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| Dead Men Walking | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Nov 28 2014, 02:20 AM (71,070 Views) | |
| Make-7-Up-Yours | Jan 15 2015, 02:36 AM Post #91 |
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Is that so?
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In a moment of clarity, Randall picked up one of the golf clubs that had been scattered during the chaos. He could take out more of the zombies with this than he could the handgun. "Kill them all." Randall muttered under his breath. Every step his feet carried him, he regained a little strength. This was exactly the second wind he needed. When he reached the first rotter, he swung the golf club wide with one arm and cracked open the head of a rotter that hadn't even noticed him. Another one of the nearby rotters slowly turned its head and noticed his approach, but Randall was already in position. He rotated his hips as quickly as he could and again slammed the golf club into a zombie's temple, but this time the force sent the bottom half of the foreign made 5-iron flying. Without even a moment of hesitation, he took out a third by thrusting the top half of the club into the eye of a nearby rotter. But somehow he missed the brain, and the rotter continued to writhe and try coming after him. "YOU FUCKING FREAK!" Randall roared, forcing the walking dead onto the ground, where he slammed the butt of his pistol against its face. Once. Twice. Thrice. He didn't stop. Every impact against the zombie's caved in skull splattered additional gore all over himself and his weapon, but he didn't care. It felt good. Crushing and pounding its skull, even after it stopped moving, gave him more relief than anything else had today. It didn't take long before he couldn't even make out the face of the thing he was beating anymore; and frankly, it didn't matter at all to him. He only let up his assault when he felt a hand on his shoulder. "Randall?" The former general contractor paused and let everything he had just done sink in. He pushed it to the back of his mind; there was still more he needed to do. He stood back up and used the sleeve of his shirt to wipe some of the gore off his face (ignoring the fact that his sleeve was soaked in the stuff). It seemed that all of the undead here had been taken care of already. "I'm fine, Glenda." Randall finally said with a wave of his hand. "Where's Elaine?" The woman gave him a hard look with her brown eyes. Randall swore he saw a glimmer of worry in them, but it didn't last long. "I saw them run into the treeline over there." Glenda pointed to the edge of the nearby golf green. "We had most of the rotters on us, but a few chased after them." "Good job. Thank you." Randall nodded. "And if I could ask one more thing... there are a few rotters left in the kitchen. Would you mind taking a few people over there and clearing them out? There are probably no more than five." "And the rest of the lodge?" "It should be clear, but I wouldn't mind if you guys did a sweep of it." Randall sighed. "Make sure whoever you take has a strong stomach." Glenda nodded her head, but said nothing. Without a second thought, Randall took off towards the treeline that Glenda had mentioned. |
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| DoctorYerishi | Jan 15 2015, 02:57 AM Post #92 |
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Dude, wake up! We've got a world to save.
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Eli took out two more of the rotters before it was over. The broken club proved surprisingly adept at penetrating the zombie's soft tissue and ending their unlife. After he killed the first rotter, he was able to slide it out, then back into the brain of a second distracted zombie. When a third turned to face him, he lashed out one final time, diving forward and driving the stake-like weapon into the zombie as he tackled it. When the zombie stopped twitching, Eli looked around for a sign of any more living dead. When he didn't find one, he simply rolled off the dead body and onto his back. He didn't bother getting up immediately. He just lay on the cold fall grass, and stared backwards into the distance, where the sun was still beginnings its ascent. The open air was kind of nice, and the view was actually kind of pretty. He let himself get lost in that for just a moment, before he realized his holstered pistols were digging into his back, and Randall and Glenda were talking nearby. He groaned, much like the dead ones did, and forced himself into a sit-up. He listened to their exchange, and watched them both head off in separate directions. He didn't follow either one. Selfishly, he figured he'd done enough for now. |
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| Strompy | Jan 15 2015, 07:33 AM Post #93 |
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More posts, more Busey.
