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Realistic or Modern Lasting Light

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Crono

Crono

The Guy
Roleplay Type(s)




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    LASTING LIGHT.
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Carson Pierce


Ashen light of dawn streamed into the courtyard where some families and friends gathered for their final goodbyes. The Hospital's Scavenge team was stronger this time, with more members departing for the important run to the newly discovered stockpile. One that would supply their community at least for the coming months. They needed it, especially after the pantry fire the previous week... Did they finally figure out what caused it?

The base was left a little less guarded than normal, with some of the community members still asleep after the late-night shift, others away with the Scav team. That's why it was easier to get inside unnoticed.

It was midday when Miyu was passing through the wing that was dedicated to providing the actual medical aid. After all the whole place was a Hospital but only some areas were currently designated to treat the wounded and the sick and housed the few more seriously injured patients. Liminal spaces of sterile hallways and empty rooms. Prone to but undisturbed by an echo. Until an unexpected metallic bang and clatter shattered the silence. Something hit the floor behind the door marked by a symbol assigned to medical supplies.

Carson's heartbeat chased the nearly dizzying surges of adrenaline that coursed his heated body. Internally cursing, the young man took a knee and started snatching the spilled contents of the case he accidentally dropped. Dark clothes and a hood pulled over mussed hairdo must have made him look even more like a criminal. But he didn't care for the image, mentally repeating the names and numbers of the antibiotics he came there for.

TEMPLATE © BOKEH​
 
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Harry Cox


The afternoon air carried a fresh waft of the acrid liquid people killed for these days. Gasoline. Harry wrinkled his nose and huffed. He could smell trouble. He didn't look back at his team when coaxing them with his hand to follow him. They were about to turn a corner and enter the main street of the small, redneck town they traveled to the whole morning. One of the few circled places on their map that weren't marked with a tick or a cross, not yet.

The group of a few men and one woman quietly navigated the empty street. Not so cluttered by abandoned vehicles and decomposing bodies as the big cities were. Jordan walked next to Hiro. Once a fit, college jock now underfed for his mass, easily spooked guy with a golf club. He slowed down by a parked ice cream truck, nudging his shorter companion. "I loved those when I was a kid." About to take a peek into the dark inside when the gentle shuffle followed by arms shooting towards him sent Jordan falling back to his ass with a stranded cry.

The zombie growled and gnawed on its half missing jaw, blindly reaching for whatever was in its arms reach. Cox spun around with his rifle at ready, mad eyes fixed on the two young men. "Leave it, you dumbass." He scolded. Then his body stilled when he heard another sound, not coming from his pisspoor squad but from the street up ahead. He roughly hushed the group and gingerly gesticulated.

They got to a spacious parking lot, generously littered with vehicles. A shopping plaza? No, a church. "Look at these fuckers…" Harry muttered when spying through his scope. Through the soiled glass of the truck they hunkered behind. He could see an obscure image of two men loading a van in front of the holy building. Still bickering about one of them spilling petrol at their previous destination. The School Scavs leader lifted the optic towards the entrance of the church. Catching two more people in his crosshairs, exiting with what looked like a military-grade crate filled with MREs. "Are you seeing this?" He glanced at his men, mouth twisting with a smirk. Faith wasn't there to meet his excitement. Of course the little witch had to wander off again. Too bad, he could use another person with some goddamn balls. Not these wimps he was left with...

Cox looked back at the Church, announcing. "We're taking these supplies." Even if it meant letting lead loose. They needed them, so he didn't care if he had to draw blood to make it happen. Maybe deep down in that cold, wounded heart...he craved it.

TEMPLATE © BOKEH​
 








Miyu had neglected to say goodbye to the group of scavengers, watching over the courtyard from her bedroom window. She was a notorious worrier, everytime a scavenging party left, she found herself filled with anxious energy as she imagined all the ways things could go wrong. She had grown attached to the survivors surrounding her, what if they got caught? What if they were attacked by zombies? What if this was the last time she saw them? It was either say her farewell every time they went looking for food, or never say them at all.

Her room was in the medical wing of their base, the same room they had found her in when the group was first founded. The idea of changing rooms filled her with dread. Since she had woken up, all she had known was this room, she didn't want to move. She hated change, she didn't want to leave her comfort zone.

Once the scavengers were out of her sight, she stood from her bed and stretched her arms above her head, letting out a soft moan which was probably louder than she realised. What could she say? Cracking your back feels good. She grabbed her hearing aid from her bedside cabinet and slipped it onto her ear, heading out into the corridor, still bare-foot and in her pyjamas.

As she entered the corridor, she froze at the sound of a bang. She hadn't even remembered turning her hearing aid on... but for her to hear it, it must have been loud. She cautiously approached the door, listening carefully to the commotion behind it. There was no time to find someone to help her, she couldn't know how long this had been going on for. It could be a raccoon, a very large rat, a zombie... or a thief. She ran into the next room, grabbing a scalpel from a tray of sterile tools and rushing back to the cupboard.

She took a deep breath before suddenly swinging the door open, brandishing the scalpel at the figure crouched at her feet. She was shocked to see another human. How had they gotten this far into the hospital without getting caught? Now they were stealing their medical supplies, too. They were low on supplies already, she couldn't be the reason this guy got away.

"Stand up!" She yelled, probably a little louder than she meant to. She could only barely hear herself, after all. "How did you get in here?!"







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miyu








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♡coded by uxie♡
 




Hiro Wright
Wearing a large backpack carrying a first aid kid and a multitude of medical supplies, Hiro walked the empty streets of the town the high school his group was taking shelter in was located in, alongside other scavengers. He wasn't very excited to participate in the scavenging trip, but being one of the only members of the high school with medical knowledge he was obligated to go. He walked next to Jordan— preoccupied with him and ready to act if necessary. The college-aged guy was once in prime shape, but had become somewhat fragile and sported a slightly sick condition.

Hiro smiled as Jordan reminisced about the ice cream truck, but his smiling expression quickly transformed into one of panic when a zombie leaped out of the truck and caused Jordan to fall to the ground on his butt. The medic immediately knelt next to him, starting to reach into his backpack and asking with a concerned tone, “Are you ok?” To which he received a short nod and a dismissive hand gesture. Cox, of course, chimed in with a mad glare, pointing his gun at them. “Don't listen to him, here.” Hiro said, before helping Jordan to his feet and continuing to move along.

Soon, the scavenging group encountered a church and arrived at its parking lot. Hiro had never stepped foot into a church— Mr. and Mrs. Wright were atheists, so, by default, their son had to be one as well. He'd always had a small curiosity for religion however, and wished he had the opportunity to visit a church before the zombie apocalypse broke out at least once, solely to see how it was.

