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Futuristic BioGenesis Safe House: Surviving the Post-Apocalypse.

Frank looked surprised when another person, a man, rushed out of the what seemed to be a school. When the man told him to follow he just stood there at first, looking at them both stumbling back into the school.


But before he could go back in, he had to attend one business first, and that was to get rid of the body of the compromised.


"Wait! I have to get rid of the body first, he said to the man who had just came out of the building"


He bent down, took the creature in it's hands and started dragging it away from the school. He did not want to get anything of its blood on him, so he did not carry it away.


After a few hundred meters, he stopped, looked up and let go of the creature. He ran back in a slow, but steady pace.


They seemed to be waiting for him, hurrying as fast as he could he ran back and helped aiding the black haired girl, steadying her so she did not fall down.
 
A feeling of surprise overcame Chana as both Christopher and the newcomer came to her aid. Being alone for a long amount of time, with only her young brother as company, had made her very used to dealing with things on her own and acting like certain things didn't faze her. But that's not what community meant. She let her eyes flutter down to the torn wound in her side and allowed the two to help her within the safe house. They found themselves in the same corridor as Mel, Takai, and Yasuko. The man was still unconscious on the ground, Yasuko and Mel crouching over him. She felt overwhelmed as she directed her gaze back to the two men that helped her back inside.


"Thank you both. I-...Earlier, we all went out into the city to get a pack of Compromised off of our scent. One tore up my side. It's okay. I'm immune, very immune."



Chana blew out a long breath, and lifted her hand to get a look at the wound. The skin was torn, a series of cuts leaving it gaping. The cropped top did nothing to cover her. Her scar was splayed across her abdomen, the fresh wound like red paint on a puckered canvas. She almost rolled her eyes, but the stabbing pain at her side prevented it. Her sight felt blurry.


"I'll need some help with this. Christopher, Colton is a doctor and should be able to help as well. Just please, help me out." she swiveled her gaze to Frank, pressing a hand to the wall to steady herself. "I'm Chana. We're all survivors here."


She sighed, those were the only words she could manage right now.
 
Frank looked rather surprised when the woman, who introduced herself as Chana, knew his name.


Then a thought strained past his tattered mind. He had a dogtag around his neck with his name on it.


He smiled when the girl introduced herself, he thought the name had a nice clang to it. He stood there with the hand against the wall, feeling uttermost exhausted. He looked at the people around him, felt a joy spreading in his chest. She had saved him, and now he might have a place to stay, a place to call home. He stood up again, dragging the smaller girl on her feet. Then whilst walking he simply said.


"Hello, i am Frank. Thank you for saving me, Chana, was it? And thank you all others for, simply being here"





Pressing one hand against the wall, and the other around the girl, he simply stood there, not knowing what to do. He could not enter without being told to enter, all these eyes were on him, a stranger that no one had heard about or seen before. Could they let him in? Would they? He did not know, so he simply stood there, holding the girl up while steadying himself on the wall.
 
Christopher ran to the green house, looking for something that could help Chana. He found some ginger, and minced some roots. "Okay, this might help." He rushed to where Chana is. "Colton! Coltooon! A little help here is appreciated, we have a serious wound to be treated!" He got some water, poured the minced roots into it and gave it to Chana. "Here, to subside the pain. Tell me if it's too strong, some people are sensitive." He turned to the tall guy, with a mix of worry and agitation on his face. "You! Quick, get some salt and water from the kitchen, we need to stop the bleeding! Also find some towels! Go go go!" He got more water and poured on the wound, to clean it. There was a lot of blood leaking, and the skin around the would was starting to get pale. Chana needed medical attention, and Christopher wasn't the one to do the job. "WHERE THE F*** IS COLTON?" He screamed. Grabbing a towel from his pack, he put it on the would, to try to stop the bleeding.
 
Frank stood there looking dumb for a second or two, then realising the problem was not over yet. Chana was still in need of medical attention, as the guy who had come out ran into the school, he put her down on the ground, back against the wall and legs out. She looked pale, her wound was not treated and Frank had no idea how to treat wounds. He looked at the girl with an impressive calm in his eyes, trying to soothe her by just looking at her.


The guy came out again, running with something in his hands that he gave Chana.


Then he asked Frank to run to the kitchen.


"Me, Kitchen?"


"But how is that...i don't"



He stood up, ran in and started looking for the Kitchen. He was in luck, he had gone to the right first and it was the second door he opened. He started looking through all the cabinets. Opened the first, swore. Second, another swear word. Sweat was dripping down his forehead and he was no longer exhausted. A panic like feeling started growing on him again, he could not let this girl die after saving him. He opened the last cabinet with such force that he pulled the door to it right off, but lucky enough the salt was standing there. He picked it up, took one big can and filled it with warm water and took some of the towels he found there, dirty or clean they had to do.


He started running back, pain spreading slowly in his body, there was not much left in him. His leg hurting like hell. But
HE COULD NOT LET THE GIRL DIE was the only thought he kept in mind.


He heard a name being yelled over and over again, he wondered why the person who had the name was so important, perhaps a doctor?



Finally, he was back where the girl was. He gave the supplies to the man who sat next to her, pressing something gently against heir wound.



"Was this it?" He asked.


