Realistic or Modern Angel's Ascent

[Namazu]

QUAPAW, OKLAHOMA
Somewhere on I-44, Two Weeks After the Clubhouse Raid​

An azure-blue sky, cloudless and perfect, stretched out before them. The sun glimmered high, illuminating the land that rolled out in front of them. Flat and lush with green fields all the way to the horizon, there were some thickets and groves of trees that swayed lightly in the gentle wind. On one side of the highway was a wooded area, untouched and cozy-looking. A big blue tractor was in the middle of a field on the other side of the highway, tending to the tall stocks of corn. Knee high by July, as the saying goes.

“Damn pretty sight.” Fish commented, before putting the tourism brochure down and folding it back up. Slouched in the front seat of his GMC Sierra truck, Fish had one elbow propped up by the window. They’d kept the windows closed, due to the chill in the late winter air. Sighing, he laid the tourist brochure in his lap and picked up the map again, resting his head on his curled fist as he looked over their route again.

“Shame it looks nothing like that out there now.” He muttered. It was late in the day, with dark storm clouds gathering overhead. The temperature hovered at just the right temperature that it could come down as snow, or it could come down as cold, uncomfortable rain. If they were unlucky? Hail.

The reality was, there was no field of corn and big tractors. No green grass waving in the wind. The trees were brown from winter, shriveled and bare. The highway was occasionally littered with abandoned or wrecked vehicles and the bodies of the dead - sometimes shuffling along on their feet, sometimes nothing but tatters smeared across the road. There was nothing, and they’d been driving for days seeing the same thing everywhere they went. A whole lot of nothing and nobody in a dead world.

“The exit should be coming somewhere up there soon.” Fish muttered, gesturing lazily in front of them. The metal bracketed arm with the big green sign was far off in the distance yet, too far to read, but even with the building clouds they could see the reflective green from here. The sign looked dirty and worn - probably fading from the weather now that nobody was around to replace or clean it.

It was the first exit they could find off the highway - it was either this, or keep going for another nearly hundred-some miles on the toll road and head straight to Tulsa. Not that they hadn’t already traveled far more than that in the past two weeks or more, but it was getting late and they needed to find a place to bunk down for the night. Nobody really wanted to sleep in their vehicles, though they would if they had to.

Fish glanced aside at Nik, now their Sergeant-at-Arms, who he’d been riding with a good chunk of the way. Normally he’d insist on driving his own truck (seeing as how he’d now claimed this beauty for himself), but he was tired and in need of a break. Switching off drivers had become the rule - driving tired wasn’t good for any of them. He pushed himself as far as he could, until pushing further was a bad idea. Not that he complained, he kept that to himself. He just waited until the midday break to switch with Nik. He wasn’t really sure he trusted Nik’s sister behind the wheel, though - so she got relegated to the back seat, behind Fish.

Fish briefly glanced behind them at the back seat, and immediately wished he hadn’t. Willow was the only one back there. Where Kit should have been sitting, would have been sitting, there was just an empty seat packed with various duffle bags and backpacks of food, water, guns, and other supplies. Their personal belongings - or what was left of them - were all packed securely in the back of the truck. It didn’t feel right, leaving him back there at Roanoke with other people, even if that was what he wanted. What he needed. What they all needed. Fish couldn’t make decisions based on what he alone wanted - he had to put the club first. He knew it could be worse, but the absence felt uncomfortably heavy. He’d spent an awful lot of time swallowing down his thoughts and feelings to put on a brave poker face.

Reaching up to the CB radio mounted to the ceiling of the truck, Fish pulled down the handheld transmitter and held down the button. They were the third vehicle in the convoy, behind their two forward scouts, but as the now President of this new club, it was his job to make sure everyone stayed together and on course. The convoy was made up of a whole range of vehicles - pickup trucks, cars, motorcycles, even a minivan that he and Auguste had taken to calling The Tub. Auguste’s eighteen-wheeler travelled in the center of it all, well-protected. He did what he could to put people where they were safest and most useful, pairing prospects with more experienced members. It was a long drive, and now was the perfect time for knowledge to rub off on to the newer people - and to keep the personalities that wouldn’t mesh away from each other for now.

“Fish to convoy, exit coming up ahead, stay with the group, eyes open. Big Rig, we’re approaching our first stop here real soon. How’s the cargo?” Auguste was driving the group’s big rig, hauling a trailer full of their motorcycles. Precious cargo, second only to the people themselves. He was the most experienced truck driver they had, and one of the very few he trusted to handle that thing. Lila rode with him, since the two had been inseparable for some time now. Understandably so. Billie rode with them, sleeping in the back sleeper until it was time for Auguste to take a break.

“Cargo’s really gotta pee, Fish.” Lila’s voice came through the radio first, and he could imagine the grin on her face as she answered irreverently. No doubt Auguste was rolling his eyes at her and motioning for her to give up the radio transmitter so he could actually report back something useful.

Before Auguste could rescue his transmitter from Lila and save the rest of them from more Lila-brand commentary, the radio hissed with the sound of rushing air. Someone on a motorcycle had keyed up.

“Ay Fish, ito tae, tao? Shit up ahead and it don’t look good. It looks fucked.” Marc’s voice came through, loud and clear, as he asked if the president’s vehicle could see this shit. Marc had a habit of sliding back and forth between languages. Some people got Spanglish, but as of late the MC was getting… whatever you called English and Tagalog. Engalog?

“What are you seeing?” Fish responded back, grabbing the binoculars off the dashboard, bringing them up to his eyes and adjusting the zoom level.

“The sign over the highway, next one coming up just ahead of you. We just passed under it. It’s got…”

Fish saw it the same time Marc finished his sentence.

“Bodies, man! Pakshet.” Marc muttered with a curse. Sure enough, four bodies in an advanced state of decomposition hung by ropes around the neck, dangling from the large metal support that held the green highway sign. Two bodies on each side of the sign, they had all reanimated and were now lazily reaching for Marc and the other scout rider ahead of Fish. Through the binoculars, it was too hard to tell much else about them.

“Ah, fuck.” Fish breathed out, thumb off the transmit button for a moment before he pressed it again for the whole convoy to hear. “Bodies hanging from the sign. If that don’t scream get-the-fuck-out, I don’t know what does. But this is the only exit for a hundred-some miles. We may be a little out of options. Big Rig, what say you?”

NanLia aggravatedspacedolphins AnneThraxx Good_Morels Tool Crono ​

 

[AnneThraxx]

QUAPAW, OKLAHOMA​

The dark, looming clouds weighed heavily on the atmosphere. While the air around them felt damp, a sharp chill bit at any exposed skin an unlucky soul might have showing. Birdie fully regretted not accepting Lila's urging to wear a scarf. Her motorcycle slowed slightly as she adjusted her collar before speeding up to match the other scout's pace. She looked over to Marc briefly as the two navigated the desolate highway. He seemed so focused, like a hound tracking foxes through a thicket.

The two had been riding ahead of the pack for a few hours, in addition to days of travel. Birdie had no real complaints; anything to keep her from feeling trapped inside a vehicle. With aching legs and a body that was chilled to its core, she was hopeful this exit would bring them to some sort of salvation as planned. She glanced briefly over her shoulder at the convoy behind her. It stirred a bittersweet feeling inside her as she turned her attention back to the road. Their entire lives were now packed within those vehicles, searching for a new start. So much had happened in the last two weeks. Birdie quickly shook the thoughts away, knowing if she thought too hard or too long about it, she'd lose sight of the objective at hand. She sped up slightly, passing Marc, swerving around a few rotting corpses that lay strewn across the roadway.

The distant green exit sign grew closer as the scouts kept their pace about 300 feet ahead of the group. Something didn't sit right as they noticed something dangling from the sign that stretched across the road. Birdie sped up to investigate as Marco radioed to Fish. She slowed to a stop, reaching the sign. The sight of four bodies swinging and clawing at them turned her stomach. She flipped up her face shield as Marc approached, shaking her head. "This is so messed up, man," she called out to him over the rumble of their bikes. An unease settled over her as she wondered if the people who strung them up like macabre ornaments were still nearby. It felt like a warning sign. As much as she wanted to rush ahead to check that the coast was clear, she knew splitting too far from the group was a terrible idea. She dug inside her jacket, pulling out a small mangled map. Looking it over for a brief moment, she engaged the button on her headset.

"Looks like we'll have at least a few options to try if we hop off here. Hopefully, whatever hung these poor suckers up has moved on." She picked up a rock that lay beside her and tossed it at one of the dangling creatures. It snarled and kicked as the rock bounced off its leg. She hoped whatever sick basterd that orchestrated this was long gone, and the group could find some sort of salvation that wasn't sleeping in their vehicles for another night.

​

 

[aggravatedspacedolphins]

​

QUAPAW, OKLAHOMA​

Brown had to be the color for the end of the world. While it was on his spectrum of favorite shades, it was starting to get older the more and more he stared at the barren abandoned wasteland of Oklahoma. Nikolai sighed. His hands tightened against the wheel of the Sierra, every so often peeking over the edges of his aviators to catch a glance at the sky, and then the road, and then to Fish in the passenger seat, before moving back to the road. He’d been repeating the same motion over and over again the past few hours since they had switched. His shoulders were tense, arched as he sat nearly chest to wheel, but poised with practiced precision. He’d been chewing on the inside of his lip for the past two weeks, destroying the tender flesh repeatedly, only stopping when he tasted iron and leaving the skin to heal until the next day, when he’d do it all over again. Destroying his body had felt like the only thing keeping him sane, grounding his soul to this earthly plane, and reminding him that he could have done more…should have done more…and maybe…maybe they wouldn’t have been doing this...

“I pegged you for country boy, Fish, but not this country. Yeesh.”

Nik hated how wide open the country was. There was nowhere to hide if something were to happen, and there was no way for any of them to get away again…This abandoned highway offered little in the way of protection, other than the few cars that he had been eyeing for gas but hadn’t said anything because his throat still burned from the last siphoning spill.

“Heh. Pegged.”

Willow snickered from the backseat, lifting her head from the coloring book that Nik had found scattered at the last gas station from the restaurant next door, and the pack of crappy off brand non-Crayola crayons. It was enough to keep her occupied for at least five minutes. Five minutes that Nik could finally think. The better part of his drive, Willow had done her own driving - driving him insane Constant humming, clicking the locks, unbuckling her seat belt and laying upside down, asking ‘If They Were There Yet?’, playing ‘I Spy’ for the hundredth time and getting angry when everyone quickly guessed it was another tree. He tried not to get angry, but occasionally he snapped, apologized to Fish, and gave up driving before he decided a bridge embankment through the front end of the truck might be an appropriate finale.

Finally, an exit…but did he want to stop? No. Was he going to have to? His fingers ached at how hard he was gripping the wheel. The heat in the cab was going on full blast, but he had angled it more towards Fish and Willow, and tried to keep it not too high so it wouldn’t burn all their fuel. His eyes flickered down to that little orange lever, watching it tick and tick lower and lower. Another hundred miles? They wouldn’t make it…not tonight, but he didn’t want to stop…but at the same time, if he had to battle a case of severe scoliosis to make sure they weren’t going to get a surprise ambush…it’d might be worth it just to pull off on the side and…

“Oh. Oh. I gotta pee too! I gotta pee toooooo. Tell Lila I gotta pee too!”

