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Dead Men Walking
Topic Started: Nov 28 2014, 02:20 AM (71,068 Views)
Strompy
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More posts, more Busey.
"No. That's not unusual these days though." Brandon answered with certainty.

He tortured himself with the possibility they were still alive for days. Every step he took towards Mount Kisco came with a little voice telling him to turn around. They were dead, his head admitted it even if his heart didn't. There was no getting out for them.

A few more silent minutes passed and they came up on NY 311 and took it north east. There were less cars so Randall could open her up a little more. They weren't far now. Brandon steeled himself.

"I think we should stop just after we pass the tavern, from the intersection we'll have a clean line of sight east and west along 311 as well as straight down South street so we'll have plenty of warning if a mob of those things is coming. Then I think two of us should continue on foot down to 61 South street, to check it out just in case it is still infested." he suggested, he of course wasn't sure what he was doing having never actually worked with others like this.
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Make-7-Up-Yours
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Is that so?
All this talk of family had made Randall's thoughts drift to places he would rather they not. It took a concerted effort to drive his mind away from it and onto the task at hand.

"That sounds good." Randall agreed.

He wasn't really used to organizing an undertaking quite like this, but he saw no real flaws in Brandon's plan. The rotters were not the only thing he was worried about; there could be crazed survivors out there as well and they could potentially be more dangerous than the living dead. He had to make sure they moved carefully and methodically.

It didn't take long before they passed by Walsh's Town Tavern; a quaint little place that looked more like a house that had been jerry rigged to look like a tavern. Randall wasn't sure if it was always this run down or if the place had just run far into disrepair from rotters and looters, but he assumed it was probably both. He took Brandon's advice and pulled the SUV over at the next intersection they passed; a three-way intersection from which the 311 ran perpendicular to the start of South on right hand side. The area was eerily free of any visible infected, but upon leaving the SUV, he could hear the moans of a few nearby.

"Eli, do you want to go ahead and scout with Brandon? I'll make sure everyone knows the plan; we'll be ready to go when you guys get back."
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DoctorYerishi
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Dude, wake up! We've got a world to save.
"Yeah, alright," Eli offered no argument. Someone had to go, and it might as well have been him. He wasn't keen to rush into danger, but he had accepted weeks ago that danger was inevitable. It just needed to be managed correctly. Besides, the kid had proven himself capable back at the country club. When it came to having someone to watch his back, he knew he could do worse.

Upon exiting the SUV, Eli looked around. The intersecting roads stretched on a while in every direction, and he couldn't see any rotters. He would have taken that as a better sign if he couldn't hear at least one out there somewhere.

Mac's pick-up truck and Jose's van came to gradual stops nearby. Eli nodded to the drivers of each before turning to his young compatriot.

"Okay, 'mano," he said. "We're on your home turf, so lead the way."
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Strompy
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More posts, more Busey.
Walking back down his street Brandon was experiencing a kind of double vision. There was Mr. Darbin's house. He kept his lawn obsessively well maintained and every morning at 6am sharp he'd raise the flag, he'd forget to put pants on some mornings as he got older, never forgot the flag though. Brandon could picture it clearly in his head. The flag wasn't there anymore thpugh and his lawn had grown slightly unkempt.

The Hollins' place was a pretty shocking sight. They went all out on Halloween, he remembered being too scared to go up to their door alone one Halloween when his brother dared him to. The place was scary for a whole different reason now. Rotters tore through that place pretty early in the crisis.

The Recreation Centre came into view. He remembered being part of Nativity plays there, and going with his mom to help out with canned food drives and community days. Most of all he remembered the screaming when it got overrun. A few people died, most scattered. That place wasn't as safe as the country club, the people there didn't have weapons at all, there was no wall or even a fence to allow people to use the outdoor space. His family had chipped in to help with food and water. Brandon and his mom wanted to give them more but his father didn't want people to know how much they had. It was also early in thr crisis, when people didn't know much about the rotters, not even how to put them down. In the end all those people had was a big building with a lot of entries and not a lot of food to go around, it was never going to be a long term safe house, not like the country club could be and not like their house.

It was opposite the Rec Centre. It was a beautiful house. Light blue, two storeys, open gable roof, colonial-style porch. His dad had built a garage seperate from the house in order to avoid compromising it. He'd also extended the fenced space behind the house further back and also to the side to make more room for the garden. There were two big bare trees on either side and a young one out the front, its leaves turned a vibrant red this time of year. It was a beautiful house.