 
"Yesyes thankyou" he hurriedly said, while pressing the wound. He carefully took out the now dripping bloody towel, and handed it to the tall man, while taking the pot with water, the salt and the towels. He poured the salt in the water, stirred it and soaked one towel on it. Christopher then proceeded to take the soaked towel and put in the wound. When the towel got cold, he took it out, handing it to the man again. "Dry this one, quick." He got another towel and repeated the same process. When the blood slowed down, he got a roll of bandages and some gauze, and did some dressings. It was crudely made, but got the job done.


With a deep breath, Christopher sat back, while looking at Chana's now(poorly) bandaged side. His hands, shirt and pants are bloody, and he ditched the sleeves somewhere along the panic. The scars on his arms blended with the blood, making it more grim.


"Way to go, heroine." He gave a nervous laugh. "Went to save someone and ended up having to be saved. Once again, I do appreciate what you're trying to do, but one more of this and you'll end up killed. You have people who care for you here, you have a shelter to run, Mr. Leader." While laughing, he grabbed the last dry towel, wiped off his hands and arms, and threw it with the rest of the dirty ones. He ten looked at the tall guy near him. "I'm sorry about the shouting, I'm usually not like that, but..." He sighed. "I heard you saying your name is Frank. Mine is Christopher. Thanks a lot for the help. Mr. Frank, I couldn't do it without your aid." He extended his hand for a handshake to Frank, while giving a smile. His arms, now smudged with blood, seemed to emphasize even more the scars on his arm.
 
Shaking Christopher's hand he gave a wry smile to him.


"Well done Christopher, and please, call be Frank, no mr sir or anything before"


"I also think that we need to move her inside NOW"



He extended his arm to Christopher first, pulling him up on his feet. Then, bending down and taking the girl up in his arms, using all of his last strength to walk in to the building. With slow weary steps he walks inside the dark corridor, he looks for any place to put her down, the cleanest place is most needed. Since the only place he know was the kitchen, he quietly walked in front of Christopher, who he trusted to close the door. He lay the woman on the kitchen bench. When she lay there, breathing heavily he felt relived. She was alive, even if it was barely. He slid down on the floor, stretched his legs out and started feeling the darkness filling up his eyes. He was tired to his bones, he felt like it was time to sleep while still watching over the girl.


"Chris...you...fix this, need...sleep" he muttered, then falling asleep.


Wretched pictures flew past his mind as he was sleeping.



Pictures of dead people, people he had killed. Dead people lying over the streets. The smell of rotten flesh, he could almost taste it.



Then everything blackened, and a white figure appeared before his eyes. The figure stretched it's arm out, trying to reach Frank. And when Frank extended his arm, and touch the being, searing pain erupted in his body.



He woke up. Disoriented looking around, seeing the girl still lying next to him gave him a sense of security. Frank slid closer to the table, feeling as a tired protector having to wait for the girl to wake, half sleeping, half resting he sat next to the girl.
 
Chana blinked awake. As her memory came back in foggy bits, she remembered Chris's serum making her feel really drowsy. She awoke on the kitchen bench, lying near Frank and Chris. Rubbing her eyes, she sat up and faintly noticed the dull ache in her now bandaged side. Somewhere, she noted to find her sweatshirt sometime soon. It was a weird sense, feeling like people were watching out for her. She was used to taking care of herself and Asher. A light sense of worry plagued her mind when she thought about how long it had been since she last saw her younger brother. As if fate was answering her, the boy burst through the door.


"Chan!" he mumbled, scratching his head as he stumbled over to his sister and hopped on the bench next to her, leaning his head on her side. "I've been looking for you forever."


Chana smiled apologetically as she slightly slumped with relief, wrapping an arm around the small boy.


"Sorry, bud. I was a little busy. But I'm here now." she moved her gaze towards Christopher and Frank. "Thank you. Both of you. I really appreciate you guys taking care of this injury. This is Asher, my little brother."


She looked off into the distance, letting out a slow sigh. Now she began to wonder about Isao, Yasuko, and Mel.


"There's still a man unconscious out in the hall. And there's so much more we need to do. Christopher, I know you think I'm moving too fast. But the fact of the matter is that we have to. We need to establish our safety, take some precautions. You saw how easily that Compromised got in. We can't let that happen again."


Her voice was filled with drive and ambition, but the spiel had taken a lot of energy. There was too much to do. They didn't come this far to all die.
 
Frank did not know for how long he had slept, or if he hadn't slept at all. The only thing he remembered was a white figure and a pain.


He opened his eyes to someone entered the room. A boy who smiled at the girl they had patched together. They seemed to be close acquaintances, the way they talked and looked at each other. Next to him lay Christopher, he too half asleep, half awake. Frank dragged himself up, he saw the refrigerator and slowly made his way to it. Opened it and saw, food. He looked towards the others with a questioning look, if he could take some. Before they had replied, he stretched his hand in and took some. He had not eaten in many hours, now eating something restored his strength. He agreed with Chana, even though he knew nothing about this place, he knew that security was top priority for everything.


"Are there any heavy objects which we might put in front of the door?"


"Where should we put the body of the unconscious? Is the unconscious compromised?"



"How many people are there here, how many should there be?"






