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| Dead Men Walking | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Nov 28 2014, 02:20 AM (70,993 Views) | |
| Make-7-Up-Yours | Apr 28 2015, 01:15 PM Post #1246 |
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Is that so?
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"You... lie..." Ethan coughed up a spattering of blood. No wonder it was getting harder to breathe. He took at least one shot to a lung, but he suspected more. It didn't really matter. He could feel himself bleeding out regardless. He couldn't flip over and elevate the wounds, he didn't have the strength. And even if he did, this woman wouldn't help him. He could feel his eyelids growing heavy. There was no reason to fight the exhaustion he felt gripping his body. "I did... everything... for... you..." As he let his eyes close, consciousness slipped away and the pain he was in faded into nothingness. * * * * * While the nearby explosions had rattled her pretty good, she stayed low and Julie and Jeff's gunfire apparently worked because there were no more immediate gunshots from that direction. In fact, after the last explosion at the gate and the four other gunshots farther off, she had heard nothing more. She agreed with Julie that the fire needed to be taken care of, but her body didn't cooperate. "Yeah... fire..." Willow groaned. "Maybe later." With the immediate threat taken care of, she sat down and leaned her back against the fence she had been using as cover. Her chest was burning, her leg was screaming at her, and she felt nauseated from overexertion. She just wanted to sit down and rest for a few minutes. They'd be okay for a few minutes without her. * * * * * "Mother... fuckers..." Marcus fell onto his knees when everything else was silent. Ajay didn't have the heart to tell him about Candice. He couldn't do that. Not right now. He didn't know if there even would be a good time to tell him. He had lost more than just about anyone here. "I think... I think we won..." He finally told Jeff. Then the first rotter appeared stumbling through the now blown open gate. * * * * * The radio that Randall had taken off Garret's body buzzed to life. Randall stopped Emmett so they could both listen to what was being said. "I know you can hear me. You win. Most of these idiots are dead and my grudge here isn't worth my life." The voice told him sternly. "However, you may want to examine your junkyard. I left something there for you. Cory out." * * * * * "That... fucker..." Maxwell groaned. Those four shots had effectively kneecapped him. Two in each leg. He could only lay on the ground and writhe in pain; he couldn't walk or call to others for help. He just had to sit here and hope that someone found him. It hurt like hell, but he gritted his teeth and bore with it. He would survive this shit too. "This is yours." Cory dropped Maxwell's pistol on the ground nearby after he had shot him. Maxwell was cursing him at this point, but Cory didn't seem to care. He was straight-faced as always. "I left one bullet in it. What you do with it is up to you." And then he had left. Maxwell didn't know where he had left to, but he didn't give a shit. Nobody else knew anything that he had done, so he was still okay. As long as someone found him, he would be able to get one of the doctors to help and he would be as good as new! It didn't matter! Just because Cory and his band of misfits had turned out to be a bust didn't mean there weren't other ways to win. He just couldn't rely on shitty help anymore. Finally, he reached the pistol after dragging himself there. He didn't have time to process anything; he saw Brandon, Glenda, and that black woman guard enter the lot. He hid his Glock at his side and waved them down. |
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| DoctorYerishi | Apr 28 2015, 03:09 PM Post #1247 |
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Dude, wake up! We've got a world to save.
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Eli and Emmett both came to a stop when Randall waved them down. They returned to his side and listened to the tail end of the radio message. When it was done, Eli looked up at both of them, alarm on his face. There was no way that something was good. He tried to brace himself for bad news. “There were some shots coming from that direction,” Emmett said. Eli nodded and kept his Supergrade ready. “Let’s go.” * * * “Jesus Christ, this is winning!?” Jeff cursed when he looked up to see a rotter ambling through the wreckage of the gate. In all the chaos, he hadn’t even considered what kind of sound net they’d be casting for rotters. A big ass one, obviously. Who knew how many had just been drawn to their front door? Just 10? What about 50? How about 100? A couple more rotters appeared shambling behind the first one, but gave no hint to their ultimate number. Darkness obscured and Jeff wasn’t great at guessing by sound. He raised his Ruger, and remembered Brandon’s tips as best he could. He started firing. BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! On the third shot, he nailed the first rotter above its eyebrow, sending it falling backwards for good. Jeff hadn’t been counting, but he was now suddenly very conscious of how little ammo he must have left. “Jules!” he called out to her. “We’re gonna need some more help here, too! Marcus, buddy, get up!” * * * Annie sat and watched as Ethan slipped away. She didn’t move from her seat, and she kept her pistol aimed at his forehead. She waited. She wanted to see what happened next, and she wanted to deal with it herself. It was experience she knew she needed, and it was a fate no worse than Ethan deserved. He was still for a long time – longer than Annie expected. Her attention didn’t waver, though, and her arm didn’t tire. She stayed focused on his head, hanging low from his body, drooling blood from his mouth. Finally, his eyes opened, but there was no life in them. He looked up at her with a slack jaw and let out a low, all-too-familiar groan. There was no recognition in his new gaze. Only hunger. Annie placed her other hand on the pistol, steadying it. Ethan lurched forward from his slumped position. BANG! Ethan’s head snapped back and his brains splattered against the wall. |
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| Strompy | Apr 28 2015, 07:04 PM Post #1248 |
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More posts, more Busey.
