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Realistic or Modern The Beginning of the End (of the World)

RealisticFantasy

✯ Raccoon Catcher ✯
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Water, food, shelter.
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The three words race around Charlie’s mind as she tries to recall the ‘proper’ order. Water, water, water? She quickens her pace at the sound of footsteps. Food, water, shelter? Shelter, water, food? She had watched a survival show not too long before the outbreak. It had said something about those three being the priorities in survival. “Damn it!” She shouts in frustration before going wide-eyed at her mistake. She spins on her heels to survey the area, checking to see if anyone – or anything – heard. The familiar shuffle of the brain dead greets her silence and she slips into the doorway of a nearby building. She holds her breath, releasing an arrow into the first sight of flesh. She lowers her bow and leans out to check her surroundings before continuing on her way.


Six years ago

“Now, just look through the scope. Hold your breath and listen.”


A thirteen year old Charlie held one eye shut and her breath, surveying the forest in front of her. Her dad knelt next to her whispering reminders. He was an older man with streaks of gray highlighting his brunette hair. Despite his age, he was rather well-built and prevalent wrinkles implied a life filled with laughter.


There’s a rustle of leaves and a flash of tan. Charlie inhales sharply at the sound, the corner of her mouth twitching into a smile.<p><a href="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2015_02/Charlie.gif.031b970b38164281f0201cf4909098a8.gif" class="ipsAttachLink ipsAttachLink_image"><img data-fileid="42081" src="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2015_02/Charlie.gif.031b970b38164281f0201cf4909098a8.gif" class="ipsImage ipsImage_thumbnailed" alt=""></a></p>

Wait…”


The deer finally walked into view of her scope and her father gave her a nod. She lined up the shot and pulled the trigger of the crossbow. The arrow embedded itself deep into a tree just inches from the deer and the startled animal went bounding off.


“Did you see that? Oh, it was so pretty!”


“Nice try, hun. You’ll get it next time.” Her dad rustled her hair with a soft smile. Charlie looked to him with a confused expression.


“What do you mean? I was aiming for the tree.”




She walks along the street with her bow hung over her shoulder. This part of town was generally safe from the walking vegetables. But, that made it all the more dangerous due to bandits and looters. She pulls a cloth from her pocket, cleaning off the blood of the arrow - careful not to come in contact with the blood at all - that had just gone through the eye of a girl probably in her preteens. This was not a time for sympathy. And, those people... Well, they weren't people any more.


She places the cleaned arrow back in her quiver, dropping the rag to the ground. Better safe than sorry. She looks up to the sky, shielding her eyes from the sun. Only a few hours of daylight left. I need to find shelter. Food and water can come tomorrow. Plus, I have a bit with me.

 

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Tree branches cracked, and the whistle of the wind blowing was more than audible.
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Horrendous screeches and screams from people are distant, while he was sitting, in a cold, dark room. An abandoned hospital, somewhere you'd expect to be crawling with the dead, but, it had been cleaned months ago. He was alone in this place, tears running down from his hazel-colored eyes. In his hand, was a picture, a picture of him and his friends, a time ago, a time where he was still happy, before all the killing happened, before he was left to rot, alone in the hellhole this planet had become, where the only way you'll survive is by mantaining a gun barrel off your head and having it on the chest of someone. As he grabbed the picture, memories came in, how he lost those friends.