Frank felt like the questions just flew out of him, he wanted to become safe, from everything, he could not let other people make him unsafe, and therefore he needed to know more about the situation.


He awaited answers while eating the food he had, borrowed, from the fridge. Looking at the two what appeared to be siblings.



(Taking a nap, feel free to move Frank around as you see fit)
 
Christopher led Frank and Chana to the kitchen. He was waddling the whole time. Since the time he got here, he didn't have a chance to sleep, and now that the adrenaline rush ended, the body felt the toll. he sat on the floor at the side of the table in the kitchen, looking exhausted. Christopher started to doze off, but then he heard an unknown voice rushing in. Chana introduced Asher to him and Frank, and Christopher gave a small wave to the boy. Then he listened Chana talking about 'protecting everyone' again. He was starting to get tired of this talk. He rose from the floor and slammed his palms on the steel kitchen table, making a loud noise.


"Jesus F***ing Christ, Chana. These people are all adults, they can take care of themselves. We all need a place to survive, but if you keep on pushing yourself, you're gonna die. If not by the hands of a Compromised, it will be by your own damn carelessness. Look what you did. Even wounded, you rushed to save a complete stranger! No offense, Mr. Frank. What was the result? This." He pointed at the wound. The dry blood proved his point. "What if this was on the city? What if you were killed now? It would be really f***ing dumb way to die if you ask me. I know you're not a damsel in distress, and I'm not trying to make you feel bad for helping him, but sometimes, you gotta let someone else do the job. If you keep on trying to be the heroine, you'll end up being a martyr. Stop trying to be the damn heroine. "


Maybe it was the rush of the moment, but Christopher was really angry. He looked at each one in the face, and then stomped out. He went to the dormitory, to the room with the crudely written note, then slammed the door closed. He threw himself on the bed. And cried. He missed his parents. He missed his old life, he missed going out camping with his father. He missed when the only problems he had to face is how many socks were clean. And now he almost lost the one who helped him in his direst moment.
 
Startled by the tone of Christopher's voice, Frank winced and took one step back. Listening to him he just stood there, trying to grasp what everything was about.


He understood Chana was someone who often ran in to situations without thinking first, just doing. And this put her in trouble, hence the wound to the side which Christopher was pointing pointing at.


He then took off with a high pace, slamming the door to what was probably his room.


There he stood, Frank, in a school. He had never seen such an odd school. Perhaps because he was used to the more fine schools that cost a lot of money, this looked ragged and torn, even more than it should after the bomb. But, before inspecting more he wanted to make sure they were safe. He took Chana on the shoulder and asked her;


"Chana, would you please rest? I understand that is your last wish, but i need to feel safe and i am going to barricade this place. You can send your brother after me if you need someone to keep an eye on me "


Awaiting the answer, he stood there itching his face. He needed a shave soon, but he had nothing to shave with. He could ask one of everybody in here to borrow a knife or a sword. Anything would do. But he hated having beard grow on him, he looked like a man-child in it.



He started moving around, slowly making his way down the corridor. Hearing muffled cries from one of the rooms, he stopped, thinking if he should knock or continue. He decided to Knock.



*Thump thump*



Chris? Is that you?


I know i am intruding but i need some help.



Is it okay if i call you Chris?



Do you want me to go away or will you help me?



 
Chana sighed at Christopher's outburst and leaned back against the wall. Asher, true to his nature, began to shake anxiously. She rubbed the boys arm, hugging him tightly to help calm him. She said nothing to Frank's words, simply absorbing both his and Christopher's statements. Once the man left the room, Asher begin to sniff. Chana rested her cheek on top of the seven-year-old's head, calming him quietly. Her eyes stared emptily out the window opposite to them as a familiar old bitter hollowness bloomed in her chest. It was hurt, and almost angry.


She was not trying to protect everyone here. No, she was much to selfish for that. She was trying to protect herself and Asher. Safety in numbers and all that jazz. Maybe she cared about them. She didn't know. She hadn't cared about anyone but Asher for a long time. And now all of a sudden these men were trying to take care of her and tell her what was best to her? She blinked. It was just a flesh wound, and they were acting like she actually was going to die. She knew her limits. They knew nothing about what she had seen in her lifetime, of what Asher had seen in his. This wasn't the first time a Compromised had attacked her. She had seen much worse injury, the scar on her stomach and chest an obvious testament to that. Hell, she had watched out for both herself and Asher all by her damn self for most of her life. She tried to quell the anger that was bubbling in her gut. This is why she didn't let anyone in. No one needed to tell her how to live, or what she was and wasn't capable of. It might have been foolish of her to run out into the rain, but she wasn't going to let someone get infected because of a flesh wound. At what point did trying to be human translate into being a hero? She needed for this place to be safe. Desperately. Fiercely. Almost wildly.


There was nowhere to run. And she had been running far too long. She was a flawed person. So f****g flawed.


She forced down a groan, hugging Asher tighter. The small boy was asleep now, cradled against her side. As she looked at his face, she felt her anger get replaced with both protectiveness and a weary exhaustion. Before she knew what was happening, a few stray tears traveled down her cheeks. Wiping them away angrily, she rubbed her reddened eyes and sniffed. Her gaze tracked the raindrops as they raced down the window pain. In the back of her mind, she began counting the seconds. She wasn't sure what she was counting down to. It didn't matter. All that mattered was that there were always more numbers. They were dependable. And right now...she didn't feel like anything else was.
 