Willow unbuckled her seat belt, slid to the middle of the backseat, and sat on the tops of her feet, pushing her head between Nik and Fish as she looked ahead. Nik swore under his breath as Marc and Birdie came in over the CB, and the horrific sight started to come into picture.

“Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.” The truck rumbled slightly, the warning ping of low gas only adding to his anxiety, and Nik was back to chewing at his lip, not letting the taste of iron stop him now.

“What if they’re trying to spell something?” Willow’s head titled. “Like cheerleaders! But in zombie form? You know? H-E-L-L and then there’s the O…” She pointed in between Fish and Nik to one of the faded O’s on the sign on the highway. “Well…maybe not, cause then you’d have to rearrange them and…well, maybe they aren’t very good spellers either…Either way, Hello!” She wiggled her fingers at the dangling bodies, her cheeks brimming with a pink tinge as her skin stretched into a smile.

Nik sighed. He didn’t have the heart to tell her to shut up and buckle up He let his sister ramble, before shaking his head, turning to the newly elected President.

“I don’t want to stop. I don’t want to be here. I don’t like being this close to…” He motioned forward with one hand as he started to brake. Tulsa burned at him. “But I don’t want any of us sitting here, sucking gas out of a straw and those ropes start breaking.” He pointed to the bodies, “And then we are in a shittier position than we need to be. Zombies don’t just throw ropes around their neck and jump off signs for the hell of it. Someone has a sick sense of justice…Just what we fucking need. Yeah, we don’t need to be here, but also…I don’t think we have a choice.”

He reached over, grabbing the CB from Fish for a second, and pressing the button. “Please don’t tell me any of these places are named Salvation, or Hope, or other sentimental bullshit…” He gave it back to Fish and sighed.

“I think we have to get off.”

Another snicker from Willow, as she ducked her head back down in the back seat, resuming her coloring picture of a barnyard…although she had colored the cow blue. Nik sighed, his eyes feeling like they couldn’t roll any father in the back of his head as he slammed his head against the headrest, the aviators falling down to reveal his brunette eyes hidden behind the dark glasses. A stray length of brown hair fell in his eyes.

“But it’s up to you and Auguste. Before it gets dark and starts…storming.”

The coloring stopped for a second, before he heard it start again. Willow slunk back in her seat. She occasionally looked out the window at the storm clouds brewing, and then went back to her drawing. Her lips pursed as she herself, tried not to let her anxiety get to her in a similar fashion to her brother.

​

​

​

Namazu NanLia AnneThraxx ​

 

[NanLia]

QUAPAW, OKLAHOMA
​

Somewhere in the last couple of weeks, Auguste had become an old man. His right leg was constantly numb due to the endless vibration from the gas pedal. The crawling speeds they’d been doing meant that cruise control hadn’t been an option and in truly slow areas the fucking engine would stall out, always while trying to navigate a cluster of vehicles; exactly when you wanted to be stopped and trying to turn over the diesel engine in the cold.

He’d insisted Billie wake him each and every time they got into a tough area - not take over driving, she had more hours behind the wheel of a semi than he did, but so he could stand on the steps and help direct, or climb up to the roof to keep an eye on where Billie couldn’t see. They had yet to encounter anyone actively following them, but the paranoia was there; too much had happened between all of them and he couldn’t settle the feeling they were being watched, if not followed.

It made his exhaustion feel endless. Not enough sleep, hardly eating and the undying need to get the fuck out of this truck and back onto his bike. Not that he would trade the warmth for the cold outside but then maybe he’d feel freedom again.

Thoughts were brought back to the present at the sound of the radio cracking and Fish’s voice asking how they were doing. He reached for the receiver only to have it snatched by Lila as she proudly announced she needed to pee. He huffed at her, leaning over with the intent of snatching it from her hands but the woman wanted to play keep way. She held it high above her head, pressed against the glass of the passenger window and out of his reach from his seat.

Auguste growled at her playfully. “Lila Adkins,” He held his hand out at her, keeping his voice firm, despite the smirk. “Hand it over.”

As expected, she swiftly followed with “Or what?” And Auguste was prepared. The hand he’d kept outstretched turned over and immediately darted for her side, mercilessly tickling her. He chuckled as she squealed in protest, her free hand fighting his but wasn’t a match until she relented the receiver with a cry. “Stooop, I’ll pee my pants!”

The convoy ahead slowed, as Marc was trying to get across what he and Birdie were seeing ahead. He was thankful that Fish could get it out of him. Auguste put on the breaks and set the engine to idle while others reported in. There were few options available to them. They could park it here, on the highway, out in the open and send people in to scout, but then they’d be splitting their people and he knew Fish wouldn’t want that. Fuck, he didn’t want that. That’s how they’d been fucked the last time and he wasn’t going to let it happen again.

Birdie chimed in and he considered it; she’d been a powerhouse since their return and often had given solid advice to himself or Fish when it came to decisions. “Yeah, Birdie’s right. Let’s move on in and look for a spot we can hold down; worst case, we pass through and keep moving after dark.” It was far from ideal but they’d done it before when a spot didn’t feel right.

Namazu AnneThraxx aggravatedspacedolphins Tool Crono Good_Morels ​

 

[Namazu]

QUAPAW, OKLAHOMA
Welcome to Quapaw​

Fish balanced the radio transmitter against his knee and gave Nik a raised-eyebrow look. “A country boy? I’m from Trenton.” A little grin played at his lips though. He’d spent enough time outside of New Jersey that the tell-tale accent wasn’t so strong anymore. It used to really come out swinging when he was drunk, but it’d been many years since he touched a drink. These days, he’d spent too much time with the others that their own twangs were starting to rub off on him and would come out when he least expected it. Beau and Mason were most responsible for that - though that realization made his grin fade, fast.

Willow’s snickered comment about pegging made Fish’s eyebrow arch once again. He turned, leaning around his seat to stare at her. The woman drove him absolutely batshit insane sometimes and he didn’t dare think about how many hours or miles they’d gone where he was thinking about whether Nik would let him tie her to the roof rack. But, he did have to admit, sometimes if it weren’t for her, he and Nik would have driven in silence for the whole day. It was probably healthy for them to have someone willing to make conversation, even if that conversation wasn’t the deepest or most intelligent thing he’d ever heard. At least she could be ignored when they were having a more serious conversation.

“C’mon now, Willow, don’t make me explain to your brother what pegging is. He’ll get all blushy.” Fish grinned, then settled back into his seat. He unfolded the map by another crease, scanning the route, then unfolded it one more time and kept studying the area. By getting off this exit, they’d be faced with two choices: Follow highway 166 west until they hit a town called Quapaw, or follow highway 400 north to… a whole lot of unmarked nothing. If they made it through an extensive stretch of nothing they could wind their way up highway 26, into Galena, and by then they’d have crossed the border into Kansas.

Quapaw was significantly closer - and the rumble of the truck made up their mind for them.

Wincing as Willow babbled in his ear in a way that, this time, made his blood pressure rise, he tried to pay more attention to Nik and less attention to her. “I’m not a fan of it either but it beats running out of gas on a highway in the middle of bumfuck nowhere. At least if we stop by a town, we have a chance at maybe finding something we can refuel with. Vehicles to siphon, maybe even a gas station we can deal with.” Fish chewed on his lower lip, rubbing at his chin in thought. He needed a shave - he was getting prickly.

“We get off here-” he ignored Willows snickering - “and we take it cautiously.” He let Nik have his turn with the CB, then listened to Auguste’s endorsement of Birdie’s idea, and his own agreement.

Times like these, Fish wondered if anyone was realizing just how much of a departure this was from the mess they just crawled out of. They’d taken an impromptu vote, input from prospects and all. Nobody had to come down with an iron fist, and even though whatever they were headed into did not make any of them feel good, at least they went into it knowing they went in together. Fish heard assent from the rest of the members, and several prospects too, come over the CB. That was that, then. Onward.

Hell, he would even take input from Walker on this one, seeing as out this way was closer to his territory than it was his own. Again, trust issues, but if you have questions about flying you ask a bird, not a turtle. Some (or many) of the others might not like it, but he was willing to let the guy prove he was different. Barely willing, but willing. They weren’t going to hear any kind of input from Beau though. He’d been relegated to riding in the backseat of The Tub, because he never could get sober enough to be safe behind the wheel. Nor did Fish necessarily trust the guy even if he did have his shit together enough not to eyeball the first cliff or tree and decide to just end it.

“Marc, Birdie, the nearest sign up your way should say Quapaw. According to the map, that’s the closest town. No clue what’s there, but Auguste’s right. We find a place to hunker down for the night, let storms pass if it comes, and we figure out fuel and move on in the morning. We treat this like going into hostile territory. All hands on deck, all armed, eyes open, nobody goes anywhere alone.” Fish took his thumb off the transmitter for a moment, double-checked the map, then held down the button again. He was being extra-cautious on this road trip, but a place like this didn’t offer too much in the way of alternate routes.

“We stay on highway 166, then take route 66 west. Stay tight.” Fish slid the transmitter up into the holder on the ceiling and sat back with a sigh. He had to believe this was going to be okay, but be prepared for it not to be.

Marc responded with his usual fast-rambled ‘you-got-it-boss’ that sounded more like one word instead of four, and the convoy trudged onwards.

As they were passing farmland and the occasional house, Fish leaned over a bit to take a peek at the gas gauge. Seeing how low they were getting, he made the regretful decision to turn the heat down even further. “I didn’t see any businesses or anything marked on the map. We’ll see what we end up with when we get there.” Folding his map back up, Fish chucked it into the glove compartment, adding it to the stack of other maps they’d picked up along the way.

Farmland rolled by until it turned into residential neighborhoods. The houses were small, old, and shoddy looking - not the kind merely worn down by abandonment and time, but the kind that couldn’t have been all that great before the fall. Route 66 curved ahead of them, and it became apparent then that Route 66 was also the main street of the whole town.

To their right, a small, one-floor building overlooked an overgrown field. Goal posts in faded yellow paint stretched high into the sky, suggesting it was once a football field. Quapaw High School, the sign out front declared. Beyond the curve, the buildings started to look less like shoddy houses and more like even shoddier businesses. The first two signs they saw proclaimed the locations of Hemi’s Cafe (on the left) and Donny’s Dairyette (on the right). Further up on the left was some kind of church - there was a sign with a cross, but he couldn’t see any lettering. Even further up the road, on the other side, was something proclaiming to be the ‘Quapaw Mercantile’. The road was clear of wrecked vehicles at least - one small blessing - but there were a number of vehicles left in the parking lots up and down the main road.

Fish whistled. “We’re on the wrong side of the tracks here, Nik. Not sure if these people had a whole lot to take even before the dead. Reminds me of home.” Many of the tiny parking lots weren’t even paved, merely bare patches of crushed gravel and cold muck. Out of what little of the town they’d seen so far, it looked deserted - and the biggest parking lot of them all belonged to Quapaw Mercantile. Directly across the street from it was a vacant lot. Fish reached for the CB again.

“Gather around the lead vehicle, we’re parking at the Quapaw Mercantile. Auguste, see if you can get yourself into the vacant lot across from it. And remember - safeties off, eyes open, watch each other’s backs. No telling who or what is out here.”

