Realistic or Modern a long, and arduous, journey (apocalypse RP)

[TheHarlequinnCat]

Seven years following the initial 'zombie outbreak', the harshest winter of 2027 is where we find ourselves once again; situated in the easiest time for survival against walkers and the most difficult for people...


Located in Massachusetts- "New" Boston to be exact, in the throes of a harsh and unprecedentedly bitter winter.

...

 

[GoldenHeartedGhoul]

Oscar's breath came in long, slow deep passes. Fear was always sitting on his shoulders, but he was always the first one to volunteer, or offer to take someone else's place in a go about the city. He's a scavenger, and it's almost all he knows now. Valiant? Maybe. Bold? Sure. Really, he just enjoyed being outside, and having some time to himself. To think, and act on his own accord. Moreover, it came to him as being someone others could rely on. Gathering what scraps he could from the area, and bringing them back. Not all that hard, right? Even if he's scrapping through the bones of old apartments, or pharmacies. It gave him a sense of reason, and belonging. Especially knowing what he found might actually help someone... Now, crowbar in hand, Oscar grips the steel tool, braving the cold streets with his pack empty. He hadn't even considered taking any water, or even a scrap of food. Perhaps by mistake, or choice, Oscar had set off alone, always checking over his shoulder. Listening and watching for the song of the undead- moaning and shuffling.


Snow and ice crunch underfoot as he dutifully walks down the open streets, stopping occasionally to check a car for anything that might've been left behind. Not before checking under the chassis of the car that is... Enough accidents have happened with a Z nestled under a car. Oscar's seen it far too many times. With the coast clear, he turns his attention to the driver side door that lay slightly askew. A pack of cigarettes, gum, a magazine... Anything. Alas, he's not quite that lucky. With a shake of his head, he moves on, minding the broken storefronts and steering clear of any open alleyways. His caution had kept him alive thus far. No reason to turn back on it now.

 

[TheHarlequinnCat]

Nick slammed on his breaks with all the might he could, coming to what looked like a safe stop in the large truck- before it spun out and did a horizontal 360 and slid into a snowbank. Although the damage was luckily minimal, it was a pain in the ass, as Nick (being a no-seatbelt type of guy) went headfirst against the steering wheel. His airbag deployed a second late as blood began to gush from a cut on his temple as he fell back in the haste of staggered panicked breathing.


His vision dulled, somewhat hazy and blurry as the snow came down in a beautiful angelic scene before his cracked windshield. For a second he could've sworn he felt a cold presence touch his neck, but it must've been the perspiration from his own adrenaline rush.


Closing his eyes and wheezing a muttered curse, his head lolled back to the window and then to the next- it seemed safe enough. Most everyone flew south for the winter, where the walkers reeked to the high heavens with their grotesque rotting guts hanging out everywhere. In this cold barren wasteland, as long as they stocked up for winter and left before the ground thawed- they-... before he-. Nick groaned softly, the previously blocked dull pain shooting up his legs and spine. Why whenever he found himself in danger did his mind wander to his 'long lost lover'? Four years later and he had grown into a hardened thug, he had made friends, and lost them. Now here he was, separated from his old groups, separated from his love, and all alone in a car slid into the goddamn snowbank. He knew he could survive in here for hours, maybe even days. He had all his supplies well stocked in this truck- but sooner or later it would be smart to try and find civilization. The snow could act as water, for so long, but with this cold- it worked against his favor. He couldn't live out in his car forever, even with blankets upon blankets (which he did not have) conserving heat would be difficult... especially alone.

 

[GoldenHeartedGhoul]

If Oscar were deaf, he would've completely missed the crunch and squeal of a distant collision. His veins ran like ice as he worried, wondering what might've caused such a noise. That'll draw attention... It got mine. Surely the sparse groups of scavengers dotting the city would take notice to a noise like that. Oscar sighs, before continuing on down the street, the hospital looming behind him as he searches through the abandoned cars. Picking through the bones and finding nothing of use, he keeps moving, curiosity getting he better of him. What if it's a person? Oscar's footfalls began to pick up, as he moved just a bit faster towards the source of prior thud. What if they're injured?! Oscar's feet were pounding against the ground now, muffled by the snow and ice under the soles of his shoes. What if... What if they're a lying cheat? His pace falters, but only for a moment before he ends up at the end of the street and spots it- a truck he hasn't seen before. His heart skipped a beat, and fear slithered up onto his shoulder like a nagging snake, sticking its fangs into his neck. He'd be hardly a silhouette at this distance. A silhouette holding a a length of metal used to pry open doors and crates alike. If he had a lucky break for once in his life, maybe the person in the truck wasn't a "shoot on site" kind of guy. Even if he was, it gnawed on the back of Oscar's mind, thinking that no one in the hospital he worked so desperately to support... No one would miss him. Perhaps he just wasn't memorable enough. Too quiet.