Hearing no answer from the room but the quiet sobs, Frank began to explore. He walked back to where he had been let in. The door was stable, not too much for an eyesight, but it was something. He wanted to try it, see if it held from a forceful attack. He went outside, closed the door, backed up a few steps and then swung himself on the door. A loud noise was made when he hit the door, but the door still stood up. He backed up, did it one more time, and the door still held. When backing up the third time, he stopped, realizing that he could destroy the door. He slapped himself in the face, understanding how stupid he was for doing something like this. Needing to let a laugh out, he did. He placed himself on the stairs to the school, looking out over the wasteland.


He sat there, thinking back to what had been, and what would come. He had no idea what would come, he had just met a bunch of strangers. A black haired girl who had put herself at risk to save him. Never had that happened before, and he still felt shameful for it. How could he let someone almost die in order to save his own skin? He was impressed by the girl. By how she fought, while still being injured. He wondered how he would react if someone yelled at him like Christopher yelled at Chana. He wondered if he would still have his temper, or if a fight would have broke out. He never had to take in consideration about how his action would affect others, but now everything was different. The situation was changed.


But, he felt a small relief. Sitting there on the stairs, the rain constantly falling on his head and the world getting darker. First off, he loved the rain, but second off it was this place, it had people and it seemed kind off....he dared not even think it. Nothing could be safe in this world, it really couldn't. Perhaps very secure, but never safe. But none the less, he felt a secure, comforting feeling sitting here outside in the rain.


Then it hit him again, the stupid thing he had done with the door, and he wondered if anybody wondered what had happened. If they came running outside for an explanation, they would fine one, and a very stupid one. He chuckled again.


Oh he loved the rain so much.
 
Christopher lied there, bawling, thinking of the things he said to Chana. He was scared. Fear makes people do these kinds of things, he told to himself. "Yeah, I was scared, that's all. I'll just go there, they'll understand..." But his legs didn't answer him. He wanted to stay there until everyone forgot about him. It would be better that way. Struggling against the depressive thoughts, he scurried to the front door, thinking about leaving that place. All this hospitality and he paid like that. He didn't deserve to be there. Christopher opened the door, sure to make as little noise as possible, and stopped on his tracks when he found Frank on the stairs, letting the rain fall on his head. He watched him for a few seconds, then raised his voice.


"I'm... I'm sorry..." Was all he could muster. He walked slowly to Frank's side, and sat down, letting the rain fall upon him too. "I... I didn't know what to do, I was scared that Chana would die... And she ignored all of that, only thinking about the others. She helped me when I needed the most, and that's how I paid her... What would you do in her place? I'd punch me in the face and kick me out... Now I don't have the courage to walk there and say I'm sorry. I'm a coward, always was... You said something about helping barricading the place, I... I think I could help. It's the least I could do." He kept staring at his feet the whole time. What will happen now?
 
Frank sat there in the rain, absorbed in his own thoughts when he felt some warmth next to him. For a split second he thought it was a compromised, the he opened his eyes and saw Christoper, who looked like he had had a fight with someone, leaving him with red eyes and cheeks.


When he started speaking, he could do nothing than sit there and listen to the words, try to understand.


"Do you care for her?"


"In some way i mean, not the "care care" way, i just mean. When people react strong to other peoples decisions, it is because they too have feelings for the person, be it bad or good feelings. I have seen it happen so many times before this, with my friends. I think she will understand, if you just tell her. There is nothing to be afraid of, if she gets angry, she gets angry. It will stop sooner or later, no one can be angry until he or she dies. And worse case scenario, she will try to kill you. "
He said with a stern face looking at Christopher.





"No, no just joking, sorry haha, i forgot how to joke a long time ago" he let out a big smile, patting him on the back.


"I am not sure why, but i don't think there is a rush to fix the door. I tested it, it seems to be a very solid door, i could barely move it myself. I think that i will sit here for a while, just, sit and not have to think about anything. It was a long time ago since i felt this kind of, security, in my chest. The last time i felt this, well, it ended up with a lot of bodies. I wish not to step on your feelings Christopher, but, this is a very small thing. I know it feels big and all right now, as if the world will fall apart and crumble, smashing you with its pieces, but it won't. You will get past this, but i do recommend you talking to her first, explaining yourself to her. Perhaps not now, or in an hour, but you should do it fast. Until then, enjoy the rain my friend."
 
A draft of cool moist air passed over Takai's face, the sweat that once beaded it now dried and absent. His eyes fluttered open and he shot up.


"Holy sh*t!"


Yasuko had been leaning over him quietly, so his awakening had shocked her and caused her to jump backwards, cursing. She watched him, her eyes momentarily wide in surprise.


"I...Isao! How do you feel?"


Takai briefly glanced at her before gazing around, then looking down toward his hand, which was still wrapped in hers.


"I'm fine," he asserted curtly before pulling his hand away. He proceeded to rise from his position on the floor, but he was still evidently dehydrated, causing his legs to wobble slightly. Yasuko quickly moved to her feet and wrapped an arm around his waist to keep him steady, but was almost as swiftly pushed away.


