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Dead Men Walking
Topic Started: Nov 28 2014, 02:20 AM (71,003 Views)
Strompy
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More posts, more Busey.
Hiccup. Brandon remembered the last time they had a hiccup. Randall lost a hand, Glenda got knocked unconscious and Julie and Kelsey were kidnapped.

"Cool." Brandon said, unsheathing his knife and heading towards the left.

He gave Eli a sympathetic look as he did so. Alone with Jimmy, it sounded like more fun than a barrel of monkeys. Brandon was more than glad to have a break from him. In the short time they'd spent together Jimmy's idiosyncrasies were beginning to be tiresome. It wasn't that Brandon didn't like him it was just that he was a little too animated. And Brandon had thought that he was the restless sort, he'd hate to see a bored Jimmy.

Fortunately though, Jimmy's constant activity had the effect of inspiring reflexive sobriety in everyone else. Like they had to be extra serious and stern to even out all the hyperactivity he brought. Brandon just didn't have the energy to fret about the others. He was glad to be partnered up with somebody who could be comfortably silent for a few moments.
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Is that so?
"Don't die."

Glenda left Eli and Jimmy, mostly Eli, on those words. Although if Jimmy died, they would certainly have something to explain to Geraldine when they got back and she would rather not have to do that.

Since Brandon was still hurt, she took the lead down the first hallway. She would like to sift through the entirety of the building, but that would probably end up turning into an all-day task. Something they could not afford to do, they were on a schedule too after all. And even if they did, she had the feeling that most of this place would be looted clean already. Glenda cautiously peered into a few rooms as they passed by. Sure enough they resembled Randall's explanation of the rec center office space; like a tornado had swept through them and thrown everything on the ground. And there was no generator to boot.

When the hallway left and right, she raised her hand for Brandon to wait a moment. She peered her head around the corner to the right, and then to the left. She pointed her dagger to the left passageway with one hand and lifted up three fingers with the other.

We got three.

She mouthed the words to him, as if it was even necessary at that point. They both knew what she was referring to from the get go.
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DoctorYerishi
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Dude, wake up! We've got a world to save.
Eli gave Brandon an appreciative nod before they separated. Glenda and Brandon headed left out of the lobby. Jimmy led the way down the right.

They emerged into a wider hallway lined with storefronts. The security blinds were shuttered over the windows, but Eli could read the logos – there was an ice skate renting booth, a pro shop that advertised skate sharpening, and a sports bar and grille.

Jimmy let out a low whistle and held his spear at the ready. There was a knock on the window to the nearest store – the skate rental place. Jimmy made his way over there, Eli followed. They stopped at the entrance, finding it locked tight. The knocking continued. They could see glimpses of the rotter behind the shuttered window, but couldn’t get to it.

“That’s annoying,” Jimmy said with a rare frown. “How’d a deadhead – or a rotter – even get back there?”

“Maybe someone locked him in there,” Eli suggested. “Or maybe he got bit and locked himself in.”

Jimmy shrugged. “A mystery lost to the ages, I suppose. Let’s move on.”

Eli was happy to. He continued following Jimmy down the hall. Jimmy’s eyes were glued forward, but he apparently no longer felt the need to be silently cautious.

“So I’m getting the sense that you don’t like me,” Jimmy said casually.

“I don’t know you,” Eli replied.

“That’s true,” Jimmy said. “How can we fix that?”

Eli kept his eyes glued forward as well. “I’m not sure it needs fixin’, ’mano.”

“Aw, don’t say that,” Jimmy said. “World like this, you could always use more friends.”

They passed the pro shop and neared the sports bar. “I don’t think so,” Eli said. “I think we just need to get through this. My friends an’ I will be moving on soon.”

“I heard. Something about a cure?”

“That’s right.”

“And you believe it’s for real?”

Eli looked to Jimmy, his expression serious. “That’s right,” he repeated.

Jimmy looked back and took note. “Hey, I hope it is.”

Eli made a scoffing sound.

Jimmy looked at him again with a raised eyebrow. “What, you don’t think so?”

“I don’t know. Seems like you’re having fun with the world the way it is.”

“Sure,” Jimmy replied. “And why not? What’s the point in going on, otherwise? But I was having fun before all this too. There are other ways to have fun.”