NanLia AnneThraxx aggravatedspacedolphins Crono Tool Good_Morels ​

 

[AnneThraxx]

QUAPAW, OKLAHOMA
​

The storm looked to be growing closer with every minute that she sat beside the hanging corpses. A shudder ripped through her body as the wind changed, only adding to her increase chill. Nik’s comments brought her attention back from the worsening clouds. She was thankful that Auguste agreed with her, and that Fish followed suit. While she knew she could trek on, her body begged for a reprieve. Birdie knew she pushed herself harder than she should be, still healing from the events a few weeks prior. She found it so hard to stop; feeling as though stopping allowed for too much time to think. They had to keep going, and working through her pain seemed to help give her that drive.

Fish’s direction echoed through her headset. Glancing forward, she squinted at the sign. It looked like it said Quapaw. She added glasses to her mental checklist of things to keep an eye open for. Pulling down her face shield, she adjusted the rifle slung across her back to sit in her front, primed and ready. “Roger, Roger” she called out after Marc’s response, quickly pulling out after him.

Sure enough, the exit was correct and the convoy hopped off the open roadway. As they continued west Birdie tried to make mental notes of any vehicles they passed along the way, potential spots to score some fuel later on. It felt refreshing to be off the highway, but the constant anxiety of not knowing what lurked along the treeline or around every corner made this anything but a sunday drive. They passed an occasional walker or two way out in a field, and she was surprised they hadn’t stumbled upon anything closer. As farmland became neighbourhoods, which turned into what seemed like a town center, a strange knot formed in the pit of Birdie’s stomach. Everything seemed so desolate; too desolate. As the Mercantile approached and Fish gave the next orders; the knot decreased slightly.

“Copy that. I’ll help Auguste get the truck into the lot.” She chirped on the radio, knowing a spotter could help get the semi positioned in the lot for an easy exit if needed. As Marc veered off to the right into the Mercantile, she veered left into the plat of frozen muddy gravel. She parked her bike on the sidewalk between the road and lot as Auguste pulled in. There was no doubt in her mind that he could maneuver this vehicle in here with ease, but still offered a guiding wave as he backed it into place. She quickly ran over to her bike, kicking up the stand and rolling it towards the truck, parking it on the passenger side for the time being. Reaching up, she grabbed the door handle, pulling it open. “M’Ladies.” She cooed jokingly offering a hand to Lila and Billie as they climbed out of the cab. While tensions were still high, she could tell that everyone was thankful for a break.

Namazu NanLia aggravatedspacedolphins Good_Morels Crono Tool ​

 

[aggravatedspacedolphins]

QUAPAW, OKLAHOMA

Quapaw Mercantile​

“Jersey? That's the country compared to Boston.” Nik whistled a little, his lips threatening to tug a little into a smile. “Everything that ain’t skyscrapers and taxi cabs? Country. This is the extreme. Feels like cowboys are going to be rushing us down any moment, lassos and all.”

His own accent came out when he was angry and was usually filled with all sorts of curse words. He dropped the r’s on the end of everything. Willow was much the same, except her’s tended to come out more when she was drunk. They’d adapted to everyone around them, losing the edge of Massachusetts slang, and adapting a more Midwestern vibe. Did he miss Boston? Sure. He had never been a country boy. It had taken him quite some time to get used to sleeping without the white noise of dogs barking and constant police sirens. He chose to ignore the blushing comment from Fish, instead focusing on the background of the CB radio, and eyes on the road, looking for the exit.

He followed behind, taking the truck slow and steady, keeping his eyes peeled. There was more and more of the same dead and dying scenery. He heard Willow sigh a few times. She had given up coloring for the moment, and was still watching the storm clouds move in. Her fingers started to click and unclick the locks, a distraction. They all needed a distraction. Cornfields turned into farms, turned into small little suburbs. They were nothing compared to the smashed apartments of a big city. Perhaps just as rundown, maybe even more, but they had yards. Something Nik always had kind of wanted when he was a kid. He was a little envious of the scene.

Soft snores from the back told him that Willow had finally fallen asleep, at least for her mid-evening nap.

“We’ve been on the wrong side for a while now…” Nik mumbled under his breath, as he slowed to a crawl up the main street, looking for any viable signs of life. “I don’t know if we will either.” He sighed, looking at the sign for the Mercantile as he squeezed in a spot near another truck, giving himself enough space to siphon and switch the truck off.

“I don’t have a good feeling. Fish.”

Trying to recoup after they had already had their whole lives thrown to the wind, and pick up the pieces in a world where everyone was trying to do the same thing? It was like finding needles in a haystack. The one place they had just left? Roanoke? Perfection…but it was too perfect. Something about that place brought back that same gut punch feeling, the knife twisting too deep. Here? He was starting to feel it too, but maybe that was just what he got for being Sergeant-At-Arms…constantly fearing that he’d never be able to protect them all.

It didn’t take long for him to quickly get out of the truck, and open the back door. Willow groaned, rubbing at her eyes, nearly falling out as Nik started ruffling through a bag next to her. He pulled out a pistol, making sure it was loaded.

“Are we finally here?” She yawned loudly.

“Yeah, get your ass across the street with the others. Stay in the cab. Don’t go exploring.” He started loading the gun, hoping to God he wouldn’t have to use it, but that was a shot in the dark already long gone. Willow hopped out of the truck, smiled at Fish, and looked around.

“Oh it’s cuteeeeee” she squealed under her breath. “It’s like one of those old fashioned old timey towns.”

“Willow!” Nik snarled.

“Sorry.” She shrugged, looking across the street to where Auguste was just parking. She moved to the sidewalk, looked both ways out of habit, and ran across to join Birdie, bouncing on her heels and skipping as she did until she landed beside her, smiling.

“She’s going to be the death of me.” Nik sighed, grabbing another gun out of the bag and moving to hand it to Fish.

NanLia Namazu Good_Morels Tool Crono ​

 

[NanLia]

QUAPAW, OKLAHOMA
Quapaw Mercantile​

The Tub.

The Fucking Tub.

The club may have accepted him, in a probationary fashion, but it was very clear they were going to make him work for his patch - if it were even possible for him to earn among them. He’d been grateful when the club had relented, given him his freedom and then accepted him to join their chapter as a prospect. He needed to pay his dues, even if he hadn’t opened fire on their family, friends and home, he’d also run off like a cowardly bitch rather than try and stop the Tulsa chapter.

But this?

The radio didn’t work - not even the tape deck. He’d been so excited when they started travelling and he’d found the box filled with heavy metal tapes. The heat only worked some of the time and leaving it on too long meant the tub started to reek like rotten eggs. Ally had said it has something to do with the heater coils burning off something in the cold weather, but he didn’t give a fuck why, he only cared that it made him gag and then he had to open the windows and freeze them out again, repeating the cycle.

It had taken him three days to figure out just how long the heat could be on before he wanted to throw up.

His company, Ally and Beau, were silent; not speaking more than a few words between them any given day. Beau was mostly passed out in the third row of the Tub. Ally always sat directly behind him, out of sight. She was always awake, however, unlike Beau who could occasionally be heard snoring. He’d occasionally catch glimpses of her in the rearview mirror. She’d lost her husband, so he’d been told. Birdie had brought the news later. Johnny had been questioned if he’d known about that too but he didn’t, he only knew about the clubhouse and at that, he hadn’t known it was their own patches they were about to attack.

The silence and the driving gave him plenty of time to think and worry. He’d left behind an old lady in the Tulsa chapter. They’d … connected after the world ate shit, found each other needing someone to occupy the space in the dark and grown from there. He wondered if she missed him, then dismissed the idea. She’d find another, likely their third to settle in with and be taken care of. He and Luke had been brought together because of Judy; he couldn’t explain how it all happened, but He and Luke had clicked and it had been history from there.

His heartache at the idea either would be punished for his actions, not that the Tulsa chapter knew that he and Luke had been lovers, but they knew they were close and shared Judy. They’d never been kind to the non-straight types, outright banning some from the club after the end of everything, sending them on their way. He supposed, now, that was kinder than what they could have done. None of it had sat right with him, but he hid, kept his nature to himself.

The radio static and voices brought him out of his thoughts and focused on the massive truck ahead of him as it slowed and then stopped. He’d offer no opinions on whether or not they should be stopping - it wasn’t his call as a prospect and despite Ally shifting in her seat behind him, she didn’t voice any concerns. Beau only snorted and rolled over in the back.

The decision was made and he followed the convoy into the small town and pulled into the lot of the mercantile, as Fish had described. He looked over the store, now understanding just what mercantile meant, then glanced back in the rearview to his passengers. “You want to stay here with Beau? Or go across the street with the girls?” He immediately regretted the use of the word ‘girls’. While it accurately described the gathering people by the big semi - it came across as demeaning.

Ally narrowed her eyes at him in the mirror then pulled the sliding door open with enough force the vehicle shook. He watched her storm away, leaving the door open and letting the cold sweep in, waking Beau from his stupor. “Hey, old man.” Johnny offered a sad smile. “We’re here for the night, how about you head across the street with Ally and the others? Keep ‘em safe, Yeah?”

Namazu Good_Morels AnneThraxx aggravatedspacedolphins Crono ​

 

[NanLia]

QUAPAW, OKLAHOMA
Quapaw Mercantile​

The call came to roll out and Auguste pumped the clutch before shifting the rig back into gear. He winced as the engine rattled, sending a vibration up his leg directly into his back but that didn’t stop him from keeping pace with the truck ahead of him. The exit ramp and following road were clear, far clearer than he expected, which allowed them to pick up a bit more speed than usual giving some reprieve to his leg and back.

Once they were well on their way he reached out for Lila, leaving his hand open and smiled when she slipped her palm into his.

“Uck, you two are too cutesy.” Billie hissed playfully, emerging from behind the privacy curtain of the small quarters at the back of the rig. Her hair, once neat tight rows and braids had been dismantled, leaving a halo of tight rings giving her a very funky 70s look. Auguste snorted in response, Billie had been with him and Lila endlessly since they’d left Roanoke, with the exception of when they ended up at places like this - where they could all sleep somewhere other than inside the vehicles.

He’d thought being tied in with the prospect for so long, in close quarters, would have ruined any sort of like he had for the young woman, but it had been quite the opposite. She’d been a good influence on Lila, at least from his perspective, giving her tips and suggestions as they travelled about what Billie saw as markers to pay attention to that Lila missed. Tracks in the snow that led off the road, be it human, animal or vehicle. Signage defaced or removed. These were things you learned in a club, over time with a senior member. These were things he’d learned from his brothers in Fallen Angels under Hanks’ guidance.

He hadn’t considered teaching Lila, she had no interest in becoming a member - something he didn’t want for her either - but also because he was never going to leave her side. Not ever again. If he needed to go somewhere, so far as he was concerned, she was going with him, and if she couldn’t go, he wasn’t leaving. Plain and simple.

Auguste followed Fish’s direction, pulling wide and letting the Tub behind him pass for the parking log before throwing the rig into reverse and backing slowing into the ice and gravel space. He always appreciated that Birdie seemed to know exactly where she needed to be at any given time - now standing behind the rig as he maneuvered into place, giving him a distance marker to know exactly where he was and how far he had left to move.

He shifted gear to neutral, letting the rig idle and the engine cool for a few minutes, not wanting to stall it out in the cold weather. If they needed to move quickly later, he didn’t want to fight to roll the engine over. The door opened letting a gust of icy air into the cab. He smirked as Birdie helped the ‘ladies’ out of the cab, grabbed their gear and closed the door. He shifted to park and cut the engine, slipping the keys into his jacket pocket.

