Realistic or Modern 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐈𝐒𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃

[Pepsionne]

Sterling

Taylor

]

“What? Of course I’m not a fucking zombie!”

Sterling raised his hands in a defensive shrug at the man’s incredulous response. “Hey, hey, you can never be too sure, you know?” He said, attention turning to the zombie that continued to approach him with dragging, uneven steps. The young man matched the police officer’s pace with his own retreating steps backwards in an effort to maintain the same distance between them.

“Distract him?” Sterling retorted, face scrunching into a sneer. “And what, be your bait as you escape? No way man,” He said, moving off to the side and tracking forwards closer to the police car. But it didn’t matter, the zombie was fully focused on him now, the guttural sounds in his throat voicing his determination. Sterling watched, wide eyed, as the other man took trembling steps towards the police officer. He caught sight of the weapon in his hand, held tightly with the determination to kill. Sterling nodded rapidly, urging the man to strike the killing blow and release them from the suffocating tension that the zombie trapped them in, but instead he backed off and threw a rock at the undead police officer instead. Sterling let out a trapped breath as the zombie turned its attention away from him and in another direction. He rolled his eyes at the orders the other man barked at him, but for once in his life, didn’t outwardly reject them. Fine, if the man wanted to switch roles and dangle himself as zombie bait, he was more than welcome to. Sterling could handle answering a damn radio instead.

His expression twisted into a look of concentration. The zombies dragging feet and inhuman grunts were loud in the heat laden air, their presence dominating Sterling’s mind and attention. He caught bits and pieces of the voice on the radio. It sounded like a woman, her voice strained in panic and stress. How many others were out there in the same position as he and the other man were? Sterling swallowed hard at the thought of the disproportionate amount that were in the same position as the undead police officer.

Sterling picked up the microphone to the radio in the car, turning over the sleek black device in his hand. “Hello? Can you hear me?” He said into the radio, finger still pressed on the button as he added. “Fuck, this thing is weird.”

He leaned out of the open door to the police car, to shout over to the man still dancing with the zombie outside. Wait--was he trying to have a conversation with it? Sterling rolled his eyes before clearing his throat and calling out, “It’s another person." His voice carried easily through the air. The zombie turned its attention to him at the sound, but with another rock being thrown his way, quickly forgot about Sterling and continued on his trek towards his prey. “I think they need help--they’re at the surf shack thing but I don't fuckin know where that is, do you?”

Investigating near police car |Focused | FactionParadox

♡design by riptide, coded by uxie♡

 

[VomitIcicle]

erzulie

"Shit, shit, shit." James breathed, following close behind as the man made his ascent down to a lower room. Legs shaking, he gingerly scooted over the railing, dangling precariously over the side of the gargantuan hotel. It seems the start of his descent was just in the nick of time. The door was knocked off of its hinges, a mass of undead surging through the narrow opening in search of fresh prey. At their head was a massive figure, clad in tattered swimming shorts. Grey, pallid skin stretched over unnaturally bulging muscles, eyes alight with an unnatural fury.

With a rather loud exclamation of "Jesus Christ!" The journalist fell rather unceremoniously on the balcony, the knife held in his hand thrown from his grip and over the side of the railing.

"Shit." He muttered. He turned and entered the room, spotting the dead man lying on the ground in a pool of his own long since congealed blood. "Shit!"

 

[SteepVision]

Hank

Pierce

]

"Are you sick?" If it sounded like an accusation… So be it. Pierce rubbed his wrist, the tension shrugged from his shoulders. "Or just hungover?" Glance swung to the cop's sweat sheened back as he spat into a pot plant. He looked grey, under the sunburn and ink on his skin. The stink of sick, mixed with blood and the gaseous, festering reek of gizzards, something Pierce didn't want to think too hard about. Lips pursed shut, he breathed shallowly through his nose. His heart still pounding and the pressure of a headache built behind his eyes.

It was easier to focus on what he could control. He stepped towards the cop, grimacing at the burn of pain through his calf. "I dunno what's goin' on. Here-" Not a suggestion. "Look at me." Critical, as he scanned the man's face. The bleached hair stuck to his forehead with sweat, how his chest hitched with elevated breaths. Adrenaline, or low electrolytes? Heat in his cheeks, but was it just sunburn? Reaching out an uninvited hand to touch his head.