Eli glanced over again, found Jimmy smirking. He turned and kept walking. He refrained from asking about those ‘other ways.’ He figured he had a good idea.
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Strompy
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Brandon glanced down the right hallway. Clear, though didn't know about the offices. He threw a nearby stapler down the right hallway, where it made a racket, getting the attention of the three rotters to the left. He pressed his back against the wall next to Glenda and waited for the rotters to pass as they investigated the noise. One passed. Two. Three. Brandon quickly glanced to the left make sure no more had filed out of any offices down there. Still just three.

Brandon moved on the rear most one. With somewhat practiced fluidity he came up behind it, placed his left hand to the side of its head and with his right drove his knife into its right temple. The rotter went instantly limp in that unsettling way they do and he controlled its fall so it made as little noise as possible keeping the otger two ignirant to hus and Glenda's approach.
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Is that so?
Nice move. Glenda silently commended Brandon's thinking with a nod of her head as the two of them sprung into action. Brandon's swift execution of the rotter in the back gave her a chance to sneak up on the other two. She grabbed the rotter by it's disgusting and disheveled mat of hair, and slipped the dagger between the skull and spinal column. The rotter let out a muffled groan, but little else as it went limp. As Glenda lowered the rotter slowly to the ground, Brandon took the lead again and dispatched of the final one.

They'd only been doing this for a few days together, but Glenda noted they felt like a well-oiled machine. They had successfully taken down three rotters without being noticed or saying a word.

"This place is pretty big." Glenda said quietly as she looked down the wide hallways.

A look through one of the nearby doors revealed they were near one of the skating rinks in the facility. Judging from the size of this place, they probably had several; the rink itself was huge and she could make out rotters struggling inside. They didn't notice her, so she closed the door and let them be. Another hallway branching off into its own dead end nearby housed a pair of locker rooms; one for men, one for women, even one for referees. This place was pretty serious if they had a changing room specifically for referees. Glenda had a feeling that nothing of interest would be in them and disregarded them. She glanced down the other direction; where she had originally seen the three rotters. It was dark, but there was just enough light for her to see it was meant less for public travel and more for workers. It was smaller with more nondescript doors. Maybe that was where they had storage rooms and generators.

She looked down at the rotters they had just killed. All three of them were wearing uniforms. Former employees of this place by the looks of it.

"I bet we can find the generator room down where these guys were standing." She informed Brandon while pointing a finger in that direction.

* * * * *

After dropping off Kelsey, Randall made his way towards the west gate.

From what Geraldine had said, most efforts were being focused on expanding the walls west to nearby Delaney Street. There were a lot of houses over there, they could effectively double the living space of the community and obtain a real clinic instead of a refashioned orthodontics office. Geraldine had seemed very excited about the project as she explained it. He was supposed to meet Ethan, who would fill him in on a lot of the detailed stuff.

The gate was swung open at the west gate; several of Spencer's guards stood watch with assault rifles in hand. A small group of people, presumably the construction workers, were working on moving the dead rotters in front of the gate that they had killed yesterday into a pile to dispose of properly. Randall noted a couple of familiar faces among the crowd; Marcus was helping Ajay pick up one specific rotter and place it on a medical gurney.

"What's going on here?" Randall inquired with a furled brow.

Marcus' eyes lit up as he saw Randall.

"Randall, man! Good to see ya! Helpin' the good doctor here with some of his research."

"Research?" Randall had an idea he knew where this was going as he eyes Ajay.

"Well, I figured that by dissecting the 'deadheads' I could learn something about them. Maybe figure out what causes the transformation from human into... this." He pointed at the dead woman on the gurney with his blue rubber gloves. "Haven't found out much yet, but if I can pinpoint the exact cause, then maaaaaybe we can figure out a way to stop it from happening all together."

"That sounds absolutely disgusting." Randall couldn't hide his distaste for the idea.

"You got no fuckin' idea man, that shit is nasty."

"I dissected bodies all the time in med school and-"

"Man, you puked the first time you cut one open. I was watchin'!"

"And that is why I had Jimmy find me a gas mask." Ajay explained. "I keep it in the clinic. Haven't puked since."

"Wait." Randall interrupted. "Where did Jimmy find a-?"

"Don't know, and it is prooobably best that way." Ajay answered the question before Randall could finish.

"Just don't tell me you used those same tools on Willow you use on the rotters."

"God no!" Ajay shot back. "I sterilize all of my tools obsessively, but once I use them on deadheads, they are only used on deadheads. Transmission is still so poorly understood that I wouldn't risk that. I have a special room in the back where everything stays and nothing leaves."