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Finally. They'd managed to organize a resistance. Brandon's saviours didn't look like much, mostly armed with broken furniture and tools, one little guy was even using a big rock from the garden, swinging it overhead with two hands looking like a caveman with glasses. He could practically hear bugles blaring he felt so victorious. This place was still standing. They lost so many, but those who were left all regarded each other with an unspoken acknowledgment. They had found their fight. So had Brandon. Standing amongst others he felt something new to him. He felt powerful. The moment was over quickly. Glenda spoke with a man she called Randall, he didn't quite catch what they were saying but afterward the man started heading for the treeline and Glenda started asking for volunteers to clear the lodge. He looked between the two. He caught Glenda's attention and gestured towards Randall, giving her an apologetic look as he began jogging after him. Going off by himself was a bad idea, even if he were just going to take a leak it was a good idea tohave someone watch your back. Brandon picked up the pace to catch up, falling in next to him. "Hey." he greeted the man simply. He didn't bother to ask what he was doing, it didn't make any difference. He just followed in silence. |
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| Make-7-Up-Yours | Jan 15 2015, 05:11 PM Post #94 |
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Is that so?
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In the back of his mind, Randall heard someone follow him and say 'hey'. Randall choked out another 'hey' in response, but couldn't muster anything more than the most basic of formalities. He didn't know who was following him and, quite frankly, he didn't care. He had one objective in his mind; find his family. He was glad for the early rays of sunshine shimmering over the horizon. The lodge had been so dark that Randall was surprised there had been no friendly fire incidents. But now, even in the treeline, there was enough light to see any threat far before it was closer than a meter or two from you. "ELAINE!?" Randall bellowed at the top of his lungs. "RANDY!?" She was nearby! Ignoring every ounce of exhaustion in his body, he surged towards the sound of his wife's voice. It only took a few moments before he saw a small group of people in a clearing. The old janitor of this place, Jose; a pretty young woman named Jennifer, and his wife and child. Elaine and Jose in particular were covered in dirt and blood from their struggles; Elaine holding a broke golf club and Jose with a mop. On the ground around them, a few rotter corpses were all that remained of the ones that had apparently followed them into the woods. "R-Randy... it is really you..." Elaine curled her lips into a sad smile, limping over and giving Randall the biggest hug of his life.. "I... I didn't know if you'd really make it back." "Elaine, are you okay?" Was all Randall could ask. "Your leg?" "Is fine." She assured him. "I just bumped it against a rock in the darkness." For the first time at all tonight, Randall smiled. "Whoa, rotters!" Jose suddenly interrupted their meeting. Sure enough, two of them came shambling into the small opening. They must have been drawn here by the sounds of the shouting, Randall deduced. Not that it really mattered. They were here now and there was only one thing to do. With surprising dexterity, Jose drove the back end of the mop through one of the rotter's eyes like a stake. As he struggled, the second one made a move for him and Randall, without thinking, fired a round into its head BLAM! One bullet left. The shoot missed, but went through the rotter's jaw, giving Elaine enough time to finish it off by stabbing it through the skull with her broken golf club. Randall suddenly felt something against his leg and realized that his daughter had been hiding there since he arrived. "Hey, Kels. Did you take good care of your mother while I was gone?" Kelsey nodded gave her dad a tight hug. "Alright everyone, let's go back to the lodge." Randall told everyone, including the new kid that had followed him here. "We got a lot of people in the golf flats out back while we finish clearing the lodge. We can meet up with them all there and-" Randall stopped. Elaine had tugged on his shirt and given him the same sad look as before. "Right, everyone head back there, the way is clear. I'll catch up to all of you. New kid, keep an eye on them for me." "You go