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Dead Men Walking
Topic Started: Nov 28 2014, 02:20 AM (71,036 Views)
DoctorYerishi
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Dude, wake up! We've got a world to save.
Eli stared at Brandon for a few long silent moments. He realized that everyone was falling apart, not just him -- Glenda looked more shaken and self-conscious than he'd ever seen her, and now Brandon was on his knees. He realized that he had to lock up his guilt, that there was no time for it now. Now he had to be steady. He couldn't let this news tip him over.

"Guys?" came Jeff's voice. Eli looked up to see him poking his head out of the SUV, which was now parked next to the bar. He was staring back at the two of them, looking concerned and confused. Eli didn't think he had heard what Brandon said. That was for the best.

"I told you," Eli responded, his voice still loud but less frantic now. "You gotta move Randall and the supplies."

"But Glenda said --"

"Then don't move him inside!" Eli cut him off. "But you gotta get him out of the car."

"What? Why?"

"Because I'm taking it," Eli said, like it was definitive and decided -- because it was. "I'm going to get Kelsey and Julie."

He marched over to the SUV, then opened the front door. He barked some more orders to Maxwell and Jeff inside.

"Max, Jeff, move it," he said. "And when you get inside, shut the doors. That horde's gonna be here soon. When it comes, don't make a goddamn sound. Not a peep. Understand?"

Jeff stared back at him, clearly taken aback.

"'Mano!" Eli shouted. "Do you understand?"

Jeff nodded quickly. Eli turned to Maxwell.

"How about you, professor?"
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Make-7-Up-Yours
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Is that so?
Maxwell cleared his throat to buy himself time to think of a suitable answer. It didn't take long for it to come.

"I do believe that you are insane if you think you can do it alone." Maxwell bluntly informed Eli, his face remarkably neutral as he confronted Eli. "However, I would also be insane to believe that I could talk you out of this and I think it is in my best interest to avoid a physical altercation with you. Just do us all a favor and bring this thing back in one piece."

It took no longer than a minute or two for Jeff and Maxwell to, with a little difficulty, maneuver the unconscious Randall out of the car and lay him on the ground nearby. He looked pale and his breathing was shallow, but he was still alive. The smell of burnt flesh still wafted from his bandaged stub of a hand, and Maxwell suspected that smell would stay for a while. Before turning over possession of the SUV to Eli, he made sure to pocket some of the antibiotics and painkillers they had taken from the hospital; he figured Randall would probably need them both if he ever came to.
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Strompy
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More posts, more Busey.
"Nobody does anything alone." Brandon said walking past Max and getting in the passenger side.

He didn't feel any better about the situation. It still felt hopeless, that wasn't a reason to not try though. He had no idea what they were going to do. Would they just drive around aimlessly hoping to bump into them? They didn't even know what they were looking for, all he knew was thegeneral direction the other vehicle would be heading in. Maybe they really were walking around somewhere hoping for them to find them. They should at least try.

Brandon reached into the back with some discomfort and grabbed the bag Jeff loaded with ammo. They had 12 gauge, 9mm, and blissfully 5.56 NATO. Willow had the FNP, so Brandon brought out the two Sig Sauers they found and filled both mags, keeping the second mag in his pocket. The FAL and AR15 were next. They were loading up for war.
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Make-7-Up-Yours
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Is that so?
Willow had taken the fire axe with her since she didn't have any other close range weapon and ammunition conservation was now becoming a thing. And understandably so.

The colors on the sign had been worn away by exposure, so Willow didn't exactly know what this place was at first. It felt almost like an old house, but when she walked in, it was pretty clear that this was some sort of small, family-owned bar and grill. The small and slightly rustic dining area had only a few round tables with chairs and a long bar with stools along the left hand side of the room. There was a single television, suspended in one of the corners, but beyond that there was not much else. The house was small, so there was not a lot of room. The dining hall, at least, was empty.

Willow followed close behind Glenda as they crept carefully through the house. Occasionally Glenda would stop and slam on something and wait, but there was never a sound or a peep. Willow let out a silent sigh of relief every time there no response. She didn't want to deal with any of these things right now.

Glenda moved carefully and quietly, but quickly. It was obvious she was trying to scope this place out quick. Willow followed her into the small basement, which stored some unlabelled boxes and more alcohol, and then to the second floor, which housed two small bedrooms, a tiny kitchen, and a now unserviceable bathroom. And it was all empty; the owner was nowhere to be found, but that was probably for the best.

