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Dead Men Walking
Topic Started: Nov 28 2014, 02:20 AM (70,812 Views)
DoctorYerishi
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Dude, wake up! We've got a world to save.
“Hours,” Annie answered – she had lost track of exactly how many.

Her relief levelled off, and she adopted a sympathetic expression and tone of voice:

“Do you remember what happened back at the store?”

* * *

As Kelsey got loose, Eli struggled some more with his own seat belt, to no avail. By the time she had found the gun, he had given up that fight, and turned to the one in his head. He was dizzy from the crash – and from his forehead hitting the steering wheel – but he needed to focus. He needed to figure out what to do. He needed…

Crack!

Kelsey’s window was about to give out. She was offering him his gun – the one he had looted from a cultist on the way out of Salt Lake City, the one with only one round left. He accepted it.

The window gave way after one final head butt. Glass sprayed at Kelsey, before a bloodied rotter fell forward onto her head-first.

Eli had one shot. Literally.

Don’t miss, don’t miss, don’t-miss-don’t-miss-don’t-miss, he thought.

BANG!

The round entered one of the rotter’s yellow eyes and came out the back of its skull. It ceased its struggling and collapsed onto Kelsey, blood spilling from the now-empty socket. Half of it was in the car, the other half dangled outside.

Eli didn’t have time to celebrate. There was another thump – coming from right next to him. A cracking sound followed.

A rotter on his side had figured out the same tactic. Now his window was about to give way.

He dropped the gun – it was useless now, except for maybe its handle, and there just had to be a better option than that. His mind scrambled for one as he resumed his struggle to free himself from his seatbelt.

“The knife!” he remembered, and exclaimed urgently.

He meant the chef’s knife from that house they stayed in. They had skinned the coyote with it the previous night. He looked to Kelsey –

“It’s somewhere in the back! Hurry!”

Crack!
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Strompy
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More posts, more Busey.
Brandon remembered being taken off guard by Donnie and having to figh past the point of exhaustion. He remembered thinking he was going to die horribly. He remembered Connor saved him, nearly dying himself in the process. Then he got bitten, the thing he remembered after that was...

"Everything. I remember everything." he said, staring straight ahead.

Christ he wished he had just been able to do it himself. Instead he let a kid do what he should have. There he went again thinking about Connor as a kid when by rights he'd seen and done more serious things than most adults.

"What about Connor, how is he?" he asked.
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Make-7-Up-Yours
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Is that so?
The knife!

The words were a staunch reminder to Kelsey that they still had a weapon they could use to get out of here with. All she had to do was find it.

The young girl placed her hands on the rotter's bloodied scalp and, with a little difficulty, shoved the corpse off of her. It's lifeless body flopped out of the window like a dead fish, leaving a visible trail of viscera where it had once been. That included her blue shirt and jeans, both of which were now stained a new shade of crimson. But she hardly noticed. She pushed herself out of her seat and crawled into the back, taking care to avoid placing her hands on any broken glass.

Once in the back, she scanned everything.

The seats? Empty.

The ground? Nothing.

"I... I don't see it!" Kelsey told him.

It had to be back here! She could think back and remember seeing it on the seat, but now it certainly wasn't there anymore. And she didn't see it on the ground either. So where was it? Where!?
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DoctorYerishi
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Dude, wake up! We've got a world to save.
It was good that Brandon was still thinking clearly. It was good that he cared about Connor, too. Since completing the transfusion, Annie had been brought up to date about what happened at the Walmart. She hated that Connor had attempted the rescue alone – and hated that he had to participate in the trauma of Brandon’s dismembering – but she had no one to blame for that but herself, for taking him out of Flint in the first place. The reality was that if he hadn’t acted, Brandon might have died. It wasn’t an easy reality to bear, but these were not easy times.

“He’s okay,” she answered Brandon, after losing a few seconds thinking about him. "He has a few scratches, but nothing from a rotter. Physically, he’s fine. He’s just shaken.”