And quiet he stayed. With his free hand, he gives a wave, hoping the driver of the truck would see him, and take the gesture as friendly. He'd stopped running, walking down the street with short puffs of steam escaping from each exhale.

 

[TheHarlequinnCat]

Faith's somewhat distorted voice came through on Oscar's walkie-talkie (one which all hospital staff used to communicate with one another), "Someone.- Someone come in? Where is everyone right now, patient 202 has just turned. I need backup to-" the sound cut out and seconds later she returned with "Disregard that- Colt took care of it."


The message seemed barbaric to someone who did not work at the hospital, but it was a part of being in a hospital- more likely than not people died. They kept records of all their patients, and especially in winter- their ill patients usually died out, unfortunately, if they weren't better by the time snow came...


Nick had not noticed the sound to begin with, but soon heard the pitter-patter of impending feet. Heavy feet- men's feet. His head pounded and he quickly twisted, writhing to the back to reach his gun as his airbag deflated. With a yelp the sharp pain went spiraling up his bad leg and into his spine once more. Enough to make him nearly double over- the gun was just barely out of his reach... Panic built up in the pit of his stomach, like it had so many years before. He was tough, luckily, but upon looking around in a confused haze for some closer weapon it began to dawn on him the severity of his situation.


Not only had his car done a full spin off the road- the impact of not wearing a seatbelt sent him flying headfirst into the windshield before he knocked it on the steering wheel and was thrown back by the airbag. Blood trickled down his head, he knew it would not be fatal..his only fear drew to his already bad leg. He saw the figure wave, drawing slightly closer, Nick reached for his gun and popped open the door. "I have a gun!" He screamed ferociously into the resounding winter air, snow falling vigorously.


@GoldenHeartedGhoul

 

[GoldenHeartedGhoul]

Oscar had stopped briefly, keenly listening to the chatter over the walkie-talkie, before grabbing it off his belt. He'd stopped walking towards the truck when the voice- the man's voice, shouted he was armed. "Oscar to Hope, do you copy?" It's rare to hear him speak. Let alone over the radio. His deep scratchy voice would've been a comfort to some, if it were accompanied by the empathetic smile he gave when speaking to someone face to face. "Got a fella who crashed down on Stuart street. He's shouting he's got a gun, but I think he's just scared and confused. Maybe hurt?" He cuts his end of the comms off for a moment to move and sit on the hood of a car, still facing the truck. Despite having been threatened by him, Oscar sets his crowbar down, staring at the truck from behind the veil of snow. Immobile and patient, he waits for a response. He wasn't a man of medicine, but he understood people. Crashes like this tend to end up with someone getting hurt. And when you're hurt, you're scared. Maybe he needs help? Oscar sighs, and glances down at the walkie-talkie, hoping he could get a response quickly. At this rate, he'd end up with his rear end frozen to the hood of the desolate car in the street.


@TheHarlequinnCat

 

[TheHarlequinnCat]

"Hope to Oscar, I read. Sending Colton down in the white van. I repeat. The white van." The buzzing static disappeared and then came back with a "He is armed, don't worry." she considered mentioning a plead for Oscar to not get hurt, to make sure Colton didn't lose his temper with his itchy trigger-finger. But she refrained, and looked to the large man who had just stomped out a patient corpse. She raised one eyebrow and repeated to him sternly, 'The white van.'


Colton responded with a gruff sound, his massive boot still enclosed by the patient skull. It wasn't a good day today, it was too damn cold- they lost someone who should have been able to make it if they had gotten here sooner- and now he had to go out in the cold with a corpse to throw out and another to bring in...