Hot. He retracted. "You need water." In this humidity, they'd both be dehydrated. The cop looked like he had hyperthermia… Or the onset of something else. Pierce's eyes drawn involuntary back to the bodies on the floor. They hadn't moved. Silently surprised by the realization he almost expected it. "I need al-"

The words died on lips. His body stiffened, rigid. Pierce grabbed the cop's bicep, his palms sticky, smearing blood on bare skin under his brief grip. "Shhh." Hushed and urgent. Focus glued to the dark hollow of the emergency stairwell. Where a silent, shambling figure stumbled slowly from the shadows. The flesh, shredded from its torso. Skin peeled back from its face. Black. Empty sockets where it's eyes should have been. Stumbling, slow and blind.

hotel lobby
-

♡design by riptide, coded by uxie♡

 

[IceCave]

Carlos

Wesson

]

Sick? Was he sick?! No, just too much alcohol. Too much sun. Right? "Just a hangover." It sounded like a promise he had to make to himself. He wasn't sick. He wasn't sick like those people. Wesson's fleeting heartbeat made him even more dizzy, the surreal fear of losing his mind threatened to shatter the slivers of logic he desperately clung to.

Straightening up, Carlos wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. Obliviously streaking crimson over sweat soaked skin, getting some on the washed blond locks. Watching the stranger display signs of concern proved to him that Hank wasn't lying about his profession. He wasn't a psycho. The crazy people were.

Officer's gaze dropped to the other's calf when Pierce's stride wavered after he stepped on the injured leg. Carlos made a mental note about it before his dilated pupils drew up to meet the man's steady, oddly comforting gaze. He didn't jerk back when Hank touched him, his reflexes were dangerously delayed.

Carlos interrupted right before the doctor cut his own sentence short. "You need a bandage."

The brief but firm hold on Wesson's arm injected him with another spike of adrenaline, which didn't help to keep calm and quiet. The sight of the lacerated human emerging from the murk sent another wave of nausea cramming up his throat. But the officer managed to keep it together despite questions knocking around in his head. How could this happen? They couldn't stay here. They had to move. He needed water but it looked like what he needed even more was a weapon.

Wesson grasped the other's forearm, squeezing it as he wordlessly mouthed. "Follow." He couldn't get his flip flop from the other side of the lobby so trying to avoid any sharp objects with his bare foot, Carlos traversed the corridor, glazed eyes urgently searching for the right room number. 856. There it was. His fingers clumsily wrestled with the pocket's zipper and eventually he retrieved his key card with a nearly triumphant gesture. He slipped it into the lock then pulled out.

BEEEEP

Momentarily paralyzed by the loud shriek of the lock, signalling the hotel room was due for payment and inaccessible until then, Carlos snapped his gaze towards the end of the hallway. Somehow overcome by the primal instinct to run.

location: hallway on 18th floor
interactions: SteepVision

♡design by riptide, coded by uxie♡

 

[SteepVision]

Hank

Pierce

]

Wordlessly, Pierce followed the officer's direction. Every squeak and shuffle of their steps as they crept felt magnified. His focus glued to the… corpse. The mangled face that turned and followed their movements, like it listened. Stress sweat sticking his shirt to his skin, long after the corpse was out of sight.

The hallway was dark and long. Dimly illuminated by emergency lighting. Each door like the next, realizing where the cop led them only when they stopped before a number. A frown pinching his brow. He better have a plan. At least there would be a mini bar, and towels. Knowing he needed to do something about his leg before-

BEEEEP.

His skin prickled. Pupils dilated in the darkness. Head, swiveled. staring down the long, empty corridor. Where something moved. The slow bob of a figure. And another. A sudden, hoarse groan that ripped the silence, and the slap of rapid footsteps.

"Run." He breathed. "Run. Run!" Turning heel, a burst of speed vaulted him forward. The burn in his leg forgotten with the surge of adrenaline. A green exit sign glowing at the end of the hall. Pierce slammed hard into a door, the bar pushed to swing inwards. Running headlong into the tight corners of concrete steps that spiraled into darkness.

hotel lobby
-

 

[erzulie]

Sidney

Davidson.

]

He was already getting tired of the dead weight that had decided to follow him. Sidney’s acceptance of his presence was only brought on by his current usefulness but who knows how long it would last until it ran out. Luckily for him, Sidney had grown into a patient man. For all of his faults, his self-control had been molded into iron. An extra body could help him in the long run. Like in the past, when guns were pointed in his direction. A body had been useful then.

Now if he didn’t keep up, that was his own problem. Sidney was surprisingly light on his feet. He was quick to get to the lobby in order to avoid any other encounters. He didn’t know what to expect when he reached his destination but he was ready all the same. His steps careful as he entered, eyes and ears focused on anything that seemed out of place. There was no surprise on his face when he saw the bodies. The lobby was probably one of the first places to turn to shit, people had probably come in search of answers just as he did.