Religious thoughts quickly exited his mind upon spotting, from the corner of his eye, something everyone considered either a blessing or a curse— other people. While many were inclined to think of other people as the latter, in actuality Hiro was more inclined to the former. To him, new people meant potential allies or even friends, plus, lord, no pun intended, knew they were in need of more supplies, and all of the ice cream talk earlier had made him hungry. Surely, they'd be able to negotiate something with the other group.

“Hey, wait-” Nervousness entered Hiro's system upon hearing Cox's command. Usually, when the big burly man said "take" he meant take— as in, take away from. Hiro was definitely not the biggest fan of conflict, in fact, he wasn't a fan at all. If not already made obvious by his occupation, combat was not his forte, and he didn't enjoy seeing spilled blood outside the operating room. Carefully walking up to Cox in an attempt to not make any noise, he continued his sentence, a hint of anxiousness in his voice. “-by, uh, take, do you mean... take take?”
coded by reveriee.
 
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Nari Mochizuki​


Nari inhaled deeply, eyes closed as she knelt on a cushion in front of her Kamidana, finding her centre and listening for the wishes of the Kami. This hadn’t been something she had thought was possible; prayer, in any form. It had been her friend and hero, Xander, who had helped her smuggle the family altar from her apartment to the school not long before so many more people had joined them from Knox.

In the early days after the world went to hell Nari had been locked - trapped! - in her apartment. She watched on the news, through the windows and listened through the door as utter panic destroyed the world around.

She had desperately tried to call her father with no luck, her friends, her coworkers but the lines were too busy and then they were down. Shortly after that the internet and cable, then the lights. The world outside started to quiet down, fewer screams, fewer gunshots. It didn’t make the outside any safer, however. She learned this the hard way only days after her building fell silent and she tempted fate by leaving her apartment.

Nari slipped out into the hallway, stunned at the trash and abandoned items, and the other apartment doors left opened. The building was on the better side of town, even had a doorman! She’d never seen it in such disarray, even when someone was moving in or out. She carefully tread down the hall, pausing at the first set of open doors and peaking within. Much like the hallway, the apartment was filled with litter but this time of the Iyashi family's belongings. [It had not been lost on Nari that she and the other residents of her floor were all of Asian descent or had immigrated from an Asian country, save for poor Mrs. Johnston, whose family was from Honduras.]

She heard shuffling in the darkness of the family home and she called out through the open doorway and was greeted with a rasping moan. Mr. Iyashi senior shambled forward, tripping over the strewn objects, arms outstretched towards her. Nari had reached to help the senior citizen as he was clearly struggling when she eyes finally fixated on what was wrong with Mr. Iyashi. As he moved further from the darkness into the light she could see his left hand missing fingers, his right foot twisted at an impossible angle. His bloodied lips parted over grey teeth as that rasping moan escaped his throat.

She pulled back before their hands met, Mr. Iyashi lunged forward and tripped, tumbling noisily into the hallway. His clothing torn, shredded! And despite a serious fall, Mr. Iyashi continued to reach for her as she steadily back pedaled down the hall towards her apartment. From other apartments other moans and shuffling grew louder, some occupants banging on the doors. Nari retreated back to her apartment and to the relative safety that brought.

Nari exhaled and opened her eyes, frowning seriously as the offerings on the altar. They were wanting, usually this was filled with the best, most expensive foods, cleanest water and precious stones but given where she was and their current predicament she couldn't ask for more … nor could she leave behind valued items. She picked up the small white porcelain bowl and drank the clean water. She removed the open can of some meat substance and pocketed the few precious stones she'd managed to bring from her home. She stood, slipping on the heavy steel toed boots she'd used while teaching in the auto shop and made her way out to see what she could do to improve their living situation.

She closed the door to the maintenance closet she used as a bedroom and glanced down the hall either way, it was quiet now. The scavenging crew had long since left - she'd wanted to go with them but this trip needed to be dedicated to food, water and medical supplies, not the mechanical items she hoped to pilfer to start setting up their own way of filtering water, gathering and storing energy and growing their own food. She sighed, picking up the plastic fork and taking a bite of the meat substance - what it was she hadn't a clue but she was too hungry to care truthfully; no food could be wasted, no matter what your food preferences were.



code by ditto ​
 
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Xander Font​

The gentle wind carried the aluminum soda can across the rough asphalt of the parking lot, the sound of it ringing lightly in the open space. Xander’s grey eyes tracked the can as it rolled along the blacktop before coming to a halt against the curb with a soft clank and finally, mercifully, rolling into the black abyss of the nearby catch basin. The scavenger team had left an hour ago, hoping to find something worthwhile in one of the exceedingly few nearby areas that they hadn’t already thoroughly investigated. Xander knew that this lifestyle -- sedentary, picking the bones of Oaksville and its surrounding townships clean like a pack of roving vultures -- was only a stopgap solution.

Their attempts at growing food had been met with only modest success thus far. They were managing a meager crop yield in the school greenhouse, but not nearly enough to feed everyone at the High School. At best it would supplement what the scavengers brought back and slightly reduce their reliance on nonperishable items. But how much did any of them know about crop rotation and proper horticulture in the long run, really?

Xander shook his head at the thought, his mind wandering back to the team -- his team, his responsibility -- out there, in the field, yet again. Without him. Part of him knew it was for the best. He wasn’t the same man he was just a few short years ago. His body and mind bore injuries that had seen to that. On the bad days even traversing from one floor of the school to the next could be a small challenge in and of itself.

Regardless of what Xander might be within these walls, the team had their own leader out there. His lip curled slightly at the thought. Harry Cox. Xander had certain… reservations about the man, to put it lightly, and if their few terse interactions were any indication the feeling was very much mutual. But whatever else he might be, Harry was trusted by many of the group -- those that had been together since Knox, before Xander and the School were even in the picture. Cox had been an important, steadying presence in those early days from what Font had been told. Plus, he was a local and knew the area well enough. Xander was willing to let the man prove his worth… for now. Not that there was much he could do about it otherwise without risking destabilizing their little community.

His eyes snapped upward as more movement caught his attention... and this time it was not from a can. The shambling male figure, its dark grey hoodie in tatters, staggered toward the school from the treeline across the road. Xander crouched down slightly -- a movement that might normally have his knees creaking in protest -- but he ignored it in the moment. He eyed the ghoul as it bumped into the chain link fence along the side of the bus lane before circling back. Damn it. He would need to deal with it before the scavs returned. He turned to see the sentry, Elsie, readying her rifle on the other side of the roof. He caught her attention, waving her off. The woman nodded.