With their search complete, Willow and Glenda both came back outside just in time to see Brandon jump into the SUV with Eli, while Maxwell and Jeff stood over Randall, who was on the ground.

"Excuse me, what exactly is going on here?" Glenda specifically asked Eli and Brandon through the open passenger side window.
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DoctorYerishi
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Dude, wake up! We've got a world to save.
Eli gave Brandon a nod of respect when he was done gearing up and took a spot in the front seat. He was going to ask him if he was in or not regardless, and he was glad to see him volunteer. The best way to stave off despair right now was taking action.

He started the SUV and put it in drive. He was about to head out when Glenda emerged to ask her question.

"We're getting them back," Eli said simply, even though he was pretty confident it was anything but that. "You guys are making sure Randall and the supplies are safe. And if we ain't back 'fore the horde gets here, you're gonna stay inside and stay perfectly quiet. Like a mouse in church. Don't give 'em a reason to look for you."

With that, he turned out out of the small parking lot and onto the street. Before taking off, though, he came to another quick stop. He leaned his head out the side to address the others once more.

"And whatever you do," he shouted. "Make sure everyone stays put!"

Jeff nodded quickly once again, then hesitantly called back to him. "Uh, good luck," he said.

Eli sighed a little. "Yeah," he replied, quietly, and took off down the street in the direction this mystery vehicle must have went.

Shortly into the journey, he spoke up, though he didn't take his eyes off the road. He kept them peeled for any possible clues as to where they should be going.

"I know what Randall made you promise is weighing heavy," he said to Brandon. "It's weighing on me too. But we're gonna make it right, okay? I don't know how yet, but it's gonna happen. And remember, when we get Kelsey back, she's gonna have a dad to go back to. That's on you, too."
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Is that so?
"Well they took off fast..." Willow murmured. "I was going to go with them."

"What, didn't want to let Brandon out of your sights, huh?" Glenda teased.

She was affirmed in her teasing when Willow's face became a darker shade of pink than her hair was and she excused herself inside, presumably to hide.

She has changed a lot. Glenda thought. She is a different woman than she was even a week ago. I couldn't be more proud of her for growing as much as she has. It's just a shame that it took all of this to make it happen.

Glenda leaned down beside Randall and gently pressed a hand to his forehead. His skin was a little cool and clammy to the touch. She next placed a hand on his chest, feeling his heart as it beat more weakly than usual. She gently touched the bandaged stump where his right hand used to be with a frown on her lips.

"Dammit, Randall..." Glenda sighed sadly. "How did this happen to you?"

"It was... an unfortunate set of circumstances." Maxwell began to explain from nearby. "You see, after everyone thought Willow was bit, Randall and Jeff had to-"

"That was rhetorical." Glenda groaned. "Please, stop talking and just help me get Randall upstairs."

Even when he talked, Maxwell annoyed her. His demeanor seemed almost forced. Or even fake. And she couldn't figure out why he was acting like that or what he was trying to hide. Here she was trying to take care of Randall, and she couldn't even just talk out loud to him without an interjection from that buffoon. Still, at least he had proven he could be useful. He was sluggish with an axe, but he did take out a few rotters; and he was strong enough to help her carry the larger Randall. Between the two of them, they managed to wrestle him upstairs and into one of the beds. It wasn't easy, but all the little bumps he suffered along the way were probably nothing compared to what he was feeling right now.
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Strompy
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Brandon was all out of optimism at that point, but even so he nodded to what Eli said. Being realistic he knew their chances of finding them weren't good. They could have taken them anywhere, and if they were smart they're camp would be well hidden. Why did this happen?

Brandon reconstructed a scenario in his head. The truck stopped, Julie and Kelsey were about to get out and walk to look for them. Another group sees that they have car trouble and seems to save them from rotters. They're bandits and they see an easy target. Then they realized they're two girls. A sick feeling rose up in him. His hands tightened around the FAL.

"They ran through a bunch of rotters, their car is going to messed up and filthy. Keep an eye out for that." Brandon said scanning as the drove.
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DoctorYerishi
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Dude, wake up! We've got a world to save.
"Right," Eli said with a serious nod. "Eyes are open."