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"Get that truck and park it across the gate, we'll keep them back." Julie instructed one of the residents that had come out of hiding as she awkwardly loaded a new mag. The portly middle aged fellow trotted off towards Jimmy's truck with surprising readiness. The kick on the bigger caliber wasn't what she was used to and her smaller hands made it even more awkward to fire. She forced herself to remain calm though and squeezed off every shot as carefully as possible. Her shot hit the rotter in the face. "You... cunt." she muttered under her breath and tried again, this time braining the shambling corpse. "Jeff, you have two hands pick up a shotgun." she instructed, even ordered a little. Down the street there were cries of people attempting to do something about the blaze. Attacking it with garden hoses and buckets of water. The house that got set alight was done for, but they could still contain the blaze. Julie didn't like what she was about to say but desperation overrode decorum. "Marcus, your sister's legacy is burning. Is there a proper fire hose or something we can use?" she asked bluntly. ... "Max!" Brandon exclaimed in alarm as he came running. His legs were shot to pieces. Brandon didn't like the look of it. Those bullets could have tore arteries and major vains. Max was bleeding profusely. Shot in the legs and left to die, this should have been their fate. Unlike them though, Max had friends. They had to get him to the clinic, they had to find Annie and Ajay. Even if they saved Max's life, they might not be able to save his legs, and even if they did he'd never walk the same again. "What are doing here? What happened?" he asked, placing his rifle down and tearing open the legs on Max's pants to see the damage better. |
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| Make-7-Up-Yours | Apr 28 2015, 07:29 PM Post #1249 |
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Is that so?
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Marcus slowly pushed himself back to his feet. There were still people alive. Candice might still be alive. He had to keep himself composed. There would be time to mourn Geraldine properly later. This woman, Julie, was right. Even is Geraldine couldn't be saved, her legacy could. And even if that was destined to burn down too, then at least these people would have a chance. "We don't got any fire hydrants, there's no way to get enough water out there to-" Marcus stopped. "No, there is one! I forgot!" He always worked and lived near the front of the community, he had almost forgotten about the one fire hydrant in the back corner! It was far from the fire, but he remembered Geraldine putting in a request for a fire hose a few weeks back so they could have one in case they needed it! If memory served, Geraldine kept the hose right by the hydrant. "There's a fuckin' fire hose at the end of Carnation! I'll help hold these fuckers off! Go! You too, Ajay!" * * * * * "Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Ajay scrambled backwards as the deadheads started marching through the front gate. He held the M9 tightly. He aimed it at the deadhead, but he couldn't bring his finger to pull the trigger. It wouldn't listen to him. If there was ever a time to learn how to shoot a gun, this was it! But he wasn't someone who could just learn on the fly like this! He froze up! He couldn't do it! There are too many! We don't have enough bullets for this! But we can't let them in here! His mind raced with thoughts about their inevitable demise. Sure, they had managed to ward off some band of brigands, but now they were going to die to deadheads! He wasn't sure which was worse! The others had already joined the defense, doing their best to shoot them down as they came through. But there were so many of them! The gunshots and explosions must have lured them here for miles! Oh God! "AJAY!" Marcus' scream broke him out of his self-induced panic. "Go help Julie with the fire hose! NOW! We got someone on the way with a fuckin' car to block this shit off. Go get the fires under control!" * * * * * "That asshole Cory... I caught him out here and he shot me!" Maxwell started explaining to Brandon. Jen kept her eyes peeled. Whoever had done this to Maxwell, presumably this Cory guy, could still be nearby. She scanned the nearby trees and hills as best she could, but it was simply too dark to make anything out. With her dark skin and dark clothing though, she assumed herself a difficult target to get a lock on. But she still stayed out of spaces that seemed too wide open. The second she heard gunfire, she wanted to be behind cover. She wanted to keep herself safe. The exertion from tonight alone had caused her calf to start bleeding again. She could feel the warmth of her blood running down her leg, but she ignored it. It wasn't life threatening. She could have Ajay or Annie patch it