Instead, Xander glanced around before spotting what he was looking for underneath a nearby sunshade. He grasped the diminutive black air rifle, once used by the school’s JROTC cadets in interscholastic shooting competitions. He was quite familiar with the weapon, having taught a number of teens how to safely use it before the world fell apart… not to mention his experience shooting one as a cadet himself.

When Zane cleared the school months ago and established it as his new safe haven, he had recovered the stash of rifles in their storage locker -- safe and sound where he had left them a year ago. He was well aware that they would be of little use against the undead or human assailants. They simply lacked the firepower to deal a lethal blow. As such, he had relegated them to use as training aids for the members of the Knox group who had no experience with firearms and marksmanship fundamentals. It was Nari -- innovative, clever Nari -- who determined that they could be used for more. She had tinkered with this one: modifying the valve, hammer, and spring… before suggesting that they remove the small CO2 reservoir altogether and instead run a hose to a small industrial-grade helium tank they had scavenged from a local fabrication shop. The contraption hadn’t been tried out yet… but Xander figured now was as good a time as any for a field test.

He cocked the rifle, loading a tiny metal pellet into the action as the oblivious creature drew nearer to his position. It was almost directly below him when he reached down and turned the valve on the helium tank, the metal creaking as the compressed gas hissed slightly. The zombie below clearly heard the sound as it finally turned its head upwards with a snarl -- milky eyes locked on Xander as he shouldered the airgun, steadied his breathing, and slowly applied pressure to the trigger. Phawp! A crimson-black blossomed outward and filled the milky iris of the ghoul’s right eye as it went limp, crumpling under its own weight like a puppet whose strings had been unceremoniously cut. Xander’s own eyes widened slightly in surprise as he regained his bearings, scanning the horizon to ensure there were no other uninvited guests. “Damn.”

Satisfied, he closed the valve on the helium tank -- preserving as much as he could of the precious gas -- before placing the rifle back in its place and nodding to Elsie who returned the gesture. Font made his way toward the rooftop door and down the stairs, his composure settling as he leaned heavily on the railing. He made it down to the hallway landing with a deep breath before setting off on his “rounds”. Everything needed to be in order by the time the scavengers arrived.
 
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Kurt Blackwood


Hospital Council Member | Location: Church Parking Lot - Church Upper Floor | Tags: Amara uwupolice uwupolice | Mentions: Howie (NPC)


Kurt huffed and shook his head as Howie stomped off, he'd possibly been a bit too short with the man today. Rubbing at the side of his cheek the councilman moved out of the way for the next pair to load supplies into the vehicle. Opting instead to step away and scan the immediate surroundings for any dead shambling their way, possibly brought on by his own big mouth after giving Howie shit for spilling the gasoline earlier in the day. A shiver ran up his spine causing him to rub his hands together for for momentary warmth. They were deep in the throes of fall and with each day the cold strengthened in Indiana, and winter wasn't far off. With no danger in sight the man glanced back at the group still loading in what they could find. It was good that they'd found this little stash, in a church no less.

The Hospital wasn't in the best condition food wise at the moment, something Kurt was blaringly aware of. A week ago they'd been fine, a good enough amount stashed away to get them through winter in the event nothing could be found. But then a fire had broken out on the third floor and suddenly their food stores were low. Though he supposed it was lucky they didn't lose the hospital itself, and that the place still had some working fire extinguishers around. But now the small community they built was in danger, not just of going hungry but with that comes paranoia and self preservation by any means. People will fight to survive and the last thing they needed was people panicking. So the scavengers were working overtime to try and restock what they can, which is what led one of them to this building. Thus a small expeditionary team was sent out to collect what had been found, and it was good. One Kurt jumped on, not only to get out from behind the stifling walls but also to help make sure nothing happened to the supplies. By no means would it fix the problem but it would most certainly keep them going. If nothing else he was glad that nobody would be up his ass with as many complaints for a while, the one downside to being a part of the council was that he was met with any and all issues big or small. While he understood that when it took the position, it doesn't stop it from getting tiring over time.

With a small roll of his neck followed by a cracking noise, he moved off back into the building, heading through the dusty large room filled with man of it's pew's broken or shoved into odd positions. Once in the back he climbed the stairs to the upper room where the supplies had been hidden, and strolled over to the medic who'd been taking a sort of inventory of what they'd found. "Get everything sorted out yet?" He asked curiously, glancing over what was left. Kurt had put her in charge of making sure everything of use found it's way into the van, while he guessed she might not be entirely comfortable with the position of telling people what to grab next he'd still done it. The young woman had requested to join the group as the medic, which made it easier than asking for one to volunteer in the long run. While she offered to help carry things he felt it best she not be tired in the event someone needed medical care before they got home, so allowing her to take inventory and search the place top to bottom seemed best. "We don't need a reason for any return trips."​




coded by natasha.
 
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Carson Pierce


Like a startled animal, tension knotted the young man's back. His arms froze with fingers wrapped around labeled bottles as his gaze darted up towards the juvenile face. He quietly swallowed, studying the girl's expression with his own betraying little emotion. Silently gauging how much time he had before her echo-carried words would draw more people. Seconds at worst...and Carson wasn't taking any chances.

Sound of spilling bottles rattled in their small space as he sprung to his feet, tossing one of them straight at her. Using that little diversion bought him a heartbeat or two, to draw his concealed pistol and brace. Black barrel leveled with Miyu's face, swaying a fraction when the man's body heaved with nervousness. "I'm not going to hurt you." He gritted out, his voice laced with no ill intention. "If you do what I say now."

TEMPLATE © BOKEH​
 








Miyu adjusted her grip on the scalpel, her hands clammy from the nerves. She didn't normally have to do any of the fighting. If there was a problem, she got Tyler or Dustin or even Amara to help, but she was alone on the ward. She had to deal with this on her own.

She flinched as he threw the bottle at her, lifting her arms to protect her face, only to find the barrel of his gun just inches from her forehead. She swallowed, slowly lowering her scalpel but keeping her grip tight. What was she meant to do? He had a gun, she had a surgical instrument... and short arms. She hesitantly moved to sign something to him, not wanting to move too quickly and startle him.

"I'm deaf," She mouthed as she signed it, before pointing to her ear. Most of the time, she never let her deafness get in the way, yelling and pushing her way through any obstacles in her path, but sometimes it was helpful. He might show mercy if he knew she was deaf. If she could stall him long enough, maybe someone would come across them and help.

"What do you want?" She asked, signing and mouthing once more, though her words came out as a whisper as she tried to keep her voice down. Yelling would be a bad idea, he had a gun, and even if the yelling wasn't particularly her fault, it could still spook him into pulling the trigger.







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miyu








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♡coded by uxie♡
 

Tyler Bennett


Hospital Scavenger
Location: Church Parking Lot -> Church Upper Floor
Tags: Amara ( uwupolice uwupolice ), Kurt ( Crono Crono ) | Mentions: N/A


The pros to living in the zombie apocalypse?