He continued north, which was the direction the kidnapper or kidnappers seemed to have come from. Flat farmland stretched out around them as they drove, but revealed no signs of people. Eli didn’t know how much of a head start Kelsey and Julie’s takers had gotten. Even if it was only five minutes, though, they could have made distressingly good distance in a car. It wasn’t like there was any traffic to impede them. In a rural area like this, they didn't even have a maze of abandoned vehicles to contend with.

“Look!” Eli said suddenly, pointing down the road. A rotter was laying on its back, flailing its arms. Eli slowed down as he past it, just long enough to make out the tire marks across its lower body. It had been run over and recently. It was a better sign then they could have hoped for.

They passed a fenced off property with multiple buildings on it. The sign called it a ‘Honey Shop’ and Eli wondered if maybe whoever they were after had turned in there. It looked like it could be a decent place to hide.

He shook his head and kept driving. It may have been a good hiding spot, but it was also a dead end. The kidnapper must have considered the possibility that someone would be after him. He wouldn’t have boxed himself in so soon.

So Eli kept going, passing several driveways that led into houses, but with no obvious signs they’d been used recently. He discounted them for the same reasons and approached an intersection.

There was a beat-up Sedan in the middle of the road, it looked like it had been abandoned there for a while. Eli spun the wheel a bit to the left to pass it, and noticed the gravel on the side of the road had been disturbed, probably by someone doing the same. He was far from an expert, and it could have been optimism driving his thinking, but it seemed to him that it was recent.

It didn’t tell him which way the driver went, however, and the mystery forced Eli to hit the brakes. The Explorer came to a grinding stop right in the middle of the intersection.

“Shit,” he said. “Left or straight?”

Right was the direction of the horde. He couldn’t entirely discount that the kidnapper would drive into such danger, but it didn’t seem likely.

It seemed like a tossup, and Brandon didn’t have any information that Eli didn’t, so he forced himself to make a decision. He pressed down on the gas again, and the Explorer lurched and then darted forward.

They immediately passed a few more unpaved driveways that led towards farmhouses. The gravel didn’t look disturbed, though, so he kept going and silently prayed to an unspecific God that he had chosen the right direction.

His prayers weren’t answered with any more immediate clues that he could see as the Explorer climbed up a small incline leading north. Soon, they came across another huge fenced off property, on which sat a large warehouse with signage that read ‘Canada Trailers.’ Surrounding it was a field full of parked trailers, which could only be expected at such a venue.

Eli slammed the brakes again. The swinging barricades to the entrance were wide open, and the gravel looked disturbed. More importantly, there were bodies in the yard, laying still. From his vantage point in the SUV, Eli thought they looked like rotters that had been put down.

He turned the wheel violently and headed past the gates, then put the car in park and immediately jumped out. Standing over the bodies, he could see bullet holes and at least a few knife wounds. The blood that leaked from the wounds was dry, but other signs indicated the bodies had not been there long.

Eli looked around, allowing himself a small measure of excitement. This was definitely related, he told himself. It could be that their target was nearby. He drew his Supergrade in anticipation.

To the south now, the marching horde could still be heard, and when Eli looked over, he could even make out some outlines of the rotters in the lead. He blocked them out of his mind, however, as he looked for other clues. There were a lot of tire tracks on the ground, and he tried to identify recent ones, though he didn’t even know where to start.

He moved forward a little, staring at his feet. He walked to where the ground was less disturbed, where less tracks were visible. He kept walking and looking until something caught his eye.

There was one track in particular. Just one, with no matching track that ran parallel with it. He broke into a jog, following it deep into the yard to make sure he was seeing what he thought he was seeing. He realized he was – he was seeing a motorcycle track.

“Shit,” Eli said.

Somehow, he hadn’t thought to connect the two events. He had been too distracted by the run of bad news up till now. He turned to Brandon to explain.

“When I was waiting for you guys, I thought I heard a motorcycle,” he explained. “Like Jeff did, back at the cabin. I mean, whatever ran over those rotters back there wasn’t a motorcycle, but…”

He trailed off as he remembered where he was. He looked around at the many trailers parked nearby.

“…but it could have been one of these.”

He wasn’t sure what that realization actually meant. It still didn’t give them much to go on.

“Maybe we should check out the warehouse,” he immediately suggested, in lieu of any other ideas. “Maybe whoever it was came back, or left a clue or something.”

It seemed unlikely, but again – what else were they going to do? Tracking people in this new post-rotter world was a new discipline for him, and he was figuring it out as he went along.