"I said I'm fine." He whispered, slightly annoyed.


Frowning, the girl crossed her arms and glared at the stubborn man. "You know, if Chana and I hadn't been here to help, you would have dried up and died from lack of hydration! You should be thanking us."


"Yeah right! All you've ever done is screw me o-" Takai rotated on his heels angrily, but hesitated midway as his eyes caught the woman standing before him. "over..."


Takai's gaze fell away from her as his expression changed to one Yasuko had never seen before. He appeared conflicted and confused.


"Just.." he muttered quietly, the usual assertion absent from his voice, "just stay away from me."


Without further comment, he moved past Yasuko, who made no attempt to stop him.


"You already know it will take more than that. The only way you'll be able to keep me away is to kill me." The woman knew the risk of possibly provoking him to attack, but she had to test the waters, to know if he was going to lash out and hurt someone. Instead of attacking, or even responding harshly, however, Takai simply continued walking. He raised a hand and waved it back at her.


"Well," he said, sarcasm tinging his speech, "apparently you're f**kin' immortal or some sh*t, so killing you is a waste of time."


With that, he continued down the hall, leaving Yasuko standing and watching him with a hint of a smile.


~

Hell... I'm starving. Where is the god damned kitchen in this place?


Takai wandered aimlessly for what seemed like an hour. The many buildings of the safehouse were linked by covered walkways, but the place was truly massive. As he re-entered the main building, he noticed a sign high up on the wall.


"Sh*t... of course there are signs," he put a hand to his face and sighed, "Seriously, I'm not thinking straight..."


Continuing down the corridor, he followed the directions leading to the cafe kitchen, and made his way inside. As he entered, he spied Chana and her little brother Asher seated on one of the benches, but did not address them. Instead he made his way to one of the many pantries that lined the walls and rummaged through them, looking for something substantial to eat. Finally, he retrieved a can of clam chowder soup from the cabinet and set off to find an opener. Several minutes passed as he rifled through drawers, his impatience growing, until he decided to settle on using the axe still tucked in his belt. Setting the can on the counter, he punctured the top with the hooked side of the weapon, sending droplets of soup spattering through the air.


He muttered to himself, irritation evident in his voice, "Everything's got to get under my skin today..."


Replacing the axe to his belt, Takai made his way toward the benched tables, passing by Chana on his way.


"Just so we're clear," He stated without looking at her, his voice empty of emotion, "I don't owe you anything. What you did wasn't a favor to me."


Without further word he moved several seats down and sat, reclining backward against the wall. Lifting the can of soup to his mouth, he began to consume its contents.
 
Isao's entrance startled Chana, pulling her from the first stages of sleep. She was almost disappointed, not being able to remember the last time she really had good rest. Glancing down at her brother, she saw he was still in a deep sleep despite the commotion. Relief settled in her. Her weariness prevented her from really reacting to Isao's return, the ache in her side keeping her somber. His words echoed through her mind.


There was no owing. She knew that already. She also was devoid of sarcastic remarks, snappy comebacks, or anything like that. With all the activity that day, leading up to the arrival of Frank and Christopher's outburst...Chana knew she couldn't handle any more reprimand. Remorse towards Isao touched her, but she didn't look at him.


"I'm sorry. For destroying the data. It wasn't mine to take." She had no excuses, didn't try to cover or explain herself. No, Chana could only state exactly what she was thinking. Her scar felt like a flag across her abdomen, a bitter emblem.


The words hung in the air as she sat on the bench, arm around Asher as he curled up against her good side. One of her knees was tucked against her body, her chin resting atop it. Her hair was sticking to her face, but she didn't even have the energy to brush it away. All her actions and "playing hero" had caught up to her. Her eyes continued to stare emptily out the window, a vacant expression plain on her features as numbers bounced off the edges of her thoughts.
 
Having finished his meal, Takai set the now empty can on the table before him. His finger seared from being broken, causing him to grimace, but he tucked away the pain. He glanced out of the corner of his eye toward Chana, who was gazing out the window solemnly. Asher was tucked calmly at her side, while her knee was raised, almost protectively, over he midsection. He recalled the scar that was revealed to him when he callously attacked her, the anger and disgust in her eyes reflecting the past that dwelt in the crude mark. Takai brought a hand up to his chest, his fingers tracing along the raised and marred flesh gingerly. Could Takai truly hate her? Could he hold spite over someone who's scar so evenly reflected his own? In his blackened heart he felt like the two scars were connected with a rusted chain, one that tied together the pasts of two very different people in the worst of ways. Without thinking, more or less subconsciously leaking his own thoughts, Takai spoke.


"I've always let my scars define who I am." he said, just loudly enough for Chana to hear, "I hated everyone that I could see from the surgery table, back when my parents gave the scars to me. The funny part is, I don't recall or care to know the details of what those a**holes did to me... I just remember the pain, and the anger."


Pausing, the torn man got to his feet and stretched. Since when did he talk like this?


"... even the people that showed pity and remorse, those who felt disgusted by the experiments my mother and father performed. I hated them too, because no matter how alone I was, or how much I suffered, they would never risk their a**es trying to help me or ease the pain. So long as they got the results and didn't have to get their hands dirty, the f**kers could live with their lack of compassion."