Working on his facial hair game.

Kicking a phone addiction. Over a year in and still going strong.

Learning things he never wanted to know, like how to care for and shoot a gun, or what rotted flesh smelled like.

Losing loved ones, or in some cases, not knowing what happened to them, but they were probably dead, too.

Having to fret about food and water like he never had to before.

Ransacking a church because the previous person to hoard the supplies drew the short stick, and waiting for the other shoe to drop, probably so he can also end up the same way they did.

Why did he sign up for scavenging again, like a month ago? Oh, right, for king and country, or whatever. Council and community didn't have the same oomph. It didn't carry the right weight in the apocalypse when some people were lucky to have even that much structure.

There was Uncle Sam now, inspiring Howie into a red-faced frustration. Tyler paused, mouth ajar, as he watched the tail-end of the interaction taking place at the tail-end of the van.

"Howie..." Sandra, the woman next to Tyler, started, but the big bearded man stormed past as if she hadn't uttered a word at all. Quietly, the woman sighed and rolled her eyes.

"You...think he's gonna be alright?" Tyler asked, watching as, at the last second, the man's trajectory missed the church's doors by a few feet too far to the left. He disappeared around the building's corner. Honestly, Tyler preferred that over Howie going inside where he probably would have kicked down at the young nurse just doing what she was told.

Sandra scoffed. "I swear, that man is too sensitive. Don't mind him. Let's get these on the van."

"I like that plan," Tyler admitted, dragging out the "I" like a verbal neck-rub. "I'm all for wrapping this up ASAP." He glanced at Kurt and followed his gaze, well, everywhere around them. The quiet was eerie, and not because they were in a town without another, visible living soul. He had grown accustomed to that by now. They scored a nice cache of supplies, and so far things were going smoothly. Naturally, a zombie horde or something would have to appear any minute. There was no way the universe was going to let them off with a freebie this good, and he doubted any of them were strapped for extensive conflict. For Tyler, he had a Beretta, tucked in his waistband, and a baseball bat, holstered in the pocket of his hoodie so he could easily lug a box.

But there wasn't a zombie or a survivor in sight. He saw nothing, and apparently, neither did Kurt, who appeared to be heading back into the church. Tyler dropped the box in the van before doing the same. Sandra stayed behind to organize the supplies and make sure there was plenty of room for the rest. It was probably for the better that at least one of them kept an eye on the vehicle, anyway, and Sandra was alert enough that she would probably be okay on her own. Hopefully.

Tyler took the stairs two at a time, catching up to Kurt at the right moment to hear him commenting to Amara about return trips.

Amara. Amara was a pro about the apocalypse. A real one. No sarcasm this time.

"We're in good hands with Amara sorting the supplies." He smiled at his friend, but his gaze wavered and lowered to the supplies. He literally had to bite his tongue, just a little, to keep himself from sharing his pessimistic frets or urging her to hurry. Amara was probably under enough pressure as it was. Adding to it wouldn't do anyone any good. "What's next?" He would start to grab whatever Amara would point out.
 

Dustin Levitt


Hospital Member
Location: Hospital
Tags: Carson, Miyu | Mentions: N/A


Dustin felt like he was a hive of bees, and, right now, sitting still sounded a lot like waterboarding.

He should've pitched in with the supply pickup. He had wanted to, but the council had told him to stay put. They needed him here, they said. They needed someone to stay and help protect the hospital. The council had kept this community running to the best of their ability for about a year. A lot of people were still alive largely because of them. Normally, he trusted their guidance and respected their decisions, but lately, especially today, he begrudged them for it. Once more Tyler was out there, and there wasn't a thing Dustin could do if the boy wound up in trouble. Tyler might have been resistant, and he probably would never call him dad, but for Dustin, when he had laid eyes on his son last year, nothing had felt stronger than the fatherly instinct that had kicked in that day. Although he tried to respect and appreciate that his son had wanted to do right by the community, Dustin loathed the idea of losing him, and with Tyler also being the last of his surviving loved ones, well, some days it took effort not to handcuff the boy to his bed so he couldn't leave the premises again.

The decision to allow Howie to tag along with the rest of the team was another thing that left a bad taste in his mouth. They needed the manpower, he guessed, especially when many were hesitant to volunteer after growing comfortable with the sense of security the hospital provided them, but the best Howie was good for was watching the perimeter. He was a good shot. He didn't have the greatest temperament. At least they had Kurt, at least they had someone who was medically trained like Amara, but he hated to think that he had to rely on Howie to also keep his son safe.

Dustin recognized he probably should have stayed on the wall, to cover for absences, but they had a few decent, alert bodies already on guard. For the past few days, no one noticed signs of other survivors or an incoming herd, despite whatever unintentional smoke signals they gave off last week. The risk of having one less man keeping watch seemed acceptable in favor of checking on those still inside the hospital's walls. Understandably, people were on edge after their food stores took a hit. It was as important to ensure there weren't more fights breaking out.

Everyone seemed to be doing as well as could be expected, though, and Dustin anticipated that he would finish his patrol soon. Not many stayed in the wing they designated for their medical use. He planned to perform a quick sweep before returning to the wall, but then he heard a shout:

"Stand up! How did you get in here?!"

Miyu. His heart skipped a beat. He withdrew his revolver from his holster and beelined for the source. When he turned a corner, he spotted the girl's backside. She stood right inside the doorway of the medical closet. He slowed to a brisk walk while trying to keep his footfalls quiet on the linoleum. The adrenaline coursed through his veins, but he kept his breathing steady as he tuned in, just making out a second voice delivering a threat. He didn't recognize it. The fact alone startled him and nearly spurned on a cold sweat, but addressing the threat was more important than asking questions.

It wouldn't be possible to gain a better view of the situation without revealing himself, and keeping the intruder unaware of his presence might be the best thing he can offer Miyu right now. The girl seemed to have fallen silent. He would wait a beat more and hope she chose to cooperate. There was only one exit to the supply room. Dustin wanted to stick close to the wall and wait for the man to step out, so he could set his gun on him. If it seemed like things were going to take a turn for the worst, well, he might have to speak up, but he hoped it wouldn't come to that.
 

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Pools of jade swept across the boxes of supplies, dancing between the faded, pad of sticky notes in her hand and the supplies. The caramel skinned woman would bend down, her hand tightly gripping the pen in her hand as she checked off boxes and tallied up items. For the sake of speed, supplies were organized into five categories: food, medicine, tools/materials, hygeine/clothes, and anything related to weaponry.