He moved towards the warehouse’s garage-style door, and leaned down to grab the handle with one hand. With the other, he kept his Supergrade ready. He nodded meaningfully to Brandon as he pulled it up with the other, grunting with the effort.

When it was all the way up, a storm of dust swirled around him and only darkness awaited. He scanned left and right, his shooting arm outstretched, and found no sign of movement. No one had been in here for ages, he concluded sadly.

“Nothing,” he reported to Brandon, and frowned.

As he considered ‘what next,’ he heard more rotter noises, but not from the east. He raised his gun again, and took a few strides to his left to peek around the warehouse. Over the crest of the hill, through the long grass, marched more rotters. A lot more. If Eli had to guess, he would guess there were 50 of them. Nowhere near as many as there were in the horde to the east, but they were heading in that direction – and were likely to meet up with them.

His gaze swivelled back to where he left the SUV, and his frown deepened considerably. Maybe 10 rotters were shambling through from the maze of parked trailers, probably investigating the noise Eli had made opening the creaky warehouse door, or more likely the noise from the other incoming dead ones. Unfortunately, they were now much closer to the Explorer than Brandon and Eli were.

Eli peeked around the warehouse door again. The mini-horde were nearing the back of the warehouse. They were stumbling aimlessly and without purpose, though. They didn’t know Brandon and Eli were there.

Eli considered making a run for the SUV. He figured he and Brandon probably could do it, even if they had to take a few rotters down on the way.

They could probably do it, but they could also easily get swarmed and Brandon or Eli could get bit and the situation could spiral even further out of control.

Eli hung his head, momentarily paralyzed by the decision in front of him. He balled his fists in frustration, then took a few steps back towards the warehouse entrance.

“We gotta wait ‘em out,” Eli said, trying to sound as he quiet as he could while still being audible. He headed inside, then turned and reached for the handle, ready to pull it down – slowly and quietly, hopefully – once Brandon was inside too.

* * *

While Glenda and Maxwell transported Randall, Jeff quickly explored the ground floor, finding and locking every single door to the outside, and closing the blinds or otherwise covering up every window.

When he was finished, he was sweating from the effort and from his nerves. He headed upstairs to do the same, first in the bathroom, then the bedroom Randall wasn’t occupying. When he reached the room with Randall, he paused to look at his unconscious form.

He looked like a goddamn ghost. He was pale, and looked like he had trouble breathing. Jeff didn’t want to touch him, but his skin looked cold and clammy. All of it could have been symptoms of his blood loss, but it also could be him dying of the infection. The uncertainty made Jeff crazy.

“They’re coming,” he said when he broke his stare, and looked to Glenda, who was by Randall’s side. “The horde, I mean, or whatever you want to call it. It’s gonna be here soon.”
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Is that so?
Glenda nodded appreciatively at Jeff as he informed her of the situation outside.

Randall had been bitten and his future was uncertain. Kelsey and Julie had presumably been kidnapped. Eli and Brandon had taken their only working form of transportation and left in search of them. No matter what way Glenda looked at it, the situation had gone downhill fast. Her own involvement in the disappearance of Kelsey and Julie was still bothering her, but she also tried her best just to focus on the situation as it was. The horde was approaching; if the rotters found out they were here then there would be little they could do. She just had to hope that they could remain undetected. As for Eli and Brandon, Glenda was not sure if she should be more worried about the horde or the people they were chasing getting them.

"And all of the windows are closed and doors are locked?" Glenda asked, which Jeff quickly confirmed.

"Then all we can do now is just lay low and be quiet. And, if you are still into that sort of thing, pray."

**********

Willow had taken a seat at the bar. On the opposite side of the room, Maxwell sat at a table and fervently wrote in his notebook. He seemed relatively focused and she didn't fancy interrupting. She glanced at her Game Boy, but for the first time in a long time, she didn't feel like playing any games. They had always been an escape from reality for her, but now she didn't think she wanted to; it seemed too dangerous and it seemed like enjoying them would be difficult with everything on her mind. With how much she was worried about everyone. The situation felt dire. It was basically every worst case scenario imaginable short of someone being killed off in front of them again.

She did not want to just sit here and do nothing. She got off the stool and walked behind the bar.

Apparently this place was too isolated to loot; there was still a lot of alcohol back here. The bottles were not just for show. Vodkas, whiskeys, beers, wines, there was a little something for everyone back here. She suspected that there was even more stored in the basement. The vodka in particular would make great disinfectant. And a great drink. Willow had never been much of an alcohol person and she had never been drunk before.