too, Kelsey." Elaine nodded. "But..." Their daughter started to protest. "We'll be right back. Don't worry, they will take good care of you." Elaine replied. Now that Randall thought about it, she was behaving differently. Normally she was so strong and willful, but now she seemed almost... demure. She was obviously exhausted, but it had to be more than that. What happened? Why did she want to talk? The joy he had felt only moments ago was quickly being replaced by anxiety; his heart started to race and his throat was drying up. Before she even tugged up the leg of her pants and showed him the bloodied bite on her leg, he already knew. "N-no... not you, too..." Randall stammered. His body was shaking. Elaine nodded her head slowly. "It was back in the golf store. I pulled Kelsey away from the window after it broke, and I guess... I guess I didn't see one of them on the floor." "Dammit, Elaine... no... maybe if we amputate the leg we can-" Elaine stopped him by putting a finger gently to his lips. It was something she had always done when he started to get too worked up; it only helped a little this time. "It's alright. I'm sorry I lied to you back there, I... I just wanted to see you smile one more time." Elaine gave smiled remorsefully. "Kind of selfish of me, huh?" Randall looked down at his gun. There was one bullet left. Just one bullet. Colin's last words echoed in his mind. He was fucking bit! No one returns from that! Would you just watch us die like that? Sure, Randall felt the remorse coming from Colin a few times. The kid was the only one from his family to survive, and he clearly had survivor's guilt. It was why he worked so hard to make himself useful. But despite his own hidden grief, the message he gave Randall was still clear; he would rather take his own life before being bit than risk being bit and kept alive. Or maybe he had already been bit. Was Colin right though? The thoughts weighed heavily in his mind. Did he want to watch Elaine die? One bullet would solve the problem. His last bullet. But could he live with that? Could he live with himself if, even out of mercy, he put a bullet in his still breathing wife's skull? Once again, Randall heard a soft moaning from beyond the treeline, coming from the direction of the lodge. Elaine and Randall both turned toward the source of the noise in time to see one last rotter come stumbling towards them. He was a big rotter with dark skin and a police uniform. "No..." Randall shook his head. "R-Roland... why?" The zombie looked back at him with blank eyes, shambling forward with one sole sense of purpose. Even in death, he still looked so... tired. All the hope Randall had when coming here was snuffed out in an instant; his arms and legs felt so heavy. Save for his daughter, he had nothing left. Again, he looked down at his gun. One bullet left. Roland was still a few meters away, but neither he nor Elaine had backed off from their position. Randall narrowed his eyes and exhaled deeply. It was time to choose. And when he stopped to think about it, the choice was obvious all along. He pointed the gun directly between Roland's eyes. "Sorry, old friend." BLAM! |
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| DoctorYerishi | Jan 16 2015, 03:01 AM Post #95 |
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Dude, wake up! We've got a world to save.
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BANG! “Shit, sorry!” A moment ago, Eli was tired enough to curl up until a ball right there on the floor and go to sleep. He probably could have even gotten past the stench of death, which would likely cling to these halls permanently. That gun shot, though – the first in seven hours, since Randall had blown away his friend and leader in the back yard – did a good job of waking him up. He turned around and gave a sharp look to Mac, who gave him a sheepish one in return. He was now holding the revolver out by his side, his finger nowhere near the trigger. Eli glanced down, saw the bullet hole in the ground, where Mac had accidentally fired. “I don’t gotta tell you how valuable that bullet was, do I ’mano?” Eli asked, narrowing an eyebrow. “Was an accident,” Mac replied, sounding apologetic. He raised his other hand in mock surrender, like Eli so often did. “Won’t happen again, I promise.” Eli sighed. He made a gesture with his thumb. “Jus’ mind the safety, man. I didn’t give you that thing so you could shoot your toe off.” “Got it,” Mac said. “Now lets do this, just one more room left.” Mac was a big guy – bigger than