiative, as she and Glenda were chatting as they loaded food into one of the crates Jose and Andre had brought with them. The operation was in full swing without even a drop of the hat. Yeah. Randall proudly thought to himself. They will be just fine without me here. "Hey Kelsey, let's help everyone else pack some boxes, okay?" The little brown-haired girl nodded her head and was right on her father's heels as took off to help. |
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| Strompy | Jan 28 2015, 03:02 AM Post #149 |
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More posts, more Busey.
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Brandon excused himself from the others. It occurred to him that he hadn't had a change of clothes in a while. In his room he changed out of his dirty clothes, putting on a hoodie in addition. He packed another two changes of clothes and a winter jacket before making his way to his parents bedroom again. This time he opened his parents armoire and got his dad's old leather jacket. With the hoodie on it was a pretty decent fit. He squeezed at his arms feeling the resistance of thd leather, it might be thick enough to stop a bite. Taking a moment to look at himself in the mirror he fussed with his hair a moment before heading back out. On the way back down he noticed the door to the attic. "Hey I'm just gonna check the attic, I think there might be some old quilts up there." he explained as he pulled the hatch down and climbed up. As his head popped into the attic he caught sight of her just before she fired. An asian chick, slightly chubby, twenties, pointing a rifle at him. The bullet went wide striking the floor just next tohis head. Panicking he tripped as he attempted to back down stairs, hitting his head on the edge and landing flat on his back. For a moment Brandon could only see stars. That was his .22 she just fired at him, that's where it went. She was probably the one who cleaned out the kitchen. Thankfully .22s were quiet, not much chance of that drawing any unwanted attention. "Stay the fuck back!" came her wavering voice. Brandon could only groan as he struggled to breathe, the fall knocking the wind out of him. |
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| Make-7-Up-Yours | Jan 28 2015, 08:08 PM Post #150 |
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Is that so?
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Glenda was the first one to arrive at the entrance to the attic, with Willow hesitantly at her heels. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out what had just happened; Brandon on the ground without a gun and a voice she didn't recognize coming from the attic. Glenda made eye contact with Willow and nodded her head towards the attic. Wordlessly, although with no small degree of fear evident in her eyes, Willow aimed the newly acquired Ruger at the entrance to the attic. Her legs were quivering, but her arms were remarkably steady. With that base now covered, Glenda knelt down beside Brandon and found that he was okay, although a little dazed from his fall. The gunshot had missed, so whoever was up there was either a terrible shot or just plain terrified. In either case, Glenda noted, perhaps this was someone who could be reasoned with. She held out her hand to the quickly growing crowd and gazed towards the attic opening. "I don't know what part of New York you are from, but in this part of town we say 'hello' before shooting at each other." Glenda dryly voiced. "We are not bad guys looking for an easy victim, we are just a group trying to get by. Now, if you come down and hand over your weapon, then maybe we can talk all of this over like reasonable adults." |
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7:31 PM Jul 10