Auguste stepped down from the cab on the driver’s side, turning to sling his rifle over his shoulder and grabbing the wheel blocks, then stepped down and locked the door closed behind him. He circled the rig, heading along the trailer to the back, shoving the wheel blocks into the gravel then came around the other side to meet up with the gathering crowd.

Wil had already arrived - he’d heard her before he’d seen her and arrived as Ally crossed the street looking like she was ready to chew glass. He couldn’t fathom what had set her off but swiftly reminded himself that it didn’t take much these days. She hadn’t been the same since the attack, since losing both Casey and Bullet. Roles reversed, he wasn’t certain he’d still be breathing.

As she came to join them, he slipped his rifle off his shoulder and handed it to the veteran. She should have been in a sling, with only a few weeks of healing after having the bullet removed from her shoulder but telling her anything aside from what she wanted to hear was out of the question. He trusted Ally, Birdie and Billie to keep the gear, vehicles and people safe while the store was cleared out.

Auguste paused long enough to brush a gentle kiss on Lila’s forehead and murmur. “If you’re going to pee out here, don’t go far please.” and then jogged across the road to catch up with the rest of their crew, readying to go inside.

Namazu AnneThraxx aggravatedspacedolphins Crono Tool Good_Morels​

 

[Namazu]

QUAPAW, OKLAHOMA
Quapaw Mercantile​

As cold as it was, Marc was glad he was on his bike and not cooped up in a vehicle with someone else. He had been, for a part of the drive, when the weather was so bad that none of them could risk a bike. When that happened, it always felt awkward to him. He wasn’t really great at the whole socializing thing. People were tense enough already that he figured it was better to just keep his mouth shut so he didn’t piss anyone off.

At one point, he drove The Tub to give the Walker guy a break from being behind the wheel. It was the first and only time he’d been inside the Punishment-Mobile. It was fucking hell in there. Ally was silently glaring daggers at anything that moved or made noise (though he couldn’t blame her). Beau was alternating between incoherent, passed out, shivering violently like he was about to be sick, utterly silent, or crying just enough to hear him in all the silence (and he had NO idea what was wrong with the guy and was not about to ask). The only tolerable one was Johnny - and shit, was that complicated.

He kind of felt bad, but also fully understood why most of the club would have rather seen him beaten to death than see him alive and breathing the same air they did. He wasn’t even sure how the guy was still alive, or why the top dogs gave him a chance. He hadn’t known anyone that got killed - he joined afterwards, picked up along the road in the middle of fuckin’ nowhere when they were limping themselves south to go find some people they thought got abducted. The sheer insanity in their idea to go that far looking for someone was wild to him - but also impressive. That was the kind of grit he could respect. From all he’d seen so far, they weren’t a perfect bunch, and he could tell a lot of them had blood on their hands, but they were a good group to stick with as far as survival went.

He wasn’t even sure if he was allowed to talk to the guy, so Marc did the next best thing he could do to Johnny: He didn’t try to shoot lasers at him with his eyes or glare at him like he was going to get his throat slit in his sleep. There wasn’t much for conversation to be had, but they both lamented the broken state of the radio before lapsing into silence again.

This shithole little town they pulled into didn’t give him a lot of hope they’d find anything, but it was worth checking. Maybe this far out, nobody had yet looted it? But he found that hard to imagine. After this long - and he’d already lost track of how long it really had been - was there anywhere that wasn’t emptied?

Marc parked his bike with the other vehicles, angling it towards the road so if need be he could shoot out of the parking lot quick. Being just a lowly grunt at the bottom of these guys’ totem pole meant he didn’t do any decision-making, but it also meant he didn’t need to do much thinking either - and that suited him just fine. He drove, rode, and put down rotters that were moving when they shouldn’t be moving. Hell, he’d put down living ones too as needed. Some folks gave him a weary side-eye for it, but Marc preferred to remain the walking arsenal. He had knives strapped along multiple places on his body - several of them hidden - and more than one projectile weapon on him. 9MM on his hip, an AR-15 slung over his shoulder, and his favorite (which was admittedly situational): the compound crossbow that hung on his back. The quiver full of bolts hung at his lower back where he could easily reach behind and grab another one. He’d only received a single comment so far about being Robin Hood before one glare shut the other prospect up.

The only reason the club let a prospect carry that many? They’d all been his when they picked him up, so he wasn’t taking anything from the club’s supply.

“Yo, what the fuck’s a mercantile?” Marc asked, keeping his voice quiet as he strolled up to join the gathering party near the front doors. Others were taking different positions - guarding vehicles, checking loads, and checking tires.

“Like a big store that sells kind of everything. Like a Wal-Mart, but for poor people.” One of the other prospects, kneeling down to tie his boot, piped up behind Marc.

“Wal-Mart is already for poor people.” Marc countered. He knew damn well. That was one of the few places he and his mother ever shopped when he was younger. That and the Dollar General, but he wasn’t about to share any of this.

“Shit, dude, like even poorer. Look at the sign - its got a fuckin’ teepee drawn on it. So like… Indian Wal-Mart, I guess.” The idiot prospect and one of his idiot buddies chuckled and high-fived at their stupid commentary - though they were correct that the sign had a teepee on it. From a distance, Marc thought it was just a triangle, but now that he was closer he could see the details on the image of the triangular tent-like structure.

“Shut the fuck up back there. You both - go to the far end of the parking lot and keep watch. Radio in if you see anything or anyone.” Marc started to open his mouth to retort back when Fish interjected, narrowing his eyes at the two idiots and gesturing for them to get walking.

Marc held his breath for a moment, thinking he was included in this order, until he realized he wasn’t. He glanced back, watching the two grumbling prospects trudge off unhappily. He knew just how much standing watch sucked - it was dull as shit, but you also knew at any time literally anything could pop up in front of you. Or worse: someone could cap your ass from a distance and you’d never see it coming if they got a headshot in. Boredom one moment, eternal nothingness the next.

Relieved to not have been the target of anyone’s wrath yet today, Marc slid his AR-15 off his shoulder, silently thanked his Satanas brothers for having come in handy at some point in life, and made himself look as ready to move as one could be while waiting for orders.

"We goin' inside? Looks like we got everyone, Prez."

NanLia AnneThraxx aggravatedspacedolphins Crono Tool Good_Morels ​

 

[Namazu]

QUAPAW, OKLAHOMA
Quapaw Mercantile​

“I think at this point if we saw cowboys with lassos, I’d figure we got lost and somehow wound up in Texas instead. If I hear anyone say yeehaw, I’ll cringe. Not even kidding.” He grinned at Nik, entirely kidding about it. It was kind of amusing sometimes watching this city boy deal with living rough. Not in a laughing-at-your-suffering way, but he was proud of him for toughing it out more-or-less like he had his big boy pants on. A lot of other guys would (and did) complain so that everyone heard just how much shit sucked. It didn’t help anyone to do that - everyone was miserable, no point in crowing about it all day.

“I know. I don’t have a good feeling about much these days, but that doesn’t need to get repeated.” Fish commented quietly, careful not to wake Willow up as she softly snored. There was an undeniable weight of sadness in his voice that he wasn’t even attempting to hide. Not when it was just them (and Sleeping Beauty in the back) in the vehicle.

Once they were parked, Fish unbuckled and accepted the gun that Nik handed him. They kept a handgun in the glove box for emergencies, but he’d come to get comfortable with keeping the guns in the back - within reach, but a lot more comfortable than having a rifle between his knees the whole time or keeping one in his holster. Nik’s comment about Willow made him grin.

“Siblings do that. You two are lucky though.” There was an unspoken could-be-worse hanging there that didn’t need to be verbalized. Fish checked to make sure it was loaded with a round chambered, then opened the truck door and climbed out. Standing felt good - he needed to get out and shake things out, stretch a little, get the blood flowing again. Sometimes sitting there for so long got his lower back aching and all it did was weigh on his mind that a lifetime of doing this was not going to be pretty.

The air had a chill to it that made him turn up the collar of his trenchcoat, feeling thankful he was going to be inside and out of the breeze soon. It’d still be cold inside, though, and he noted how others were bundling up after exiting the warmth of their vehicles. They were a motley assortment - a lot of leather and dark colors - but Fish knew that many of those patched members still had their vests on underneath their coats. Only this time, they were running patchless. The old Fallen Angels patches had all been ripped off and thrown into a fire. Lila was still working on making new ones, but it was slow work doing it by hand. Fish wasn’t going to sew his on until there was enough for all the patched members, so he carried his - Lila’s first one she made - in his back pocket of his jeans. His fingers still held the many rings he’d always worn and his wrists still had all those bracelets that used to contribute to that hippy image he had, but now he had one addition around his wrist: a length of bright orange cloth with a white zig-zag design through it, tied in place. It was all that was left of his favorite robe - the bright orange thing that Kit had called utterly ridiculous and an eyesore but still loved to be wrapped up in it after they slept together. Kit had the other half of the length of bright orange cloth and wore it much the same.

Fish hadn’t worn the robe on the trip to Wisconsin, leaving it behind in his trailer. When he came back, all of his belongings had been dragged out into the snow and destroyed, including the majority of his clothes. Apparently whoever in the Tulsa chapter did that also decided his wardrobe was tellingly of a particular sort, because those assholes also spray-painted a three-letter slur beginning with the letter F across the side of his trailer.

The fuckers.

Fish did a headcount as people filed around the front entrance of the Mercantile, noting who was staying behind to guard the vehicles. It was anyone’s guess what would be inside the building, but it was worth starting here. Some people chit-chatted in whispered tones, others just kept a silent, weary eye on their surroundings. No doubt they looked like a miniature army of some kind, with grim-faced Fish in the center of it all.

“Fucking idiots” Fish muttered under his breath once the troublemaking prospects were out of earshot. He wanted to keep blaming stuff like this on the stress of everything they’d gone through - but at some point, was ‘the stress of it all’ just a misplaced shitty excuse? The ones he’d banished off to the other end of the parking lot to keep watch had been prospects when the clubhouse attacked, meaning they were prospects under Hank, too. They’d stayed alive because they were merely lucky enough not to be home when it happened - they took off to go see if they could hunt some deer for food. Not only did they come back empty handed, they came back to having no home at all.

Shit luck, shit situation, shit life, but he was starting to feel like there were some lingering vestiges of Hank’s era still sliming up the edges of his club - HIS club - and it bugged him. But that was a problem to discuss with the other senior members another day. Not here and now.

Fish waited until Auguste caught up with them and joined the group. Once he did, Fish motioned for people to quiet down.

“One front door, two windows, boarded up. We’re going in without much visibility, so we’re going to do the usual knock-and-sweep. Stay in nothing less than pairs. Nik, you’re with me. Auguste, take your pick. Everyone ready?” Once everyone nodded or murmured a yes, Fish pointed at a few people, assigning some groups once Auguste had made his choices, trying to keep prospects partnered with patched members. Then he pointed at Johnny, then thumbed at the door.

“Your turn to knock.” The knocker was one of the more dangerous tasks because it meant you’d be first through the door. First through the door meant you had the highest chance of being the one injured or killed first - the dead, someone inside that got spooked, or even a trapped door. They did their best to clear these risks, but there had been a few close calls over these past weeks - including one trapped door that damn near took someone out with a shotgun blast. The only thing that kept that particular unlucky knocker alive was the fact that some of the string holding it all in place had rotted and frayed, and by the time they opened the door the gun was pointed at the floor. It meant someone was out a pair of shoes (and a pair of pants) instead of dead.