Shaken was maybe putting it lightly. But Annie didn’t want to burden Brandon with that now. She believed that Connor would recover with time. Brandon wasn’t going to be as lucky. Time wasn’t going to bring back his hand.

“He’s nearby,” she added. “Antonio and Emily are here too. Willow and the others are back at the house still. Saxon’s people didn’t want anyone on the move while things were still so… tense. They’re still trying to find Donnie and Alex. They’re actually hoping you might know something.”

* * *

“It’s there!” Eli shouted back, as he eyed his cracking window nervously.

They had done a poor job organizing their supplies since leaving that house a couple nights ago. The extra clothes; some books; the map they had retrieved from that gas station – it had all been thrown either in the backseat or the trunk, and then retrieved as needed. Among those items was the chef’s knife.

Except, the knife was sharp, and I couldn’t just leave it lying around, so… The shirt!

“The t-shirt!” he said. “I wrapped it in that black shirt and shoved it under the seat!”

Smash!

As soon as he was finished talking, the window gave way. He turned away to shield his eyes from the glass, and when he turned back, one of the rotters outside lunged through the opening. Before its teeth could sink into Eli’s shoulder, he pressed a palm into its forehead and pushed it away. He could feel the dead skin sliding around on the rotters skull as he pushed.

It lunged again, but Eli leaned away as far as his seatbelt would allow, and with his outstretched arms, grabbed the rotter by its neck.

Its head writhed in Eli’s grasp, flinging black slobber at his face. Eli had a good grip, but it was surprisingly slippery. And one lapse was all it would take.

“Hurry!” Eli cried.
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Strompy
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More posts, more Busey.
Brandon's lip curled at the mention of Donnie's name.

"He went north. He was saying John's plan to go south was wrong." Brandon said tensing up.

He wanted to get out of that bed, get in a car and take off north. His imagination ran wild with all the ideas he had to kill Donnie for this. Feeding him to rotters. Impaling him. Smashing his head in with a bat. Breaking his legs and then slowly running over him. Leaving him staked to the ground in the desert. Brandon had to put it out of his head though. He wasn't going anywhere, and even if he did find Donnie he wouldn't be in any shape to do anything. So he just shook his head and glanced hatefully at his left arm before sighing deeply and resigning himself to being powerless.

"I need to talk to Antonio. Will you get him for me, please?" he asked.
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DoctorYerishi
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Dude, wake up! We've got a world to save.
Annie could sense Brandon’s agitation. All she could do, though, was give his good hand a gentle, and hopefully comforting, squeeze.

“Of course,” she said. “And I’ll get something for the pain, too. The least they can do is offer us a few pills.”

She stood up and gave Brandon a sympathetic nod before turning and leaving the room. She headed back to where she had last seen everybody, and found Saxon and Antonio. They looked to have just concluded a conversation.

“He’s awake,” she reported, drawing their attention from the door. “Antonio – he needs to speak with you.”
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Make-7-Up-Yours
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Is that so?
Antonio perked up slightly at Annie's call for him. After such a rough day, it was good to hear that Brandon was not only awake but presumably somewhat stable as well.

Wordlessly, the priest rose to his feet and entered the room that Annie had been tending to Brandon in. The young man looked like hell. Despite the blood transfusion, he was looking pale. But perhaps more than that, he looked forlorn and he looked frustrated. Antonio could not blame him. There was a lot to take in.

After observing for a moment, he heard the door close behind him. He approached Brandon.

"It won't be easy to accept what has happened today." Antonio said with a rueful smile. "But for what it is worth, I am glad you are alive."

He took a seat by the bed.

"But I don't think you called me in here to hear that."

* * * * *

Under the seat...?

Kelsey immediately jumped onto all fours and started sticking her head underneath the seats. It was too dark to see a bundled up black shirt under the seat, so the only thing she could do was reach underneath and feel for it. The first seat yielded nothing.