_______________________________________________________________________________



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''Dude! Can you believe how lucky we got back there? I mean, there was even some cold soda!'' came from his mouth, laughter after laughter of the pack of teens that roamed around, entering random buildings, scavenging the dirt they would find left behind by others. Something caught their eyes, a 24/7 shop, destroyed, but to find such thing without bandits crawling all over it, was a truely amazing find. This was a suprise, an abandoned place like this was something they hadn't seen in a long time. They entered, and started picking up all sort of stuff, canned beans, any thing they would find, but, then, a muffled scream, came from the left of the store, and when he glanced to his left, he saw one of his friends, with his mouth covered and a gun to his head. ''Let him go!'' he shouted. ''Give me all the things you have, or I'll kill him.'' him and his other friend rapidly took off their backpacks, throwing all they had. The bandit laughed, and a gunshot destroyed the tense silence. The friend at his right fell, with a hole in his head. ''No!'' he shouted, and his other friend got shot. He charged the guy with the dead body of his friend and grabbed his gun, chocking him and shooting the right bandit in the neck, and quickly pointing the gun back at the killer of his defenseless friend. A shot and his brain was shattered along the wall. He turned around, with anger, and pounced on the now bleeding out bandit, smashing his skull to the ground. After minutes of punching the dead corpse, he broke out in tears, walking and falling on the chest of his dead friend, sobbing as he felt his pulse go away.


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''Fuck!'' he shouted, as he slammed his fist against the floor. He was alone because of them, those bandits, since then, he has killed every single person with a bandana in their mouths, painfully. Mercy wasn't inside him anymore, what happened, scarred him, and that scar will never heal.
 
The ex soldier paces around the dark, trashy room. Little to no light peering through, aside from the fluorescent blue of the television that remained without a program. Scattered clothes littered the ground, food that was rotten clung to horrifying places. The man's hair draped over his face as his azure eyes remained hidden under the veil of the sweaty strands, his arms and clothing soaked in blood. How many of them have I killed... Time goes by and more of them just keep coming, I'm boarded up, no food, not much water left... clean, that is. His mind skipped through frivolous thoughts, a sword lying on his bed, a majestic broadsword that had reminded him of never giving up hope, where was that hope now? He found no rest in this world, his own name almost forgotten, but with that blood soaked weapon, he was constantly reminded. Edge... Jason 'Edge' Vanguard. He had suffered hardships, loss, forced to kill his own wife when she turned on him. The blasted gun lay next to the sword, a revolver, long barrel, heavy caliber rounds. He was running low on ammo. But he could never leave, even with his enhanced ability and his will to survive, he would not permit himself to harm anyone.


Was he immune to this thing? He hoped so, the only serene thoughts he would ever have was when he was killing the bloody creatures, the things. Monsters. "
They'll come for me one day, it's only a matter of time..." He had told himself, he'd already been bitten... weeks ago. He never turned. Immunity fuelled his mind, he blamed no one. Only himself for dooming his own blood to become immortal to the disease, incapable of dying from that infection. He honestly wished it would just happen, the suspense was ever increasing. Day by day, it became harder and harder to survive, more blood loss, a chance of hepatitis C. Nothing.


It was dark in his life, he'd lost it all, after 'she' died, he wanted no more, wanted to find refuge in death, yet, even with the cursed gun to his head, he never pulled the trigger.



A memorial of his service in the military, the cause of this damned thing, resided on his bed, he needed food, bad. It wasn't going to come to him, he had to leave at some point. Today, perhaps it was the grey sky, or the silence that he had finally received, but something influenced him to put on that trench coat, strap the sword to his back in its sheath. Band the assault rifle from the service around his shoulder and holster his revolver to his chest. Grabbing a pack of cigarettes, he used one power, gene enhanced fist to slam through the boarding he had on his window, six stories in the air, the glass and wood shattering down below. He could see them, the monsters, walking around his square like it was no one's business, he had seen people be destroyed, unable to do anything but weep in his room at his fortunate strength.



Placing a rough hand on the ledge of his window, he moved himself out, his feet hanging on tight as he looked up to the roof of the building. He could chain jump some of them and make it to the nearest pharmacy, but he needed to keep his eye out for the real threat of these monstrosities, the ones that were truly agile, the ones who had received a more mutated personality. His azure eyes stared up into the gloomy sky as brown leather was soon underneath him, using his cowboy boots to graze himself up the building, his fingers digging in wherever a foothold may be. He was a wreck, a mess. He needed to shower, the fresh air reminding him just how poor his body odour must have been. With strong arms he lifted himself onto the roof, no creatures anyone. Good.