back up after all of this. Because of her vigilance on everything except Maxwell's crippled form on the ground, she was the first to see it. It being a piece of paper pinned to the top of an old stool with a butterfly knife. Curiously, she made her way over pocketed the butterfly knife, and looked at the piece of paper. The paper was written in a distinctive handwriting: I represent the group that just barged through your front door. My name is not important, what is important is that you and I share a cause. My group is on its way to a settlement in Flint, Michigan and they are in possession of a cure that can stop the pandemic that sweeps the globe. For people like you and I, that represents a problem. This is our world now and they want to take that from us. I cannot force you to act, but know that if this cure is real, order will return to the world. -The Butcher of London (M.E.) PS: The settlement has walls and a lot of supplies ripe for the taking, so I hear. "What's that?" Glenda asked her. "I... don't know..." Jen handed to paper over. The implications of what the note said was that this band of thieves had been lured here. But... it couldn't have been by this man? Could it? She glanced over at Glenda. Her eyes lit up and Jen swore she saw her nostrils begin to flare. She took a step back. Glenda looked scary. Over her shoulder, she saw a few others arrive at the scrapyard; Emmett, Eli, and Randall. She waved them over with a sense of urgency. "Brandon. Get away from him." Glenda commanded sharply. "Wh-what are you talking about!?" Maxwell stopped his story to stammer and look at Glenda. "I need a proper doctor here!" She held the piece of paper out for Brandon to look at; "I know this handwriting. This is Maxwell's. I saw it in his notebook. It all makes sense now. The reason those guys are the bridge were able to find us. What happened to Alex's group outside the walls. It's because they were told about this place!" Jen looked down at Maxwell. His face had gone pale with realization and his eyes widened in a sort of unbridled terror. She could tell from his face; it was true... it was actually true. Jen's jaw dropped, her hand started to shake. It was... it was all his fault. This crippled man on the ground. He brought them here. She wanted to shoot him. But she didn't. He was crippled. He was helpless. He... He was holding a pistol! In one swift movement, he pulled a handgun out from behind him. He pointed it at Glenda. Jen froze in shock. She wanted to move, but everything felt like it was moving too fast! BLAM! A spray of blood burst out of the side of Glenda's head. For only a moment that seemed frozen in space, she stood upright as it nothing had happened. Then she fell. She hit the ground like a rag doll with blood seeping out of the hole through her head. Before anyone else could respond, Maxwell pointed the gun at Brandon; his eyes a mix of fear and desperation. Click. There was a pause. Click. Click. Click. The gun was empty. Maxwell began to scramble away. "No! No! No! No! No!" He begged. |
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| Strompy | Apr 28 2015, 08:12 PM Post #1250 |
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More posts, more Busey.
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Brandon didn't move for what seemed like quite a few moments. He simply stood, looking down at Glenda. His body began to tremble as the depth of this betrayal began to dawn on him. His hair stood on end. Pure rage pulsed through his body as he turned to look at Max. He let out a furious cry of outrage and grief and advanced on the traitor, stepping on the back of his leg. He bent down and grabbed Max by the ankle, all his senses dulled save for Max's satisfying cries as Brandon began to violently drag him towards the east gate. He was responsible for all of this suffering. The scope of his evil was incomprehensible, but all Brandon could think about was Glenda. She'd been there right from start. They'd had each other's back this whole time and now she was gone. Willow. Randall. Kelsey. This would hurt them even more. He blinked hard and his vision was blurred from bitter angry tears. "You want your world, Max!? I'll give you your world!" Brandon snarled. ... Julie and Ajay ran towards Carnation, a couple residents in tow. As they ran Julie stopped to put down a rotter. The guys theu'd killed were turning. The last thing they needed was for rotters to start eating the people fighting the blaze. She'd be their defense. "Ajay, you and the others keep going! These bodies are starting to turn I have to take them out!" she yelled over the noise. She strode up next to a rotter as it pulled itself up to its knees and put a bullet in its head |
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| DoctorYerishi | Apr 28 2015, 09:49 PM Post #1251 |
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Dude, wake up! We've got a world to save.