That was when the window broke, leaving Eli struggling with the rotter that cause said breaking of the window. She needed to move fast!

Second seat? Nothing.

Third seat?

Her hand hit what felt like a fabric. She grabbed it and pulled it out toward her. It was a black t-shirt, wrapped around something long. She didn't have time to celebrate her victory; the young girl unwrapped the shirt and pulled out the kitchen knife. She turned her attention toward Eli and the rotter in the front. Unfortunately, she was in the back and her arms weren't long enough to reach around or over the seat to reliably stab the head of a rotter that was writhing close to her friend; especially since said rotter was closer to the driver window than the passenger seat. She flipped the knife around, carefully grabbing the blade, and stuck her arm out between the driver and passenger seats.

"FOUND IT!" She yelled.
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DoctorYerishi
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Dude, wake up! We've got a world to save.
The rotter struggled harder with every second spent in Eli’s grasp. Its head kept snapping forward, its teeth gnashing for a bite at Eli’s cheek but coming up inches short every time. It may have been 10 seconds before Kelsey declared she found the knife, but it felt like 10 minutes.

Eli didn’t have an arm to spare to reach out and grab the knife when Kelsey presented it, however. He also couldn’t hold on much longer. Thinking quickly – and perhaps not thinking it all the way through – he came up with an alternative.

“Gahh!” he let out an indiscriminate cry as he pulled the rotter through the window by its neck.

Eli dragged the body all the way through the window. It ended up with its face down onto the passenger’s seat, and its legs thrashing on Eli’s lap.

Another rotter appeared at the window only a moment later, replacing the one Eli had just dragged inside. It immediately took the first rotter’s place. It stuck its head through the opening.

Eli, his hands now free, reached behind him and grabbed the handle of the chef’s knife – there was no time to acknowledge Kelsey for finding it. Then he swung his arm forward in an arc, planting the knife hard in the side of the rotter’s head.

Too hard, it turned out. He wasn’t able to remove it in time. His hand, greasy from grappling with the other rotter, slipped off the handle. The dead rotter collapsed backwards, out onto the street, taking the blade with him.

“No!” Eli cried out futilely.

The rotter he had flung into the passenger’s seat had flipped itself over. It raised its arms and started to sit up.
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Strompy
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More posts, more Busey.
No he hadn't asked for him to talk about that, but what Antonio said suddenly put him into a reflective mood. Maybe it was just the shock, or the drugs but he couldn't help wondering about how he got to this point. After a few moments of simply looking at his arm he turned to Antonio.

"Do you still believe in God?" he asked genuinely.
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Make-7-Up-Yours
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Is that so?
Antonio gently nodded his head.

"Yes. I do." He answered clearly.

Antonio let the answer hang in the air for a few moments before continuing.

"Though... I admit, it is not always easy for me. Like all humans, I have doubt. I make mistakes. I sometimes wander off the path. It is particularly easy in trying times like these. Nothing is as clear as we wish it could be."

He recalled his time back in Salt Lake City. The crisis he had back then was real. He doubted God, he doubted his faith, he doubted everything he believed and had worked toward. Since his faith had become the core of who he was today, it was nothing short of doubting himself. And he would only be lying to himself if he had said that it was the first time that had happened to him.

"But I firmly believe that no matter how far we wander from the path, we can always find our way back."

He paused again; the middle-aged priest realized he was getting awful close to giving a sermon and decided it was a good time to cut himself off before he really got going. Antonio himself better than anyone how dull an unwanted sermon could be.

"But, yes, I do believe in God. Even after all this."

* * * * *

"Crap!" Kelsey gasped as the knife was lose from the car.

The rotter stuck inside the car with them was reorienting itself. It had already flipped itself over and started reaching for Eli. She already knew that there wasn't anything else back here she could use as a weapon. She didn't know what to do! But Eli would! She just had to buy him time to think!