Amara was beginning to finish up counting and double-checking when muffled yelling seeped through the church walls. To quench her curiosity and calm her nerves, she strayed from the supplies to peek out the dirtied window. Outside, she spotted a peeved Kurt walking towards the church and Howie stomping off. Tyler and Sandra seemed to share a look and some words before finishing up their task of carrying supplies to the van.
"I wonder what that was about..."
She mused quietly, her eyebrows pinching together in concern as a frown tugged at her lips. Amara understood the stress that everyone was under, especially the councilman, in light of recent events. Nonetheless, the animosity brewing between the hospital members wouldn't help them to get out of this plight. The medic knows very well how disagreement can drive a wedge between people and collapse relationships - or in this situation, their community.

Or, that could just be her overthinking and it actually wasn't that big of a deal.

Amara began to chew on the inside of her cheek, still brewing on the incident outside as she returned to her task. Moments later, dull boots thumped against the creaky wooden floor. She tossed her gaze over her shoulder, spotting Kurt. She could still spot the remnants of his frustration etched onto his features. Instead of being a chameleon to his emotions, she offered a smile. "Get everything sorted out yet? We don't need any reason for a return trip"
"We're in good hands with Amara sorting the supplies"

Her attention shifted to the new speaker, her smile instantly broadening. Tyler Bennett, one of her closest and most genuine connections since she's been at the hospital. Amara wasn't sure why or how, but the two seemed to click instantly. Luckily for her own sanity and happiness, their click didn't fade whatsoever.

"Sweet talking me won't make me speed up!"
She teased the younger man, poking her tongue out at him.
But yes, I'm nearly done, Kurt! Just have a couple more items left then we're good to go!"
Amara chirped, lowering the sticky note and pen. She still wanted to ask Kurt if the earlier quarrel outside was any concern or not, but Tyler spoke up once more

"What's next?"
Amara looked up to him, gratitude glittering in her eyes.
"Looks like the rest of the perishables! They go in that box,"
She pointed at the first worn, cardboard box.
"Thank you."
The medic smiled.





♡coded by uxie♡

​
 

Carson Pierce


The young man's dark eyes traced her every motion but the center of his attention didn't shift from the weapon in girl's hand. Carson could feel a flood of warmth blooming across his chest and up to his neck at the revelation. The situation became even more complicated with her being unable to hear his orders. Ah, fuck… He didn't have time for this. Did others hear? If no one did he could still do this without alerting the guards. He'd just tie her and gag her up.

"Drop it." He demanded, motioning his head and slipping one hand off the grip. Muzzle dropped a foot down to aim at her chest and he encouraged with his free hand. "Get inside and close the door." He continued instructing slow and clear before explaining. "I'm here to take what I need and then I'm gone, I don't want to hurt you." In his mind it sounded more like don't make me…

Tension was noticeable in every syllable if she could actually hear, evident in his face. Pierce wore the stern but genuine expression of a man on a mission. He wouldn't let strangers stop him...

TEMPLATE © BOKEH​
 








There was a moment of hesitation as Miyu read his lips, though she was reluctant to drop her only weapon too quickly. She swallowed, letting the scalpel slip from her fingers and hit the floor with a quiet clang. Was that a mistake? At least he wouldn't shoot her, if he kept to his word, that was, but now she was defenseless.

She watched his gun lower to her chest, her hands shaking a little. At least her chances of survival from a gunshot wound to the chest was a little higher than one to the head, though it still wasn't ideal. She stepped further inside, unaware of Dustin's so close beside her. She couldn't hear him, after all. In her eyes, she was going to be trapped in this storage cupboard for however long it took for Amara to come back from their scavenging trip.

She slightly misinterpreted his demands, instead carefully stepping around him so he could close her inside himself. She backed up against one of the shelves, trying to squeeze past his weapon to the back of the cupboard, meaning he was now closest to the door.
"Just take it and leave," She signed, aware he probably couldn't understand her anyway. She felt defeated. She wanted to stop this from happening, they had lost too much already, but this man had a gun, all she had was a lousy scalpel.







the silent



miyu








  • filler tab!





♡coded by uxie♡
 
"Right now, I just don't see the
reason to hope. Haven't for a while."
Matthew A. Turner
MOOD

panicked, tired, a little scared.

OUTFIT

nurse's scrubs

LOCATION

hallway outside of the medical supply room.

INTERACTIONS

Dusty

TAGS

A Sparkling Zombie A Sparkling Zombie

Matthew woke up the same way he did every morning for the past year. The sunlight crept between the blinds, through the gaps between hastily-nailed wooden boards, and onto his face. With a groan, his eyes would flutter open and he’d lay there for a moment, staring up at the cracked ceiling above him, and think. Matthew thought a lot, certainly more than he wanted to. Because, no matter what he thought about, it led to the same thing.

He pushed away the bad thoughts and slid out of bed to drape a thick sheet over the window. Then he changed into his scrubs, brushed his teeth, and stared at himself in the mirror he hung on the wall.

It was at this time, right after waking up, that Matthew hated the way he looked more than any other time. His eyes were red and bags hung beneath them, the patchy scruff across his jaw was wild and unkempt, the strands of silvery-grey hair on his head stood out more than ever. He looked awful.

And then he was off to work.

Matthew had specifically requested a corner room on the third floor after the second floor started filling up. He thought it’d be best to distance himself from the noise. He hoped it would help him sleep. It didn’t. If nothing else, it kept him close to the roof, where he’d often go to get fresh air. And he got some exercise when he constantly ran up and down the stairs all day.

As he clambered down one of the staircases, Matthew’s thoughts drifted to one of his few friends: Amara. She’d been preparing to go out with the scavengers for the past few days, and Matt was worried sick for her. Scavengers had the most dangerous job, albeit the most important to the group’s survival. He had seen firsthand exactly how dangerous it could be, though. He just didn’t want to see her hurt.

When she told him, Matthew’s first instinct was to protest. He told her everything he could think of to try and keep her here. None of it worked. She was as bull-headed as he was sometimes. It would be a little endearing if it didn’t annoy the living hell out of Matthew.

He had apparently slept through their departure. Matt would’ve liked to say goodbye to Amara, to wish her luck, and maybe try to talk her out of it one more time. He missed his opportunity. All he could do now was hope she and the others didn’t get hurt. Matthew was sure they’d be fine if something happened, though. Amara may not have been classically trained, but she was a smart cookie and he showed her as much first-aid as he could.

As Matthew reached the final stretch of the staircase, he heard a distant metallic crash and then a yell. Instantly, his teeth clenched and his hand went for the knife at his hip. Most of the time, he didn’t like carrying a weapon around. He had never killed a person before, and he really hadn’t killed that many zombies either. Matthew wasn’t violent like that. But the council insisted that everyone is armed, just in case. And, as one of the few medically-trained survivors, Matthew was a valuable person.

