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Dead Men Walking
Topic Started: Nov 28 2014, 02:20 AM (71,073 Views)
The Last Melon
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The Last Melon. Duh.
The room was quiet for a few minutes, until Roland eventually stood up and knocked on the table. "All right. Let's deal with this tomorrow." He opened up a desk drawer and put the map and container inside. "We've got another problem to talk about."

* * *

He led Randall through the club's locker room to a maintenance closet that he unlocked with a small key. Inside slumped a badly beaten young man, hands cuffed behind his back; he looked up and squinted into the light as the door open. He was a slim and shaggy young man, blood caked in his ragged beard.

"Mac caught him stealing from the supplies while you were away," explained Roland. "He's the one responsible for all the bruises - Mac can be a little...over the top sometimes."

"Dude!" the man cried, struggling to his feet. "Randy! It wasn't what it looked like, I swear, it's...it was all an accident!"

"Save it, Jeff, and sit back down," Roland replied. "We've heard it before." He turned to Randall. "This is the best thing we've got to a prison right now, but we can't keep him locked in a closet. You got any ideas?"
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Make-7-Up-Yours
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Is that so?
"I guess it was only a matter of time before we started running into this problem." Randall rubbed his eyes with his fingers.

It had been one hell of a day; and he was barely halfway through it. Stepping up to a leadership role had taken it's toll on him, he was one of the few guys in camp that really knew what Roland went through on a daily basis. Jeff was never the most honest of guys and everyone knew it. How many other people were in this camp that thought the same way he did? How bad would it become if they found out the military wasn't coming? That no one was coming?

"Not everyone's gonna be as friendly as me. Trust me on that." Eli's words echoed in the back of his head.

"I dunno, Roland. We barely have enough room for everyone as it is. We have people in tents outside, and in another month we'll need to find a way to cram them indoors as well. We just don't have room for any sort of formal prison." Randall ran a hand across his balding head. "But we can't just give thieves free reign to walk around the camp. The way I see it, we really have two options. We can try to rally some people and have them build extra living spaces, but that would be an enormous undertaking... or... we could just kick him out."
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The Last Melon
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The Last Melon. Duh.
"K-kick me out?!" Jeff stuttered. "No! No, man, don't do that, I'll be good, I promise!"

"Shut up, Jeff," snapped Roland, and shut and locked the door again. "C'mon."

They walked a few paces, out of earshot of the door. "I was hoping you wouldn't say that, but I can't think of anything better either."

He sighed and leaned against the door. "This is what I'm talking about, though. We're in a relatively good place right now and we're already having these kinds of problems. Never mind keeping people fed, how're we going to keep people happy if we have to sit out the winter?"
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Make-7-Up-Yours
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Is that so?
"I... I don't know." Randall admitted quietly with a shake of his head. "From a logistical standpoint, what we have here is already unsustainable if we want to make it through winter. If we can't keep the people happy and hopeful, then Jeff may just be the beginning."

Randall paused. He glanced from side to side to make sure that nobody was around before he looked Roland dead in the eyes, speaking only barely above a whisper.

"I think we need to lie to them, Roland. I don't like it any more than you, but if we want to keep order here, then the people need to believe that help is coming. At least until we make it through the winter." Randall rested a hand on Roland's shoulder. "And with your permission, I would like to take more people out on supply runs as well. Whoever you think are the strongest, mentally and physically. Remember when I came to you guys, a few days after we got here? I said I would do anything you guys needed to keep this place going. And again I swear to you now, with enough manpower, I will get the supplies you guys need to keep this place afloat. I don't know how yet, but I will find a way."
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Strompy
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More posts, more Busey.
"Right sorry, grey shirt, you're the guy they brought in before. Yeah, I just came in a little after you guys. Ah, you know where I can find Roland, then?" He asked.

He could tell this guy had been on the road a while too, the people around here judt smelled a little better than them and didn't seem as... worn somehow. Remembering himself Brandon extended his hand.

"Sorry, I'm Brandon by the way."
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DoctorYerishi
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Dude, wake up! We've got a world to save.
"No problem," Eli said, accepting the handshake. "I'm Eli. An' sure, Roland's office is down that way."

He nodded and pointed back in the direction he came from. He made a move to walk away, but stopped when he took another look at the guy.

"Actually, wait up a second," he said, turning around to face Brandon once again. He gestured to his own scruff. "You wouldn't happen to have a razor or somethin', would ya?"
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Strompy
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More posts, more Busey.
Without a word Brandon slipped his bag off his shoulder and began rummaging around through the cans of food, packets of beef jerk and potato chips, bottled water and a half empty bottle of bourbon until he found what he was looking for. He handed over the can of shaving cream to Eli as well as the straight razor from his boot. He didn't know shy he bothered to take those, but he was glad of it now, little things like a shave could make a lot of difference in somebody's day.

"See you around, Eli." He said before heading off in search of Roland.
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The Last Melon
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The Last Melon. Duh.
Roland sighed, and gave a wry smile as he made eye contact with Randall. "Just keep on keepin' on, huh?"

He turned and began to walk away. "Take whoever you need - you don't need my help for that, you can figure out who's best for the job on your own. I'm going to go talk to Dr. Tu and see if he thinks we can survive the winter. I get the feeling it's not going to be good news."
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Make-7-Up-Yours
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Is that so?
"Right on, man." Randall assured Roland as the man left to go meet with Dr. Tu.

Randall quickly found himself alone for the first time that day; in the middle of a hallway. He inhaled deeply and slowly exhaled.

"Keep on keepin' on, huh...?"