Instinctively, Kelsey reached for the passenger side seat belt, which she could thankfully reach from the back seat. As the rotter started to sit up, she lurched her body forward and looped the seat belt around the rotter's neck. Then she planted her legs against the back of the passenger seat and pulled the seat belt as hard as she could. The belt snapped back against the passenger seat, taking the rotter's neck with it and pinning it against the seat. It writhed and gnashed its teeth as it struggled, but it could not get wrest its head free.

"Do something!" Kelsey said, unable to do anything else as she tugged on the seat belt from behind to keep the rotter pinned.
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DoctorYerishi
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Dude, wake up! We've got a world to save.
Eli admired Kelsey’s quick thinking. He was still stuck in his seat, and now so was the rotter. They were not out of danger yet – there were at least two more rotters still outside, one on either side of the car – but she had bought him a moment to think.

And to look around. There had to be something he could use still in the car.

There was his pistol, on the ground where he dropped it. He was out of ammo, but he had considered using the handle moments ago. Could he do better?

He could, he realized – the ice scrapers. He remembered putting them back in the glove box after using one to dig a fire-pit. It wasn’t a great option, but it was his best one.

He had to reach across the rotter’s lap to pull the latch to the glovebox. His seatbelt locked in place, making it a difficult task, but two of his fingers were just barely long enough to pull the latch. Then, when it fell open, they were just barely long enough to grab the handle of one of the scrapers and pull it closer, until he could wrap his fist around it.

The actual scraping part was no more – after using it to dig up a grave, and then a fire-fit, the sharpness was all gone. It was a mess of warped plastic now. It wouldn’t pack much of a punch.

The handle was the better alternative. There was some weight to it. So he gripped the tool from the top and then bashed it into the pinned rotter’s forehead. He hit as hard as he could, and made a dent, but the rotter kept thrashing. He bashed it again. Same result.

He spared a glance at his side mirror. He saw that the rotter on his side was just about ready to climb in.

Eli renewed his efforts. Faster now, and with more force, he kept hitting the rotter in the face with the handle of the scraper. The goal was to bash its brains in. He hit it again and again in rapid succession, and then paused to wind up, hitting it a final time with as much force as he could muster.

He didn’t expect to pierce the skin – but that’s what happened and more. The blunt object embedded itself deep in the rotter’s forehead, and the creature stopped thrashing.

Eli blinked and let out a deep breath.

Then he breathed in quickly. There was no time to spend recovering. There was yet another rotter that needed his attention at his window. He turned to face it.

BANG!

Brain exploded out the side of the rotter’s head and it fell over. A perfect shot.

BANG!

Eli’s head spun, just in time to see the last rotter, on the other side of the car, suffer the same fate. Another perfect shot.

Eli’s eyes returned to the side mirror. In the near distance, a large man lowered his rifle. A skinner guy to the side lowered his. They began to approach.

Eli wished he could feel relief, but didn’t. Not after having the luck he had with strangers. As they neared the totalled Camry, he struggled more with the seat belt, but he couldn’t get it to budge. He was helpless. He had no choice. He raised his hands.

“Don’t shoot!” he yelled. “I’m unarmed!”

Then he lowered his voice and spoke over his shoulder.

“Get down,” he said. “Stay out of sight.”
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Strompy
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Brandon found Antonio's answer reassuring for some reason. Maybe it was just the thought that all of this shit didn't have to change everything. If Antonio could keep his faith after all this maybe there was room for everyone to hold onto what came before. Maybe thing's didn't have to be this bad and there was a way back.

He kept looking back at his arm trying to feel something in particular. He was angry, and he wanted to kill Donnie for his role in all this, but there wasn't any sense of injustice. Like this wasn't what should have happened, like he didn't deserve this, like this was wrong somehow. Maybe once the reality of trying to stay alive with only one arm properly sunk in...