The front windows and door were smashed in. The rotting bodies of dead biters littered the front pathway and porch. The walls out the front were caked with dried blood, spatter from the entry wounds made by high cailbre rounds. The garage was open, from here Brandon could see things had been disturbed, meaning somebody had looted it. The stink of rotting corpses was intense, but at least those corpses were staying down. This warzone was 61 South Street. Keenan residents.
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DoctorYerishi
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Dude, wake up! We've got a world to save.
As they walked all the way down the street, Eli stayed alert. His eyes darted in every direction, looking for even the slightest movement. Several times, he almost drew down on some leaves blowing in the wind.

When they came to a stop, Eli's eyes flipped back and forth from the human wreckage to Brandon, studying his face for a reaction. He eventually settled on the bloodied house and frowned. His hand rested readily on his holster -- a police-style one he had recovered from Roland's office, now that he wouldn't be needing it anymore. The bodies on the lawn looked like they wouldn't be getting back up, but in case they did, Eli wanted to have either his gun or Roland's old expandable baton at the ready.

"Was it like this when you left?" he asked.

* * *

Mac turned the engine off, but kept his keys in the ignition. He also kept the door to the truck open as he looked around.

Nearby, Jose, Andre and Jeff filed out of the cargo van. Mac gave respectful nods to the first two, but ignored Jeff. A part of him was pleased to see the bruises he gave him were still there, almost two days later. The rat had more than earned them, doing what he did.

"Hey man," Andre said, approaching Randall. "What's the deal? We almost there?"

Mac liked Andre. He was a good man, a family man, and he had been very helpful at the club since he arrived. Last night, he had fled with his kids from the golf shop, but Mac didn't blame him for him for it. Randall had told everyone to run, after all. Plus, after he returned, Andre was one of the most eager to help put the camp back together. His hand was the first one up when Jose asked for assistance on this run.

"You all hear that too, right? I'm not imagining things?" It was Jeff's voice this time, obviously referring to the distant but evident sounds of zombie activity.

Mac was just as unsettled, but kept his mouth shut. He kept looking around, and tried to hide his nervousness.

"Yo, shut up," Andre shot back, before turning again to Randall.

That's when Mac saw something. A lone rotter in tattered jeans and an undershirt appeared from the house behind them. He pushed through the broken screen door, and started shambling down a long driveway that may have once belonged to him. It was close enough that Mac could make out its yellowed eyes, which were fixated on him. His breath caught in his throat a little bit.

In response to that fear, Mac drew the revolver Eli had lent him. He positioned his feet shoulder-width apart, remembering the one shooting tip he had retained from some lesson on the internet. He held the gun out, ready to fire.
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Strompy
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More posts, more Busey.
"It was a little... busier." He recalled.

It all started with a loud scratching noise along the side of the house. It was a racoon. The noise jolted him awake. He was settling back down when there came a loud thump from downstairs. Then another, and another. Soon there was a mob of biters on the front porch. They knew what happened to anything that got in the way of those things. The Hollins didn't stand a chance.

A lone biter has the retention of a goldfish. You get out of sight for a while and it'll forget all about you. When they got into groups thpugh, they acted differently. When one of thd spotted something and went after it another would sometimes notice the first one reacting to something and follow. Tgen another would notice the second and follow and so on and so on until you were dealing with a mob. Mobs were tenacious.

Brandon threw a rock at a car and set off its alarm in order to make an opening while he was headed south. They swarmed the car, beating their hands against it until their bones were broken and their hands were useless. He watched them for hours as they attacked the car long after the alarm had stopped. He just forgot about heading south while he studied them. It was like they were egging each other on or something, or they were stuck in a loop forgetting why they eere attacking the car but noticing each other attacking in turn triggering others to keep it up. They just wouldn't stop. So once they got a notion to attack the house, they weren't stopping until the house was gone or they were dead.

"I don't see any big groups nearby, seems safe to move everyone up." He said snapping back to the present.
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Make-7-Up-Yours
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Is that so?
"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Randall pushed aside Andre and thrust forward, grabbing Mac's hand to stop him from pulling the trigger.

As soon as he had done so, Glenda was on the case, striking the zombie quickly from the side and thrusting her dagger into the side of its head before it even knew she was there. The rotter barely had enough time to moan before it collapsed from the fatal blow to its brain; dead once again. Randall nodded towards the woman, who met his eyes and returned the nod before slipping the knife back under her belt. Randall was glad at least one person from his supply running team had survived. Apart from Eli and Brandon, nobody else had much experience dealing with these things.

"Any others?" Randall asked.

"We're clear." Willow had positioned herself in the back of the pickup for the time being; giving her a clear vantage of everything nearby. She gripped rightly onto the old bolt action as her head swept the surrounding area. "I mean, you know... all things considered."