“Ready when you are, Walker.”

NanLia AnneThraxx aggravatedspacedolphins Crono Tool Good_Morels ​

 

[Namazu]

QUAPAW, OKLAHOMA
Quapaw Mercantile​

Nothing about where they were pulling into sat right in her stomach. Not after she saw those bodies dangling. Then again, what did? Has anything felt right or safe since the clubhouse got attacked? Or even before that, since Auguste got sent away on some dumb errand by that rat bastard they used to follow? No, not really. Only when the others were around her did she feel slightly at ease, and she felt even better when Auguste was close by. They’d spent so much time within an arm’s reach away, someone having a hand on the other one, that the club had gone through the whole cycle of reacting to it: staring at it, making jokes about it, and then just accepting that’s how it was going to be and that was a-okay.

She worried about Auguste. He was never a jovial man, but he seemed…. Colder, more grumpy. Not to her - no, he only ever smiled at her. But to everyone else, she thought he seemed like a wound-up wild animal ready to lash out at whatever looked threatening. She couldn’t blame him though - how often had she realized she had her weapon out when she didn’t actually need it? Auguste, Fish, and Nik had all made sure she was armed to the teeth compared to before. She even got shooting lessons, when they could manage it.

But really, who hadn’t changed?

Lila slipped her hand into Auguste’s and gave him a squeeze, enjoying the little things they had. They’d lost a lot, but she had to admit it felt like they had a lot more than many other people had these days. They had many other people they trusted to travel with. They had their health (aches and pains aside). They had each other - and nobody judged them for it. Early on, back when she first moved into Auguste’s trailer, there had been some quiet rumblings, mostly from the younger men in the club. She chalked it up to jealousy and ignored them… after considering putting laxatives in their food. The only reason she didn’t was because medications were hard to come by, and it would be a waste.

Peering behind her chair, Lila shot Billie a grin. “Just you wait - you’ll find someone someday, and then we’ll say the same thing about you.” She liked Billie, and only regretted she hadn’t taken more time to get to know her before the club was attacked. Half the time there were too many people coming and going out of the bar to really fully get to know people - but now that they were traveling together? All there was left to do was talk. She reached over with her free hand and offered Billie one of those fist-bumps they shared often.

When they pulled up and Auguste started maneuvering the big truck into place, she couldn’t help but watch him work. It seemed mind-bogglingly amazing he could get this huge cab and the massive trailer behind them to park exactly where he wanted it to. Before the dead walked, she drove a small car - and she couldn’t imagine driving something this big. She once borrowed her dad’s Chevy pickup truck for an errand, and loathed the way it felt like she was driving a tank.

Lila snorted a laugh as she took Birdie’s hand and climbed down out of the truck once they were parked. She wasn’t above accepting help, because no matter how many times she’d gotten in and out of Auguste’s big cab by herself in a hurry, she was still not nearly as tall as the people these cabs were designed for. She could do it on her own just fine these days, but being polite never hurt anyone.

It was a relief to stop. It could be worse - they could all be on foot - but hours upon hours for days on end of riding in the truck was getting to her by now. She needed to stretch, needed to move, and definitely needed to take care of some things real quick. Damn good thing the prospects who used to leer at her the most hadn’t lived through the attack. There were some people she missed, but those assholes were not among them.

As soon as her feet crunched down on loose gravel, Lila raised her arms above her head and stretched until her joints popped. It felt glorious, and she couldn’t help but let out a satisfied grunt. It was perfect timing, letting her take hold of Auguste’s shoulder as he kissed her forehead.

“Mhm, staying safe as long as you do too. Holler if you need us, baby.” As always, Lila had her holsters on - plural. One around her hips for her gun and the walkie talkie, and another one around her thigh for her knife. If she learned anything about her escapades in the snow some weeks ago, it was that she should always be armed, always be ready. That and toddlers were incredibly heavy.

She waited a moment, watching Auguste walk across the street to catch up with the crew headed inside, before turning to the others gathered there - giving them one look before scuttling off. “Okay, Jesus Christ, I will be right back, nobody go and die or anything.” Lila called over her shoulder and she sprinted away. There was a long, low building with its back to the empty parking lot, so all she had to do was duck around the corner. The grass was high, but the area was clear of bushes, so it’d be much harder to be snuck up on.

Once she was done, Lila took more time walking back over to the truck, heading up to stand by the edge of the road to peer around to the front of the building. There was a row of several garage doors on the front, plus a man-door at the far end. Not far from what had to be the office door was a faded sign: Quapaw Fire Department.

“That building there’s a fire department.” Lila thumbed over her shoulder once she rejoined the burgeoning Badass Chick’s Club that was in charge of watching the vehicles and gear. “Might be worth them checking out once they’re done in the mercantile. First aid kits, maybe?” Zipping up her coat a little higher, she pulled a knit hat out of coat pocket and tugged it on over her bright red hair. Though she stuck pretty close to the group, she couldn’t help but take a few paces forward and peer up and down the street.

Every block or so, one or two poles were sunk into the cement sidewalks or dirt-and-grass patches. The poles were a little taller than her, but shorter than the six-foot mark. They looked uniform, each one the same shiny metal, and at the top of each one was a green flag. There was no symbol or writing on the flags, but each of them was a bright neon green that sparkled a little in the sun in such a way that it made her wonder if they were reflective, just like road signs. The flags were somewhat sock-shaped so that when the wind blew, the flag would puff out and point in the direction the wind was moving. Today it was a gentle breeze that was blowing south, opposite the direction they’d entered town from.

The street was clear otherwise. Perfectly down this main drag in town. Not a single abandoned vehicle, wreck, or tangle of bodies left on the road. Lila furrowed her brow - that was… weird. Most places looked just like you’d expect - life crashed to a halt quickly, and unraveled badly. Everywhere they went, one of their most frequent problems was navigating roads that were blocked or cluttered, and that was on top of finding bridges and overpasses that had crumbled. To find a street that was clear felt like Roanoke - and it felt wrong.

That was when she spotted it.

“Uh. Guys?” Lila called, raising her voice a little and motioning for the others gathered by Auguste’s truck to come join her at the side of the road. She waited until whoever wanted to come was at her side, then pointed up the road.

One block up, there were a pair of dead bodies sprawled out on the pavement of a parking lot in front of a red-brick building with a dark colored awning above the front door. She couldn’t tell what kind of business it was from here, but that wasn’t what mattered. What mattered was that the bodies had been dragged - and from here, she could see the dark red streak of blood on the pavement. Whoever that was, living or dead, they’d been dispatched in the middle of the road and dragged out of the way. There hadn’t been enough time for the blood to fade or get washed away, if she could still see it from here.

“Guesses on how recently those were killed and dragged away?”

NanLia AnneThraxx aggravatedspacedolphins Crono Tool Good_Morels ​

 

[AnneThraxx]

QUAPAW, OKLAHOMA
Quapaw Mercantile​

The truck door closed with a solid thud. A smile crossed Birdie’s face as she spotted Willow skipping across the road. Something about her brought a light to Birdie. Her human-ray of sunshine personality brought a small bit of comfort to the terror around them. Willow made her feel like what it felt to be a girl again; bringing back the whimsy of girlhood before the world changed forever. She never had a dull moment, or a bad time with Willow. It almost made her forget about the ever-growing knot in her stomach.

As the group split off, she watched as they approached the mercantile. There was a heavy sense of unease from most, it seemed. Birdie sighed, leaning onto the seat of her bike, pulling slightly crumpled pack of cigarettes from inside her coat. Taking one out for herself, she offered the pack to anyone who wanted one.

“Shout if you need us!” She called out to Lila as she walked off to do her business. She lit her smoke, taking a hard, long drag. The smoke burned in her lungs as she stifled a cough, blaming it on the frigid air. Looking down at her hands, she noticed just how much they had been trembling. Wringing them together, they ached, chilled through every joint and bone. The hours of riding were starting to catch up, and she knew she wasn't the only one.

A small breath of relief escaped her as Lila finally returned. A separation as simple as someone going to pee caused her more anxiety than Birdie would like to admit. When Lila stated her findings, Birdie’s interest peaked. She walked to the front of the truck to get a better look. Sure enough, the town’s fire department sat at the edge of the lot. From her spot, she could make out what seemed to be two larger trucks, and a smaller rescue vehicle inside the bay doors. This could be a valuable spot to check out, she thought to herself, when a sudden realization hit. How had it not been ransacked already? Thing long into the end of the world, and this building that would contain key components to survival is untouched? Birdie looked around. The whole town looked like this. There was nothing that indicated any sort of peril or outbreak. The knot in her stomach rose to her throat.

Spotting Lila at the edge of the road, she slowly made her way over, taking in all of the surroundings. The tone in Lila’s voice changed her pace to quick job. “What’s going on?” She questioned as she reached her. She followed her gaze to the parking lot. Birdie squinted at the figures before pulling out a small pair of binoculars from her vest pocket. Holding them to her eyes, she peered upon two bodies, dragged into the lot from the road. Each one, their left hand placed over their heart. She felt like she would throw up the knot at any moment. She handed Lila the binoculars, reaching for the radio still attached to her shoulder.

“Hey Fish… Heads up. ” She paused for a moment, looking back at the bodies. “We’ve got two bodies in the lot next door. Looks like they were dragged there. Rather recently. I don’t think we’re alone.” Her voice shook with unease. She motioned for Lila to head back to the truck with her. They needed to stick close together. Something was wrong. Very wrong.

Namazu NanLia aggravatedspacedolphins Tool Crono Good_Morels ​

 

[aggravatedspacedolphins]

QUAPAW, OKALHOMA
Quapaw Mercantile​

Lucky. Nik wished he believed in being lucky anymore, instead of cursed coincidences and a fucked up God who thought it was funny to put him in the right places at the wrong time. There was nothing lucky about going back to Boston, and finding a bloodied and terrified Willow huddled in her bedroom. Perhaps it sounded lucky, but Fish wasn’t the one dealing with a whole new slew of problems that came with it. Luck was full of miracles, and sure, he was thankful for Willow, but some nights, he wondered if this was karma, a life they both had to lead to repent for past mistakes. He knew what his was…but did Willow really deserve this? Nik’s eyes followed her across the street, unmistakingly hearing her immediately start to coo at Birdie and Lila about something cute before she turned back to him, their eyes catching. Willow gave him a wink from across the street, and then her middle finger, and then made hearts with her hands and blew him a kiss. He sighed, and twisted away. Her antics were cute when he was a prospect…but now he had a job to do.

He let out a quiet whistle, probably against his better judgement but with the prospects already whispering too loud for his liking, and Marc asking innocent questions in the most irritating way, it was only a noise to the already added background. He caught Marc’s eyes, as the annoyed members went to look out duty. He remembered being on look out, probably grumbled the same way too, but he’d take being at the edge, looking out now over anything…

He bit his lip and turned again. It was hard for him not to pace around, and examine everyone. The ex-militarism in him told him to keep his back straight, his eyes wide and wary, and his lips tight. He stood, pursing his lips with his arm behind his back, glaring at the troublemakers. He twisted his head to look at Fish, giving him a nod, before he went back to sweeping his eyes on the perimeter, keeping his eyes again on the loudmouths at the edge of the parking lot, then switching to Marc, giving him a narrow glance, before finally sidling up next to Fish, pulling his gun free to give it one more glance. His lips curled into a smile as he pointed at Johnny.