Randall let out a silent sigh of relief. If this cure was real, Ajay's research wouldn't even be necessary. But he wasn't about to tell him to stop the research and put all of his faith in the cure. In fact, Randall thought it would be good if they could find out more about the rotters. He just didn't want to be the one cutting them open. He was more than okay leaving that kind of job to Ajay.

"Any of you guys seen Ethan?" Randall changed the subject.

"Not yet. I wouldn't be surprised if he stopped by Annie's place first to see if he could creep on her some more." Ajay made an off-handed comment.

"Wait, Ethan is doing what!?"

"Oh, shiiit." Ajay groaned; he quickly started wheeling the rotter back towards the clinic. "Hey, look, you didn't hear that from me, okay?"

* * * * *

Maxwell found himself in an old storage container in the northeast corner of the lot, in an empty spot of land that had apparently never really been developed. Beyond the patch of trees that marked the end of the community, Maxwell knew the metal wall still stood.

Beside him, Julie and Jeff stood; all listening to a lanky man named Jim (in no way related to Jimmy the supply runner, he had assured them) and his assistant, a short, pudgy girl named Linda.

"You guys don't need to worry about counting all the food; it is already cataloged before it comes in here. We only store it in here until we can distribute it to the people. It turns out that distribution is a tricky beast. Take, for example, Annie's house. She houses herself and her son; so two mouths to feed. Meanwhile, the Ramirez family has Rosemary and Geraldo, their 3 children, and Rosemary's parents; 7 people. That is why knowing how many people live in each house is important."

Jim was explaining it to them; but Maxwell couldn't help but feel like he was treating them like children. His explanations were a little long winded and detailed when covering a topic that was fairly straightforward. Especially since they didn't even need to really know the information; he was just telling them for their benefit. Jim and Linda handled food distribution anyway and would have them doing most of the deliveries.

"Anyway..."

Jim finally sounded like he was wrapping everything up.

"We have most of these boxes prepacked already and have recorded exactly how many cans of food we will be distributing and to whom. So all I really need from you guys is to is just move the boxes for us. We have some industrial hand trucks that you guys can use to help you move them; they are all cans so you might want to be careful with them."

"So, what was the purpose of telling us the whole process if you were just going to tell us to move boxes for you at the end of the day anyway?" Maxwell asked with a forced smile. "I thought that we were going to be helping with the cataloging at least."

"Oh, is that so?" Jim scratched his head, evidently a little taken aback. "Well, I guess Geraldine did say something about that, but I figured I would just do all of the cataloging work myself ahead of time and make it a little easier for you guys. Then all I would need to do is explain it to you and let you have at it. The boxes are the easy part, even with your injuries. The hand trucks really do all the work!"

"Jim..." Linda sighed. "I think you may be an idiot."
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Strompy
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Brandon stopped to quickly go over the rotters. Hanging from one of their belts was a set of keys. Brandon pocketed them, as they could prove to be useful. He was quickly satisfied that these rotters had nothing else of value on them and got back to his feet. With a nod he signaled for Glenda to lead on.
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DoctorYerishi
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Dude, wake up! We've got a world to save.
Jeff gave Linda a sincere smile, happy that Jim was finally done his overlong explanation and that someone else had chastised him for it. He wasn’t annoyed as Maxwell seemed, though. Yeah, this would be boring, and yeah that explanation was boring – but like he said before, boring was fine right about now.

“No problem,” he declared, rubbing his hands together in an exaggerated motion. “I worked at a warehouse for a while. If you consider ‘a week’ a while, anyway. This’ll be just like riding a bike.”

* * *

Eli and Jimmy looked through the main doors to their left long enough to note that it led to the bleachers around an ice skating rink. Eli spotted a rotter a few levels down – he was stuck between two of the rows of seats and flailing his arms lazily and pointlessly, at a total loss for how to untangle himself.

Eli smirked a little at the sight. Jimmy did too, before he closed the door and kept leading the way down the hall. There were a few more door options. Jimmy stopped behind one then squared up with his spear. Eli then heard a low growl from behind it. He guessed Jimmy must have heard it first. Reluctantly, he was a little impressed.

“That one next,” Jimmy said with a nod.

Eli understood the cue, and he pulled the door open for him. He heard a louder growl and saw Jimmy lunge forward. By the time he stepped back, the blade of the spear was already through the forehead of a tall rotter.