Nick peered through the partially cracked truck door, brows furrowing- the man was just sitting there.. watching him. Damn, it was cold out. Within what seemed to be a few minutes of an intense staredown into the other's soulful dark eyes a white van rolled up and came to a halt. "Sh-shit." Nick shivered, cursing that he didn't have his gloves on. A burly well-armed and well-equipped-for-the-weather man hopped out the front, walking to the black man on the hood.


"Jesus.. dude's gotta be having a rough day. That car looks like it could still be repaired- maybe a new hood an'-" Colton paused, seeing the cracked door. "Can you step out of the vehicle, sir!"


Nick did not respond, but closed the door- he couldn't decide what to do. He couldn't tell if they were of good or bad intent. He'd met some fucked up people in the apocalypse; cannibals, madmen, and sadists. He couldn't imagine who else would be out here, especially someone walking in below freezing weather.


Colton grimly pressed his lips into a thin line, "Shhhhhit. I don't have time for this. You sure he has a gun?" It was more rhetorical, because regardless, Colton was already walking up to the truck; his own rifle pointed out. "Sir, I'm-a ask you one more godd-damn time, hells gone and froze over out here so could you open the door and step. out. of the . vehicle."


With hardly a pause, he shattered the window with the butt of his rifle.


@GoldenHeartedGhoul

 

[GoldenHeartedGhoul]

Helluva first impression. Oscar had hopped up and walked with Colt up to the truck, and stayed silent for the majority of his questions and statements. But with glass shattering, his hopes for a peaceful, if not friendly encounter with the stranger, wilted in the instant. His heart jumped, and he almost flinched at the crunching sound of the window being smashed. Violence wasn't his strong suit. At least, violence against living, breathing human beings. He's never had the heart to hurt another person. It plucks at his heartstrings when he's had to assist with an operation or two minus the anesthetic- being a brawny fella in times like these comes with responsibilities as such. As emotional as he is, he can't help but feel that this would spell disaster for days to come. Hopefully, he's wrong. His brow turned up, eyes soulful and at a loss. Slinging his crowbar over his shoulder and steering clear of any possible return-fire, he waits, walkie-talkie in his free hand as he peers over Colton's shoulder, giving the injured man a passing glance. That is, if he hasn't already pulled a gun on them. If that were the case, he'd grab Colton's shoulder and pull him down and away from the door of the truck. Safety first!


@TheHarlequinnCat

 

[TheHarlequinnCat]

Colt felt somewhat safer with the equally massive, if not stronger, man backing him up. While his actions seemed very aggressive, and they were, he also did not know if this man could get up and walk away from the car. Snow caved into the driver's seat, and Nick cussed quietly- tossing his loaded gun to the passenger seat.


"Fuck- I surrender! Don't shoot!" the voice from within the car came, and again "Don't shoot-"


Colton lowered the butt of his rifle, nodding and with a deep sniff he muttered "Boy, you best come out nice and slow. We're all civil people here, but we don-know you an' you don-know us."


Nick tentatively pushed the door open, full knowing that a rifle was pointed at his head. Coming to the icy road as snow pelted down, he slowly got down on his knees, hands behind his head.


"I don't want no trouble, sir, jus-" His soft Tennessee accent drawled out, as he winced in pain. "Just don't take my-"


"Oscar, take the supplies- don't leave nothing useful. We'll come tow the truck later, or I'll come do it. C'mon kid, up 'n at em" Colton reached down and grabbed the scruff of Nick's coat. "You need help walkin?"


Nick stumbled forward as he was pulled up, coughing as his neck constricted slightly and he was pushed forward. Knowing the rifle still remained pointed at his back, he merely looked down and limped towards the van. He had hoped for a way out, but running didn't look like a viable option.


Then he slid, and fell with a horrible crack onto the ice. "Fuck!" Nick growled, his baseball cap falling forward.


Colton huffed, "Osborn," (incorrect name b/c Colton's a cotton head) "help him up, you take him back. I'll do supplies."