God, he hated Johnny…but he had wormed his way in amongst them over the past few weeks. He took an oath, just the same as the rest of them.

“Sucks to suck, Johnny Boy. First time for everything, huh?” Nik smirked, slapping Johnny on the shoulder, leaning down to whisper in his ear. “My advice? Keep looking down till you see the shine of that tripwire. Usually see it right when you step on it if they angled it right. You better holler loud if you are going to die. I’m not stepping in there if I don’t have to, and neither are any of our boys. Not putting them in danger for your ass. Oh? And, try not to piss your pants. Really don’t want it on my new boots.”

He gave him another slap before he moved to step beside Fish. Fish and Auguste could tell him off later for hazing Walker, but Fish also wasn’t the first one on the scene back when he rode in to see Walker tugging Mason out. Fish had been his damn guardian angel: If Walker really wanted to be one of them, A true Angel, and not one of those filthy disgusting wannabes out of Tulsa, someone who could be truly relied on and not make him question every single thing about him, then he could deal with a little piss poor mano-to-mano mandatory club introduction. Honestly, if he was in charge, Walker would have been left on the side of the road and hope to rot, or perhaps locked in a damn cage with Mason’s body of all things…but he didn’t make the rules, just enforced them…and since he couldn’t kill him…well…this was about the worst he could do without casting himself and Willow out….He’d rather not have his position come to a vote.

He could hear Birdie’s voice coming through the radio, and he tensed, looking at the lookouts hesitantly. He didn’t trust them…but they should be fine. The girls had Ally, of all things, and she would never say anything about her arm, but it didn’t leave him with warm fuzzy feelings…with no knowledge other than things felt a little too comfy. His sudden promotion made him feel like everyone’s safety was his responsibility, and if anybody didn’t feel a single bit safe, he feared that it was his fault.

“You wanna send someone else over there? Marc maybe?” He motioned over his shoulder to Fish, looking at Marc hesitantly. It might leave them a little more vulnerable…but…it’d make him feel a little better.

Namazu NanLia Tool Crono Good_Morels AnneThraxx Miaow ​

 

[aggravatedspacedolphins]

QUAPAW, OKALHOMA
Quapaw Mercantile​

Willow rocked back and forth on her heels, as she came to a rest in front of the rest of their feminine band of heroes. She grinned, tugging Nik’s heavier jacket over her thin black dress. She had at least two pairs of leggings on, but she thought perhaps a third pair might have been a better choice. She zipped up the leather jacket tight, and looked back at the gathering across the street. She gave Nik a familiar greeting, and turned back to Lila, watching her come back from her bathroom break.

‘If only Birdie had been offering a joint instead’, Willow thought, shrugging off the box as a ‘maybe later’, and twisting to look at the building that Lila pointed out to them. The trucks sat plainly in their little storage holes, only glimmering when the light hit them in just the right spot. Willow tilted her head. The soft jingling of her bracelets followed, as she dipped the rest of her body to the side, looking towards the lower windows of the door.

“It’s so cute, and small towny. Do you think they have any uniforms there? Do you think we could take some back? Do you think we could get a ‘fashion show’?” She wiggled her eyebrows, snickering a little. “Do you think they had a dog? One of those little dalmations? Do you think it’s still around? Oh, I’d love a little dog for us to have! There’s plenty of food around. Do you think Fish would let us? I could keep him quiet…and…”

Her voice drifted off. She was so preoccupied by the building and the thought of a cute dalmatian puppy that was probably wasn’t feral and at risk of rabies and still alive that she hadn’t noticed most of the others had followed Lila and Birdie to the side of the road, and to the view of…another human art projection.

Willow skipped behind, bracelets tinkling as she jumped with a final bit of grace behind them, and squinted, pushing her head between the two of them and pursing her lips. She kept one eye closed.

“Do you think they left the ‘Hello’ message on the sign? Just some leftovers from their final project? Or, maybe they just didn’t have enough room to spell….Yellow? Went with Hello instead? But…what would ‘Yellow’ mean…”

She tapped the end of her chin, stepping ahead of Lila and moving a little ahead of the group, her head twisted to the side as she tried to get a better look.

Nik might kill her, but honestly, she was just curious, and it wasn’t like she wasn’t armed herself. She had stolen a knife of all things from the back of the truck, and it was safely pocketed in Nik’s jacket. It wasn’t like she’d cut herself on it…not this time at least…

Namazu NanLia AnneThraxx Tool Good_Morels Crono Miaow ​

 

[NanLia]

QUAPAW, OKLAHOMA
Quapaw Mercantile​

Johnny winced as Ally strode away, watching the rearview as she headed for the other women and was greeted in kind. He shifted in his seat to look back at Beau. After getting no vocal response to his suggestion that maybe it would be safer across the street with the others, he was ready to push further.

Upon further inspection, Beau had passed the fuck back out, head lolled back against the head reast, mouth agape as he breathed deeply.

“Fuck it.” Johnny huffed, finally getting out of the Tub himself into the cold. He wished he could bundle up more but he just didn’t have anything else, or warmer, to wear. He still had the same clothes he’d been wearing when he’d encountered the club those weeks ago. Roanoke had been kind enough to give him some spares but they were ill fitting and honestly not typical of what he’d wear normally. Sweatpants and hoodies were not his thing.

He slid his shotgun out from behind the driver’s seat, holding it in his left hand as he closed his door, then slid the door closed that Ally had left open in her wake. He made his way to where the rest of the club were gathering, standing near the other prospects but not close - even now most of the club didn’t see him as one of them. He listened to them shoot the shit, more envious that he’d like to admit.

Johnny watched them go, suddenly no longer feeling envious of his peers - he’d been on the receiving end of Marc’s wrath - He’d already received a shit kicking from Nik - someone who still very clearly hated him for his connection to the Tulsa chapter and what he did - and didn’t - do when they’d attacked his clubhouse.

He turned back as Fish started laying out the plan of action, it didn’t sound like it was going to be fun clearing this place but when Fish looked at him pointedly, then thumbed at the door, he was certain his heart stopped. Dread filled him but he did his best not to let it show, eyes drifting to the glass door of the mercantile, papered up to block out any looky-loos. Johnny knew he couldn’t protest, argue or get out of it. He needed to pay his dues - repay his dues - to the club and nodded.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t going to just get on with it. Of fucking course not. Here was Nik in his ear touching him and making a joke of it all. He shrugged off the other mans hand, muttering “Fuck off guy.”

With new found rage he marched for the front door of the mercantile, mouth dry and heart racing he reached for the door to give it a tug.

It didn’t budge. Fuck.

He didn’t dare glance back at anyone waiting for him to clear the front door; they’d take it as a sign of weakness and then his life would be worse than it already was. He sidled up to the door, turning his shotgun over and tapping on the glass window until it broke, doing his best to make the least amount of noise as possible. Careful not to cut himself on the glass, he reached through to unlock the door then pulled it open quickly.

Inside the store was dark, dust particles floating around in the few and far between sunbeams that did filter through the window where the paper had started to peel back and now the doorway. He squinted into the darkness, straining to see or hear anything.

But nothing seemed to come of it, no distance shuffling, no moans of the dead waking from their sleep. Just silence.

He swallowed hard, stepping further into the mercantile, boots crunching on the broken glass under his feet. Another foot, he paused, listening again, eyes searching in the darkness. The door started to swing closed behind him, no one outside had caught it and it reflected light through the room in a slow lazy arc. Johnny couldn’t help but follow the beam of light, eyes drawn to the only place he could see.

A person! Only a foot out of reach from him. How the fuck had they got there?! He’d only spotted them for a second, but now his eyes were trained on the dark shadow, its arms outstretched.

He didn’t hesitate, shaky hands raised his shotgun and fired. A flash filled the darkness for a brief second but Johnny was already racking the shotgun, bringing it back up and slowly searching the darkness for anyone else that might be trying to sneak up on him.

Namazu Good_Morels AnneThraxx aggravatedspacedolphins Crono ​

 

[NanLia]

QUAPAW, OKLAHOMA
Quapaw Mercantile​

Billie regarded Ally as Auguste handed off his rifle to the woman; she’d never say shit aloud, certainly not as a prospect in this club, not to the VP and certainly not to the former VPs old lady. Still, she didn’t feel like Ally was the right person to trust with a weapon at the moment. She’d seen her slowly but steadily, turn deeper to the bottle daily. She wasn’t convinced that anyone else had noticed, but sharing a room with her in Roanoke, Ally couldn’t keep it hidden fully.

In Ally’s defence, she hadn’t travelled with the older woman over the last few days but looked unwell and assumed the worst.

She kept tabs on Lila as she sped away to some tall grass to do her business, trying to find a balance between keeping watch and giving Lila her privacy, but was thankful when she returned without incident. But then she continued past the truck and toward the roadway. Billie sighed, following suit, not willing to let the VP’s old lady wander around alone; she sure as fuck wasn’t going to be blamed if anything happened.

Billie took a cursory look over at the fire department Lila had spotted. She doubted Fish had missed it or that they would leave this area without fully investigating for potential loot. Some supplies were running low - fuel in particular - and she knew the semi was a gas (or, rather, diesel) gussler. She’d taken tips from Auguste along the way to try and help on fuel usage: not letting the truck idle when they were stopped, letting it coast on slopes and lowering the gear to prevent the RPMs from running too high.

Lila went on to spot something concerning in the distance and she listened to Birdie’s voice echo on her radio as she called in the sighting to Fish.

Out of an abundance of caution, Billie slipped her gun from the holster on her hip, eyes glancing around warily to their surroundings, checking rooftops and windows for any sign of people watching them.

Namazu AnneThraxx aggravatedspacedolphins Crono Tool Good_Morels Miaow​

 

[NanLia]

QUAPAW, OKLAHOMA
Quapaw Mercantile​

Auguste watched the prospects as they sulked away, busted down for being asshats. He knew it was all part of the cycle of club life; he was once like them, taking nothing seriously but taking care of his ride. As much as he wanted to chide them for their behaviour, he wasn’t in the mood to go easy, on anyone. They needed to be extra cautious, now more than ever. They were vulnerable, exposed and had plenty to lose in this position.

What annoyed him more about the interaction was it had been Marc to bust them up, not Nik. He expected his replacement the sergeant-at-arms to step in and keep prospects in their place, not other prospects. On the flip side, it spoke a great deal about Marc and his character that he did fear giving his peers shit when it needed to be given.

He turned back in surprise when Fish elected Johnny to head into the mercantile first; this wasn’t a typical job for a prospect but he could chalk it up to Fish putting the gears on the new kid from the other chapter. Plenty in the club were still put off by him, himself included. He wouldn’t bother intervening - if Johnny had been a patched member of Tusla then this should be a cakewalk for him.

Auguste watched Johnny slowly head for the front door, about to call Nik over to give him a piece of his mind when Fish’s radio cracked with Birdie’s call out.

“Fuck.” He nodded Nik to follow him, they needed to check out what they were seeing and determine if they needed to do something about it. He stuffed his hands back into the pockets of his leather coat, ducking his head into the collar as he stepped out between the vehicles and back into the breeze, hissing at the cold.

Auguste was nearly at where the girls were peering down the street when he heard the shotgun go off. He jumped, eyes tracing the area for any signs of other people before settling on Lila and the others. “In the truck, now.” He barked at them; this new discovery would have to wait.