Takai smiled, and moved to a window, peering out in a manner similar to Chana.


"I realized, that was how the world was run, cowards and sadists working together to fabricate their ideals, sacrificing everything they cared about, and everything decent people cared about to realize selfish goals. My parents didn't care about cancer. To cure it meant overcoming their misfortune, their debt from having a son with a disease that burned their payroll." Takai's gaze lowered, a tinge of emptiness at the edge of his voice, "In the end... even though I wanted to forge my own path... to rebel against the sh*t people like us have to deal with... I became one of those sadists. Revenge destroyed me. I wanted to kill my parents, the people who funded them, my gang when they turned on me, Yasuko. This damned scar of mine drove me to scar anyone who got in my way, even the people I grew to care for. I infected them with a taint worse than anything the compromised could dish out."


He turned to her, his eyes hardened, but not angry.


"I heard Yasuko when she thought no one was listening. She thinks you and I are alike." He chuckled, more sarcastically than with genuine humor, "As much as it pisses me off, she's probably right." Takai's serious tone returned. "But you and I, we carry different diseases. You have a bulls**t sense of justice and integrity I'll never understand, and me... I piss people off. Where does that leave us then?"
 
Christopher sat at those stairs for what it felt like a entire day. His clothes were already soaked, and since the sun was starting to set, it was growing colder. He decided that he owed some apologies. Those kinds of things shouldn't be left unresolved, especially in a place like that, in a condition like that. Hell, there's an apocalypse going on, and he wasn't going to let people down for suck reckless bullsh**.


He rose up from his seat. "Frank, I guess I owe some apologies. I'm sorry for screaming at you guys there. I was being a complete a******." He then gave a faint smile and opened up the big doors to the main hall. He didn't really care about being drenched, he wanted to solve this in the quickest way, so things could return to normal. It was his fault that things got this way, and he was the only one who could fix them.


He opened up the doors to the kitchen, and saw a not-so-familiar face. Stopping in his tracks for a while, he quickly regained his pace, and approached Chana.


"Hey... Chana... I'm-I'm sorry, okay? I... I wasn't in my right to scream with you and your little brother like that...I wasn't right to even scream in the first place, I mean, you did take me in, you could have just rejected me, I would be on the streets, fending for myself again... I... I was scared I could lose my only hope of not surviving this hellhole of a planet alone. I'm not asking you to accept my apologies, I just wanted to let you know what i really felt." His eyes were watery, but he didn't gave in. After all this time alone, he really felt he was becoming a little kid again, who was only afraid of the dark.
 
Frank arose. Not saying anything to the apologies from Christopher. He knew no matter what he said he would still go on in, and to be frank,Frank (haha!!!) couldn't say anything. They had let him in, he was now in some kind of community and this made all apologies toward him feel like a slap. Their apologies shouldn't be theirs, rather Franks. He shouldn't step anyone on the toes, he should just follow and be there in the shadows for now. Doing anything else would be disrespectful towards them for letting him in.


Frank turned around, took a fee steps and felt the rain stopped pouring down in him. He took his shirt off, revealing all the scars that ran along his body in long vertical strips. He twisted his shirt to remove most of the water, and did the same with his pants. Placing the not as wet clothes back on he felt old. He felt really old and tired.


Walking in to the dim school he heard the voices in the kitchen. When entering four people were there, Chana, Asher, Christopher and someone he had not been introduced too. He nodded to the stranger in a gentle gesture.


When everything became silent he spoke.


"Hey guys, the sun is setting, and I believes everybody is tired beyond measure. But, what about we sit down and talk, share stories on how we ended up here? Or perhaps it is just me being fairly curious about you all, perhaps you all know each other already. And if that is the case we can all just hang out and talk as if this all had never happened, as if everybody was alive again. I'm sorry, I am just mumbling...it was so long since I talked and interacted with humans" he started sobbing


"I am so happy you guys found me...so let me repay you the debt by helping out with everything I can do and a little more, what say you, shall we sit, eat and talk?" He glanced on all of the four awaiting responses.
 
Mel sighed as she rubbed her hands along the fabric covering her thighs as if they were sweaty, the gesture occurring more from the fact that she needed to do something, anything, with her hands in that particular moment. She had watched as Takai -Isao- shot up from the ground without any warning, causing both Mel and Yasuko to jump back from the sudden movement.


She witnessed the two interact with one another for a few moments, wholeheartedly surprised that the man didn't once lash out once, at least not physically. Although as soon as that surprise swept through her body it was almost immediately gone and instead being replaced by guilt from her automatically assuming that Takai would react harshly or negatively to the entire situation based only on what she had previously seen of the man. She, at the very least, should have learned by now that first impressions aren't always as accurate as they may seem.


Mel let out a long breath of air, her amber eyes clouded with an exhaustion that wasn't just physical, before she turned slightly and gave another weary smile to Yasuko, them being the only two left inside the small room. The silence stretched on for a few more seconds -a few more minutes?- before she decided to actually speak up.