@GoldenHeartedGhoul

 

[GoldenHeartedGhoul]

Truth be told, Oscar doesn't quite like Colton. By the time Nick's hat had fallen off, the big man had already knelt down, picked it up, and offered it back to the crash survivor. Nothing like a little out-of-the-blue kindness here and there. Still, it doesn't mask the regret painted on his face, as Oscar leans down and loops an arm under Nick's arm, and across his back, acting like a human crutch for the moment. His features plainly read, 'I'm sorry', as he hobbled along with him. His gaze drew back to Nick, knowing by first impressions, that Nick would hate him. Not for what he's doing, but his association with Colton. Being partner to the loud-mouth made him just as guilty. Even if they planned to take him back to the hospital and help him, Oscar's sense of guilt weighed heavily on his shoulders. Were they any better than bandits, if they took everything he owned? Sure, it might be for the survival of sick and injured, but it doesn't make them any less wrong.


"Sorry it had to be like this," he murmurs, hardly heard through the blanketing snow. Like a whisper, his voice is gone, as if it were never there. He's hoping, really hoping, that Hope could talk some sense into Colton when they returned to the Hospital.

 

[TheHarlequinnCat]

While Nick was in the van, he was surprisingly compliant and quiet. His obedience was unprecedented considering his first impulse had been to try and shoot to kill, but now he was simply trying to fade out. Bitterly, he refused to respond to Oscar- the wind blowing hard enough to make tears stream out his eyes (not that anyone could see).


Once they got back to the hospital, he required Oscar's help for limping into the tightly secured hallway. Hope was already there, a wheelchair ready and doe eyes wide.


"Thank God it's not bad." She sighed with relief as Oscar helped the young man get into the wheelchair. "That weather has both your faces raw, there's a pot of coffee brewing in the cafeteria." Nick's eyes lightened up, "I ain't had coffee in a year." He softly mentioned, voice faltering in its deep baritone.


"It's instant, but better than boiling hot water." Hope smiled, noting embarrassingly that he did not find her amusing. As she started to wheel Nick away, she looked back to Oscar "I expected Colton to be the one bringing him back.. But," her eyes told the rest of the story, they shared a moment of understanding, "Anyways.. You come with me, in case things get hairy."


Nick's brows knit together, she spoke as though he were not there.


..


They came to a crudely lit examination room, and upon the sight of surgical equipment, Nick felt his stomach drop. "Okay love, I'm going to have to ask you to strip and get on the table- if you can. It's okay, I know it's cold, we can have your clothing cleaned and in the meantime you can wear a hospital gown."


Nick flinched as he avoided Oscar's gaze and peeled his clothes off layer by layer, until he was stark in his goosebumps, pants, and boots. Hope's sad eyes looked over every inch of his torso before Nick used his good leg and the stepping stool to sit on the table. Strip meant take his pants off too, but Hope knew it was painfully cold.. She would just have to look at that leg separately.


After some uncomfortable poking, prodding, and listening, Hope had his head bandaged and chest braced. "You're very lucky.." She smiled, as warmly as she could, and rolled the leg of his filthy mud-stained pains up. Definitely swollen, bent out of place somewhat. "You've had problems with this in the past?" She inquired.


"I've had a bad leg since I crashed in the first months of being on my own.."


"Cars aren't your forte?" She tried to lighten the situation, but the glower resulted in her inserting his IV quietly and awkwardly. "Did you receive proper medical care?"


"I don't know. I've had it braced, and it healed on its own."


"It's probably just slightly disjointed out of place. We can have someone try to push it back into its socket if you would just hold still-"


Nick's eyes widened. "Lady you ain't going nowhere near me."


@GoldenHeartedGhoul

 

[Centari]

Annie warmed her hands by rubbing them together and breathed on them through her scarf as she stared up the ladder. Thirty-six rungs, always thirty-six solid metal rungs stuck into the pavement leading up to the manhole cover she needed to lift. Thank goodness it was easier to do from underneath, from above she always had to pry it open with her ax. The tall, thin woman put her gloved hands on the first rungs of the ladder and began to climb her way up.


Four, Five, Six.


She counted the rungs in her head as she always did each time her foot stepped on one.


Eleven, Twelve, Thirteen.


William, her pet rat wiggles and burrowed around in the topmost pocket if Annie's jacket.


Eighteen, Nineteen, Twenty.


She needed something she could burn, wood, paper, gas, anything that could hold a steady flame. In the winter it was increasingly difficult to get her handmade water distillery boiling let alone a fire for warmth.


Twenty-five, Twenty-six, Twenty-seven.