Eli, even, but less toned and more round. He used to be one of Roland’s inner circle, and was also one of the survivors that Randall rallied to help take back the lodge. In the aftermath, he and Eli had worked together to drag most of the dead bodies out of the interior of the club, and thrown them onto a pile out back to be burnt. As they undertook that revolting and mundane task, they had got to talking, and Eli had learned a lot about him. For example, he learned he wasn’t a cop – he wanted to be at one time, but he went down a different path. Before the world went to shit, he worked part-time in a post office warehouse, loading trucks. Full time, he went to trade school in New York, learning to repair air conditioners or something. He and Eli entered the women’s locker room and looked around. There were some bloodstains on the tile, but no bodies. The room was clear. “Looks like we’re good,” Eli said. “Let’s head—“ There was a loud knock, and Eli drew his Supergrade instinctively. He spun and aimed it at the source of the noise – a maintenance locker, it looked like. Mac followed suit, but took a couple of seconds longer. “Hello?” a muffled voice sounded from that direction. Eli relaxed. “Hello? Is anyone out there? Is anyone alive?” “Sounds like you are,” Eli said out loud. He tucked the Supergrade back into his pants. He moved for the door, and found it locked shut. He quickly produced the keys he had looted from Roland’s body, before lugging his girth over to the fire with the others. “Oh thank God!” The voice responded, sounding desperate. “I heard noises, like bad noises, like you know the kind. I was worried I was the only left. I was worried I was going to die in here. I thought I was going to starve to death. Thank God, thank God, thank God.” After trying and failing with a few keys, Eli found the correct one on the ring, and switched open the lock. Then he opened the door, revealing the slim, wiry form of a tall guy with a ragged, blood-splashed beard. He had a black eye and a bruise on his cheek. “Thank God!” The bearded guy said when the light from the locker room flooded in. “You said that,” El replied, raising an eyebrow. “Who are you?” “That’s Jeff,” Mac interjected. Eli looked back over his shoulder at the bigger man, and saw him frowning. “Forgot he was in there. I found him stealing last night and Roland locked him up.” Jeff noticed Mac and recoiled. “Stay away from me, dude!” “So you’re the one roughed him up?” Eli asked, still glancing backwards. Mac nodded. “He resisted arrest.” Eli half-frowned, then turned back to Jeff. “Relax,” he said. “It’s over now.” Jeff looked a little wary now. “What happened out there?” Eli’s face fell. “A lot,” he said sadly. “What you heard was an outbreak. A lot of people died, a lot of people left. It was rough.” That was certainly the truth. The night before, the camp had approximately 180 people between the tents out front and the families inside the lodge. After their makeshift hospital got wiped out, and the majority of the campers fled, that number was down to no more than 30. “Believe it or not, you were lucky to be locked up,” Eli continued. “That probably saved your life.” “Well shit,” Jeff responded. He seemed a little taken aback, understandably. “Does that mean… I’m free to go, now?” Before Eli could answer, he felt Mac sidle up to him. The bigger man turned away from Jeff and leaned into his shoulder. “We should get Randall,” he said. It wasn’t the first time he had suggested it. After he saw Roland’s body – and after the speech Eli goaded Randall into giving during the night – he had made it implicitly clear who he thought was leading the camp now. From what Eli could tell, pretty much everyone else felt the same way. “Randall’s with his wife,” Eli said with a sigh. He had been for hours now. He hadn’t told anyone why yet, but Eli had a good guess. “Let’s leave him be for now. Besides, what are we gonna do, lock this guy back up? We need every able body we can get right now.” Eli winced internally. What’s with all this 'we' talk? he wondered to himself. He had been with these people for less than a day, and he didn’t even intend on staying. For his part, Mac didn’t look happy with Eli’s reasoning, but he didn’t argue. He took a step back and let him address the prisoner. “Come on,” Eli said simply. Then he moved away, and waved for Jeff to follow. |
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| Make-7-Up-Yours | Jan 16 2015, 06:25 AM Post #96 |
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Is that so?