 
"You see, I just, don't think I have enough range- which given how many zombies there are and the chance of infection, I probably should," Kevin said, squatting next to the body of... well, someone who had turned out hostile, "I don't want to use a gun, though- too loud, and I don't know how to use a bow, and dontcha need a certain type of knife to throw? Don't have those." It was kinda therapeutic, really, talking to the dead about life's troubles. He probably should have been paying more attention to his surroundings, and he would admit to himself it was pretty reckless, but he felt safe enough in the old grocery store, even if there possibly creatures right around the corner.


"It's just, odd, I guess, that I'm doing this by myself, ya know? Like the longest I'd ever been alone before was one, maybe two nights if Marcus went to a sleepover and our parents were out of town," he let out a scoff, continuing, "Ya'know, I don't know why I'm even talking to you. I mean, you're dead!" he laughed, quieting himself when he noticed he was getting a bit loud, checking through the racks in the store to see outside for any monsters before continuing in a whisper,"I think I'm going crazy."


Shutting up and focusing on the task at hand, Kevin checked to see if the guy had had anything of value on him- a couple weapons, a nearly- empty water bottle, half a granola bar, and a picture of someone that he quickly put back in the bag. He didn't need to be reminded that these guys were as human as him, especially when he was already questioning what made him more deserving. Well, for one, he thought, I don't just kill everyone I meet. But it depends on what we're judging on, 'cuz while that might work in the moral category, I've also done some questionable things for survival. He stopped that line of thought, knowing it would only end badly. On the bright side, his inventory was now approximately two full water bottles worth of water spread through three containers, half a granola bar, a hopefully edible snack-sized bag of chips, five knives that were probably more of a hazard than anything else, a gun, some ammo, and some sentimental junk. Yeah, he was running out of supplies.


But now he had a second bag, at least. Even if he didn't have any purpose at all. Maybe he'd get lucky and get accepted into a group of kind and generous well- off folk. Yeah, not gonna happen.


He kinda wished Marty was here, seeing as the dude always seemed to know what to do, even after their parents died. It was getting late, he noticed, and decided that if he had to, the employee area might work, even if he didn't really wanna be stuck there all night with the windows smashed to bits. He checked outside once again, and seeing nothing, decided looking for somewhere else might not be that bad as long as he remembered where the shop was.
 
Keep. Moving.





These are the only thoughts in Gabby's head as she quietly creeps along, trying to control her panting. She was lucky that she had escaped that three year old that was infected, and didn't need him to catch up to her. Ducking behind a wall, she runs for it, but ran into a trash can into the process.


SHABAM!


Gabby bites her lip, holding back a yell of pain. She has to keep going, but her leg now hurt beyond words after running straight into the metal. She slowly picks herself up, hobbling along, and clutching to the one water bottle she now had. She's in no condition to run! Gabby limps on one foot, for effect, not intending to go any faster-


But when she hears the snarls of the possessed humans, she knows she has to run, no matter the pain.


Feet pounding against the hard, cold sidewalk, Gabby stops to catch her breath- carefully watching this time, so she can go around a recycling bin.


Gazing around, she finds herself in the suburbs- not a good place. From her previous experiences, Gabby has learned that suburbs and cities were full of the humans, who were now...


Well, what were those humans? They definitely weren't human, but more like alien- if those even existed. She decides not to dwell on the thought. Right now, surviving was the main goal. Maybe later, she can think about the actual situation- and what could possibly cure the world from this madness. Then, the world can be the same again..


Or can it? How can it be the same, miles and miles away from Louisiana, from her school, from her home, from her life? And what about her parents?


A lump in her throat forms, and Gabby forces herself to think about other things. They're still alive. I didn't kill them.


But what if they killed each other?



Berating herself for thinking about such a subject, Gabby scans the area for a place to hide, and hears footsteps.


She pales.