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Jeff registered Julie’s words before she left him alone with Marcus and the few guards remaining. He fired a few more rounds from his Ruger before he heard a click, and had no choice but to comply with them. One of the dead guards – killed during the firefight earlier, by a shot to the head – had dropped a pump shotgun at his feet. Jeff picked it up and aimed it towards the gate. He squeezed the trigger. The recoil almost made him drop it. More rotters were filtering through. Their numbers were quickly becoming unmanageable. * * * As Eli arrived at the junkyard, he considered the situation. It was apparent now these were the same people they had ducked at the border. Remarkably, they were the second gang of assholes they ran into that day. If only they made them suffer the same fate as the first. Maybe Flint wouldn’t be on fire right now. Then Maxwell made his move, and all thoughts of maybe evaporated. They were replaced wholly by thoughts of rage. He watched Brandon move first as if from another set of eyes. He was unfeeling and unmoving. For too long, he couldn’t even think of Glenda. All he could see was red. He enjoyed Maxwell’s scream, though, when Brandon stepped on his leg. But when Brandon started to drag him away, his vision cleared. What was he doing? Dragging him to the rotters? Eli asked himself. It’s not enough. Fury had obliterated his grief. He marched forward and locked onto Maxwell’s lanky crippled form. With both hands, he shoved Brandon off of him – then planted his foot in the back of Maxwell’s knee. He was rewarded by the scream of pain he wanted. He stepped off long enough to unleash his own scream, his from rage, as he flipped Maxwell over with his foot. Then he kicked him in the head. His boot collided with the bridge of his nose, smashing cartilage. He kicked him again, then again, then again. He pummelled his shattered nose, mashing it bloody against his face. He heard his cheekbone crack. He planted his heel into his eye, caving it into his skull. Finally, panting from the effort, Eli stopped. He pointed his Supergrade at the ground, where Maxwell lay. Eli was taking ragged breaths and his eyes were wild when he looked over to the others. First to Brandon. Then to Emmett. The big man looked up at him with narrowed and grim eyes of his own. He was leaning over Glenda’s limp body. For a moment, Eli expected him to object, like back at the bridge. Instead, Emmett nodded. Eli blinked, then looked to Randall. |
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| Make-7-Up-Yours | Apr 28 2015, 10:00 PM Post #1252 |
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Is that so?
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The single gunshot made Randall's heart stop in his chest. As he watched Glenda fall to the ground, the paralysis and shock he felt made him feel like he had been the one that was just shot. He realized that Maxwell had been the one to pull the trigger; Randall didn't know why he did or what had happened. And under any other circumstance, he would be the first one to shoot Maxwell in retaliation. But Brandon was already on the case. He had pounced on Maxwell faster than anyone else. Somewhere between grief and rage, Randall lost the strength in his legs; he fell to his knees with tears welling in the corners of his eyes. He wanted to go see Glenda. He wanted to now if she was okay. But that was just him tricking himself. He already knew the answer to that question. He was just afraid to see the answer for himself. That is why he didn't move. The solemn look on Emmett's face confirmed the answer he already knew. It was like he was feeling Elaine's death all over again; except this one was much more sudden. He didn't even have time to get his thoughts together and process what was actually happening. When Eli met his gaze, Randall didn't have the voice to say anything. Make him suffer. Kill him slow. The thoughts were there, but he couldn't make his voice work. He couldn't make the words. So he did the only thing he could do; he nodded his approval of whatever action Eli wanted to take. * * * * * Ajay found the hose that Marcus had been talking about. Although they were probably long dead, Ajay wanted to punch the moron that had set this system up. Only one fire hydrant in the entire court and it was at the opposite end of it. It was probably just laziness since it was closest to the reservoir on this end. As Marcus had said, the fire hose was already hooked up to the hydrant in the event it was needed. Geraldine really had thought of everything, hadn't she? "Help me with the hose!" Ajay tried rallying the scared band of people along with him. He grabbed the front of the hose and the volunteers grabbed lengths of hose behind that. In a line, they managed to pull the long length of hose towards the fires, where they found Julie had just about finished putting down the skinhead deadheads. As he approached the fire, someone turned on the water and the hose came to life in his hands. All he had to do now was pretend to be a firefighter and put out the fires. Which turned out to not be as easy as he had anticipated it would be. * * * * * More gunshots? The fight isn't over yet? Willow groaned loudly. She had jumped up and gone to work quickly after the gunfire started, but had gotten worn out more quickly than she thought. Blood. It must be because of all the blood she lost. She probably needed a few more days of rest before she could do something like this. But she didn't have a few more days, she had now. Willow mustered her resolve and pulled herself back to a standing position. She felt nauseous, but she swallowed the feeling as best she could. Julie and Jeff had gone elsewhere, leaving her undefended. Did they leave? She didn't remember. All she was focused on now was making her way to the east gate. It sounded like there were rotters over there. She could hear familiar voices. She found the eastern gate twisted and broken. Rotters were trying to get in, but Jeff, Marcus, and a couple of still standing guards were laying down a line of fire at the gate. They were holding the line. The rotters were dying, they were piling up, but they kept coming through. Her Gunsite was too big and cumbersome for this many rotters at this range. So she slung the rifle on her back and hobbled closer to the others. She leaned herself against the armory, lifted the FNP Brandon had given to her, and started shooting alongside the others. It wasn't much, but this was her contribution. She had been shooting for only a few moments when she heard a truck come driving down the street from behind her. It dodged around the defensive line of shooters and ran over the corpses of the fallen in its single minded pursuit towards the gate. The truck got close to the southern wall before it hooked a left and skid into place, blocking off the gate with its bulk. "Whoa... nice." Willow applauded the sick driving. The rotters that had been unfortunate enough to be trapped on the inside of the gate after the truck blocked off the entrance were quickly cut down. |
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| DoctorYerishi | Apr 28 2015, 10:36 PM Post #1253 |
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Dude, wake up! We've got a world to save.