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It had been seven hours since hell had broken loose. Seven. Whole. Hours. And Willow hadn't managed to get any rest. She couldn't stand to be in the lodge. The smells, the sights, the everything. Just being in there made her shake uncontrollably and feel sick to her stomach. Her head would start spinning as her body felt like it was on fire. The unmistakable signs of her weakness. They held such a strong grip over her that she couldn't even help with the cleanup. She was physically unable to bring herself to go in there. Not after that had happened. She had volunteered to take morning watch instead. Even though nobody was enforcing it, she needed to be out of the lodge and she didn't want to sit down and do nothing. Not while everyone else was handling and burning bodies; the least she could do was pretend to earn her keep. Especially with so few of them left. Yet as she sat there - the pilfered rifle in her lap, a half-smoked joint hanging lazily from her lips, dark bags under her eyes from exhaustion - Willow found herself coming to the painful realization that no amount of pot would erase these memories from her mind. When she closed her eyes, she still saw Colin blowing his brains across the wall in despair. She saw Dr. Tu's severed head in the hospital, still gnashing his teeth at anyone who came in. She saw Katelyn, her only friend from before the outbreak, laying on the ground, her throat ripped out while she was still in her sleeping bag. "Dammit..." Willow moaned. She plucked the joint from her lips and tossed it on the driveway. She didn't feel like sitting here any longer. Maybe the lodge was less traumatizing now. She got to her feet, turned towards the lodge and almost ran into Glenda. If there was any good news to be had, it was that Glenda was still alive. Glenda was one of the few people here that even bothered to give Willow a chance; most people dismissed her a klutz and a pothead that would never contribute to anything. A dead weight on the camp. Even Randall had been quick to dismiss her. But Glenda took Willow under her wing, so to speak. She taught Willow how to fire the old bolt action rifle that she had with her right now. And she also taught her how to cook. A little. While she was a decent shot and a lousy cook, the effort alone gave Willow a sense of attachment to this older woman. Glenda was quiet and seemingly distant to most, but there was definitely more to her than that. Wordlessly, Glenda gave Willow a sad smile and held out an energy bar. "Another one?" Willow groaned. "I know, I'm sorry." Glenda apologized in her typical quiet and demure voice. "But things are... not very organized. Most people are too busy sleeping or cleaning the corpses to cook." Willow sighed and weakly accepted the gift of food. Despite her complaints about it, she was starting to feel the early pangs of hunger. If the pot was doing one thing, it was keeping her hungry. Something she probably needed more than she cared to admit. She wasted no time in taking a bite out of the dry, sugary, chocolate energy bar. While the taste was nothing to write home about, she could feel herself strengthening after just a single bite. "You look terrible." Glenda added. "And yet you don't." Willow sighed wistfully. "We're surrounded by all of this... all of this shit. And you barely look phased. You barely ever look phased. How? I don't get it. How are you so... so strong?" The shorter woman reached upward and placed a strong hand on Willow's shoulder, then leaned forward; "Nobody is born strong, Willow. People become strong when they need to be." "Then what made you strong?" Willow immediately asked without even thinking. Glenda furled her brow and subtly averted her gaze. "S-sorry, you don't need to tell me, I was just curious." Willow stammered defensively. "It's none of my business. Really. I just wish I could have that kind of courage, you know? Without having to rely on these fucking drugs." "Speaking of that, I think-" "WILLOW!" The call for her name was accompanied by the pitter-pattering of little feet. It looked like this conversation was inevitably postponed. "Kelsey?" Willow didn't even know that Kelsey knew her name. "Did... did you see mom?" The little girl gasped out between breaths from running as fast as she could. "What?" Was the only response Willow could even think to muster. "Dad said that mom was leaving for a while." Kelsey frowned. "I... I wanted to say goodbye to her before she left. It's dangerous with all the zombies out there, you know. You saw what they did in the lodge, right?" Even this little girl seemed to have more stomach than her; the idea alone made Willow's heart sink even further. "Y-yeah... I did..." But what was this about her mom leaving? Why would Randall say something like that? Slowly, like a jigsaw puzzle, the pieces started connecting in her head, and the blood drained from her face as the implications dawned on her. Randall hadn't said a word to anyone after shooting Roland, he simply took Elaine and disappeared. Did that mean that she had been- "Don't worry, Kelsey." Glenda interrupted, placing a hand on the girl's shoulder. "We saw your mom off." Glenda crouched down and came to Kelsey's eye level. The little girl looked back at her with a hint of sadness, but seemed remarkably calm despite the situation. Maybe, Willow thought, she didn't fully understand what was going on. She could only hope that was the case. "She