Her breath became visible in small puffs of white even through her scarf as she neared the manhole. If she was lucky she could find another bag of charcoal, maybe she'd have to come back with twigs...anything to keep the embers burning just a little bit longer.


Thirty-one, Thirty-two, Thirty-three.


Food wasn't too low, luckily she could keep her extra meet frozen by bringing down a couple buckets of snow. She'd put the rat meat in them and hang the buckets where nothing could get to them but her.


Thirty-six.


She reached the top of the ladder, finally. She hooked her arm in the top rung and listened, putting her ear to the cold metal of the cover. She always listened for five minutes, no matter what. Five solid minutes and counting the numbers off in her head until she reached 300 seconds. Nothing passed by, no slowed walkers, no cars, no people... good. Nice and quiet just as she liked it. Annie braced herself and pushed against the manhole cover until it slid against the frosted pavement and a few clumps of snow fell down the hole as it made way for her to leave her safe home. She quickly popped out and sealed the manhole just as fast, always have to be fast on the surface.


The snow was coming down hard, the winds icy and bitter made her shiver. Annie never wore anything too thick on account of her needing speed more than anything but that didn't stop her from stuffing as much cotton and warm fabrics into the lining of her jacket and pants as she was able. Her head whipped around, looking in every direction to assure herself she wasn't spotted before darting to the side of a building. No one and no undead in sight, thank goodness. She took a sigh of relief, but her relief was soon short lived. She knew that sound, that was the sound of a car, a vehicle driving along the snow covered roads. Had it not been completely quiet she most certainly wouldn't have heard it and might have gotten hit. William nuzzled closer to her chest for warmth, the poor little thing never liked the outside during winter. She could tell he just wanted to go back in the sewers but that wasn't important right now. She needed to hide, she's managed to be a ghost in this town so far and she'd hate to spoil her presence now of all times. The last thing she needed was bandits sniffing around up top and making her scavenging runs all the more difficult.


The scrawny woman dashed behind a long broken vehicle crashed into a store, it's windshield and windows completely shattered and what metal that was visible through the snow was heavily rusted. She ducked and kept her head down as a white van passed. That white van, she knew that white van. That was the van that frequented the hospital. She's thought about joining them at the hospital, they always helped people but she always convinced herself she was better off alone. She only needed to take care of herself and that's all she needed, that and William. She patted her coat pocket where the fuzzy little rodent squeaked in response. Annie has never needed their help...but...but maybe she needed it now. She wasn't likely to find anything to burn unless she were to leave the city, chop down trees and haul it all the way back here. She's already resorted to burning old furniture and that's not working out too well as of now. The old fabric is too stiff...


She soon stood a good couple of minutes after the vehicle passed, looking in the direction of where it was headed. Just some fuel, that's all. She'd figure out how she'd get it later but she needed to know if she could secure it before making an offer...she might have to steal it. Hasn't been the first time she's had to take something that wasn't hers. But Annie wouldn't want to get on their bad side, she'd figure it out. The scrawny woman followed the van's tire tracks from the sidewalk with a quick jog through the snow. The hospital wasn't too far from where she was at the moment, she knew the city, both above and below ground very well. Countless runs on both turfs ingrained in her memory left her with an intricate mental map of the entire area.


She kept up her pace, speeding up whenever she heard the moan of an undead and slowing down when the snow and winds got a little too harsh for her. William squeaked and wormed around her clothing now and again out of boredom, trying to find a warmer spot. Eventually she came upon the hospital, the fortress of the city. She stared at it for a few moments, wondering how she should try and approach it. Sneak in? No, she'd be shot on sight if she were caught infiltrating it. Wave someone down? She might seem like a threat, wouldn't have been in the first someone mistook her height for intimidation. She shrugged and went and did what any sensible person would do. Annie followed the tire tracks to the now closed garage door and knocked.


She balled up a fist and slammed it into the metal causing a loud clanging to echo throughout the inside. Any noise on the outside would be muffled by snow, not to mention the hospital wouldn't let any undead get anywhere near this place so she had nothing to worry about other than the potential bullet to the face and/or body. She then took a step back, pulled the scarf down under her chin, put her hands up and waited. She waited and waited for anyone to respond, she knew someone would. They had to.