"Well... that went better than I expected, although I shouldn't really be surprised. Anytime I assume something it usually ends up with me getting bit in the a**. You'd think I'd have learned my lesson by now." After a melancholy shake of the head from Mel, she directed her attention over towards the open door and slowly begins to tread over to it, her steps light and practically silent. She gives the short haired woman one last glance before she's out from the threshold of the door and into the empty hallway, no certain destination in mind.


Or at least no certain destination in mind at first. Although, after a good solid ten minutes of aimlessly wondering around the large building, her eyes sweeping from one place to another to make a mental note of the layout, she settles for trying to find the kitchen with hopes that it would have something edible for her to digest. It was long past overdue for her to get something in her stomach. Come to think of it, she honestly couldn't remember the last time she had had something to eat, or even the last time she had gotten a good night's sleep devoid of restless tossing and turning or nightmares that continuously plagued her body and mind all throughout the following day.


Who knows. Maybe... maybe this 'safe house' will be different. Maybe I'll actually be able to get through the days not because I have to, but because I want to.


Then again, some things never change.






Mel bit her lip as she walked, teeth digging hard enough into the soft flesh that blood eventually began to well up and drip into her mouth. And, oddly enough, she found the small stings of pain to be a bit grounding. It gave her something else to focus on while clearing up her jumbled mind, making it easier for her to continue tracking the layout and make notes about which rooms and halls may be good to keep in mind for later. With such a distraction it seemed as if Mel found the kitchen in no time, although the noise coming from it may have helped the tiniest bit. It was pretty hard to ignore the sound of someone sniffling, after all.


" -e sit down and talk, share stories on how we ended up here? Or perhaps it is just me being fairly curious about you all, perhaps you all know each other already. And if that is the case we can all just hang out and talk as if this all had never happened, as if everybody was alive again. I'm sorry, I am just mumbling...it was so long since I talked and interacted with humans. I am so happy you guys found me...so let me repay you the debt by helping out with everything I can do and a little more, what say you, shall we sit, eat and talk? "


Mel let out a quiet snort, not being able to help the sound. The world they now lived in had made her jaded, twisting her thoughts and feelings with every passing day that the threat of death loomed above her. Yes, she could be pretty optimistic if she wanted to or if she felt as if it was needed to defuse a situation, although that's what her sarcasm's for, but seriously? 'Share stories on how we ended up here'? What was this to the new guy, a big f***ing sleepover? And 'we can all just hang out and talk as if this all never happened, as if everybody was just alive again'?


'As if this all never happened'... as if I haven't killed dozens upon dozens of people, both alive and dead, because they couldn't do it themselves. As if I can erase everything that has been taken away from me without my permission. You can't just forget the first time you stole from innocents so you could live a little longer yourself or the first time you had to shoot out of fear, defending yourself just like the person now laying before you in a sticky pool of their own blood was trying to do.


And, 'as if everybody was alive again'? Saying that doesn't make it true, doesn't make the dead truly alive and breathing like they once were. If anything, it only makes the pain some buried underneath flare up and burn even more.






Mel stayed pressed against the wall next to the kitchen's entrance as the silence stretched on, her being just out of sight from anyone inside. The brunette's eyes had fallen closed as she took in a few deep breathes to control her emotions into something a bit more stable, pushing away the anger that was brewing the strongest of them all. While she knew, or at least hoped, that the guy in there hadn't meant to say any of those words with the intent to cause any of them pain, probably hoping for the opposite affect, it still brought up memories that threatened to drag the young female back down like it had done so many times before.


Once she was sure that she was somewhat alright, at least on the outside, Mel pushed herself off from against the wall and made her way into the large kitchen. She kept her eyes cast downwards to the floor, more so she wouldn't glare at the new guy than anything else, and quietly made her way to the first pantry she happened to stop in front of. Opening the door the brunette inspected the supplies placed atop the shelves, noting with dismay that there weren't that many options left, and finally settled for an unopened granola bar.


After grabbing the little meal that wouldn't do much to sustain her for very long and gently closing the pantry doors she turned around, did a quick sweep of the kitchen along the people in it, and settled down into a chair a good distance away from everyone else, taking small bites from the bland bar which was now unwrapped. The only people she gave a second glance to were Takai, Chana, and Asher, with a small smile aimed towards the youngest of the three.
 
The room was suddenly full of people, slightly overwhelming Chana. She was still drowsy from her almost nap. Asher was still dozing off at her side. She gave a pointed gaze to Isao, a sort of "we'll have to talk later" look. It was enough that he knew so much about her past already. No need to get everyone and their best friend involved. She then looked over to Christopher, giving him a weary smile.


"It's fine. This has been a long day for all of us, surrounded by people when I'm pretty sure most of us are used to being alone." her eyes shifted to Frank as she raked a hand through her hair. No, she didn't want to talk about her past. Too much of it had been popping up today. But she would give it to the new guy, he definitely the most optimistic of all of them. She was just about to respond when Mel came in, weaving through the crowd and saying nothing. The younger woman smiled at Asher, who was rubbing his eyes sleepily.


"Oh hey, Mel. How are you feeling?"
 
Tired. That seemed to be the only thought going through Friedrich's mind every since he'd woken up that day. It wasn't hard to figure out why. He'd gone on a walk every other day before the outbreak but he wasn't the most fit person in the world and he hadn't stopped walking expect to sleep for three days now. Moving forward was all he had. The few times he'd bothered slowing down was to scavenge -- usually in vein -- and he didn't offer himself much time to sit while doing that. Moving ahead was the only motivation the man had left to muster. Still, it had to fail him at one point or another.