Keenly aware that the person- or people, or something, whichever- were coming closer by the second, her eyes widen. She'd never do this. Never.


I will, if I'm gonna live.


She hops into the recycling bin, pulling the lid shut.


Gabby is glad it was at least recycling materials instead of actual garbage, but sitting, crammed in some glass, plastic, and aluminum, she finds herself uncomfortable. Holding her breath, she waits for footsteps to pass, though she knows she can't stay in here forever- if there's more than one person, they're most likely going to get into a fight- unless they're immune..


She smirks. And how many people are immune, now?


Listening carefully, Gabby hears yelling, right in front of her. Trying to keep still, she wonders how long she can stay in the bin before she slowly suffocates to death.


These people gotta hurry up! I need to get out of here!





And, just as Gabby fears, the two begin to fight.


Okay. So, I need to wait until they're not looking here- but how can I tell if they're not looking here?


Shut up, Gabby. Do it. How hard can it be?



Waiting very impatiently, she waits until she sees that both have wrestled each other to the ground.


Hi-yah! Gabby the Martial... Whatever.


Managing to kick the lid off, she knows that she has about five seconds to get out of here- surely the men have noticed.


Of course they did.


Frantically trying to struggle free before they turn their anger towards her, she points at one of the men. "You... You did this!" She chokes, hoping the fake gesture will buy her time.


As the man turns his attention to the man and they start to yell and fight again, Gabby manages to free herself.


Of course, by falling out and toppling the whole box over.


But no time. Just glad to not be sitting on glass, Gabby bolts, not caring about anything except to put as much distance between herself and people. It was far too dangerous.


She... She couldn't keep going for much linger. She was only twelve, and her leg was still throbbing-


Ignore the pain.


Ignore the cold.



Live.
 
He runs to the edge of the building, falling with great speed as the wind kicks up, breezing his hair back, rejuvenating.


His feet land firmly on the roof of the next building, his legs continuing to move as the heavy padding of his boots pushed on loose pieces of asphalt. He vaults over the next ledge, rolling to break his fall, he weighed roughly 190lbs. well built, his muscles permitting him the agility as he kept descending on the building tops, sooner or later getting to one where he felt comfortable to jump off of. His azure eyes flashed, his feet leaving the roof and landing on the cracked cement of an abandoned alley, however, this alley wasn't without noise.


He could hear men fighting, the clatter of feet running off, the sound of a trash can being toppled over, violence, everywhere, he bent to a crouch, stalking his way to the corner of a building, a chain link fence guarding him from behind as he peeked from the moss, watching two men mercilessly slaughter one another. There was a struggle, one finally drew a knife, ending the other, blood spewing across the ground. The killer got up, proceeding to make Jason angrier, rage flowing through his veins, as the man looked down the other alley where he'd heard the feet echoing down earlier.


He left, the killer was gone as Jason moved towards the dead man, scavenging him for anything, a knife, that was all that remained, taking it, he added it to another belt her had wrapped around his chest, keeping it secure, he stood, watching the figure disappear down the alley. What are the odds... someone might die...? He laughed at the thought, the very irony of it all piercing his mind, Of course someone's going to die. He felt his stomach rumble, he was hungry, but what good would that do him if he let this fleeing person die. If that figure had been fleeing in the first place, it wouldn't have been an infected, the infected would have attacked. The guilt would build up, the pain in his stomach wouldn't be as adaptable then.


Swiftly, he unhooks the revolver from its holster, sprinting down the alley after the receding figure, and the one he had yet to see. His hair blew to either side, sweat clinging to his forehead, even in the cold weather, his only wish was that he wouldn't run into any bandits. They'd killed several of his neighbours in the apartment complex he had been in, he could hear the screaming, feel their skulls crack as he smashed the assaulters into walls and used the shallow halls of the building to his advantage.