Sure, he had given Roland that big speech about how that was the plan, but he didn't know any better either. He was just guessing. A part of him had hoped that Roland had a better idea. Something Randall hadn't even considered. To find that he was as lost as him was disappointing. The blind leading the blind. The concept alone churned Randall's stomach. Was this really the best idea they had?

It had to be. At least that was what Randall was telling himself in his mind. Maybe the more he told himself, the more true it would become.

The general contractor ran a hand across his head and the thin layer of hair already growing over it again. He briefly wished his facial hair would grow that slowly.

"Better go see how Elaine and Kelsey are doing." His thoughts turned to his wife and young daughter.
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DoctorYerishi
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Dude, wake up! We've got a world to save.
"Yeah man, thanks," Eli said to Brandon as he walked away.

When the other man was out of sight, Eli looked down at the straight razor in his palm. He figured it would do the trick, so he started looking for a bathroom. Shortly thereafter, he had found one unoccupied, and closed the door behind him.

He stopped in front of one of the two sinks, then paused when he looked up. His own face was staring back at him through the oval mirror, and he looked different than he thought he would. It wasn't just his thin hair or his growing scruff, either. He looked worn out, even more-so than he felt -- like his face had realized something that his mind hadn't yet.

"Shit," he said to his reflection.

He blinked hard a couple times, and shook his head, trying to shake the feeling off.

He couldn't, not entirely, but he told himself he had at least gotten close. Just a split-second existential crisis, that's all, he reasoned in his head. I killed a guy, what did I expect?

He worked some shaving cream into a lather between his two hands, then applied it to his skull and face. I'll feel better when I look more like myself, he thought.
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Strompy
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More posts, more Busey.
Brandon arrived at Roland's office only to find that he had left. Jerry, quickly becoming Brandon's go-to-guy, pointed him towards the club's locker room. Brandon rounded a corner and ran into Roland as he was on his way somewhere else. Black guy, heavy-set, police uniform, few grey hairs, and an unmistakable air of authority about him. Had to be his guy.

"Roland?" he asked simply after a brief moment of surprise.
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The Last Melon
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The Last Melon. Duh.
"Yes? Can I help you?" asked Roland.
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Strompy
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More posts, more Busey.
"Hi, I'm Brandon." He said, extending his hand.

"Jerry told me you were in charge. I figured I should come see you about making myself useful."
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The Last Melon
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The Last Melon. Duh.
Roland looked Brandon up and down and then shook his hand. "Well, what can you do? Whatever it is, we probably need you doing it."
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Make-7-Up-Yours
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Is that so?
Randall was glad to be outside again. Not only did it often seem cramped, but the recent outbreak had him worried. He was surprised that whatever it was, it was not spreading more quickly; the situation they found themselves in definitely lent itself to a rapid spread of disease. He had to remind himself that he should be glad about it. Still, it was merely one factor that contributed to his liking of the outdoors. He was heading to a small creek that ran near one of the fences behind the lodge. It was back here that Elaine and a few women took up their daily chore of washing clothes.

"Daddy!"

Randall was nearly knocked over by the force of his 10-year old daughter, Kelsey, slamming into him and reaching her little arms around his waist in a big embrace. She looked up at him with from there with her big brown eyes and gave him a big grin with her slightly crooked teeth that would never get the orthodontic treatments he and Elaine had planned on getting. Randall reached down and ruffled her short, sandy colored hair. Both her eyes and hair she had inherited from him. She was petite like her mother, but deceptively tough.

"Randall!" Elaine cocked her head from the river.

Elaine was a beautiful woman, much more than Randall deserved. She had a soft nose and cheeks with piercing brown eyes, framed by locks of chocolate hair. Sure, she had seen better days as of late and looked worn ragged, but the fire within her that Randall loved still burned brightly.

That woman rose to her feet and, with her arms still sopping wet, embraced Randall tightly and pressed her lips passionately against his. The two other women at the river started to chuckle lightly to themselves while Kelsey rolled her eyes at the display.

"Did you find any soap?" She immediately asked.

"None. The place was cleaned out." Randall admitted. "Could never run out of it before this all happened."

"God dammit." Elaine cursed, brushing the hair out of her face before motioning a hand towards the nearly finished pile of laundry. "Do you have any idea how many clothes everyone here wears? It's bad enough I've been reduced to the stereotypical woman who can only clean laundry, but now I won't even be able to do that right!"

Elaine had been a software engineer before, but it turned out that all of the skills she acquired with that job became almost worthless within the first week of the walking dead. And so she contributed by helping wash laundry, cook, and clean. Randall heard about how much she hated it almost daily.

He wanted to tell her everything that he had learned today. But there were a lot of reasons why he couldn't. Even if it didn't run the risk of leaking from her into the camp, he was still unsure he could just kill her hope like that. Instead, he did the one thing he never wanted to do; he willingly lied to her.

"Don't worry, sweetheart. The government will be here soon. We won't need to live like this much longer." He leaned in close to her and placed his forehead against hers. "Stay strong. For all of us. And for me."

He watched the anger melt off her face, and for a brief moment, he swore she smiled.

"Alright." She finally said. "I can do that. For you."

"That's my girl." He kissed her on the forehead. "Kelsey, are you learning a lot from your mom?"

Their little girl raised her arms in the air. "Yeah! Mom's good at washing clothes!"

Elaine rolled her eyes in a manner strikingly similar to Kelsey as she let go of Randall and moved back to the creek to continue washing the shirt she had been cleaning off before.

Randall then crouched down so he could look Kelsey in the eyes, he mocked a serious tone. "Mom tells me you have good eyes. Is this true?"

"Yes!" She deepened her voice to imitate her father's tone.

"Well, I am about to go on a walk and look for holes in the fence. I could really use a good set of eyes." Randall proposed.

"You can count on me!" She stood up straight and gave him a salute.
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