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Jeff had emptied the shotgun and taken down a couple more rotters by the time the truck skidded into place, blocking off the entrance and stemming the tide. Once it did, he dropped the gun. Now that he could focus, he found he was shaking from the nerves. He leaned over and ran both through his face, trying to calm down. “Ho… holy shit,” he panted. “I think we actually did it…” * * * Eli looked from Randall to Maxwell – the latter’s face was damaged beyond recognition. He aimed his Supergrade away from it, and towards his right shoulder. BANG! BANG! He shot him twice there, then aimed for the left one. BANG! BANG! Maxwell was totally paralyzed now. Eli moved onto his gut. BANG! He fired once, then heard his Supergrade click. Blood had started bubbling up from each of Maxwell’s appendages. His whole body was getting stained red. Calmly, Eli replaced the magazine with the spare one he kept on his belt. When he clicked it into place, he waited a moment before finally aiming once again at Maxwell’s head. For once, his motivation wasn’t muddied by doubt and moral hesitation. He squeezed the trigger, and blood and brain and bone erupted from Maxwell’s skull. It was done. |
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| Strompy | Apr 29 2015, 01:17 AM Post #1254 |
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More posts, more Busey.
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Part of Brandon was glad to see Eli take over. As much as he wanted Max to suffer he didn't know if he could bring himself to do it. He watched with satisfaction as Eli punished him. When this was done, they'd throw all of these bastards bodies out to the hungry dead outside, including Maxwell's. There was still so much anger. That man stitched him up twice. He took care of Randall's arm. Even stitched up Willow at the pharmacy which gave her enough time to make it to Flint. He fought beside him, and the whole time he was plotting to kill them and destroy the last hope any of them had. How could somebody so evil earn his trust? He was part of the group, Brandon would have done anything for him. He felt like a gullible idiot. He knelt down next to Glenda's body. At least it wasn't painful. She didn't suffer. Shallow comfort. He placed her hands across her chest and closed her eyes. Brandon cleared his throat and fought to keep a shred of composure. How the hell was he going to explain this to Willow? Willow. Where was she? Was she okay? Now that the adrenaline was wearing off as the fighting died down and the residents were taking back their town, worry hit him like a truck. Painfully he got to his feet, clutching his wound and started off again towards her last location. "W-Willow? Willow?" he called out as he approached. ... "I think you're supposed to aim at the base of the fire! Actually, there isn't really a base it's kind of just everywhere so ignore that." Julie yelled over the roar of the flames and the sound of the water jet Ajay and the others were wrangling. Kind of rude, she reflected. They weren't telling her how to kill rotters. Which she was just about done with. The last one she didn't even realize was a rotter. Poor son of a bitch was broken in all kinds of ways. His arms and legs were all pointing in the wrong directions and it was completely incapable of moving itself. She didn't waste a bullet on that one and instead finished it with her kukri. "Who did you piss off?" she asked. |
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| Make-7-Up-Yours | Apr 29 2015, 01:44 AM Post #1255 |
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Is that so?
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Randall watched from the sidelines as Maxwell was beaten, kicked, shot, and finally killed by Eli. It was brutal. It was disgusting. It was like seeing a man turn inside out from abuse. Beaten until he was a no longer recognizable lump of human flesh. Yet Randall didn't care. He felt no pity, no remorse. All he felt was sorrow. Deep down, he knew it was his fault. It was he who had initially vouched for Maxwell. It was he who had so openly believed what he said, despite the obvious holes in his story. Obvious now in hindsight. If Randall had simply shot him that day, then maybe this could have been avoided. Maybe Glenda wouldn't have had to die. Maybe everyone here wouldn't have died. He made his way over to her body and sat over it. He looked down at her. She was dead. Her eyes had been closed, but blood still seeped from the hole in her head where Maxwell had shot her. Her chest lay still, no longer breathing. She had paid the cost for his mistake. The pain that gripped his heart was different from when Elaine died, but no less painful. He had fought alongside her for a long time. She was always taciturn and blunt, but she cared more than she let on. She would fight and die for any of them. She was tough and she was someone Randall though they needed. This... this wasn't the death she deserved. To be blind-sighted by a traitor. A wolf among the sheep. A wolf that he had let in through the front door. You can't trust anyone out there. They could all be like Maxwell. Randall remembered what Maxwell had always said about evolving and adapting. He disagreed, but he didn't realize until now how dangerous a philosophy that truly was. He was essentially admitting to everyone how he had done the same thing. He really could trust no one. Not anymore. As these thoughts possessed his mind, the tears flowed freely from his eyes. * * * * * "Yeah, I think I figured that out!" Ajay called back. "I'm a doctor, not a firefighter!" It took him a few tries, but now he was learning how to aim this thing. And where to aim to control the fires better. Although he never thought med school would leave him unqualified to aim a fire hose. Any other type of hose and he had it down though. * * * * * Willow sat down at the steps to the armory. Nearby, she could hear and see the rotters clambering outside the wall and behind the truck. But they couldn't find a way past it. So she could only look at them. She wanted to move. She wanted to go somewhere else where she wouldn't have to look at those things. She wanted to go somewhere she could hug Brandon. Be alone with him. Have him do the thing with his mouth again. But right now, she could barely even move. She felt like every limb in her body weighed 50 pounds, but her head was filled with air. She felt like breathing was difficult. What she really wanted right now was to crawl into a warm bed and pretend like this, all of this, had never happened. She wanted to sleep off this fatigue that gripped her and then wake up and deal with the aftermath. But she wouldn't be able to do that until she saw Brandon. Made sure he was okay. And before she could do that, she needed to rest a few more minutes. |
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| DoctorYerishi | Apr 29 2015, 02:42 AM Post #1256 |
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Dude, wake up! We've got a world to save.