There was no time to dwell on that past however, he had more pressing matters. What's the point of even chasing this man? The survivor might just try to kill you anyway. He wasn't exactly appealing at this point, a strong beard had grown to his face, seeming to double his age, his hair was ratty and was almost intimidating to him. He never quite looked like himself, however, his boots clattered firmly on the ground as he made it to the end of the alleyway. He looks around to determine where the killer would have gone, awaiting a sound for a notification, his visible advantage had been lost, there were too many routes to escape. One lead to a dead end, he knew that, the other lead to the sewers, and a third route appeared, a ladder leading back to the roof tops.


A low growl snapped him back to reality as he spun, slamming his finger-less glove into the face of one of those monsters, No reason to waste bullets when I can finish this in a few hits. His hand clasped around the decaying face, slamming it into the ground over and over again, the cracking of the skull was distinct, as the repetitiveness of the action soon left the cerebral matter splattered on the concrete. "Good riddance."





More of that corrupt blood spewed on his shit, the whiteness of the fabrics long since gone since the dirt, sweat, blood and mucus found its way inside it. He had grown used to these common encounters, knew how to handle them, he'd killed many, prepared to kill more, if they were ever human once, they weren't any longer.
 
As he finally got the hold of himself, his stomach grumbled. A growl that was way too loud to be some normal type of hunger. He sighed, as he got up with the palm of right hand, gaining balance and standing on his feet. He jumped out of the window of the abandoned hospital, landing on his feet and proceeding to roll.
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As he looked up, he saw the same, empty, souless street. His hand brushed trough his hair, as he proceeded to walk, looking if he would find any can of beans, or anything eatable at this point. The mist was thick, near the hospital, the one you wouldn't see more than a block, but, that was usual. Minutes passed, perhaps an hour, and he didn't find a grain of rice. He was desesperate to find something, even entering the hair salons in hope of a verge of rotting fruit. Aleks sighed and kept on walking, in hope of something he would find. His glance turned, and he saw a gun shop. The reflection of a gun was there, a shine that made him cover his eyes. When he entered, he found a 9mm pistol. Sure, it wasn't the best, but it would shut someone off, wich was all you needed these days. Aleks grabbed the top of it, and cocked it, a bulling flying off. He took of the cartridge and saw it almost full, a smile was on his face, but his stomach couldn't eat bullets.


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When exiting, he saw an alleyway, in wich he walked trough, with his tumbs hooked in his dried out jeans. When he exited the alleyway, he approached the middle of a street, then, a whistle. Not a normal whistle, but the one you hear when a bullet passes right trough, or next to you. Luquid dripped down his shirt, and that was when he knew he had been hit. A look down and there was a hole right under his lung. The shock made his eyes wide open, and he tumbled to a nearby car, covering his body behind a tire. His palm was covering the wound, but, each minute, another whistle would pass, another bullet that missed.
''Help!'' he shouted, in desesperation, hoping someone would help him. Is this how I die? What if there are more bandits, and they approach me?
 
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Charlie looks around frantically. That. Listen to that. Silence. It made her incredibly anxious. Nothing could be worse than silence in a time like this. Silence meant surprises and surprises meant... Well, they meant nothing good. She inhales sharply and, almost as if on cue, the sound of gunshots pierce the air. She immediately hits the ground, crawling to the nearest cover. They sounded a bit off in the distance, but it was better safe than sorry. She hesitates a moment before deciding it's safe enough to rise back to her feet.


''Help!''


The word rings in her ears. It wasn't too far away. She could run that. She could help them.... But, who was them? She had to pause to remind herself that she had no idea who they could possibly be. In addition to that, the sun was beginning to set. This could be a trap. This is no time to be generous. This is life or death. She hesitates a moment, bouncing around indecisively before her feet hit the pavement. The rhythmic slapping of rubber against asphalt is the only thing keeping her tethered to reality. What she was doing was rash and stupid, maybe fatally stupid.