If everyone comes back alive though... Willow amused the thought with a smile. It might be a good way to celebrate.
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Strompy
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More posts, more Busey.
The SUV was a dead give away that they were there if whoever had taken the girls came back here. Could they really afford to leave it there out in the open? Brandon hesitated. If he went for the car, he could be overwhelmed. What good was he dead? If they left it though, it could mean the difference between finding Julie and Kelsey, and losing them.

No. With this horde coming, whoever took the girls was probably going to ground just like them.

We're going to find you. he thought, both of the girls and whoever had them. He wanted someone to bleed for this.

He followed Eli inside.
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DoctorYerishi
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Dude, wake up! We've got a world to save.
Eli closed the door behind Brandon as quietly as he could manage. When it touched and erased the last of the light, it left them in total darkness. The sound of their breathing echoed across the vast empty space. The groaning of the rotters outside became totally inaudible.

"Okay," Eli said out loud. If he couldn't hear the rotters outside through the walls, chances were they couldn't hear them. "I'm pretty sure none o' them saw us duck in here. They'll be through here soon enough."

Gragh! A loud and guttural growl answered Eli's words. Then another one, then several more. The sound reverberated through the pitch black warehouse.

“No…” Eli said involuntarily. The word just escaped his lips as his dismay grew. “Come on!”

More groans rebounded off the walls and ceiling, growing louder and more frequent with every passing second. Eli couldn’t see where they were coming from in the darkness.

He grabbed his AR15 and turned on the flashlight, piercing the black. He pointed it across the warehouse floor, revealing a few lines of shelves stacked with heavy looking boxes and crates, the kind that would take a forklift or five people to lift. In between those shelves walked a group of rotters in labelled work shirts. A few had yellow safety vests. They looked exceptionally rotten, like they had been trapped here since the earliest days of the outbreak.

Eli could only illuminate a couple at a time as they stumbled towards them. He counted at least nine different faces, but there were probably more. Their recent bad luck seemed to demand it, even.

He wanted to open fire. He wanted to vent his frustration by mowing them all down in a line. But there were the outside rotters to account for. His voice was one thing, a gunshot was another. They would probably hear that and fixate on it. It wouldn’t do him or Brandon any good to survive this only to see the warehouse surrounded.

Then again, survival alone was seeming pretty uncertain right now.

Eli took a deep breath, then glanced to the injured Brandon. He wondered if he was up for this.

* * *

“Never been my thing,” Jeff answered with a sigh. “And the amount I blaspheme, I don’t think God would be too inclined to listen anyway.”

Thinking about praying made him think about his family. They had been very devout, in their own way, even if they were mostly permissive otherwise. Growing up, Jeff quickly figured out the best way to faze them was to take the Lord’s name in vein. The habit had stuck with him into his adult life. It was why he was so quick with a “goddamnit” or a “Jesus Christ” when he was frustrated. To him, those words were even more transgressive as ‘fuck.’

“Don’t let me stop you, though,” he added, as his eyes and mind wandered back to Randall.

He inhaled from his sigh.

“You think he’s gonna wake up?” he asked, without looking away.
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Glenda didn't respond immediately. With everything going on, collecting her thoughts was more difficult than it usually had been.

"I haven't prayed for a long time. And I think this outbreak only highlights that. I remember the early days when people claimed it was the end times and the book of Revelation coming to pass. But not even God would be this cruel. The churches were turned into tombs just as quickly as any other religious building."

She pursed her lips together and let those words hang in the air before she sadly looked down at Randall.

"And I hope he does wake up. Randall isn't the strongest guy around; he is just a normal guy who worked his ass off before all of this. And now in this world, he is a guy that will do whatever it takes to protect those close to him while doing what he thinks is right." She placed a hand on his forehead and furled her brow in concern; no real change. "The world needs more men like that, today more than ever. We need him like that, the burden of leadership is heavy on him, but it is one he is willing to burden. And Kelsey needs him more than any of us."

**********

"What is with you and Glenda?" Maxwell abruptly asked from across the room; apparently he was done scribbling in his notebook for the time being.

"She looked out for me in the early days of all this." Willow responded, placing a bottle of vodka back on the shelf and turning her attention to him. "Why?"

"Well, she clearly has a distaste for me." Maxwell glanced at the stairs and lowered his voice. "And I don't know why! I mean, everyone else is at least tolerating me now. What do I need to do to win her over?"