 

[Athenian]

Tae's metal arm viciously cracked into the throat of an encroaching zombie as she sidearmed it, barely stopping as she heard a delicate series of snaps, almost like windchimes, and felt the zombie go limp before flinging it aside. Swiftly walking the rest of the way home with little disturbance that needed to be dealt with -she went on supply runs just often enough and the zombies were just slow enough that the block was mostly empty by now- Tae spent the rest of the time worrying her aching stump, most likely chafed after having to rub against her prosthetic for such a long period of exertion and manoeuvring. Smoothly hopping across the small chasm in front of her home and heaving herself over the fence in one swift movement(the edge of the fence was almost huddling the worn slopes of mud and stone of the trench), she glanced up at the dropping house that might have once been a faded yellow but now seemed more of a bruised beige.


Home sweet home.


Slowly making her way through the halls, shoes squeaking on old tiles, Tae set her pack on the kitchen island with a grunt, rubbing at her left arm again. She methodically sifted through her finds for the day; one can of tomato sauce, two cans of lentil soup, a couple of packets of drink mix, a small handful of nails, four books(mostly for kindling or trading), and a faded grey sweatshirt that seemed like it might fit her. Overall, a good run, but food was running scarce; she would have to go even further now, or find some trader willing to make the trek. or make the trek herself, but that never ended well; too many people, in those camps.


Tae put the scavenged items in their respective places, and got out a can of beef noodles, left over from the morning. Spooning at it with a cracked spoon and wolfing it down without really noticing what she was doing -she dimly remembered her therapist saying enjoying food wouldn't come to her, not for a while- she carefully took the sharp top off of the can and rinsed the both of them out with a bit of water, storing those away as well. The apocalypse made you infinitive;85 also made you hoard.


After her meal, Tae climbed to the roof with a half of a cigarette, a rare prize from the last person seeking her aid. Three cigarettes; she had smoked only one so far, but they were starting to get limp in this weather so it didn't seem like she could really save them any longer. Sucking in a breath of hot ash and releasing it slowly, she covered the small stick with her hand, nursing the smoke and releasing it in a near invisible stream. She finished the cigarette quickly, the raspy, burnt feeling giving her a vague sense of nostalgia. Finally, she simply sat, and watched, watched the straggling zombies wander aimlessly in the overgrown park, watched her own breath spiraling into the air as the cold nipped at already numb skin.

 

[Boscar Saldsea]

Boskar sat in his sedan, reflecting on the past. Glowing ashes crackled in the fire next to the car as he stepped back inside. He was in a small suburb in Massachusetts, U.S and heading west. It was the only place he could go. He fished the rusted keys out of his pocket and slid them into the ignition. A swift clockwise turn fired up the engine but the tires were not moving. "Damn It!". He stepped outside to witness what was left of the ripped tire. The snow had cracked the hub cap and to top it all off, the hub cap was missing 3 lugnuts. Boskar was faced with no other choice but to leave the sedan and walk. He pulled his Saiga 12 over his shoulder and began to walk down the road which was caked in snow.


After five hours of constant walking, Boskar finally found the city. It could be a haven of supplies, or it could've been looted. He unclipped his Beretta and began to amble into the city. It was surprisingly walker-less as he only had to put a couple down. The scent of death was lingering in the area. He passed houses, shops, firestations which were all looted down to that last can of tuna. It was then when he spotted it. A hospital. Boskar practically trampled the snow to get there, hoping that there would be someone. Anyone. The windows were boarded up and the door was locked. It was then that he saw someone in the window.


Sitting in a small tent in cold weather opposite the hospital, he stirred the cold and lumpy soup he had prepeared. So much for luxury soup. He watched as the van circled the hospital, unsuspecting of his presence. Mabye if he could shoot the driver, he could get their weapons and ammo. No - that would be ridiculous. Boskar watched, and watched, and watched. Suddenly, a manhole about 100 yards away was pushed open. He grabbed his Saiga 12 and aimed it at the hole. After a long wait, a scrawny woman emerged from the hole and dashed for cover. He was wondering if she spotted him. He waited a good hour until he witnessed something that she should not have done. She banged on the garage door loud and hard, like she meant something. Boskar crouch-ran over to the closest car in the hope to catch her attention, to stop her being the next victim of the hospital.