Namazu AnneThraxx aggravatedspacedolphins Crono Tool Good_Morels Miaow​

 

[Namazu]

QUAPAW, OK
Quapaw Mercantile​

When the walkie-talkie at his hip crackled to life with Birdie’s voice, Fish raised an eyebrow and popped it off the holder. Two bodies, dragged intentionally. The dead didn’t do things like that… only the living. That wasn’t a good sign - but what the hell about this place was a good sign? Nada, that’s what. Fish made no effort to keep those around him from hearing Birdie’s transmission - he was not about to keep secret anything related to possible danger they’d face.

“Copy. Be careful over there. Holler if you need us.”

Fish watched as the group got ready, checking their weapons and shaking off the stiffness and weariness everyone built up while in their vehicles. His eyes briefly followed Nik as he paced, looking all wound up and ready to pounce at the first thing that moved wrong. When Nik saddled up next to him, he gave the man a nod. The guy was fitting into his new role nicely, at least by his judgment. If Auguste had different thoughts, he hadn’t spoken up about them yet.

He let the Sergeant-at-Arm’s taunting of Johnny happen. Overall, he was not too keen on the concept of hazing. Not in the hostile sort that involved insults and pissing people off. He didn’t see how it could build the kind of bond they needed to maintain… but there was no way to artificially force the bond the rest of the surviving club had with each other. They had survived the worst, multiple times. It was even noticeable that after the clubhouse, people who used to not get along as well were more friendly. Burying bodies tended to also lead to burying hatchets. Normally he’d tell someone to knock it off if he saw hazing and shit like this… but Johnny was different.

Fish couldn’t honestly say if he forgave, pitied, understood, or hated Johnny. Maybe all of the above.

Fish rocked his jaw to the side, glancing across the street. He hadn’t intended to pull some bullshit ‘women stay behind’ move, but that’s how it wound up. The gals seemed to stick together naturally, and he wasn’t going to fight it if that’s what they wanted. Nik was right though - purely from a numbers game, they could use more people staying with the truck. They didn’t need everyone inside the building.

“Marc.” Fish barked, then motioned across the street at the trucks and the rest of their group. “Go help keep an eye on the vehicles and the rest of us. Keep ‘em peeled for any sign of people, or anything that looks not right. Radio it in right away if you see something suspicious. Got it?”

Once Marc was jogging across the street, he turned and gestured towards the door while looking at Johnny. Thankfully the guy didn’t protest his assignment. He wasn’t simply using Johnny as fodder (though he wouldn’t be completely torn up if the guy bit it in the process) but it was a test. Everything was a test, and he wanted to figure out if this guy really meant to stick around or not.

Fish held his gun at the ready, pointed down at the ground as he stepped back to let Johnny work the door, prepared just in case multiple dead stumbled out first thing after being drawn by their noise. And… of course the door didn’t budge. Figures.

To Johnny’s credit, at least he didn’t fold when presented with a minor obstacle on top of likely being tilted from the hazing earlier. Once the door was open and Johnny had stepped inside several paces without successfully meeting an immediate end, Fish pulled his small flashlight from his pocket and flicked it on as he stepped inside as well.

The place was pretty big on the inside, judging from how deep the darkness got off in the distance. He saw forms of tall shelves, rows and rows of them - the place made him think of a Costco or a Wal-Mart, but without the incessant corporate branding bullshit. The place was empty and eerie in its silence. It was impossible to see the back of the building, not beyond the smattering of sunbeams and whatever small area their flashlights illuminated.

The rest of the club members fanned out behind Fish as he entered, with a few of them remaining outside by the doors as lookouts. They all were treading carefully, a step at a time, eyes darting up and down, side to side, looking for any sign of danger as they walked over broken glass and other debris. Someone’s boot bumped an empty plastic carton, and three separate flashlight beams immediately darted down to it. It was just an empty bottle of Minute-Maid orange juice, cap missing. Nothing spectacular. Everyone’s attention returned elsewhere.

Johnny’s shotgun blast made Fish tense as he whipped his aim over in the same direction, expecting the need to fire but not squeezing the trigger. Not until he knew what he was shooting at. Everyone else did the same, fanning out and staggering their positioning. Whatever and whoever this was now had well over a dozen or more guns pointed at it.

Whatever it was, Johnny’d gotten it good. Something hit the floor with a heavy thump. He didn’t hear the telltale clatter of any metal weapons falling too, but who knew what he could have missed due to the loud blast of the shotgun.

“Hold. Keep a lookout for anything else moving.” Fish instructed as he came up next to Johnny, flashlight scanning the floor in sweeps looking for what Johnny had just taken out, keenly aware that if there was one, there might be more. Finally his flashlight illuminated it: The edge of the sleeve of a light green coat, made of a smooth material akin to a windbreaker. It was bent at the elbow, and unmoving. Fish’s breath caught in his chest - it wasn’t bloodied or torn or rotted, from what he could see.

“Stay here,” Fish said as he approached closer, flashlight sweeping back and forth, up and down the figure in front of him, gun still ready. By the time he was standing next to the fallen form, Fish let out a heavy breath.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered, crouching down, flashlight pointing the other direction as Fish slid his arms around the form. Whoever it was that had gotten shot, Fish saw reason to try and help them up.

“Johnny, c’mere.” Fish was standing now, his arm around what was clearly a human form with limp arms in the darkness. The light green windbreaker and a shiny zipper glinted from the edge of someone’s flashlight while the others were keeping an eye on their surroundings, letting Fish and Johnny deal with whatever disaster they’d just caused. Fish carefully helped the figure closer, something dragging against the floor as he moved, like the person couldn’t move their feet right.

Stopping a few steps in front of Johnny, Fish sighed - and then shoved the person Johnny just shot forward, right into him.

The ‘person’ was a store mannequin.

A blank, formless white face emerged from the darkness as it was caught in the beams of several flashlights. Underneath the unzipped green windbreaker was a tan shirt that read ‘Welcome to Oklahoma!” - or at least, it did once, before Johnny had shredded it and the mannequin’s torso with a shotgun blast. The mannequin had on a pair of dark brown cargo pants that were tied together at approximately knee height, and zip-tied to the metal stand the mannequin was attached to. The mannequin wobbled forward as it was shoved, teetering towards Johnny. Its arms had snapped off when it fell, and now they swung loose in the windbreaker’s sleeves.

“Fuckin’ hell, Johnny. Not sure if I should say you had a good shot, or call you a moron.” Fish huffed, running a hand down his face and then through his hair. They were all jumpy, so he couldn’t really blame the guy too much.

“Keep your eyes peeled, everyone. There still might be more besides fashion disasters in here.”

NanLia AnneThraxx aggravatedspacedolphins Crono Tool Good_Morels Miaow ​

 

[Namazu]

QUAPAW, OK
Quapaw Mercantile​

Taking the binoculars from Birdie, she lifted them to her eyes and checked out the dead bodies more closely. Sure enough, they had not only been dragged there, but intentionally positioned - left hand over the heart. That couldn’t have been by accident. That meant something. What exactly, she had no idea. Remorse? Regret? Sadness? Who knows. It probably didn’t matter - what did matter was that they were not alone.

Lila kept quiet as Birdie called it in, scanning the area with the binoculars. She didn’t see anything or anyone moving out there… not even so much as a squirrel or bird or another shambling dead. She sighed, lowering the binoculars and following Birdie back to the truck, reaching back to make sure Willow and Billie were following them. They couldn’t mill around out here, no matter how much she wanted to be on her feet and stretching her legs.

“Hand on their heart…. Dunno what that means. If the dead meant something to ‘em, was someone that a person knew, you’d think they’d bury them, right?” Just like they had buried their own, back at the clubhouse.

Lila slowed a moment, blinking at Willow as she went on about uniforms and fashion shows and dogs. It was like the woman’s bizarre train of thought was just now catching up with her, worming its way into her brain between all the other worries about more important things. She grimaced, shaking her head at Willow.

“Pretty sure there aren’t any dogs left there, Willow… no. We’ll check the place out before we go but… bet you it's cleaned out already.” Lila sighed as they milled around, crossing her arms over her chest and bouncing on her toes. Most places were cleaned out already - finding anything left worth taking was getting harder and harder. So now they stood, idle, waiting… but were they protecting the truck, or her?

It gnawed at her sometimes. Of all the senior patched members still alive, Auguste was the only one with a partner still here and alive. Nik was single (no fucking surprise), Fish and Kit were… well, that was complicated and Kit was back at Roanoke and Fish hadn’t been the same since they left the settlement. Beau was too fucking sloshed to know his own name ninety percent of the time and his wife was dead. She was the only ‘old lady’ of the club now that Casey was gone and Ally now a widow, and she couldn’t for the life of her figure out if people were quietly treating her like a fragile princess because of what happened, on Auguste’s orders, or if because they really thought she was just that helpless. She didn’t want to be helpless. Fuck, she knew she wasn’t. She survived something that most people wouldn’t have.

Sometimes she just wanted to scream. Instead, she kept it to herself and uncrossed her arms, raising her binoculars to peer further down the street in the direction they hadn’t traveled yet. There was no sign of anything at all. The complete absence of the dead shuffling around was unnerving enough, but the lack of abandoned cars in the road was also unusual and off-putting. It really looked like the town had just been cleaned up and abandoned.

Over the top of the binoculars, she spotted Auguste and Nik approaching. She offered Auguste a smile - wondering if he was skipping the mercantile crawl just so he could play bodyguard to her again.

“This town is creepy as fuck.” Lila commented to them - only to whip her attention over to the mercantile and let the binoculars fall to her chest when she heard the gunshot across the street from the building the others were in.

She didn’t need to get told twice - she turned and booked it back to the truck. Questions as to who was protecting who here could wait. Lila tugged open the truck’s door on the driver’s side, climbed in, and ducked between the two seats - ready to either hop into the passenger seat, or duck down and hide in case bullets started flying.

NanLia AnneThraxx aggravatedspacedolphins Crono Tool Good_Morels Miaow ​

 

[Namazu]

QUAPAW, OK
Quapaw Mercantile​

Marc caught Nik’s gaze for just a moment before offering him a slight shrug of his shoulders and looking away. He didn’t know what to say to the guy - hell, he didn’t know what to say to anyone. These people were tight, he could see that much plain as day. He was an outsider, still trying to figure out where (and if) he fit. He was pretty used to not fitting in so if it never happened… well, that would be okay too.

He was pretty certain Nik didn’t like him. Not that he knew why. Same reason as everyone else probably. He was just unlikable or something. They didn’t like Johnny either - he didn’t get a fully straight answer as to what the hell the guy’s story was, but what he gleamed from the other prospects (the ones that would talk, anyway) was that he was from another chapter that fucked them over bad, and it had to do with why their last place got destroyed and people got killed. He was damn surprised they let Johnny live. These guys weren’t bleeding hearts nor were they idiots, so he figured there was a reason.

It was not a thrilling idea to be assigned to babysitting duty with the girls, but it kept him out of a dark building filled with who-the-hell-knows-what. Traps and dead and worse. He’d gladly take the cold and chittering girls over the alternative… but being out in the open wasn’t great either.

“Boss.” He said flatly, nodding his head once at Fish’s orders. He tossed Johnny one of those sorry-and-good-luck glances before he took off in a jog - relieved to be further away from the rest of them. He wasn’t sure what was worse - the other prospects, or Willow. She grated on his nerves like nothin’ else and he was convinced she was crazy.