Jimmy pushed it forward and released, letting the rotter collapse backwards with the spear still embedded. When it collapsed lifelessly on its back, Jimmy stepped forward, planting a foot on its chest as he tore the spear out.

“Looks like we make a good team after all,” Jimmy said as he produced his gore cloth again.

“Yeah, sure,” Eli said. He figured that arguing with him would just encourage a longer jokey speech.

He holstered his ka-bar and drew the AR15 from around his shoulders. Jimmy started to give him a quizzical look, but when he turned on the flashlight, he seemed to get it. This far in the building the sun didn’t reach. It might as well have been the dead of night.

“I’ve got your back,” Eli said, illuminating the doorway.

Jimmy grinned. “I was hoping you’d say something like that.”

Eli rolled his eyes and waited for him to lead the way. He did, and Eli shined the light over his shoulder. The AR15 didn’t have a lot of ammo left – after blowing most of it up to distract the border guards, there wasn’t much left besides what was in the magazine – but he didn’t plan on firing it anyway, not unless as a last resort.

There was a rumbling murmur as their footsteps echoed through the hall they were entering. It looked like a meeting place, with chairs folded along the walls and a small stage at the back.

“There’s two of them,” Jimmy said – which again, impressive, if it was true.

“There’s one,” Eli said, finding it with his light. It was ambling towards the two of them with its arms at its side.

Jimmy pulled back and then lunged forward, stabbing it through the face like he did the last one.

“There’s two,” Eli said quickly, identifying the other one coming from the opposite side.

Jimmy didn’t have a lot of time, but he didn’t need it. His fingers climbed the length of the pole, and when he was close enough a second later, he kicked the dead rotter off his blade. Then he turned and stabbed upward at the coming one – getting it under its chin. He clearly went in far enough, because it froze in place and Eli could see the legs go limp under it.

Eli then saw Jimmy’s arms strain as he held the dead rotter up by its head. He stepped in, releasing his AR15 back around his shoulder and using both hands to drag the rotter’s head off the length of blade.

“Seriously,” Jimmy said when he was cleaning up again. “We..”

“…make a good team,” Eli finished for it. “I heard you.”

He wasn’t ready to go that far – they had only killed three rotters together total, they made an adequate team at best – but he did have to admit to himself that Jimmy knew what he was doing. He was good with that spear, and it was at least a little interesting to watch him work.

Of course, he didn’t admit that to Jimmy. The guy’s ego did not need the boost.

He looked around, ready to move on. The only door besides the one they came through was a fire exit, and Eli doubted that led to the standby generators.

“Looks like a dead end,” he said.

“Looks like,” Jimmy agreed. “I saw the sign for the loading bay outside. I don’t think it’s going to be us that finds the generators.”

Eli could barely see him in the dark. Now that his rifle was pointing at the floor, it was really only illuminating a square foot around him. He adopted a sceptical look that Jimmy probably couldn’t make out either.

“Why do you sound so… not surprised?” Eli asked.

He heard a foot fall, and then thought he could make out a shrugging motion. “I’ve searched through a few places like this before,” Jimmy admitted. “I wasn’t sure, but I had a feeling the utility room would be the other way.”

Eli’s sceptical expression didn’t go away. “So why did we go this way?”

“Like I said, I wasn’t sure.” Jimmy’s voice emerged from the darkness. Eli turned a little to face the direction it was coming from. “I just had a feeling.”
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"Well, uh..." Jim seemed a little taken aback.

Maxwell could see that Jim had given up on trying to salvage his pride. He was not annoyed at the fact they did not get to learn how to catalog; if anything he was grateful. It was slow and tedious work and he was actually glad that Jim had done it. But the fact Jim was still coming across as incompetent was the annoying part. His orders were oh so simple. Perhaps he was one of those savant types; brilliant at cataloging and organization and terrible at everything else. It would explain why he would be in charge of cataloging and distribution of food.

"Look. You guys just get an easy day today, okay? I wrote house numbers on these boxes and split our food from yesterday between them according to how many people we have living in each house. All you guys gotta do is deliver them for me, okay? I mean, it isn't hard."

"Alright, alright... just how do you expect us to move these boxes around?" Maxwell inquired.

"Well, I mean... Linda and I can help you guys get them on the wagons and-"

"I think what Jim is try to say..." Linda cut him off as gently as she could. "Is that you guys can use your imagination. We don't like to use the cars, since gasoline concerns and all. Historically, we just used wagons and hand trucks to deliver boxes to houses the old fashioned way. It is a little bit for work and kind of inefficient, but we aren't sacrificing any gasoline or resources to do it."