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Eli stared at Maxwell’s gory remains. It was done, he told himself for the tenth time. He still couldn’t bring himself to believe it. If it’s really done, then Glenda… He turned and watched Randall watching her. She wasn’t getting up. She was never getting up. He wanted Maxwell to come back to life so he could shoot him again. Instead, Randall started crying. Eli wanted to join him – there would be some catharsis in that – but he couldn’t. The fire in his heart still burned too hot. It wouldn’t go out. He fell to his knees a few feet from Maxwell’s blood-soaked and bullet-riddled corpse. He fell from his knees to his back, and held his fists – one of them still clutching his gun – to the side of his head. In his mind, he cursed Maxwell with the most hateful thoughts he could summon. He cursed himself just as harshly for not seeing it coming, for not doing anything to stop it. The curses just kept going on a loop. * * * Jeff pushed himself off his knees when he heard Brandon approaching, calling Willow’s name. “She’s fine, she’s fine,” he tried to assure him quickly. “She’s back there somewhere. She wasn’t anywhere near the action.” He straightened his back and got a good look at him. He did not look like someone relieved by their victory. Jeff’s own face fell to match his. |
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| Strompy | Apr 29 2015, 03:35 AM Post #1257 |
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More posts, more Busey.
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"The others still need help with the fire... I can't... I need to find Willow." Brandon managed weakly. He placed a hand on Jeff's shoulder, more to support himself than comfort Jeff. "Glenda's dead. Max killed her. This was all him. The others are with her at the yard." he said as quick and painlessly as possible, again more for himself. He gave Jeff's shoulder a little squeeze and turned to go looking for Willow. He didn't have any words to help him. Likely he didn't have any for Willow either. For some reason, even though they were surrounded by death and soon the misery that followed, he hadn't expected them to suffer that. After all they'd been through he had almost felt like they were invincible. This wasn't a test. They weren't chosen by God. They weren't being helped. They were alone in this. All they had was each other, and now another one of them was dead. Two. Two of them were dead. The worst part was why this was happening. One of their own had done this, or at least he had thought Max was one of their own. He found her soon. Sitting on the steps of the armory. She looked so tired. His breath caught in his throat as he contemplated how he'd tell her. Did he have to tell her right now? Couldn't he just let her rest? No. She wouldn't forgive him for keeping this from her for even a second. Of everyone, this was likely going to hurt her the most and the idea of her delivering her the worst blow yet when she was already in so much pain... He felt like a monster even before a single word left his mouth. Wordlessly he sat down next to her. Her eyes were closed, though he figured she heard him approaching. He extended an arm around her and brought her to him, planting kiss after kiss on her. "I love you." he said with more truth than ever, but there was no joy in his voice. ... They just might salvage this cluster fuck of a situation. The gunfire had completely stopped now. Once the fires died was when the really ugly shit was going to happen. There'd be anger, blaming, cursing, commiserating and a lot of weeping. There was going to be so much pain. Ultimately though, they'd pull through it and maybe make a stronger community from it. This was a bitter lesson for these people. So far they'd had so much faith in their walls and guards. There was nothing wrong with depending on others, Julie had been depending on everyone since they found her, but she knew they could also depend on her, and that she could also depend on herself. She had to. Now they had to as well. |
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| Make-7-Up-Yours | Apr 29 2015, 10:15 AM Post #1258 |
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Is that so?