 

[GoldenHeartedGhoul]

Oscar had hence left the examination room. If Hope needed help, he'd only be a short walk away- an even shorter abrasive run- to her aide. What went on around him- orderlies and others bustling around the corridors of the hospital- he tuned out. Footfalls against tile, as he made his way to find Colton. Help him sort supplies, and hopefully, return what was taken from the crash survivor. That was his intent anyway, hands stuffed in his pockets, knowing he'd find the dunderhead of a man soon enough. A left, a right, down a flight of stairs... Colton couldn't be too far away. Especially with everything that had been recovered from the truck. The truck itself was to be towed. Valuable materials if it was beyond repair... Steel, spare parts, and all other matter of useful bits. Hell, by his count, he wouldn't be surprised if someone tried to make a distillery out of an engine block.


Oscar's thoughts had roamed and wandered as he walked, eventually finding himself in the parking garage, where he hoped he'd find Colton and the big white van he'd brought everything back in. If he were around, and was, in fact, hauling what they gathered upstairs, he'd give a wave. That's all it took from Oscar on most occasions. A wave, followed by a nod from the other, and he'd be at their side, lending a hand wherever he could. Even if no one knew him by name, they knew him by his silence, and his sense of duty.


@TheHarlequinnCat

 

[Centari]

Annie waited a bit too long, she was getting impatient. The scrawny woman shivered as the icy winds blew through, she couldn't wait much longer or her fingers would freez-


"Who's there!" She whipped around and shouted in the opposite direction. She heard those footsteps, they were close and definitely not an undead's. Her hand immediately went to her bone blade, sliding it out of her pocket and holding it close to her chest in self defense.


"Stupid...stupid...stupid..." She cursed herself over and over again for thinking that she could get help. For thinking that she could lean on someone else for once and now someone was nearby and her life was threatened. Her eyes scanned over the outside area, looking for any signs of movement. She didn't care if she attracted any undead, even if they were slow they'd be more of a hindrance to her enemy than her. If she could count the times she's killed bandits by attracting the undead to her with loud noises and was able to escape herself...


The skittish woman's eyes darted back and forth until they rested upon him. A soldier man holding a shotgun...he was probably just pretending. There was no such thing as the military or the police any longer and it's not liked they helped anyone when this went down. Annie's certainly seen the police shoot innocent people...a lot of innocent people.


"Go away! Annie doesn't want you!" She backed up against the wall of the garage, pounding on it again a couple times to hopefully scare off the damned policeman or get the hospital's attention. Either one would be fine with her, she couldn't run for fear of getting shot...


"Stupid, stupid, stupid!" Shes shouted to herself, raving like a madwoman. How could she let herself get cornered so easily? Panic settling in her chest and her heart rate quickened as she realized the severity of the situation. She slammed her fist into the garage door again and again. Annie didn't care who she got help from; if the hospital finally decided to open up, if the policeman would just leave or if the undead were pulled here and chased him off.

 

[GoldenHeartedGhoul]

Oscar stopped cold. His attention turned the distant banging on the garage doors. Screw finding Colton! That could be anything out there! Panic flooded through Oscar's veins, as he took every heavy step towards the doors. Heart hammering, and his free hand clutching his crowbar until his knuckles were white, he had every intention to stop whatever was causing that noise. Be it a spry, freshly turned Z... Or some punk thinking he could pick through the hospital. Whatever the case, the he neared the doors, the sound just beyond him.


THUMP THUMP THUMP. Dwaaang dwaang dwaang...





He stops, and lets out a slow breath, steam rising to the ceiling as he punches the door mechanism. With a squeal, the rusty automatic door begins to open, letting in what fading sunlight there was into the dark garage. With one more twirl of the steel tool in his hand, he sets the curved end of it in his opposite palm. Cold steel, a hammering heart, and a bead of sweat falling from his brow, Oscar felt like he'd have a heart attack if panic like this struck him so often. Didn't that happen once?


As the door opens, Oscar, at first is nothing more than a vague silhouette of a tall, imposing man. He'd been told plenty times before that he'd be a curse to anyone if he could hurt another... But with a heart too big to even manage putting down a sick cat, he's really only got his mean looks going for him.


@Athenian


@Boscar Saldsea


@Centari