"Why not just split and distribute the food before driving it all the way to the back of the encampment?" Maxwell asked.

"We do keep some of the food back here as reserves. It is really just for the sake of organization and keeping it somewhere out of the way."

"Fair enough." Maxwell sighed. "Might as well get it over with."

Maxwell jumped out of the box and grabbed the handle of a wagon that had a few boxes on it. Pulling it wasn't the easiest thing in the world for him, but it had wheels and it moved. And, best of all, it would keep him busy for a while. Busy was good.

* * * * *

It didn't take long for Glenda and Brandon to find the generator room; although she had to take a flashlight off one of the guards to help her see this far in. It was a rather large room; a pair of generators standing vigil in the center of it with a variety of boxes and canisters nearby. A couple of them were labelled 'fuel'. A few mostly eaten bodies laid on the floor; definitely not alive or undead. The only living rotter was on the ground by one of the dead bodies; it's stomach so engorged on human flesh that it had literally burst, leaving the rotter incapacitated, even as it snarled at them like an angry animal, doubly so when she pointed the flashlight directly at it.

She handed the flashlight to Brandon while Glenda executed the helpless rotter by driving her dagger through its temple and wiping the gore off on its shirt.

Unfortunately, the generators were empty. It looked like they had been on at some point, but the fuel had run out and left them inoperable. No matter how she played with the controls, the meter was stuck at empty.

"Well, this sucks." Glenda sighed. "Give me some light on the fuel cans over there."

Brandon kept the area around her illuminated while she emptied all of the fuel cans she could find into the generators. Unfortunately, most of the cans were empty and she was left with what flt like just enough to keep these big machines running for a short time. But they didn't need to stay on long, just long enough for them to get out. She emptied the few cans of gas in then was guided by Brandon's flashlight back to the controls. The needle was still near empty, but she was able to somehow locate the ignition sequence on the generators. They hummed to life and the lights in the facility started turning back on.

"I have no idea what I just did." Glenda acknowledged. "But I found the right button. Let's go while we have the time."
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DoctorYerishi
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Eli narrowed his eyes. He heard another footstep, not in the direction he was looking. He turned just in time to feel his personal space being invaded. Jimmy was close – too close, suddenly – and he leaned into him.

The smell of dead rotters battled with the scent of the aftershave on his neck – which Eli was just noticing now.

It was sudden, and Eli felt more shock than anything else. He shoved both hands forward, pushing Jimmy back, breaking the contact.

Jimmy tilted his head a little more, gave Eli a curious look. Eli gave him a confused one back. The confusion quickly morphed into conflict. It was never offence, though.

He thought about Julie, but that fact alone bugged him. He and Julie weren’t a thing. There were no strings there. She wasn’t his type. He didn’t have a type. He forced the conflict from his expression.

Jimmy must have took note, because he leaned forward again without warning. This time, Eli didn’t push him away.

A moment later, there was a rumble overhead, a loud and sustained beeping sound from some unknown appliance, and the room was bathed with light. Glenda and Brandon had clearly found the generator.

Eli and Jimmy broke away simultaneously.

Eli blinked. “You saw the bay door?”

“Mmhm,” Jimmy replied. His smile was back – it might have looked a little more devious, or that could just be Eli’s imagination.

“Then let’s go,” Eli said. He moved first, heading back the way they came.

Outside, Jimmy pointed the way and Eli tensed up again, his situational awareness coming back to him in a flood. He kept a close eye out for rotters as they made their way to the door.

“It's locked,” Jimmy declared after trying to open it up.

"Great," Eli remarked. "Another delay?"
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"Sick." Brandon commented, clicking the flashlight off and tossing it back to Glenda.

He sighed as he spun his knife in his hand idly. They could get back to what they came out here to do. Despite Jimmy's apparent optimism about his friends Brandon's experience told him it was something to worry about. They could all likely be rotter chow, or it could be something worse. He'd had enough of the worse option the first time it happened, when it got Mac killed.

"Break's over I guess. Let's go rescue Eli." he said unenthusiastically.

...

Julie wasn't much help in carrying anything, or lifting anything. But she could wheel the hand truck around just fine so she made that minor task hers. It was boring work and that was welcome, but her mind was a little too active and it was threatening to upset her.