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"I love you, too." Willow kissed him back and rested her head on his shoulder. She was so tired, it wasn't even funny. She could already feel herself starting to drift to sleep. But she couldn't. Not here. Not yet. "Is everyone else okay?" It was more of a question to keep her up. Of course they were okay. After all they'd been through, their little group was tough as nails. * * * * * The attack had ultimately been more short-lived than the attackers expected; going 25 against 90 was a tall order for most, but once the surprise was out of their surprise attack, they crumbled under the pressure and were quickly destroyed. The casualties to the city were 27 lives, once including those from Alex's scavenging team. The real damage came from who had died. Between Ethan, Geraldine, and Spencer, the general leadership of the community had been dismantled; and many of the others were guards or brave people who had died defending the eastern gate. The fires were ultimately put, but several houses were destroyed with it, including Jimmy's. The people couldn't feel safe and secure anymore, not even behind these walls. Despite all of that, the people seemed to persevere. Once the attack ended, even though the people seemed shaken and scared, the cleanup effort started in earnest. A few new faces took up guns and started defending the walls in the stead of the guards that had fallen. They helped with the elimination of the rotters that had started to pile up along the walls, with the surviving guards teaching them how to stab a rotter properly. Others helped with the bodies; some people insisted on burying relatives and friends properly, insistent on giving them a proper ceremony. The rest were covered in blankets and tarp and piled by the clinic so they could be burned with the rotters once it was deemed safe to go outside the walls again. By the time the sun started rising and the sky turned blue, the community was already starting to get back on its feet. Randall was surprised to see Marcus on the forefront of the effort to rebuild. He was already on his feet, orchestrating everything just like his sister had done before him. The more he considered it though, the more it made sense. He lost his sister and lover during the attack, he had lost more than anyone. Maybe taking control of everything was his way of distracting himself, much in the same way that the cure became Randall's distraction from Elaine. Or maybe it was his way of honoring the work of his sister and continuing her legacy. Regardless of the reasoning, the community seemed fine rallying behind him and he looked almost natural. Maybe it is time for us to move on, too. The thought was one that had been on his mind ever since the rebuilding had started. After hearing the news of Glenda's death and Maxwell's betrayal, Willow ultimately ended up retreating to her room and crying herself to sleep. She had wanted to go see the body, but ultimately wasn't strong enough. Kelsey was shocked as well, but her tears did not come as strongly. Randall suspected she was trying to hold them back. To look strong and tough. Glenda was gone; Maxwell had betrayed them. As much as he wanted to stay here and help, those events and the fact that it was indirectly their fault this happened, left a bad taste in his mouth. It make his soul feel stained during a time when he should be focused on grieving. He didn't want to be here anymore. He knew he was running, like how he had run from Mount Kisco when Elaine had died. But he didn't care. The cure still needed to get delivered. He needed to make her death actually mean something. When his decision was made, he specifically tracked down Eli among the community reconstructive effort. "I'm taking the cure to Chicago today." He told him. "Can you help me with the head count? I think we have a few that might be staying here. Have everyone meet us at the west gate in an hour." |
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| DoctorYerishi | Apr 29 2015, 01:50 PM Post #1259 |
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Dude, wake up! We've got a world to save.
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“Absolutely,” Eli agreed. After the restless night he had just spent, he was going to suggest the same thing. He needed to get out of Flint. He wanted away from the site of Glenda’s death and Maxwell’s betrayal. The whole community had been ruined for him by the pain. Fucking Maxwell… He dwelled on the thought, like he had all of last night. He knew something was wrong with that snake when he met him. His instincts told him not to trust him. He had chosen to ignore that feeling– to accept him as one of the group. He had even given him a gun at one point. If Maxwell had so chosen, he could have ended them all right then and there. Eli shook his head, but couldn’t shake the thought. He gave Randall a solemn nod. “I’ll see you then.” * * * Annie stood over Chase’s body, much like she did three nights ago, when she was interrupted by Jen ringing her doorbell. A lot had changed since then. She always knew the world was different, and that she wasn’t ready for it, but knowing it and knowing it were two different things. She still wasn’t sure if she was ready. But she was closer. The sun was up now, and the fires were out. The community had survived the night, but not without taking heavy losses. When the gunfire stopped and Annie stepped back out into the streets, she emerged to a whole new world. Geraldine, Spencer, Candice, so many others. They had all fallen. She mourned for them all except Ethan. The world wouldn’t be the same in their absence. Not even Randall’s crew – for all their experience and battle-savvy – had made it through the night intact. Annie felt for them as well. In Annie’s bedroom, Connor had finally succumbed to sleep. Annie would wake him soon, but for now she wanted him to rest. It would be the last rest he had as the boy he was. Starting today, he would need to change. She would make