He continued to carefully tread through the hallways of the hospital, looking through windows and slowly opening doors until he came across a familiar face. Dustin. Matthew didn’t know Dustin very well, other than that he was the resident peacekeeper. But something seemed wrong, very wrong.

Matthew’s eyes fell on the gun in Dustin’s hand and the panic he had managed to suppress thus far began to burst like a dam. He could feel his heart thumping in his chest and his stomach felt like it’d solidified. He froze in the middle of the hallway, facing Dustin’s back. He wasn’t even sure if the man had seen him yet. It didn’t matter. Matthew unsheathed his knife and swallowed hard before waving his arms around to try and catch Dustin’s attention. Probably not the best idea he had, admittedly, but he had never been in this kind of situation before.



code by ditto (head empty go bonk)​
 

Harry Cox


Hey, wait-

The protest fell on deaf ears. Harry watched the exchange between the strangers before everybody split, leaving the woman on her own beside the van. The guy who got shit from the supposed leader disappeared behind the holy building and that was their cue.

"Hey, are you listening?"

Cox glanced at Hiro, completely disregarding his discomfort. "Do I need to spell it out in Chinese? Take means take." Maybe he even heard before that the boy was Japanese but he didn't pay attention to trivial details. His gaze skipped to Jordan who appeared equally tense. Darn brats. With Faith off the radar and with Greg still walking on stitches, it was nothing but cowards left on his team. And it took a man to do what had to be done.

"I'm just saying... there's ways to take things without taking them. I mean, who knows, they could be friendly! We could negotiate something or make a deal or, or... you know what, forget it."

"Keep it down." He scolded when the boy raised his tone. "I'll 'negotiate'. Now focus. We go around the Church and enter the sacristy." Cox started to lay out the plan and Jordan pulled a face. "What about that dude...he wandered off to the back." Cox responded without blinking an eye. "We'll do what needs to be done." He glanced at the two remaining members of their Scav group that also looked uneasy but remained silent, knowing better than to question one of the ex, Knox leaders when he was dead set on something.

"You two stay here. If you hear any shots take out that woman and anyone else you see that isn't us." He looked around before focusing on the direction they were going in, shouldering his rifle again. "Just stick to the plan, I'll do the rest." He added, when already wavering between the vehicles in a lowered stance, trying to stay off sight. Did his men follow suit? Did someone see them? Better not or they'd lose the element of surprise and that was the only thing they had going for them.


* * *​

Howie was angry. It seemed to be his default state these days and he couldn't do anything about it. Other than walk off before he offended or assaulted another fellow survivor. Like he did Max the other week. Howie didn't hate them but sometimes… he just couldn't stand them. That place. Everything.

But it didn't mean he was angry at them. Howie was royally pissed at himself. Especially now when manhandled by a hefty dipshit who forced him to walk towards the back door of the Church. Howie's head pounded from the blow to the skull, it was hard to think straight. But the pain helped keep everything crystal clear, even if the rising rage began to blur his vision.

Howie heard the tall boy muttering somewhere behind their back. Asking the Asian if they shouldn't stop their leader. That it wasn't right. Too risky. Howie scoffed. "This man is walking you all into your funeral." He grunted when Cox jabbed his temple with the barrel in a straightforward response. Reminding him it wasn't a game. "Call for him." The bearded male demanded and having no better ideas, Howie complied.

"Kurt!" He hollered with a rasp scarred voice. All of them just exited the back room and stepped out into the main space of the Church. Facing whoever was inside, as well as the stairs leading to the room where the rest of them was assessing supplies.

"Kurt!" Howie repeated, hyper aware of that muzzle poking into his side against the thick jacket. Not like it would slow down the bullet that would just shatter his ribs or his insides or both if he wasn't lucky. Anger muffled the fear, propelled stupid, bravado-induced talk, but deep down Howie was scared. He had a feeling he wasn't getting alive out of this one.

TEMPLATE © BOKEH​
 
Last edited:

Dustin Levitt


Hospital Member
Location: Hospital
Tags: Carson ( Bullyboy Squad Bullyboy Squad ), Miyu ( Miaow Miaow ), Mathew ( VisiblyInvisible VisiblyInvisible )


Dustin tried to listen through the pounding of his heart. Something small and metallic clattered on the floor. Miyu must have agreed to cooperate. Good. That was good. The tension in the masculine voice was palpable. It seemed genuine enough. Maybe he could wait this out and--

A flash of movement entered his periphery. It glinted in the light.

Dustin spun, revolver aimed center mass, jaw tightened, finger on the trigger. Blue eyes met brown. Matthew. A sound escaped the medic's lips. Dustin's heart skipped a beat. He whirled back around, his mind grasping wildly for something to say to rectify their position being blown. "Hey friend," he started, and paused, taking a deep breath to smooth out the light tremor in his voice. He felt his composure returning to him. He tried again, louder than what was needed, to improve the chances that Miyu could hear him and provide her assurance: "We know you're in there, and we know you have one of us with you." Better. His inflections were more natural. Once again they possessed that usual vibrancy that was a lot like wood grain. "At least one of us on this side has a gun, but I think neither you or I want things to escalate that way. That happens and the whole hospital is alerted to your presence. Stirring up that kind of trouble pretty well erases any peaceful outcome this situation can have."

Momentarily, he took one of his hands off the gun and waved behind him. It could have been a "go away". It could have been a "get behind me". Dustin's attention was more on the intruder, but he knew he needed to keep Matthew safe. Of the three of them, the medic was by far the most important.

"So how about we make this easy?" He took a step back, to ensure he was out of arm's reach. "Why don't you step out of there slowly?"
 
mood:
calm.

location:
hs grounds.
outfit :
mentions :
Safton Safton

interactions :
currently at: hs.
;; satō kamiki

his eyes drifted down further, slowly following the movement of his finger as he traced the outline of his scalpel with fine precision. his innocent countenance hardened for a split second, giving no room to tell what might have evoked such reaction as he stood there, seemingly both unsatisfied and deeply in thought about the small object in his grasp. a scarcely audible sigh escaped his lips. the soft features upon his face had dissolved into nothing within mere seconds, his eyebrows deeply furrowed as though he had come to his final conclusion at last. he slowly shifted his glance downwards in order to take a glimpse at the rest of what had come to be his available... medical tools.

his lips curled into a noticable frown. never had he been subject to such hopeless display during the many years of his profession; before the apocalypse had decided to turn his efforts into nothing but dust. never had he been forced to work and treat his patients under such lousy conditions. he could scarcely stand the sight of the laid out tools upon the hard surface, each and every piece of them cleaned with the utmost precision and care. the majority of the group had left some time ago, leaving the young surgeon with nothing but his thoughts and worries about the uncertainty of what sort of chaos could possibly be brought back upon their arrival in the nearest time.