There was a faint sound, not the sound of groans or of shuffling feet, but a voice. As far as he knew those things hadn’t sounded human. They had grunted and growled when they’d come charging. Sidney turned, eyes landing on a fallen body. A police officer lay face up. His eyes were open but he saw nothing. Sidney approached cautiously, hand on his piece. The voices grew clear with each step and once he was sure that the body wouldn’t reach out to grab him, he snatched the talkie on the body.

“Hello, are you still there?” Sidney walked to the desk, there was no need to talk out in the open. If something did pop up it could act as a temporary barrier. “Shits gone down in the hotel. It’s the same outside isn’t it.” Faintly he could hear noises in the background, they confirmed his suspension and he couldn’t help but curse under his breath. “Where are you? Who are you?”

lobby front desk | miyabi

♡design by riptide, coded by uxie♡

 

[FactionParadox]

Shaun

Ericsson.

]

“Distract him?” Sterling retorted, face scrunching into a sneer. “And what, be your bait as you escape? No way man.”

“No, distract him so I answer the- Oh never mind!” Shaun shouted as the zombie lurched towards him, roaring. “You answer the damn radio before whoever it is dies, I’ll deal with this one!” The redhead stated, keeping the cop’s attention on him as he backed away, trying to put distance between them.

“It’s another person, I think they need help--they’re at the surf shack thing but I don't fuckin know where that is, do you?”

“I know where it is, unfortunately our friend here is getting too close for comfort!” The mechanic replied, stumbling back as his head came an inch from hitting the barrier. Kicking his leg out, the lumbering zombie overbalanced and fell over the guard railing, screeching before falling silent as it hit the ground some 45 feet below. “Shit a brick… Come on kid, let’s go to that shack before our mystery friend gets mauled.

Banoi Roads leading to Royal Palms Resort | terminating infected cop | Sterling, U'ilani

♡design by riptide, coded by uxie♡

miyabi

 

[VomitIcicle]

erzulie

"Not even gonna' say anything about the corpse?" James questioned, retching slightly as the mystery man he had been following turned and progressed farther downstairs without a word.

Right.

So his picks were a psycho with a gun and a bunch of psychos who wanted to eat him.

Weighing his options, James ultimately decided to stick with the former, at least for the time being. He followed the man downstairs, into the lobby.

The keys in his pocket weighed ever-heavy. A tantalizing option of escape. But then what? He wasn't topped up, he's get twenty miles, maybe thirty. End up dying in the countryside somewhere.


His thoughts were broken as the man reached down, plucking a radio from the corpse of a uniformed policeman. The more he looked at this guy, the more clear it became that was probably bad news.

Hell, he hadn't even given his name.

James cleared his throat, having been inspecting another corpse in the lobby. Head cracked open, flecks of brain matter clung to the bottom of a nearby fire extinguisher.

That told that story, at least. Maybe there were others in the hotel?

"You, uh, got a name?" James asked aloud, the question clearly directed at his impromptu travelling companion.

 

[IceCave]

Carlos

Wesson

]

Carlos pelted down the stairs, stress pumped in his dilated veins, exerting worn body working in full gear. He slammed against the wall on the mid level and bouncing off of it like rubber he outstripped the doctor, propelled by the accumulated momentum.

His mind went from top speed to zero when he clocked a tourist down the stairs, swaying in their way. Bright swim shorts decorated by dried blood, a chunk of missing flesh where his pectoral should have been, eyes white, one bulging weirdly. Wesson didn't slow down. Riding muscle memory triggered by raw, survival instinct, he grabbed the railing and leapt over it toward the figure that seemed to welcome him with open arms and snapping teeth.

He swooped and his diving feet collided with the bloodied chest at full tilt, hard enough to break ribs. The snarling human jerked back, plummeting down the stairs, twisting at unnatural angles until his body smacked against the wall, going limp. The sight of the head tipped in the wrong direction sent a shudder down Carlos' spine but the cop didn't stop the mad run. Barely tossing a glance back to check if the doctor kept up, he sprinted down toward another level, noticing more and more signs of death and mayhem. Christ, what a mess. They had to slow down. He needed to think for fucks sake!

location: hotel emergency stairs
interactions: SteepVision

♡design by riptide, coded by uxie♡

 

[miyabi]

U'ilani

Zhao

]

At age sixteen, she survived entirely on spam and rice; survived the hands of tourists that often disrespected the island, much to her dismay. The hands of a maniac, however? As stated prior within the confines of her thoughts, she never thought she’d see the day. In this moment, between the crying child, aimless bangs against the door, and fractured responses that had come through the small radio intercom, U’ilani wished for only a few things: for this to be a dream, a sleeping U’ilani blanketed with a tiny book on her chest, sitting under the windowsill in the makeshift baywindow bench in her small rental.