"How many people have you killed?" he followed up his question, his tone free of judgement or accusation.
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Make-7-Up-Yours
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Is that so?
"Too many." He answered.

Antonio folded his hands and leaned forward.

"As you know, I was in a gang during my younger years. I killed, either directly or indirectly, more people than I can remember. I only escaped from that life due to the kindness of others and the mercy of the Church. They overlooked my innumerable sins and gave me the chance to redeem myself in a way I never thought possible."

* * * * *

Kelsey understood the gravity of the situation almost immediately. The only thing more terrifying than rotters had arrived; people. Whether or not they lived or died here was almost completely out of their control now. They were stuck in a car with no weapons to defend themselves with.

As such, she did not question Eli's command. She dived to the ground between the seats and waited for whatever came next.
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Strompy
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More posts, more Busey.
"I never tried keeping track. If I had to estimate I'd say it was somewhere in the twenties now. I'm good at it. Great at it actually. I didn't really feel anything the first time I killed somebody, I mean he did this to me first so..." he said lifting his shirt and gesturing to the bullet wound to his abdomen.

"Never really felt bad about it until Eli and I killed Wendy and her people. That was murder. First time I killed anyone I didn't actually have to. I did it again though, on the way out of Green River I slit a man's throat after I knocked him out. I did it because I wanted him to turn, I hoped he'd kill somebody, maybe start an outbreak. I slit Patrick's throat the same way, for the same reasons, not that I'm sorry that piece of shit is dead. I didn't have to do it though. And then there's Gregory, I just wanted to kill him so I did and it got Andy killed." Brandon reminisced, almost as if in confession.

"I don't know if it's God or karma or whatever but I'm just wondering if maybe I'm supposed to be learning something from all this. Maybe you guys didn't see it when you asked me to take the wheel but I'm realizing that I don't make good choices. Not when it matters. When everything is calm I can see things clearly but the moment somebody pushes me I push back harder. It's always been that way now that I think about it." he admitted.
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DoctorYerishi
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Dude, wake up! We've got a world to save.
The strangers sidled up to the crashed Camry, one on each side. They kept their rifles lowered, and Eli kept his hands raised.

The big guy looked down at the rotter corpses, then inside at Eli. He was an older man; Eli pegged him as somewhere between 50 and 60. He had gray hair, thick eyebrows, a cop ‘stache, and a bull neck. He peered through the shattered window at Eli with suspicion, then he looked past him at his associate. They exchanged nods.

“It’s okay, little lady,” the older man said. “We know you’re back there. Come on out.”

Eli winced but said nothing. If these guys were trouble, he had wanted desperately to shield Kelsey from them. But no such luck.

“We’re unarmed,” Eli repeated. “We’re not…”

Shh,” the older man interrupted. He tapped the barrel of his rifle on the window-sill. “We’ll get to that. Just keep those hands where they are. And go ahead and tell your passenger it’s okay, she can come out.”

Eli took a deep breath. “It’s fine, Kelsey. You can come out.”

Kelsey emerged unarmed – she had no choice, and no weapons to threaten them with – and the man regarded her with a sympathetic nod. He looked past Eli

“Kelsey, is it? I’m Boulet. This is my friend Alan.”

The man on the other side offered a brief wave.

“Tell me little lady, who’s this man to you?” Boulet asked, gesturing to Eli.

“It’s complicated,” Eli answered for her. “But you can put the guns down. We’re not a threat.”

Boulet turned to him and his expression got stern. “Hey – I’ll be the judge of that. I see a little girl and a full grown man, travelling alone, I get a little nervous. There are a lot of sickos out there these days. And no offense, amigo, but you don’t exactly look like her father.”

Eli winced again, but kept calm.

“I knew her father,” he said.

“I’m asking the lady,” Boulet shot back – his expression now even sterner. He turned back to Kelsey. “Are you okay, miss? If you’re not, you can tell us. We can help you.”
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