he slowly placed the scalpel back down, his eyes still narrowed and fixated downwards as though he had no intention of ever settling his gaze upon something else. in fact, there was nothing for him to do; nothing but to wait for someone to get roughed up enough in order for the brilliant doctor to pick up one of his lousy tools and get back to what he could do best. he pressed his lips together and eventually chose to turn his back, his hand reaching out to take hold of his small copy of "crime and punishment" which had awaited him upon the narrow window sill for what seemed like an eternity.

another hopeless sight. completely defiled, this once so beautifully manufactured book had been when he had first discovered it out in the dangerous open. though he never had been able to fully grasp much of the english content written upon its many torn pages, he had devoured each and every line with the hungry demeanour of a starving animal; a young man deprived of his natural thirst for knowledge. he opened it and shifted his wordless glance towards the first page. a thousand times had he consumed this piece of work for the past few months. a thousand times and over would he be able to recite each passage. he knew this book by heart. he loved this book. he was utterly tired of this damn book. shrouded in nothing but the foggy veil of his thoughts, the young surgeon had finally ceased to be inanimate and had instead begun to walk in slow circles around the table, now almost resembling the hungry animal in pursuit of its prey once more. his lips carefully formed each word in quietude while he made his way out of the medical section and into the vast hallway of the school, each slow step of his reverberating through the long corridor.

with the small book still in his grasp, he eventually came to a sudden halt in his movement. unchangingly focused on the yellow stained pages, he decided to seat himself atop of the hall's staircase. his slender figure went inanimate once more as though he had become one with the cold stone below. strands of dark hair drooped down upon his hardened countenance, his moving fingers being the only sign of actual life emanating from the man who had only briefly taken notice of xavier's stroll through the large property. if mister font, as the young surgeon liked to refer to him as, were to need his assistance, he would be alert and ready at all times. lousy medical tools or not; no one, not one soul in this group, would meet their fatal demise under kamiki's scalpel; that he knew with the utmost certainty and confidence.

coded by reveriee.
 

GREG BUSTER


Buster was bored. And it was never good news for his companions, whoever that was at the time. That day fate put beside him an elderly man. Stanley had some trouble with his hearing, which he was thankful for during their watch on the roof. Stan scoped with his good ol' Betty and Greg sat next to him using binoculars, making for a spotter. Not really good at that job. He wasn't good for much after getting hurt but thanks to his supposedly heroic act some of the Knox people managed to escape the fallen sanctuary. Alive to date thanks to their rugged savior.

Buster was comfortably propped back in a fishing chair, sunbathing with a straw hat over head. His broken leg, in a cast up to his groin rested against a wooden crate in front of him. Can of a half-drunk Bud Light he was given by one of the people he saved sat in a cup holder. Crutches left discarded nearby. "Don't you lie to me, Grandpa." He chuckled. "I've seen you ogling her ass like an old creep." The buff guy teased the slender, graying man, tipping his head back and carelessly throwing a peanut into his mouth. As if they weren't struggling with meager resources and every bit of food wasn't sacred...

"You'd do her." He added when munching, opening his mouth to throw another nut to the already half-chewed one. Grinding and speaking at the same time. "Or did the gravity win down there, eh?" He flashed his dirty teeth with amusement, glancing at Stanley's face, then his crotch. The older man kept on scanning their surroundings through his weapon's optic, dismissing the insulting comments of his manchild companion.

Greg sighed, bored, and turned his head towards the horizon. "What a killjoy." Away from the urban area spanning on the left and towards the flatlands. "You know that?" Just never-ending fields of weeds and scattered farmhouses. Zero fun. Or was there… The big guy paused and squinted at the forest. Was it...moving? He swallowed the last bite and licked his teeth when leveling field glasses with his eyesight. It wasn't the tree line that moved. "Looks like a party to me." He hummed when trailing down to see where the zombies were heading to. He didn't get to say it out loud as Stan gasped. "There is a girl- No, two girls."

Greg grabbed his walkie-talkie. "Oye, Bossman. We got some Stiffies inbound from theee…" He checked again. "South-East." Old man's croaky voice was audible in the background, prompting the other to tell them about the girls. "What is it, Grandpa. Got a thing for Asians? Can't root Nari so you're slobbering at the new one?" He snickered and added to their leader. "There's some chick giving a piggyback ride to another. No idea if she'll make it here before they eat her skinny ass but she's totally leading the party to us." He paused before asking as casually as if they were chatting about an oncoming downpour. "Should we shoot her?" Before she draws the horde to their new base...

TEMPLATE © BOKEH

NanLia NanLia Safton Safton Miaow Miaow macheath . macheath . ​
 
Last edited:

Carson Pierce


Pierce turned with her, never taking his aim off Miyu's general direction. Quiet, anticlockwise steps against worn vinyl flooring. This wasn't what he'd asked for but it was good enough. She was cooperating, it was going to be alright. Carson's fingers almost reached outside for the door handle when the unexpected sound whipped against his ears and he pulled back abruptly.

His heart wobbled as he took a few calculated steps back. Head swiveling between the oblivious girl he was pointing at and the open door when he heard the stranger speak up.

Friend. The man who called him that sounded older. But not like voice could be any indicator of age, judging Carson's was a few octaves lower than most mature guys he knew. But this man sounded like he was used to being a figure of authority, used to people treating him as such.

At first, the silence was the only response he had for Dustin. But soon his deep, strong voice reverberated inside the small space, spilling into the hallway. "We'll step out. But I don't want to see any weapons." He sounded much more collected than he felt at the time. One glance at Miyu was enough to remind him she couldn't hear, she didn't know what was going on. So Pierce waved her over, his words once again hushed but he made sure she could read from his lips. "I will hold you in front of me. You will be facing me. Don't do anything other than what you read from my lips and you'll be alright." Recognizing her compliance, however uncertain it was, he took her hand and lifted it to his shoulder. "Keep it there and move with me." He cleared his throat, adding louder. "We're coming out."

Soon the two stepped into plain sight. The girl had her back turned to the men, somewhat covering Carson's figure. But she was shorter, so his dark eyes met Dustin's with ease. "You wanted to talk." Pistol held in a firm grip pressed lightly to the side of girl's waist. "Let's talk."

TEMPLATE © BOKEH
Miaow Miaow A Sparkling Zombie A Sparkling Zombie VisiblyInvisible VisiblyInvisible ​
 








The hoard stumbled through the woodland, tripping over exposed roots and fallen branches, enticed by their meal only a few metres ahead. Even though Haewon had been running, they hadn't managed to create substantial distance between them and the undead with her sister on her back, barely conscious. Haewon's legs had turned to jelly as she tried her hardest to keep pushing onward. Her little sister had been fighting an infection for a couple weeks now, she couldn't give up after a little running. Her chest burned, her bones ached, but she was close to the school.