A few slaps couldn’t wake her from this.

Though, the light of hope seemed to sparkle between the cracks; these answers, not in agonized and desperate pain, but true answers that sought an answer back. “Holy shit,” a soft mutter under stifled breaths, U’ilani’s shaky hands pulls the radio to her lips, speaks into it with a calmness collected for a short moment, “I–I’m in the beach surf shack, red door; the only one there.” The banging had only gotten worse, eyes falling to the weakened hinges; her heart, beating strongly as it was, pained her with the rhythmic thump. She speaks again, eyes never to return to the radio, but fixated on the door whose lifetime was about to expire within the next few seconds. “He’s about to get in. Hurry—There’s a fucking kid here,” with a final bark, plastic meets the shoddy desk, boat paddle held upward with a hardened stance.

The cloying, mindbending countdown to a possible demise runs circles in her head, a terrified U’ilani having to force the child into a locker despite his protests. “Let me out! Let me out!” he repeats this, little quiet between breaths, almost a nonstop assembly line of words despite her constant reassurance.

“Kid, I’m trying to fucking help you!” Irritable, uncomfortable, succumbing to the fight or flight response that had immediately flicked to flight over the latter. Hinges break, heavy door against wood-paneled flooring, and gurgles rippling through tension; an announcement of a crazed stranger, he follows the noise and figure—and she does the same, follows the movements of a bleeding stranger. Blood, both dried and wet, stains the skin and clothing. Skin itself, a few patches hanging off the muscle, its entirety, however, looked like characteristics of rot. A distinct smell singed her nose hairs, a biting stranger pushing close with animalistic hunger; she raises the oar in response, hardens the shake in her knees and lands a blow to the head.

Bone crunches beneath wood, blood spatters against painted walls and equipment.

location | mood | erzulie Pepsionne FactionParadox

♡design by riptide, coded by uxie♡

 

[SteepVision]

Hank

Pierce

]

The cop stripped past him. Quick, agile and clearly trained, while Pierce focused on keeping his step on the rapid descent. His mind, raced. Chest straining. Pulled up short when the cop sprung the rail and landed a blow square on a corpse's chest. The body tumbled down concrete and fell hard on the landing with the sick snap of fractured bones.

This was a fucking nightmare. The grunted, screeching, animal howls echoed through the stairwell from above. Keep moving. Jolted into motion, taking two, three steps at a time to catch up with the cop.

His lungs burned with excretion. The number on each floor blurred as they rushed passed. He almost missed the sign that read G. "Wait!" Snagging the cops forearm before he could keep racing into the basement. Pierce busted through the emergency exit.

The sun blared on to hot asphalt. Burning his vision. One second to double forward, hauling breath as his eyes stung, his hands braced against his thighs. Before the shrill, blasting shriek of an alarm split his eardrums. "Fuck!" No!

EMERGENCY EXIT
-

 

[erzulie]

Sidney

Davidson.

]

The blare of an alarm cut through the air suddenly and everything seemed to go still. Sidney himself froze where he stood, grip tightening on the walkie so fiercely that it groaned under the pressure of his hands. It was silent, and then it wasn’t. They rushed in like a well oiled machine, drawn by the wailing of the alarm. He was spotted but the counter had been a good choice. It bought him enough time to duck and head for the other side. The walkie was forgotten, trampled under the feet of crazed beings. Sidney didn’t draw his gun, he needed to save his bullets until he got to the car. His big body shoved past, his heavy fist throwing punches hard enough to send the bodies to the floor.

Sidney knew could almost feel the group growing larger as the commotion attracted more of the things. Before he knew it he was bursting through the doors of the garage. He remembered where he’d parked his car, close enough for a hasty escape if he needed one. He dodged grabbing hands and lunged for the driver side door when close enough. There was no hesitation in his movements, he was quick to start off the car and leave in a rush of screeching tires, hitting bodies that lunged for the vehicle without remorse. He’d head to the station that the woman had mentioned over the walkie.

headed towards the station | n/a

♡design by riptide, coded by uxie♡

 

[IceCave]

Carlos

Wesson

]

His whole body heaved when he stumbled out of the emergency door right behind the doctor. Flashbanged by the blearing sunlight and the shrill of the alarm, Carlos turned in a circle, disoriented. His eyelids dropped to slits, shrunken pupils pierced through the shield of dark lashes, trying to look through the blear.