Willow couldn't help the soft chuckle.

"Sorry." She professed. "It sounded like... you know, nevermind."

"Yes, yes, I realized it after I said it." He conceded. "But look, the point is that I don't want to die. Cooperation is kind of important here and if she doesn't trust me then-"

"Well maybe that is your problem." Willow leaned her elbows onto the bar, playing the part of a pink-haired bartender. "You don't seem very interested in the group or their well-being, you seem mostly interested in how to not die."

"Well, I assisted Brandon with his gunshot wound, in fact I likely saved his life. And Randall when he got bit."

"But you thought we were going to kill you if you didn't." Willow rose a curious eyebrow. "Look, Professor, I won't pretend to know what you went through out there, but if you want to be accepted by the group, you need to start trying to act like a part of it and not the third wheel, you know? It isn't really that complicated. I would think someone as smart as yourself would realize that. I guess those degrees don't cover basic human interaction much, huh?"

"That was a low blow, madam." Maxwell frowned and returned to his notes.

The time for talk was over anyway; Willow and Maxwell both knew the horde was coming and keeping talking to a minimum at that time might be the key to getting out of this alive.
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Strompy
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More posts, more Busey.
Brandon readied his knife in a reverse grip and let out a nervous sigh. No guns allowed and a lot of rotters. They were fighting blind, but at least the rotters were too. If he and Eli stayed close and backed each other up they may just be able to pull this off. There weren't a lot of options anyway.

"Today has turned out to be way shittier than I was expecting." Brandon said ruefully.

He should have kissed Willow.
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DoctorYerishi
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Dude, wake up! We've got a world to save.
“I been feelin’ like that a lot lately,” Eli said, just as rueful.

He removed the AR15 strap from his shoulder, and placed it on the ground nearby, so the flashlight was facing forward. It did a good job of shining a harsh light on the rotters feet, as well as very dimly lighting the immediate surrounding area. It would have to suffice.

“Don’t let them surround us,” he said, leaving it that. He bent his knees, and counted down the incoming rotters steps.

Several of the creatures were close now. Eli steadied himself and tried to remain calm as he drew his weapons. With his good hand, he held his ka-bar. With his left, he extended his baton. He bent his knees, and waited for a rotter to get within range.

And then he lashed out, like the cornered animal he was. He swung his baton at the first rotter in view, slamming it in the cheek and sending it staggering backwards. He followed the strike up with his good hand, stabbing a second rotter in the face. Then he kicked that rotter in the chest, and held the knife tigh so it slid out as the body flew backwards.

The staggered rotter recovered, but he hit it again with the baton, this time in the skull. It stumbled backwards again. Another rotter stumbled to take the dead one’s place, emerging from the blackness behind him. Eli got that one with his knife as well. While the blade was embedded there, he swung the baton for a third time at the same rotter. This time he seemingly crushed his skull, and the rotter fell face forwards to his left.

Can’t let them get close, can’t let them surround you, he reminded himself over and over like a mantra. If they surround you, you’re dead.

He cleared his mind of everything else and kept fighting.

* * *

Jeff absorbed Glenda’s words solemnly. He couldn’t look away from Randall’s pale form, as much as he wanted to.

“I know,” he said softly. “And you’re right.”

He gulped, and stewed in the silence for a moment.

“You didn’t answer my question.”
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Strompy
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Eli and Brandon surged forward into the approaching rotters. Eli took out a few in quick succession and Brandon capitalized on the space it gave them. Ahead of several more rotters once a larger man, average height but easily 285 pounds. Brandon rushed forward slamming into the walking corpse with his shoulder, violently shoving it backwards. It tumbled and knocked two others off balance with its weight. Rotter weren't good on their feet, and Brandon used it.

Another came within arms reach and lunged for Brandon throat. Putting his forearm across it's neck he kept its blackened teeth away from him and placed his leg behind it. With a shove his tripped it over and it hit the ground hard. Brandon knelt on its back and drove his knife into its head. As Eli used his wider swing and knife and to engage his targets, Brandon made himself busy tripping shoving and otherwise hampering several rotters at a time. If they tried to push themselves back up he would kick their arms out from under them, and as there was time he stuck a knife in another downed rotter.

Eli had more muscle and was so far uninjured, so Brandon didn't feel too bad about letting him do the heavy lifting in the fight, Brandon could control the engagement though without straining himself too much, and so he did just that.
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