Of course, the moans from nearby persisted, which Randall guessed was the point Willow was trying to make. There were more, but for the moment, they had avoided luring everything in the area towards them. Randall slowly released the air in his lungs.

"Don't shoot a gun unless you have to. These things aren't smart, but they will follow sounds. Gunshots can lure them in for miles if we aren't careful." Randall gently cautioned Mac. "If you see one coming, don't freak out. One on one, they are no match for you if they don't get the jump on you."

Randall released Mac's arm and then turned to the man that had been asking him questions earlier. Andre was a good guy, but he could be a little hot headed. Randall didn't want to leave him without an answer for too long.

"Sorry, Andre." He ran a hand across his balding head. "To answer your question, Brandon mentioned that he saw a mob of those things outside the house last time he was here. We decided to have him and Eli scout it out on foot first to make sure we aren't driving our convoy into a war zone."
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DoctorYerishi
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Dude, wake up! We've got a world to save.
Eli recognized the distant look that had come over Brandon's face, but didn't press him on it.

"Okay," he said, and gave Brandon what he hoped was a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "Lets do this."

He started leading the way back up South Street. As he moved, his eyes lingered on the back of the large building opposite Brandon's house. He couldn't see the signage from his vantage point, but he could guess it was a community building of some kind. Some survivors probably came together in there at one point after the outbreak. He wondered if it was worth looking into.

Naw, he thought after a moment's consideration. Let's do what we came to do then hit the road.

* * *


Mac stared at the rotter Glenda ended up putting down, and tucked the revolver away. His face felt flush with embarrassment. Don't shoot unless you have to, you idiot, he beat himself up a little in his head. How did you not know that?

"Makes sense," Andre said nearby, responding to Randall's plan. Then he gestured derisively to Jeff. "What we shoulda done, though, is sent this fool in first. Like a canary in a coal mine. He even kind kind of looks like a bird, don't he?"

"Fuck you, I don't look like a bird," Jeff replied. "And why are you being such an asshole? Aren't I here, doing the same public service as you?"

"Not the same," Andre turned to stare Jeff down. "I'm here 'cause I volunteered. You're here on work release, asshole. And besides that, don't you think it's time you got a little face time with these things? Not all of us hid in a closet when the shit went bad."

"I guess that's true," Jeff snarled back. "Some of us ran away."

That seemed to hit a nerve. Andre took a step forward, so his body was only an inch away from Jeff's. He was a good two inches taller, and wider by about half. He towered over him. As much as Mac didn't like Jeff -- hell, as much as he hated the thieving bastard -- the disparate visual made him want to intervene.

"Say that again," Andre warned. "Say that one more time."
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Make-7-Up-Yours
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Is that so?
Before anything else was said, Randall forcefully stepped between the two of them and pushed them away from each other.

"I am in no mood to deal with a petty pissing contest between you two!" The balding contractor hissed. "The shit from the lodge stays in the lodge when you are out here; because out here, everything with two legs is on a single-minded mission to kill you. I don't give a rat's ass if you fight when you get back at the lodge, but out here I am responsible for keeping you idiots safe."

Randall stepped back and took a few deep breaths in an attempt to calm himself down. The sudden argument between the two had caused a brief fracture in his demeanor. The pain was still fresh in his mind from the loss of his wife; it was only kept in check by a delicate mental balance that had been disrupted by their bickering. Probably because, Randall thought to himself, he wished that he had run away with his family like Andre had. Maybe then Elaine would still be alive. Like Andre's family was.

"Hey, uhh..." Willow tried to interrupt the awkward moment from her perch on the truck. "I think he's right. In a way. I mean, Andre ran away to save his family, right? And Jeff was only in the closet because Roland locked him there. After yesterday, maybe we should just... try to start over? We've all seen some shit now, nobody is the same anymore."
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DoctorYerishi
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Dude, wake up! We've got a world to save.
"Thank you, Willow," Jeff said, a little too dramatically for Mac's taste. "That's exactly what we should do."

"Roland locked him in the closet because he was stealing," Mac interjected. "It's not really the same thing."

Randall redirecting his annoyance at the others had helped drain some of the red from his face, had allowed him to regain just a modicum of confidence. When he looked at Randall and saw his disapproving look, that confidence went away.

"Sorry, not helping," he said sheepishly.

"No it's not," Jeff said, which made Mac frown in annoyance. "And Jesus Christ, I think I paid for that with this black eye. And this other black eye."

"I thought we were starting over," Mac said, still annoyed, but not rising to the bait.