Everything was too much in that moment, the heat, the resounding noise, the reek of the bloody carcass. What? He almost stepped on a skeleton lying next to his feet. Meat-stripped bones glistened in the sun, tendons ripped open, and the only organs left swelled behind the bare rib cage. Wesson could feel his stomach squeeze and bile build up in his throat, but his whole being seemed to come to a halt when the skeleton moved its exposed eyeballs and looked at him. It fucking looked at him. Skin-peeled jaw extended and closed.

location: street in front of the hotel
interactions: SteepVision

♡design by riptide, coded by uxie♡

 

[VomitIcicle]

SteepVision IceCave erzulie

The sudden shriek of an emergency alarm sent James practically keaping out of his socks. The stumbling and passive mass of former tourists outside turned in unison, their broken and rotting bodies reinvigorated at the prospect of new prey, a few even going so far as to approach the doors at a hobbled sprint.

He turned in the direction of his nameless travelling companion. "Shit, we better-"

His next words were cut short as the vanguard of the horde breached the hotel lobby, arms outstretched in search of warm flesh.

"Fuck!" James exclaimed, ducking around outstretched hands and sprinting towards the exit. His shoes crunched under the broken glass as he made his escape, emerging into the oppressive heat of Banoi proper.


Glare wasn't a problem, at least. James had dropped a fat franklin on those photocromic lenses in preparation for his arrival.

Shame he hadn't prepared for zombies, though. He hated calling them that, but there really wasn't anything else to call them.

Crazy decomposing people who want to eat my head?

Didn't roll off the tongue nearly as well.

Speaking of crazy decomposing people who wanted to eat his head, it seems a particularly wily infected had made chase, James only just staying ahead of the sprinting madman.


"Shit, shit, shit!" James half-yelled, half-sobbed as he fished in his pocket, pulling out his keys. One click. Two. Unlocked.

He glanced back, the infected on his tail taking the opportunity to leap upon him, sending him sprawling onto the hood of his car and his glasses clattering down onto the asphalt.

Half-blind and terrified, the journalist just barely managed to keep the putrid smelling thing from ripping into him. The off-grey blob thrashed and snapped its teeth, clawing clumsily at James's jacket, trying desperately to gain any leverage it could.

Flat on his back on the hood of his car, half-blind and winded to boot, James shoved with all his might. Not much, but it did give him the opportunity to ram his key directly into the things neck, repeatedly.


Seemingly only minorly concerned with the ongoing throat-gouging, the zombie continued its attempts to get a good bite on it's immobilized prey.

"SOMEBODY FUCKING HELP ME, GET IT OFF! JESUS FUCKING CHRIST, GET THIS PIECE OF SHIT OFF OF ME!"

 

[Pepsionne]

Sterling

Taylor

]

Sterling squinted his eyes at the radio, wiping his brow at the sweat that ran down his face in occasional rivers and obscured his view. As if seeing better would allow him to more clearly hear the staticky voice on the other end of the radio line. There was the sound of shuffling as the man outside the police car answered Sterling's question, the sentence broken up and distracted from his efforts to escape the steadily approaching zombie.

Sterling listened closely to the voice on the other end of the radio. The person was a woman and her voice sounded as if she was merely a hair away from cracking into a full panic, maintaining a thin semblance of control for the sake of another. Red door, he thought to himself. Red door, red door. Should be easy to spot, no? How many buildings were even on the beaches around here, let alone ones with a red door? Well--maybe there would be surfboards or something too.

The young man's head whipped upright at the inhuman, shrill screeching that split the air suddenly. Sterling's throat closed up at the sound, goosebumps prickling at the skin of his arm and causing the hairs to stand on end. That sound--it was only something he had heard through speakers while playing some dumb zombie shooter or watching a cheesy movie in the theater stoned out of his mind with his friends. It was never something he had actually anticipated becoming a real, palpable sound in his life.

"Jump in!" He shouted out of the window of the cop car to the other man. It seemed as though he had won his little stand off with the undead police officer, much to Sterling's relief "The keys are still in here, you just tell me where to go!" Sterling twisted the keys that were in the ignition to fully power the car, and the engine roared to life. If what he had seen about zombies in all those media outlets was true, then they'd probably be attracted to loud sound and rapid movement. They'd have to be quick, but finding other survivors was worth the risk. Every live human was one less zombie they had to worry about.