said that she might be gone for a while. But she wanted to me to tell you a few things. First; she loves you with all of her heart. And second; she wants you to take care of your dad for her while she is gone. She said that if you can do that for her, then I can give you a candy bar." Willow was amazed at how Glenda was able to sell the act so perfectly. If she had not known better, she might even think that Glenda was telling the truth. How could she be so strong? The question remained in Willow's head. What could have happened to her to make her so steady and so dependable? How was she so unfaltering, even in the face of the impossible and the heartbreaking? "Yes." Kelsey answered with a smile. "I promise to keep daddy safe. For mommy." "That's a good girl." Glenda smiled, a sliver of sadness in the corners of her eyes betraying the facade. "Let's go get you a candy bar." Deep down, Willow realized, even Glenda was in pain. "By the way, Willow." Glenda added as she was departing hand-in-hand with Kelsey. "They got the lodge cleaned out. It still smells bad, but... it is better. Go in there and try to get some sleep, okay? We don't need anyone on watch today." "Right, okay..." Sleep. Willow already knew that was a tall order. But on the other hand... she wasn't doing anything better with her time. After a few moments of contemplation, she sluggishly marched up towards the lodge with every intention of trying her best to sleep. |
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| Strompy | Jan 18 2015, 06:57 PM Post #97 |
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More posts, more Busey.
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Brandon spent the rest of the morning removing bodies. He didn't care to count how many had died, but it was definitely the better part of a hundred, quite possibly over a hundred. He and Jose had been piling bodies for burning. The whole thing was so unceremonious, it felt all kinds of wrong. Brandon was a new comer though, if it weren't for this shared ordeal he might even feel like an outsider, if this situation felt wrong to him it would be worse for Jose. Some of these people were his friends. Almost everyone here were friends. This was a good community. He was glad when Jose called for a break. He took several large gulps from his water bottle, nearly choking a little he was so desperate. He looked at the burning corpses. They'd been as delicate as possible with them but even so it was an undignified send off. More than that however, the huge pillars of black smoke they were created were worrying him. He didn't know for sure how rotters functioned, whether they made some instinctive connection between smoke and fire, fire and people. That was probably a little too abstract. It was most likely that they just chased anomalous stimuli, like the sound of breaking glass or gunfire. If that were true they may by drawn to the smell of burning bodies or the sight of smoke. There was nothing for it though. They needed to get rid of these bodies. They didn't have the means to remove them a safe distance from the lodge were they could rot away inconspicupusly, and they certainly didn't have the energy or inclination to bury them all. Everyone just wanted this episode dealt with and put behind them. There was also the chance that other survivors would come and investigate, some or maybe even all of the people who fled might come back. A woman named Christy was making coffee for everyone who was rostered for cleaning or guard detail for the next eight hours while others slept before taking over at night. Brandon met her yesterday when he brought the supplies he gather into the kitchen. She seemed like a really lovely person, genuinely friendly. Now though, she just seemed so... robotic. She was functioning but her mind wasn't really there, she kept staring off into space with a blank expression. He understood why she'd shut down like that though, her son was killed last night. His name was Jake, he was fourteen. When she came back to her body there was a good chance she'd take her life. He made a note to keep an eye on her incase she poisoned herself or slit her wrists, he may have to stick her in the brain before she turned. That was, of course, the main theory going around camp. Somebody croaked in the hospital and turned. Hardly any of those people left the camp, and they were being very diligent with security regarding bites so it was very unlikely anybody in there was bitten. Nobody knew for certain what it was though. Maybe a biter just got lucky and strolled in when nobody was looking. He was glad to see a few faces he recognized amongst the survivors. There was Glenda of course. Eli made it, and Willow too. Jerry was dead. Roland didn't make it. The last shred of authority left from before the crisis was gone now, and Brandon wondered what that meant for the community. When he thought about it though, cut off like this, that authority was an illusion. People followed Roland because he stepped up to the position, and with him gone they were looking to Randall. There was no authority now, just them. Somehow Brandon just knew, there wasn't going to be a rescue. No evacuation to quarantine zones, no military action against the rotters. Five shells in the tube. Okay. |
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| DoctorYerishi | Jan 19 2015, 12:43 AM Post #98 |
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Dude, wake up! We've got a world to save.