him. The world wasn’t the same, and he couldn’t be either. Annie couldn’t be the same either – and she wasn’t. Last night, she had taken a life. She didn’t regret it. He had come to take hers, had already tried and failed to take Chase’s. He had sealed his own fate by walking up those stairs. In a twisted way, Annie was grateful. Ethan was a monster, but he may have been the monster she needed. If he hadn’t hardened her spirit, she may not be able to finally do what she needed to do. “I’m sorry, Chase,” she said. She stroked his cheek, running her hands along the stubble that was already growing back. “I’m sorry this happened to you. I’m sorry we didn’t work out. I’m sorry Connor didn’t get to grow up with a father.” His chest rose and fall as the ventilator pumped air into his lungs, but his face didn’t move. Not so much as a twitch. Annie frowned. She felt a tear welling up in here eye. She thought she was all out of those. “I know we had our issues, but… I loved you. Connor loved you. And I know you loved him.” She dabbed the tear away with her wrist, then moved over to the machines. She didn’t think about how hard she fought to save him yesterday, only to do this now. She felt sadness – a deep sadness, one that been lingering within her for a long time now – but also confidence. She had done the right thing then, and she was doing the right now. “We’ll always love you, and we’ll miss you,” she said. “If you can hear me, somehow, if any part of you can… just know that it’s okay. You can rest now. I’ll take care of our son. You can rest.” Another tear welled up in her eyes as she turned off the machines. * * * Eli arrived at the group’s temporary house, which had avoided the fire. He found Jeff in the same state and position he had left him last night – on the couch, looking dumbstruck. He seemed to be having just as much trouble processing the news of Glenda’s demise as everyone else. “Looks like we’re taking off in about an hour,” Eli reported softly. Jeff looked up at him and blinked, as if fighting through a daze. “What? Oh, oh right, okay,” he stumbled over his words. “Do you know where the others are?” “Um, uh, yeah,” Jeff said. “Willow and Brandon are upstairs. Julie’s in the other room, and uh, Emmett’s… somewhere.” “I’ll find him,” Eli said. He started to head upstairs. He stopped at the bottom of the staircase. He wanted to turn around and say something to Jeff – but there was nothing to say. Glenda was dead. He didn’t know how to make that right or better. He didn’t know how to talk Jeff through it when he still could barely even accept it himself. He frowned and moved on, knocking on the door to Willow and Brandon’s room a moment later. “We’re leaving,” he said, opening it just a crack. “West gate, one hour.” He left it at that, and tracked down Julie next. When he found her, his frown deepened. His eye couldn’t help but look down to her belly before he spoke. “So, uh, we’re gonna head out soon,” he said, feeling intensely awkward. |
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| Strompy | Apr 30 2015, 01:56 AM Post #1260 |
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More posts, more Busey.
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Willow's grief was like a clenched fist around his heart. Telling her of Glenda's death filled him with shame. As she wept he couldn't hold back his own quiet tears, himself overcome by his own grief but more so the pain it caused her. He took her back to their bed, her already battered weary body wracked by violent sobs. Eli knocked some time later, once she'd finally run out of even enough strength to cry. Her eyes remained closed, though he didn't know if she still slept or not. One hour and they'd be away, to finish this for better or worse. There were few preparations, just a resupply of ammo really, so they had an hour to make theirs, but he was already doing exactly what he needed and wanted to do. He folded his arms around her as tightly as he dared and held them firmly in place, for fear that if he wasn't firm he might continue to hold her tighter and tighter until he squeezed the life out of her. She was right next to him but he wanted her ever closer to him. His wounded weeping Willow. She suffered so appallingly and he couldn't do a thing for her. He just held her, greedily almost, as if to keep her all to himself and away from the world and the pain it brought. Whether she slept or not he put the words forward to her like a plea for direction. What could he do? "Willow. We're leaving in an hour." ... "Oh." Julie answered with equal awkwardness. When she had heard the news from Jeff she had cried, falling to her knees a hand over her mouth as if it might stop her from weeping. Glenda's death and Max's disgusting betrayal had thrown them all for a loop in the most painful way. She knew now exactly how many of the other residents were feeling, and like them she had busied herself even through her shock. Now though with the rotters all put down and the fires put out there was nothing really for a one-handed gunslinger to do, it was all quiet as a graveyard. She had to stay here in Flint now. No more rolling with the gang. They were going only a short way, but they would be separated in a world where a few hours could bring all kinds of trouble. If they ever came back, it might be minus another friend. Or friends. It felt like Kevin all over again. She wouldn't have lasted out there without them, despite all danger she'd been faced with subsequent to joining them she was sure of that. She felt safer with them even if it meant walking toward danger, but she knew this was the safest thing for her and her child. It was confusing. Everything was confusing. She noticed Eli looking at her belly. He was inscrutable. That was actually pissing her off at that moment. What was this? "Eli. I don't know what I want from you." she confessed. "Am I wrong if I said things have gotten a little hazy between us?" she asked directly. |
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7:30 PM Jul 10