Investigating near police car |Focused | FactionParadox

♡design by riptide, coded by uxie♡

 

[SteepVision]

Hank

Pierce

]

His head rang, the noise above them a barrage. Pale eyes squinted against the glare, Pierce swung his focus to the cop. For.. what? Help? There was nothing but dazed shock on his face. Stumbling. The barely attached arm of a corpse stretched towards the man’s ankle. Matter squashed between the toes of his bare foot.

They needed to get the fuck out of here. Pierced snatched his arm, and this time held it. “C’mon!” His voice buried under the blare, he pulled them forward. Fingers dug hard into the cop's forearm. Where the fuck were they gonna go?! Sneakers slapped tarmac. Faster. The lot, half empty. Figures he just knew were not human anymore weaved between metal rooves. His gaze drawn to a rush of movement from the gleaming double doors of the lobby entrance.

A man burst into open space. His legs pumped hard, a trail of corpses in wake. Running for- “He has a car!” Pierce broke into a run. A surge of ice rushed through his blood as the stranger was slammed into the bonnet. Pinned and thrashing desperately under the manic attacker. But there wasn’t just one… More of the dead, six or seven, lurched towards the vehicle. Pierce faltered. If they got there, what the fuck were they going to do?!

There was no control in his breathing. Wired. “There’s too many..!”

PARKING LOT
-

 

[IceCave]

Carlos

Wesson

]

The grip on his arm dragged him back to the ground. Urged to run behind the man, Carlos let the horrid image slip past the forefront of his overcooked brain and sink to the back with the rest of the crazy things that happened after he woke up that day on the god damn roof. His mind clawed into the moment and allowing the surroundings to settle in his vision, the cop was coming back.

Wesson pulled away from the secure hold of the other man, but didn't miss a beat, running beside the other, even without clear aim until they got one. A car. Another person. That was good enough for the scattered mind to tunnel focus. He was back. Carlos was fucking back.

"Help him!" The cop hollered and skidded off their trajectory, sprinting away and banging on the hoods and roofs of the cars he was passing. "HEY!" His blood coated palms slammed against hot metal, leaving smeared handprints behind. "YOU, UGLY FUCKERS!!" The group of maimed people swung around, attracted by the superior sound. The moment they locked on the source there was nothing that could stop them. Some torpedoed towards Carlos, shrieking and letting out all the excited hyena sounds mimicking wicked laughter that would impress into cop's nightmares. Others hobbled like hungry, fettered prisoners with their arms out, unable to move as fast due to severed limbs.

location: parking lot
interactions:
SteepVision
VomitIcicle

♡design by riptide, coded by uxie♡

 

[SteepVision]

Hank

Pierce

]

Help him! The cop tore across the parking lot, his voice projected under the alarm. "Fuck. Fuck!" Move! Nothing he could grab as a weapon. No time to search for one. His feet pounded asphalt, seeing the stranger plunge a key into the attackers neck. Repeatedly.

Every instinct cried in revulsion, but he trapped the corpse by its arms. Cold flesh of stiff biceps sunk under his grip, like an atrophied body. Fucking disgusting! Ripping the dead man back, away, he shoved with strength. The corpse tumbled to the floor. No instinctive response, it didn't catch itself like a person would. Skin razed from the cheek that ground against tarmac, body twisted. Oblivious, feral to the burns on its arms and knees. Intent on lurching back to them.

"The car!" Pierce reeled. He snatched the strangers arm. The heated bonnet slid behind his back. Hauling the other man with him before he shoved him at the door. "Get in!" Aware of they had moment before the dead was back on it’s feet.

PARKING LOT

 

[FactionParadox]

Shaun

Ericsson.

]

This was madness, actually mad... If he didn't know better, this played like some sort of goddamn horror movie with the dead coming to life. That wasn't possible, he wasn't some insane prepper living in a corrugated sheet iron shack in the middle of fuck-ass nowhere... This was a tropical paradise, despite the local gangs and the police not always being completely trustworthy without money as an incentive, Banoi was peaceful... But the death and destruction that surrounded them was inescapable, the stench of rotting flesh and the ferrous scent of blood made Shaun feel ill despite having had a liquid lunch for dinner. His thought processes were interrupted by the noise of the cop car engine started.

"Jump in! The keys are still in here, you just tell me where to go!" Right, life to save. Navigating through the haze of paranoia and fear, Shaun got to his feet and got in the passenger side, certain that the noise was going to attract the attention of those... people. Things. Whatever the fuck they were, they had to move now. "Sure thing." Shaun nodded, shaking it off. "Down that road there, then the first left. Put your foot down!" He told Sterling, the car racing forward down the streets as more moans and roars were heard around them. Had to keep it together.