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She slows her pace as she neared the area where she was certain the call came from. She tries to catch her breath and recollect herself as the gunshots continue to ring out. She unhooks her the bow from her shoulder and nocks an arrow. She takes each step quickly and carefully but with purpose. She holds her breath so as not to give away her position. She sees a man dressed in all black, a red bandanna covering his nose and mouth. He was shooting at... something. What it was wasn't her concern at the moment. A lone bandit? Strange...


She approaches him from behind, her arrow aimed at his chest.
"Drop your weapon!" The gunfire ceases and he swivels around to face her, the barrel of the gun aimed right between her eyes. "Listen, buddy. I'd really like to avoid conflict and I don't doubt I can shoot faster than you so just... drop the gun." His eyes narrow. Her gaze stays locked on his pointer finger curled so slightly toward the trigger. "I'm serious. Drop it!" She shifts her weight and he pulls the trigger.





Click. The gun was out of ammo. It was too late for the bandit. Charlie had released the arrow the second she saw his finger twitch. Bandits were not trustworthy folk. The man falls forward to the ground, driving the arrow in his heart only deeper into his flesh. The gun meets the pavement with a thud and a metallic skid. She sighs at the sight. She couldn't say that she didn't feel bad at all, but she had warned him.


She walks over to the corpse to collect the her arrow and the gun. Whether it had ammo or not, a working gun was still useful for intimidation at the least.
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She pats the man down to retrieve a granola bar, some gauze, and a condom. Everything was useful - whether it was for an object's traditional use or not. "I'm sorry..." She takes a moment to say something nice for the man, not that she believe in God at a time like this. Still, she didn't doubt this would have repercussions later.


She continues on her way toward whatever the bandit was shooting at. As soon as she can make out the figure of another person, she nocks the retrieved arrow. "Put your hands up. Don't try anything funny. I won't hesitate to shoot you." She takes each step cautiously, sticking to the shadows. Men seemed to doubt women's threats in situations like this so she was determined to come off as 'manly' as possible. Men respect other men, right? @Keiser


 
Bullet trough bullet, metal clink trough another. The guy seemed to be wasting all his clip, and his aim was horrendous. His blood was pumping, it would just keep pouring, the only thing stopping it was the palm of his hand, and that wasn't the best thing to use when in medical need. Another shot hit him, now in the ankle. He shouted in pain, and started to twitch.
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The shots stopped, and a feminine voice was heard in a long distance, perhaps exactly where the bandit was. The silence was great, until there was a click, an empty click, and the sound of an arrow passing trough flesh like a rock to water. His breathing picked up, as he figured the person would aslo kill him, he was weak, and he couldn't do anything at this point. If she decided to kill him, it would be the end. All this effort to survive would be thrown to the trash.
Fuck, was the only thing in his mind. Steps approached, and he clenched his fists, holding his wound. "Put your hands up. Don't try anything funny. I won't hesitate to shoot you." said the same voice. He laughed ''Yeah, thank you and all, but, I'm going to kill you with my unfunctional arm and destroyed ankle, thank you. I'm screwed up, y'know.'' he said, sarcastically.
 
Gabby stops a minute, trying to catch her breath. How far did she just run? Twenty miles?


Stupid. You'd be dead already.


She commands her negative side of her mind to shut up.


Considering her surroundings, she decides that this street didn't seem all that bad. Backing up against a building, she peeks out; another street isn't that far away. It seems pretty safe, a few buildings around- but what if they are occupied, by those bandits or the infected? Gabby shudders.


She hears footsteps coming her way.


Who is it? Did one of those men survive and come chasing for me?


She decides not to find out.


Gabby knows that she can't go on like this forever. She needs a shelter, and some food would do her some good. Maybe, if the threat passes, she can scavenge for food on the streets. Surely others have died here... Right?


Unnecessary history..


Whipping around, Gabby desperately looks for shelter on this street- an abandoned place, a recycling bin-


The predator is definitely getting closer.