"When I wake up in the mornin', love. And the sunlight hurts my eyes. And somethin' without warnin', love. Bears heavy on my mind. Then I look at you..." she began singing to distract herself.
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Glenda slipped the flashlight away; they might need it later. There was no shortage of dark buildings that they would need one in. And this one was pretty heavy, it practically doubled as a blunt instrument.

"You sound like you wish you'd signed up with the construction crews instead." She commented.

With the lights now on, navigating the place was fairly easy. The hallways were mostly wide; lined with a variety of storefronts and locales -- Glenda could see it being a very festive and crowded locale on a busy night. It was hard to find hockey stadiums quite like these around that weren't professional stadiums. Some of the rotters had awoken from the sudden change, but none of them were able to get in Brandon and Glenda's way; they were trapped behind doors or incapacitated in corners. Eli and Jimmy had already cleared the path for them and all they had to do was follow the trail of freshly dead rotters starting at the split in the front reception office. In no time at all, Glenda and Brandon arrived in the loading room.

"Something wrong?" She asked when she noticed the bay door was closed and both of them were standing at it. "Don't tell me it's locked?"
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Eli was relieved by their quick arrival. He was about to respond to Glenda’s query, but Jimmy got there first.

“Then we'll have to talk about something else,” he said, then gestured above at the lights. “Good work with this, by the way. You guys are champs.”
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"Would one of these help?" Brandon asked holding up the keys he looted.

He really hoped there was a key for this on there, otherwise they just wasted good daylight for nothing.
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“You know, they just might,” Jimmy said.

He gave Brandon a grateful smile as he snatched up the keys and started glancing between them and the lock, while feeling around for what looked like the right one. It took him a couple tries, but he finally found one that turned in the lock.

“Winner, winner,” he said.

He took a step back and drew his spear again. He nodded to Eli, who got the message and opened the door again, like he had several minutes ago.

This time, there were no immediate deadheads to strike down. There were two in the bay, though. They looked up from their aimless wandering when the door opened. The nearest one – once a middle-aged man, still in a trim sweater – was only a few strides away.

Jimmy took one stride to meet it, and then slashed – his blade dug into its scalp and it fell where it stood.

The other rotter was standing further back, and wore a polo shirt displaying the same logo as the one on the truck. It was already missing a good chunk of its neck. Jimmy pieced together his story in his head – he must have come here to make a delivery, met the other guy, and then never left.

Jimmy saw the opportunity to show off again – something he’d been perfecting over the last eight or nine days in particular. He had even been practicing during his off hours at home.

He grabbed the wood of the spear in one hand, pulled back, then threw it forward like a javelin. He hit the rotter in the upper chest. Damn. He needed to get a little bit higher if he wanted a killing shot.

This close,” he said jovially.

The force still knocked the creature over, though, and Eli stepped in with an “I got it.” He drew his knife and cleared the distance quickly, ending the rotter before it could climb back up. Jimmy strolled over after to retrieve his spear.

After he did, he set the weapon aside and started checking through pockets on his pants. Nothing in the two front ones. He flipped the body over, and then hit pay dirt with the pocket in the back.

“Here we are,” he said, holding up a set of keys for everyone to see. “Now Glenda, dear, if you could just hit that button to your left. The one on the wall.”

When she did, the bay door started to rise, letting the early day sunshine in. Jimmy smiled as he felt the warmth on his jacket, then moved to the back of the truck. He used his newfound keys to unlock the back, then grunted with the effort it took to open it up. Once it was open, though, he smiled and raised his arms in celebration at the result.

The truck was full of food. Not healthy food, granted – there was kettle corn, salted pretzels, cheese curls, tortilla chips, pork rinds, potato chips of many flavours – but definitely edible. Maybe even tasty. There were a lot of people back at Flint who’d be grateful for this bounty, and he would definitely reap the rewards.

He looked back at the people who’d assisted him with this discovery.

“Ladies and gentleman – victory,” he declared.
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Is that so?
Glenda nodded her approval; this certainly was a haul.

"May not be healthy, but thank God for junk food. The apocalypse couldn't make this stuff go bad."

Until society could be rebuilt, food with a long shelf life was the best anyone could ask for. With all the work they were doing, there was little chance of most people back in Flint getting fat off potato chips. Not bad for a 15 minute detour. Still, there was one question in Glenda's mind now.

"So, are we just driving this truck over to the Home Depot with us?" She quickly asked. "Or is someone delivering this back to Flint while the rest of us go?"
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