It didn't take that long to arrive at the beach, the golden sand marred and tainted by blood as he soon found the surf shack, opening the door and grabbing an abandoned oar off a nearby boat. "Come on then!" He shouted, getting the attention of one of the zombies which ran towards him, roaring and wanting to take a chunk out of him. "Oh fuck- He hissed, one of her eyes was dangling out the socket by the optic nerve, it looked all dried up and excruciating. No denying it, she was... dead.

Heading towards Surf Shack on Banoi Beach near Resort | Going to help stranger under attack | Pepsionne miyabi

♡design by riptide, coded by uxie♡

 

[erzulie]

Sidney

Davidson.

]

Sidney had slowed down once the horde was a mere dot in the rearview mirror. He’d left behind a big enough target that he felt that they’d wouldn’t bother to follow after his speeding car. Perhaps he should have felt bad, leaving the man behind to deal with the horde without even attempting to wait for him. But truthfully, Sidney had done worse, had left people to defend themselves from worse things. His conscience was completely clear, what little of it was left that is.

His drive quickly showed him that the damage was not only at the hotel. His trip drew him to a single conclusion, that the people attacking were no longer alive. There had clearly been someone with a hole in his stomach, yet he’d moved around like it was nothing. His jaw clenched, shit just had to pop off when he was out on a mission. It really was supposed to be an in and out job.

Soon enough, the station came into view. He was quick to pull in. He knew that there had to be more of those things lurking around. Sidney grabbed a blade that he kept under his seat, carefully slipping it into his tims. With that he got out and headed inside. His steps were careful as he walked, quietly taking out some of the monsters he came across with his wire. Sneaking up was definitely the better option. Eventually he reached his destination, the radios brought a small sense of relief to him.

the station | n/a

♡design by riptide, coded by uxie♡

 

[VomitIcicle]

SteepVision IceCave

Vision still blurry, ears reeling from a combination of disjointed shouting and inhumane moans, James was nonetheless able to get the gist.

Car.

Without his glasses?

Fuck that!

He shoved away at the man blindly, staggering halfway out of the car, breaking free of the half-push half-drag match he had gotten himself into with the stranger.

He stumbled to his knees for a moment, scrabbling scraped hands across the burning tarmac in search of his eyeglasses.

Bingo!

Okay, now car.

A death grip on his reacquired prize possession he jammed them back onto his nose, throwing himself into the car and jamming the keys in the ignition, the door hanging wide open as James started the vehicle up

 

[Pepsionne]

Sterling

Taylor

]

Sterling tried to swallow down the rising lump of dread in his throat that grew in size with each nail that hammered in the nightmare of a reality he had woken up in. His throat felt like sandpaper, from both the heat and the hangover, making it a difficult feat to accomplish. His hand slipped on the knob of the gear shift as he pushed the car out of park.

Shaun jumped into the car in a rush of wind and heavy breathing. Sterling wasted no time to peel out of their previous location, punching the gas before Shaun had time to fully close the passenger side door. His eyes felt glued to the road in front of them, not daring to dip off to the side in fear of seeing the source of the growing moans and guttural screeches surrounding them. Banoi was busy at this time of year, and he knew that most people were not as quick on their feet.

It only took them several high adrenaline-filled minutes before the car skidded to a stop at the edge of the road, kicking up a light cloud of sand in its movement. Sterling followed Shaun’s lead as he launched from the car without hesitation. Several figures meandered slowly and aimlessly down the beach. The grainy sand was pooled and hardened in some areas by blood. Sterling averted his eyes from what looked like body parts and organs scattered about, already feeling the sickening feeling of squeamishness mounting in the pit of his stomach.

He followed closely behind Shaun as the man made his way into the surf shack to square up with one of the zombies. Sterling ducked quickly past his side and further into the vicinity, eyes searching rapidly for any signs of life that hadn’t been tinged by death.

Investigating near police car |Focused | FactionParadox

♡design by riptide, coded by uxie♡

 

[miyabi]

U'ilani

Zhao

]

Death is a lasting scent; it saturates the air, coats her lungs, splatters of blood glide against sweaty, glistening skin. The world didn’t exist beyond this, only momentarily did she forget the surroundings — a place to which she had only shortly and formerly called home. Her chest, rising and falling with deep breaths between each crack. Thwack. Thwack. Thwack. A final, devastating blow finishes off the maniac, what used to be a face had become a mound of rotting flesh and bright red blood; features no longer distinguished themselves, eyes no longer sat in the sockets — not that there were any anymore. “You fuck!” U’ilani cursed, raises the oar one more time; adrenaline prompts this response, splintered wood soaked in crimson — a charged hit and then a sudden release of the handle.