Finally, when Gabby hears the footsteps coming closer, she decides she has to make do with whatever she's got. Hiding behind the other outer side of a possibly occupied small apartment, she holds her breath. She doesn't want to die, not until she knows the world can be cured.


Gabby squints, listening, heart pounding in her ears. Does she hear voices?


On that other street?



Gabby starts to sweat, though the day is absolutely freezing.


Are these enemies..?


And if they are, how can I escape now?
 
The man in the fresh, human blood soaked tee-shirt rounds the corner, looking around, the blood of his veins pumping wildly as he walks around aggressively, looking everywhere, a chilling voice escaping his larynx,


"Come now little girl~ No reason to be scared... I'm just here to help."


His broodingly evil person searching in between rocks, boards of wood, foliage of trash, a ominous wind blowing through the grey street. He had a strange snoring sound every time he breathed in, almost as if he couldn't fully use his own nostrils, a combination of inhaling through his nose and mouth. Dark brown eyes scanned around, until they fell on a recycling bin, his footsteps drawing nearer and nearer to the girl.


"I know you're there!"


He breaks into a run, sprinted aggressively towards the girl, before a very loud clanking sound is heard, time freezing as his irises lose their life, the blank of the gun carrying into the voids of sound and image. The large metal object pierced through the temples, the brain flowing out the other end as the hostile figure flew off his own feet, landing a few feet away on the ground. A 44. round blowing the head nearly apart, then, following the piercing sound and thud of the body, silence.


Jason's revolver had recoiled a tad, due to his stabilization over the weapon, his near super-human ability granting him the strength to hold it down as his second hand let go of the hilt. Walking over slowly to the bin he opened the lid, azure eyes hidden behind the sweaty strands of his dirty-blonde hair, the scraggly beard hanging to his lower neck. It was a girl... A child... In an adult war... Something he assumed he would never come across, even though reality showed that he had seen several young people die, and did nothing. He was cold in his own heart, despite what he wanted, his heart's burning desire, the steel of his brain restrained him. Soon, the valiant effort was abandoned, left for dead in the cage of his ribs, yet, as he stared at the girl, he found it in him to pick her up with a strong hand on her collar, setting her down on the ground.


He shook his head at the cruelty that people could think of, flipping his revolver twice around his index finger, holstering the magnificent weapon in the center of his chest, the assault rifle, a tempting weapon, hung from his shoulder, swaying like a golden medal from a tree branch. A very sturdy tree branch. "Go home..." His rough tone cut through the air, as he turned his back, his stomach cramping a tad from his own mind wanting to leave her there, just so he could feed the damned thing that was straining. Selfish. His boots crunched on the dusty ground as he began to increase distance between the two.
 
''Yeah, thank you and all, but, I'm going to kill you with my unfunctional arm and destroyed ankle, thank you. I'm screwed up, y'know.''


"You're... You're hurt?" She lowers her aim just a bit in surprise, her voice softened. <p><a href="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2015_02/charlie.gif.ae4629fb47c83a84e97f5b7b3f0778a2.gif" class="ipsAttachLink ipsAttachLink_image"><img data-fileid="42221" src="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2015_02/charlie.gif.ae4629fb47c83a84e97f5b7b3f0778a2.gif" class="ipsImage ipsImage_thumbnailed" alt=""></a></p>Then, she reminds herself where she is, what this is. This is the end of the world. You can't just run around helping every person you see. But, she was alone in the world and, worse than that, an incredible sense of loneliness had just enveloped her. This was the most human contact she had had since her parents. Maybe she could ally with him...


No. This had to be a trap. A lone bandit and then some mysteriously injured bandit? It couldn't just be a coincidence. Her mind battles with itself, debating what to do and she begins to bounce indecisively toward and away from the man.
"Is this...? Are you...? I can help..." The words seem to leave her mouth of their own free will and she feels her aim shift toward the ground, still able to relocate its mark if necessary.