Nearby, Andre remained glued to where he was standing, and didn't break his glare from Jeff. True to Randall's orders, however, he remained silent.
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Make-7-Up-Yours
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Is that so?
"Jeff, shut up." Randall sighed.
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Strompy
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More posts, more Busey.
Brandon couldn't keep his mind from wandering as he and Eli returned to the others. Seeing his hometown like this was surreal and disquieting. His family had stayed inside almost the entire time, even avoiding their backyard, they'd seen very little. After the house was overrun he hadn't been... present enough to really take note of just how bad things had gotten around there.

His meandering thought were violently interrupted. As he passed by a shrub next to the road a hand grabbed at his ankle. He fell to the ground, his screwdriver flying from his grasp. Brandon looked back to see a rotter pulling itself towards him. It was missing its lower half, no wondrr he hadn't seen it. As it clawed its way towards him he frantically tried to unsling his shotgun.

Before he could get to it, and before the rotter got in buting range, Eli's large foot came down on its back, pinning it to the ground. Brandon got his foot free and was able to reach his screwdriver, putting it through the rotters skull.

It was Mrs Redfield, she was his third grade teacher. He used to act up in her class because she was so strict, it was only when he was older that he could appreciate it was because she cared so much about her students. She was a genuinely good person, she didn't deserve...

Stop it.

He would have noticed her if he were paying attention. What if this thing had grabbed Eli? If he weren't there Brandon might have been bitten. He exhaled, his face reddening from embarrassment and frustration.

Focus, god damn it.

"I'm sorry, Eli. That won't happen again."
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DoctorYerishi
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Dude, wake up! We've got a world to save.
Eli looked down at Brandon with some annoyance, but more sympathy. It must have been a hell of a thing for the kid, seeing his house messed up like that. He couldn't blame him for being just a bit distracted. At the same time, he didn't want come across as too forgiving. All it would take is one more mistake like that for it to be al over.

"Okay," he said with a nod. He bent over and held out his hand to help Brandon up. "Do me a favor, though. If the situation's ever reversed, you can go ahead and make it up to me."

When Brandon was on his feet, Eli spared another glance at the dead rotter, an older woman missing her bottom half, a trail of gore following the path she crawled. Gross. He looked away, then started walking in the middle of the street.

A minute later, they were at the top of South Street. They reconvened with the whole gang, all of whom were out of their vehicles and watching the perimeter. Behind them, Eli noticed a rotter body that wasn't there before.

"Is everything okay?" Jose asked, looking genuinely concerned.

"Yeah," Eli responded. "We're good. How 'bout you guys?"

He looked around and cocked an eyebrow. He sensed some tension. Particularly from Andre, who was leaning against Jose's van nearby. Eli was getting a real angry vibe from him. Jeff, meanwhile, kind of looked like he was sulking.

"We're fine," Andre answered for the group, in a way that just made Eli more sure that they were not. "Are we good to go?"

Eli cocked his eyebrow a little bit higher as he nodded. "Yeah. We're good to go."

"Then let's go," Andre replied. He pushed himself off the side of the van and immediately circled around to the passengers seat.

Eli looked over to Randall, his eyebrow still raised.
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Strompy
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More posts, more Busey.
The convoy rolled as quietly down the street as possible, coming to a stop on the Keenan's once manicured lawn. The stink that assailed ghem as the got out of their cars was intense. The biters back at the country club weren't long dead, these ones had been dead much longer and being put down for good had allowed the decaying process to catch up.

Brandon leaned in towards Randall.

"It's going to be real ugly in there." he said with certainty, tilting his head in Kelsey's direction.

At a time like this Brandon could understand Randall wanting to keep Kelsey as close as possible at all times, but also that he might want to spare her some of the more grisly realities of the present for a little while longer.
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Make-7-Up-Yours
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Is that so?
Randall closed his eyes and stuck the tip of his tongue between his teeth and bit on it. For a few moments he lingered; he had been prepared for this but facing the reality was different. He knew Kelsey could handle it. She had seen some bad things those first few days before they found the lodge; and she was even inside the lodge following the aftermath of the slaughter.

"You know I can't protect her from this." Randall finally responded to Brandon, unable to mask the uncertainty in his own voice. "This is the world now. I wouldn't be doing her any favors. She's a tougher girl than both of us know. Besides, it was her decision to come with us."

He spoke the truth of his mind. Logically speaking, it was a sound and factual argument. It was just his fatherly instincts kicking in and wanting to protect his little girl that he needed to fight. But he realized now that trying to shelter someone from the outside world was not the right call. Otherwise, one day might come when she needed to rely on herself. And Randall wanted to make sure that she had all the tools she needed if that day did come.

"Dad, this place stinks!" Kelsey interrupted his train of thought with a scrunched up face.

"Yeah, I know." Randall placed a hand on her head and gave her a sympathetic smile. "Just stay close to me and try your best not to think about it."
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