Blood splatters once again, transfers from wood to flesh; U’ilani stands, the waves of shock coursing through icy veins. Her knees nearly gave way, shook with each murder of a minute, until the train of thought is broken. Harry, a child far too small to understand the mechanics of death, screams until his breath falters and he cannot breathe quietly again; energy depleted from the stress that he should not have endured.

She feels warm, sweaty hands tighten around her wrist. The child clings again, pushes his back into the wall and jumps once more at the announcement of a man and the presence of another sheepishly beside him. Both starkly different, but within the same situation.

There was little time to think; two bodies flinging in the men’s direction and following behind.

Peace, however, was never in their wake even the very moment they crossed paths. A figure of Hell itself rushes on grains of sand, pushes itself forward with little thought — only the beastly hunger of the maniac before. An eye, dangled and dried, skin broken and covered in lacerations, chunks of skin missing with exposed bone covered in fibers; U’ilani keeps the scared Harry behind her, the child frozen in so much fear that he couldn’t scream again.

A thought strikes her; loud noises — it must have attracted the additional enemy. “Use the fucking OAR,” the woman speaks between tightened teeth, rushing back into the shack as she scrambles for more defensive items, only to come back out with a mechanical timer and yet another oar. “Thanks for finding our asses and all, but we’re gonna need a bit more haste.”

location | mood | Pepsionne FactionParadox

♡design by riptide, coded by uxie♡

 

[IceCave]

Carlos

Wesson

]

They followed. Carlos no longer banged on the cars, he sprinted across the parking lot, inevitably losing his one last flip flop. The tarmac burned with each beat of bare feet against the ground. Little rocks and scattered objects dug into his soles, but it wasn't until he saw a glint of the late morning sun shining on the pavement when… Too late.

Drove by momentum he darted through the broken glass on the sidewalk, stumbling with a strangled sound of pain. "Fuck!" FUCK. No, he didn't have the breath to spare for anger. The inhuman shrieks were growing louder, reverberating in the street he was heading to. Wesson didn't have the balls to look back but he didn't stop either. Bracing against the pain that forced tears into his eyes, he ran toward the fountain. Never planning to flank, he jumped straight into the crystalline pool and threw his body over the low sculpture that squirted into the air, spraying his flying figure.

Red stains in the water slowly disparsed as the man ejected into the street, thoroughly heaving, short on air. His wet shorts became increasingly uncomfortable and the pain in his bleeding foot pulsed up to his calf. But the rush of adrenaline in his head helped to channel the survivor in him. Carlos knew he wouldn't make it running like that, he couldn't keep the raging pace for long. So the sight of the abandoned RV squeezed his heart with newfound relief. Fuck yes. He remembered the lunatics couldn't do basic things like open doors or climb. So he made a beeline for the ladder leading to the roof of the tall vehicle, praying that the doctor wouldn't just leave him behind.

location: street, heading for the RV
interactions:
SteepVision
VomitIcicle

♡design by riptide, coded by uxie♡

 

[SteepVision]

Hank

Pierce

]

He let the stranger go, just a kid, with no resistance as he struggled away. "The fuck are you doing!?" His voice tight and loud. Anger melted into stress. "Get in the damn car!" They didn't have time for this! Glancing over the roof as he scanned for the cop. Couldn't see him. His heart hammered explosively under his ribs. Fuck! Pulse thumping in his neck as the sun beat down through a thin haze of cloud. Dripping in sweat.

The kid shoved glasses onto his face and scrambled for the door. Pierce quick to boost around the bonnet of the car. He yanked open the passenger side. Frame crammed into the seat, barking. "Drive!", even as the ignition burst to life. Jolted forward, the driver's door hung wide. And the dead man lunging after them. Arms stretched out, latching hold of the kid's leg before its feet were torn from under it. A death grip, dragged.

Hank didn't think. "Drive, drive!" His weight thrown across the centre console and the kid, reaching for the driver door. He slammed it, hard. The dead man's head crunched between metal. Snapped back. But it didn't let go! The door bounced from its arm and ripped from Pierce's grip. He scrambled, snatched and ripped it shut with strength. Bone shattered, tendons mashed in the door. The body. Still attached and dragged along outside the car.

Panting, Pierce fell back into his seat and gripped the dash, leaning forward to peer through the windscreen and point in the direction the cop had run. The same direction a stream of the dead lumbered and lunged. "Over there! Go! Go!"

PARKING LOT
-