Finally, those tourist pamphlets her little sister had insisted they collected came in handy. They were new to the country, but Haewon didn't want to look like a tourist, she already loathed the judgement they received for their appearance. However, it meant her sister knew there was a school in the area, and Haewon hoped there would be shelter and supplies inside.

She broke through the treeline into the carpark of the school, stumbling a little as her legs became accustomed to the new terrain. She could still hear the undead tailing behind her, but she was close, she just had to get inside... then they could rest. Her chest tightened as she saw the place had been reinforced. Had someone made this into a base? She could be running right into more danger. She swallowed, looking over her shoulder at the hoard, before biting the bullet and beginning to pound on doors.

"Help! Somebody help us!" She yelled out, something she had never imagined herself to say. She was independent by nature, she never asked for help, but in that moment, she truly needed it. She felt her legs almost give out beneath her as she held her sister, desperately banging on doors and windows as her sister remained limp and lifeless, her eyes barely remainign open.
"Fucking help us!"







the sisters



min&won








  • filler tab!





♡coded by uxie♡
 
Last edited:








Miyu flinched at his reaction. He had hesitated, why? Was someone outside? She couldn't hear anything... She swallowed as he called out to the hallway, trying her best to read his lips. Whatever he had said didn't really matter, he was talking to someone other than her, there was someone there that could help her!

She looked up at Carson as he explained his plan, hesitating before nodding. He had a gun, anyway, she didn't have much choice than to comply. She felt a shiver shoot across her whole body as he took her by the arm and put it on his shoulder. God, she hated being touched, her whole body tingling and her feet numb as he lead her out of the room and into the hallway.

She couldn't see if someone was there, but she assumed they must be. Maybe Carson wanted her facing this way, she couldn't read their lips, they couldn't communicate. All she could do was look at Carson as he held her waist. Her reactions always varied when she was touched, sometimes she was furious, she'd yell at them for not asking first, even if they had only brushed past her. This time, however, she seemed to go numb. Her eyes glazed over. She wasn't in her body anymore. Her hand slipped from Carson's shoulder as she dissociated. She gazed off at nothing...

She seemed to blink as she came to, gazing up at Carson for a moment. Who was this guy, and why the hell did he have a gun? She'd already forgotten his commands, quickly looking over her shoulder. She recognised those two men but was completely bewildered when she tried to remember who they were. Was she in trouble? They were all looking at her. She turned back to Carson, her eyes filled with fear. What had she done wrong? Why was he aiming a gun at her? She felt hot tears spill onto her cheeks as she chewed at her fingernails, her body riddled with anxiety. Why was everybody looking at her?!







the silent



miyu








  • filler tab!





♡coded by uxie♡
 
Last edited:
T-Shirt.jpg

Xander’s rounds were proving to be largely uneventful, which was exactly how he liked it. Though it was not a sentiment shared by the more restless members of their little community, “quiet and boring” was just fine in his book. He had seen the perils of wishing tranquility into “action” long before the dead began rising. Font checked in at the supply room for a quick once-over of their inventory before making his way through the mostly-empty halls, checking entrances and exits and maintenance corridors for anything out of the ordinary.

Xander slowed to a halt upon spotting a figure in his peripherals resting on a nearby set of steps, a worn book in his grasp. Satō Kamiki: one of the physicians they were lucky enough to have on-hand at the school, a fact Xander was very grateful for. Ideally they wouldn’t need to make use of the doctors’ services on a regular basis -- if at all -- but he wasn’t naive enough to believe that would be the case with the lives they led. As he made eye contact with the doctor, Zane gave him a nod of acknowledgement before greeting him softly, “Ohayō gozaimasu”. His knowledge of Japanese could be charitably described as “middling” -- despite Nari’s attempts at helping him to learn more -- but good morning was within his wheelhouse at least.

However, any hope of a conversation was soon cut short as his personal radio, clipped to his belt, crackled to life and filled the corridor with the sound of static briefly before a familiar voice rang through. Buster. Currently on rooftop sentry duty, as Xander recalled. He listened as the man rattled off an explanation of a developing situation outside -- old Stan’s voice audible in the background, evidently distressed (which was worrisome in its own right) -- before asking for guidance.

So much for quiet and boring.

Font’s jaw clenched tight for the briefest of moments before pressing the button to transmit, already moving toward the front as fast as his legs could carry him. “You’re cleared to fire on the biters that threaten the refugees. Keep them safe. Use the air rifle if you can. Go to live ammo if needed. Just watch your fire,” he said with emphasis, staggering around a corner and nearly slipping on the tiled floors.

“If anyone’s near the southeast corner of the ground floor, stage there and get ready to open it up for them. But don’t do it alone. The last thing we need is a breach,” Xander spoke in quick, clipped sentences, willing his body to move faster just this once.


 
Nari meandered down the highschool hallway towards the auto shop, picking at the unlabeled can of meat she still couldn't identify. The shop was her current spot for solitude and thought processing. Rarely anyone bothered with the place, it was filled with bits and pieces people were convinced were junk when in truth everything had a potential use. Oftentimes the scavenger team would return home with something they thought was interesting and handed it over to her. She would stash and store it among the other items she'd collected to mull over potential use.


Here she had begun her own R&D department in the school leading to a few innovations she was proud of: the airsoft rifles pressurized to be lethal (at least to the rotting dead - she hadn't tested it on the living and had no intentions of doing so), the rain collection and purifying system that now reached both ends of the school - people could source clean water from multiple locations without having to transport it. It was a closed system which reduced the number of times the water needed to be handled and therefore decreased the likelihood of waterborne illness. She was still working on a hot water system with middling success but her priority was focused on renewable energy and a crop irrigation system.


Nari eyed the hald dismantled metal detector as she slipped through it and into her workshop. At one time she thought the sheer amount of security measures put into a highschool - more than her own lab and research centre for the high tech company she had worked for had - was insane. How on earth could the typical American student feel safe coming to this building knowing how much effort needed to be put into keeping their safety? Not to mention the parents! She wasn't certain that she could not have, in good conscience, sent kids of her own to school knowing this was the level of security they needed to be safe!


That was neither here nor there now, and she had found herself grateful for the security measures after the world ended.


Nari sighed and dropped the empty metal can and plastic fork on her work bench, both would need to be cleaned for reuse for later but she didn't worry about that now. Instead she flipped open her notebook, taking a seat on the high stool to go over her calculations again.
 
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