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"If you want something to eat, you gotta help out first," Eli said, nudging Jeff as they exited the lodge. "Seriously? 'Cause I'm starving, and -- Jesus Christ!" Jeff interrupted himself suddenly, and doubled over. He gagged and clutched his stomach, responding to pungent smell of burnt flesh. He looked like he might throw up. Eli and Mac just rolled their eyes -- after hours of adding bodies to the fire, they had gotten used to it. "You'll get over it, trust me," Eli said, nudging the scrawny, bearded man once again. "Now get to work. Time to clear some of that debt you owe the camp." "This is sick," Jeff muttered. He was staring sidelong at the bodies in the fire, then the bodies still spread across the lawn. "Like I said, you'll get over it," Eli insisted. "Seriously, move it. We'll be watching." Jeff muttered some curses under his breath, and Eli pretended not to hear them. He just wiped some sweat from his large forehead and watched Jeff go. "Keep an eye on him," Eli said, nodding to Mac. Mac returned the nod, then walked off in Jeff's footsteps. Eli was surprised they were taking his orders in stride, relatively. He was a newcomer, after all, and had no business telling anyone what to do. It kind of made him uncomfortable when he thought about it. So he chose not to. Instead, he looked around the yard and found Brandon. He seemed to be taking a break with another one of the survivors. Eli adopted a thoughtful expression, then jogged over to join him. The kid had shown him a kindness the night before, and then a lot of bravery during the action. It wasn't his usual instinct, but Eli figured he should reach out, make sure he was okay. "Hey," he greeted, patting the harried-looking pretty boy on the shoulder. "How ya holdin' up? I know it's a pretty messed up question, given the shit that went down today, but still." |
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| Strompy | Jan 19 2015, 08:30 AM Post #99 |
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More posts, more Busey.
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"A lot better than some, and a lot better than I expected. I was just thinking, the smoke might draw in rotters. We should probably have a couple more people on lookout." he admitted to Eli and himself. It was true. He was handling this a lot better than he thought he would. He and the others did something last night he never imagined he'd be capable of. They all fought. They didn't run or hide, they stood together and took it back. They didn't need rescuing. They could survive this, it'd just take foresight, diligence and a lot of guts. Along that line of thought Brandon came to a conclusion about an outstanding issue. He had to speak with Randall. "What about you, man? It was your first night too, right?" he asked, wondering if this was even normal. |
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| DoctorYerishi | Jan 19 2015, 02:28 PM Post #100 |
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Dude, wake up! We've got a world to save.
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Eli shrugged in response. "I'm okay," he said, and it was pretty much true. "Tired, mostly." All those turbulent emotions he was experiencing during the fight had dimmed over the workday. He didn't have room in his mind to feel much else but exhausted. "And yeah, my first night, but not my first rodeo," he added. "I was in quarantine in New York, before all this. A lot of shit went down there too." This isn't the first pile of dead bodies I've had to stare at as they burned, he thought, but didn't bother articulating. "Anyway, I just wanted to throw you some thanks for what you pulled off last night," he said instead. "That was some quick thinking, leading the rotters out here in the open like that. It probably saved some lives." |
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| Strompy | Jan 19 2015, 08:16 PM Post #101 |
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More posts, more Busey.