Minutes passed, the grey exterior of the slowly crumbling urban jungle around him blending into one big blur in front of him. His eyes glazed over for a moment, just long enough for a stone to catch his foot and trip him up. He fell flat on his face, the pain of the fall mixing with already sore muscles. He didn't get up, not right away. He was so tired and the pack strapped to his back was suddenly the heaviest thing in the world. Before he knew it an hour passed -- the only way he could tell being the grime covered watch strapped to his wrist. It'd felt like barely a minute to him.


He slowly managed to roll onto his side and sit up again, his motivation lost for the time being as he slipped the pack off his back. His mind wandered for a second as he looked at the satchel and before he could second guess it he was going through it again. Counting out what he had. Two bottles of water and half a canteen. The former emptied, the latter with barely a mouthful in it. Next to them, a bag of jerky already halfway eaten. Next to it, one of his luckier finds. A small box of military MRE meals. Easily a month worth of food if he was smart about it. Water, on the other hand...


Deeper in the pack were some basics. A compass. He hadn't touched it in days. He was without a destination and all looking at it did was frustrate him. A Swiss army knife. A godsend for all the little bit and pieces he could get use out of. A crowbar rested against the side, the end caked in a thin layer of blood. It'd acted as a skeleton key more than once and saved him life even more often. It wasn't even bent yet. A few semi-clean bandages, pharmacy sold and homemade, lay in a small bundle, a mostly emptied bottle of disinfectant settled next to them. He knew a scrape or cut could be the end without much effort so he'd made sure to patch everything up. Laying at the bottom was two boxes of 19mm ammo: both empty. Laying just underneath them was a small black handgun. A SIG Saucer P228, safety on. Friedrich felt a pit open up in his stomach as he reached down for it and effortlessly discharged the clip, the same way he'd done a dozen times before. The sight he beheld still made his skin crawl. Three rounds. That was all he had left.


He tossed the gun back in and closed the bag, his interest in seeing what was left all but gone now. He eyed up his last piece of weaponry, though: a hunting rifle strapped to the side of the pack. A good, reliable wooden frame and unbroken scope. A damn shame. One round left in it. He'd been saving it for an age now. He'd decided long ago that if the worst were to happen, it was the best way to go. A single clean, powerful shot through the head. It wasn't a pretty thought by any means but it was the sick reality of the place the world had devolved into. If he saw even a quartet of compromised, he knew it'd be his go to.


The heavy thoughts suddenly seemed to outweigh the pain and burden. He got up and pulled the pack back on, securing it's straps firmly before looking on ahead. He needed to rest. A large building in the distance caught his attention. Slowly he began to move forward. It might not seem like much but sleeping under a roof sure as hell felt better than sleeping outside. He could only hope that it wasn't locked. Large buildings tended to have some sort of entrance and he always had one way in or another. He just wanted to avoid almost gutting himself on broken glass... again.
 
Frankie trudged forward, looking behind him every so often to make sure Elena was still behind him. He knew that they needed to find somewhere to settle down for minute to catch their breath, but they still needed to make distance. He gripped the SR-25 tightly as he thought about the bandits that tried to kill him and what unimaginable thing they would have done to Elena. Frankie knew he only had about six rounds in the rifle and maybe a few more than that in his 9mm. He worried that if the two he let live came back with more to finish what they had started.


He coughed as the knife cut against his ribs began to wear on him. Elena had wanted to stop to treat the wound, but Frankie told her that it could wait. They needed to make it to somewhere safe; whether it be an enclosed space or just far enough where Frankie felt that it was safe. He looked back to see the concern in Elena's eyes and knew if he didn't reassure her that she would break down worrying about him.


Frankie stopped and turned around to face the young woman, "I'm fine, hun. It's just a scratch. I can handle it."


Frankie reached his hand up to caress the side of Elena's face, then placed a small kiss on her lips. He wasn't known as someone who often showed displays of affection, but she brought it out of him. With that small interlude, he looked up and behind Elena to make sure they weren't being followed. Satisfied with the view, he turned around to soldier on. If Frankie was being honest, he would admit that the cut was bleeding and the pain made it hard to breath. Frankie had to readjust the pack of their supplies to the other side so the weight didn't cut into him as much. It would be a hard trek to find somewhere safe, but Frankie was set on making sure that the girl he loved wouldn't come to any harm.
 
Elena stared at the wound on Frankie's side, as if he knew he turned around and reassured her. She kissed him back, but was still concerned by the wound. She knew it was probably bleeding and making it tougher to breathe, but she also knew Frankie would not let her treat him until they were somewhere safe.


She saw him readjust the weight of the bag carrying their supplies.


"Babe, give me the bag." Elena said firmly. She knew it would cause him more pain and probably make it worse on him, and she was feeling well and could carry the bag for a good amount of time.


"Hey, look at that, " Elena pointed at the huge home.. "It is looking really good to me." She smiled at him hoping he would give in, then she noticed more blood on his shirt than she would've like to have seen. "Yeah, we're going in there."
 

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