Stepping up beside Birdie, hanging a bit back from the women so none of them could complain he was in their space or being weird, Marc glanced both ways and kept an eye out. “Uyá! Want me inside the truck, or out? Otherwise… I could see about gettin’ up on top of a roof somewhere, maybe? Get some better sight on the area ....” He trailed off, sighing a little as he saw Auguste and Nik approaching.

Fuck, now what? Did he do something wrong already? Were they over here to bust his ass about something? He only just got here and -

Then there was a gunshot.

Marc spun around and sidestepped away from Nik and Auguste, weapon up and pointed towards the mercantile. He was half expecting a flood of the dead to come pouring out of the front door across the street. “What the fuck is going on?”

NanLia AnneThraxx aggravatedspacedolphins Crono Tool Good_Morels Miaow ​

 

[NanLia]

QUAPAW, OKLAHOMA
Quapaw Mercantile​

Johnny’s eyes scanned the darkness, the beams of light and the shadows wildly, searching for others, more where the first had come from. He could hardly hear Fish’s commands, blood rushing through his ears. He panted, his hands shaking with adrenaline. This hadn’t been the first time he'd been sent in as a decoy, as a target to draw out danger. This wasn’t new to him, nor was he surprised when Fish had elected to send him in. Send in the fodder, keep the core safe.

He raged internally, he wanted to kill another, take them all out. Fuck these people for trying to get the jump on him, and fuck Fish and the club for making him bait!

Johnny spat on the dusty floor, watching Fish approach who he’d shot, trying to keep up with the beam of light in the darkness. He saw the coat, it looked feminine and he momentarily worried that the woman had been searching for help. Fish’s curse confirmed it for him - he’d killed a woman and would be the final straw for him; the reason for the club to hang him out there with the others on the sign.

He clicked open the break-action and opened the chamber, tugging out and tossing aside the spent shells, then fished two fresh ones from his coat pocket, replacing them into the chamber. He didn’t snap the break-action closed, leaving it hung over his forearm as Fish called him forward. He was shocked when the prez kicked the person towards him, more so that the figure slid so easily across the dusty hardwood.

Johnny stared down at the mannequin now basking in the little light from the front door. “Fuck me” He hissed, clicking his shot gun closed and getting his focus back on clearing the rest of this shithole out.

Namazu Good_Morels AnneThraxx aggravatedspacedolphins Crono ​

 

[AnneThraxx]

QUAPAW, OKLAHOMA
Quapaw Mercantile​

Birdie kicked at a few loose stones as she strolled back from the road, hands tucked into her pockets, cigarette bouncing between her lips with every step. She stopped a few meters away from the others, turning back to watch the group that was making their way to the mercantile. A small wave of envy flushed over her, feeling as though she was missing out on some bit of action. She paused, processing the emotion for a brief moment. ‘F.O.M.O. Fucking f.o.m.o’, she cursed internally, questioning why she felt she was missing out. Was it her newfangled compulsion to protect those around her, even putting herself in harm's way without thought to keep them safe? Was it a craving for the rush she could get from the possibility of danger? Or was it some strange need to prove herself worthy to the club? The last thought made her cringe. This group had become almost a family to her, and while she knew her place at the lower end of the rankings, she knew her worth within the club. While she did want to rise in those ranks, she respected her place and hoped that chance would come, someday.

She took a long drag as the knot churned in her stomach, her boot chipped away at a muddy piece of ice while she pondered. The sound of new footsteps approaching brought her attention back to the lot. She flashed Marc a gentle smile as he walked over, chuckling at how he looked annoyed yet somehow relieved to have been reassigned jobs. She squashed the cigarette under her heel, adjusting her jacket around her, to ward off the incoming chill from slowing down. She liked Marc. From the bit they hung around each other or jobs they were assigned to, she preferred him far more than a few of the other prospects. What could she say; she had a soft spot for caustic assholes. She glanced down the road at the bodies, before scanning the lot for a headcount. A small sigh of relief escaped her as she counted the same number she had a few times since they arrived. She shrugged at his question as he stopped beside her.

“I mean, truck’s definitely a warmer option. I was planning on staying out, so if you wanna get warmed up, be my guest.” She turned, looking over at the fire station. He did have a point. The roof could offer them a fairly good vantage point. “Roof sounds like a plan. I gotta do something, man. Standing around is killing me.” Every minute felt like hours as they waited for the mercantile to be cleared. She finally managed to kick loose the large chunk of frozen mud she’d been anxiously picking at. Spotting Nik and Auguste crossing the road reactivated the nervous ache in her guts. Her voice dropped, almost to a whisper to Marc as she spoke. “This place feels wrong, man. Something’s not right.”

Nik and Auguste were just about to them when the shot echoed through the quiet town. “Fuck.” She cursed, raising her own rifle in preparation for what may reveal itself in the coming moments. Auguste’s sudden order ignited her compulsion to protect, like a well-trained doberman. She spun on her heel, beelining with the rest towards the truck. She spied Willow off to the side, stunned by the gunshot. She grabbed her hand as she passed, running with her to the passenger door. She heaved it open, giving Willow a boost up into the cab, leaving it open for the others seeking coverage. “Get in the back and stay low. Lock the door and don’t move until someone tells you it’s safe, okay?” She directed Willow, her voice soft with a tinge of panic. She shot Lila a glance of ‘For the love of god, don’t let her get out. Or in the driver's seat.’ She knew Lila would have a handle on things in the truck. She trusted that girl with her life. Once everyone was in and she heard the lock engage, she exhaled, tucking herself behind the side skirt of the trailer, making sure she had a clear path to her bike. Her heartbeat raced in her ears as she held her breath, attempting to listen for any incoming threats, living or dead. There was nothing but silence. No birds. No wind. No groans or shouting. All she could do was wait for a sign.

NanLia Namazu aggravatedspacedolphins Tool Good_Morels Crono ​

 

[aggravatedspacedolphins]

QUAPAW, OKALHOMA
Quapaw Mercantile​

All the prospects were pissing him off. His head was already throbbing. The inside of his cheek shredded as he watched Marc give him a shrug, as if his authority had no power here. Maybe he should be showing them that he wasn’t fucking around. He swore that he could see Auguste out of the corner of his eye, regretting every bit of decision that came with suggesting that he take over for him, when Fish became President. He pressed his lips forward, shooting him a glare as he watched him stalk off to the girls. He also wasn’t really fond of him being anywhere close to any of the girls either, but he knew that they would kick his ass to kingdom come if he tried anything. Reason why he liked Lila and Birdie and Billie and Ally.

Nik was ready to turn back to the building when Auguste nodded to him. Guess they were going to investigate the missing bodies? Not that he trusted any of the prospects who were…lounging around by the cars, looking like they wanted a pack of smokes. He was about to give them a piece of his mind, but Johnny had taken the brunt of his anger, and all he could muster was mumbles and glares out of the side of his mouth. He was starting to feel stupidly sorry for how much he shit on Johnny. Even Willow was starting to hint that maybe he was a little too harsh on Johnny…but Willow had a soft spot for everyone, and she also thought that ‘two-timer’ meant something else entirely…

He was failing, and he knew it….and someone was going to die and it was going to be his fault. The anxiety chewed at his lip as he followed Auguste. The girls were fine, Marc bounding slightly ahead of him. Willow smiled and waved at him again, and he glared and twisted his head the other way, embarrassed by her antics.

The shotgun made the hair’s on the back of his neck stand up. His rifle nearly slipped from his grip. He whipped around, looking at the girls quickly. Auguste motioned them away, and Nik was fingering for the radio at his belt, waiting to hear what the fuck that was, and if Johnny still had his head. He pulled it up, listening to the static as he whipped around to the bodies, still motionless on the concrete, their strange positioning even more haunting in the wake of the ringing of his ears.

“Please tell me that was Johnny losing his virginity.” He sucked in a breath. “Listen up. I want eyes up. This ain’t a fuckin’ game right now. Whatever element of surprise we had is gone. Flashlights in fucking windows, guns in the air. You shoot anything that fuckin’ doesn’t present itself with it’s hands in the air and pleads for God Damn mercy.”

He looked at Auguste, giving him an aggressive huffy sigh, before he twisted around, making sure that Willow was at least out of sight. He gave a nod to Birdie. He wasn’t sure she could even see it, but he’d give her a pack of cigarettes the next time he found one as thanks. For now, he had to make a decision….

They should get out…Whatever was here…Whatever had decided to make this town clean as a whistle and purify their apocalypse problem….It probably knew they were there…and he didn’t know if they would take kindly to strangers. Southern Hospitality and all…

“Fuck. If we weren’t out of gas, I’d be saying we get out of here. Fuck.”

He edged closer, his head twisting to scan second story windows, looking for broken windows, and glares of snipers. This felt like bait. He stepped closer with Auguste, right up to the edge of the street, and closer to the two bodies on the ground. The ex-military man in him slunk up next to a building, and aimed, prepared to see them both come off the ground, before looking at the awning that they both laid under, and the building they were presented in front of…

“We aren’t going in. We are getting gas. We are going. We are getting gas. We are going.” He twisted back to Auguste. He was pulling the radio free off his belt again.

“I want someone siphoning gas in Fish’s truck. Now.”

Namazu NanLia Tool Crono Good_Morels AnneThraxx Miaow ​

 

[aggravatedspacedolphins]

QUAPAW, OKALHOMA
Quapaw Mercantile​

Her lips turned downward at the idea that there were no dogs locked away inside the firehouse, just begging to get out and come bounding along. No licking and happy Dalmations come and greet them. Although, someone had once told her that Dalmations were even more vicious and mean than pitbulls and dobermans. She wondered how Creulla De Ville survived then in 101 Dalmations? Was that movie kind of a form of indoctrination for dogs? Was Disney essentially a sleeper cell trigger for all canine kind? She saw Nik and Auguste coming around the corner, and she raised her hand to them, smiling a little, before twisting back.

Before she could even voice her own opinions back to Lila, that perhaps there were dogs still around, just in their own wild pack and roaming free, humming ‘Cruella De Ville’ in their free growly tones, the shotgun heard round the world froze her in place. Her brain immediately froze, her body too.

Shotgun shells. Blood. The scent of copper and iron. Screams turning growls. Her fingers were covered in the substance. The gun in her hands. Why….Why did she have a gun….and Dad…why….why did she have Dad’s gun?

The other girls had started running, but her legs didn’t feel like they worked quite as well. She was thankful for Birdie, grabbing her and tugging her. That at least got the blood working below her waist. She huffed and heaved, as she clambered inside the truck trailer next to Lila, giving her a blank, head empty, stare, before she found a comfortable spot in the back and rested her head against the leather, taking deep and heavy breaths as she tried to get herself back to reality…but truly, Nik was the best at that…and he wasn’t here…

She felt shaky again, much like how she did when they first came back from that hunting trip, and found the clubhouse in shambles….but this time, nobody had died…at least not yet. She sighed, flopping her head back and twisting to look at the ceiling of the cab.

The ceiling of her bedroom…how long was she going to stare at it…until the shadows started making puppets? Until…the world didn’t seem so bad?

“Hey…Lila? What if….What if…..those people…are puppets? Like….what if…what if they aren’t really dead?”

Namazu NanLia AnneThraxx Tool Good_Morels Crono Miaow ​