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Brandon nodded in acknowledgment of Eli's praise. What Eli said about New York put Brandon's questions to rest. New York was gone, there were just too many people there and far too many rotters. It was probably like this everywhere. At least here, out of the way and behind a wall these people stood a chance. They just needed supplies to make it through winter and then they could grow some produce in the spring. "Have you seen Randall. I need to talk to him about supplies. I know where we can get more, a lot more." |
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| DoctorYerishi | Jan 19 2015, 08:19 PM Post #102 |
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Dude, wake up! We've got a world to save.
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"He's with his wife," Eli said with a frown. "He could be a while." |
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| Make-7-Up-Yours | Jan 19 2015, 09:53 PM Post #103 |
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Is that so?
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"Attention everyone!" Randall's familiar voice bellowed from the dining hall so that everyone in the lodge could hear him. The contractor stood on a chair so that he could be seen by the small number of survivors they had left. He had dried blood caked onto his filthy button up t-shirt; a disheveled hair (what little of it he had left) and beard; and dark bags hanging underneath his reddened eyes. He looked like he was a day or two away from being a rotter himself, but the fire in his eyes was still there. Beyond that, the tone of his voice seemed sharper than it ever had been before. In his right hand, he held something that only Eli and Glenda would recognize now - the package Eli had retrieved from the city one very long day ago. "We have a lot on our minds so I am going to make this fast! Yesterday, during our last run, we discovered this in the possession of a dead soldier!" He held the container above himself so everyone could see. People were already filing in from the other rooms to see what the commotion was about. Most of the survivors were either here or in earshot. "Attached to it was a map and a note; the map had a circle drawn near Chicago, Illinois and the note said 'Deliver cure to Argonne National Lab!' For Colin, Aaron, Roland, Jerry, Lucy, Jennifer, Alex, Carol, Matthew, Bob, all three Johns... for my wife and everyone else that couldn't be here right now because of those walking corpses, I am going to deliver this personally to Argonne Labs. If there even a 1% chance that this is real, then that makes any risk worth it to me!" Randall let those words hang in the air. An hour ago, he had watched his wife die. The pain still tightly gripped at his heart, but it was at that moment that he decided he was going to do this. Maybe it was his way of coping with the loss or maybe it was what he had wanted to do all along. Maybe it was a little bit of both. He didn't really care, and the less he thought about it, the better. He had steeled himself for this and he had no intention of backing down. "I am leaving first thing tomorrow morning. Any volunteers to help, let me know at your earliest convenience." With those words, Randall stepped down from his makeshift pedestal. |
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| DoctorYerishi | Jan 19 2015, 10:10 PM Post #104 |
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Dude, wake up! We've got a world to save.
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Speak of the devil, Eli thought when he heard Randall's voice. Along with everyone else outside, Eli immediately turned and headed for the origin of the noise. When he made it to the dining hall, he practically did a double take when he saw what was going on. Somehow, Randall looked rougher than he did during the battle, and he was holding the package. When he was done with his speech, a shocked silence fell over the room -- and that silence included Eli, though he had different reasons to be shocked. Randall taking the cure off his hands was what he wanted, after all, but it didn't feel right somehow. Eli didn't feel right about it. "What about the military?" Mac found the courage to respond first, and he shouted the words at Randall -- not in an angry way, but a confused one. "Shouldn't we wait for them?" Eli cringed a little. He had a feeling he knew what was coming. |
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| Make-7-Up-Yours | Jan 19 2015, 10:28 PM Post #105 |
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Is that so?
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Randall paused. He supposed he should have known it wouldn't be that easy. He stepped back onto the chair to address everyone yet again. He knew this moment was coming as well, and now he was too disillusioned to even try putting up the facade he had before. "This outbreak is bigger than we know. We heard word that New York had fallen. That Washington D.C. had fallen." Randall explained in a tone that had become more somber. "The military is still functioning to some degree, but it is clear they are struggling. After all, we have this cure here as proof of that." Again Randall paused. "I guess what I am trying to say is that expecting a rescue before winter is optimistic. We should go into this thinking that we may be stuck like this longer than we thought. On the bright side... there should be enough supplies to get you through most of the winter now." |
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7:31 PM Jul 10