She steps from the shadows cautiously, wearing the best stoic expression she can manage at the moment.
"Are you the one that called for help?" She examines him from a distance so that if he were to lunge at her, she could attack first. She turns her head into the wind to blow her hair from her eyes as she looks for any nearby movement. She then asks in a softer, kinder voice, "Are.. are you alone?" At the realization that she revealed even the slightest bit of weakness, she returns her attention to him and straightens herself. She was not going to make the mistake of getting attached to someone she didn't even know.

 

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Gabby mentally curses herself for not running to the other street.


Staring curiously at the man who had found her, who ran after her... She doesn't know what to say, or what to think, as she is picked up and set back on the ground.


"Go home..." The man's voice cuts through the air sharply. Gabby exhales, and pulls at her jacket, which did absolutely nothing in this heat.


"I... I can't."


How could she go home? After all that she had been through, the last thing she wants is to hike all the way back to Louisiana. Though, of course, she had no idea where she was...


Her mind shifts to her parents. Are they okay? Probably not, considering no cure had been invented, not yet.


Trying not to choke, she imagines her mother and father, still in the mansion, trying to strangle each other to death.


This medicine makes people smarter? This "smart and strong" medicine caused all of this dumb war in the first place.


Not intending to share her life story but to make her point, Gabby inhales and continues quickly with her speaking.


"My parents were infected, and I couldn't stay there. I don't know how long I've been out here, but I do know one thing. Thank you for your concern, but I'm smarter than I look."
 
"You're... You're hurt?" the voice said, once again. He shook his head and answered again ''Yes, I recieved two damn bullets from that fucking, cowardly sniper. I don't think I can even get up.''
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he said, obviously exhausted by the blood loss and the pumps of adrenaline which wouldn't stop. He was in some severe ballistic trauma, feeling pain everytime his heart gave out a pump.


Pain was the only thing that was on his mind at this moment, since the girl had stopped the sudden whistles. His head was looking down, all the moment, until he lifted his gaze and saw a way too delicate looking girl. He wasn't expecting at all for this girl to have killed the bandit, even less when she was just face to face with him seconds ago.



Who knows, in these times of desperate need, perhaps she was even putting a trap to him
''Are you going to kill me?'' he said, lifting his gaze, pointing his piercing eyes at her. "Are.. are you alone?" ''Yeah, you couldn't choose a worse question. I've been alone for so much time the only time I touch someone is to stab them.'' he said, in a deppressed tone.


''Live and die this day, have you ever heard of that? I was fine just some minutes ago, now I'm at the verge of death.'' he said, with the same tone of voice. He reached out for the hood of the car, grabbing it and pulling him up, before collapsing once again. His ankle wasn't in shape of even touching the ground, so, when he fell in the wound of under his neckbone, a sharp pain struck again. ''Fuck!''
 
He stopped roughly where he stood, a sturdy and devastated figure turning to her, the wind blowing his hair around gently, his eyes piercing her mind as he tried to read the young girl. Her words flowed like rainclouds in his mind, it was fogging him, fooling him, making him forget everything he was leaving for. Jason's humanity was still in tact, even after all this time, he felt his heart stretch a little as she spoke.


Sighing, he placed a hand on his hip, his mind racking itself in wild and fanciful confusion, oh how it loved to tease every piece of him. He couldn't leave that girl alone, but he had no real home, no place suited for a child at least. He could find her a safe place to stay, that would be the humane thing to do, but what was humane anymore? He just blew someone's brains out, the body was still there as proof, a corpse. The corrupt blood flowed through his veins, but it was not tainted by that infection, that would have been merciful, instead, he had a killer's blood, merciless and ruthless, he'd killed so many.


He could still feel the steely grip as his hand had wrapped around the infected creature's head, smashing it into the ground without stopping, the warm rush to his brain from the kill. If there were ever good people out there, he was long since beneath them, he was nobody anymore, just a soldier trying to make his way. Jason recalled the times in the service, his right hand extended to his cranium as he look up proudly, receiving medal of honor after honor. He was a good warrior, powerful, mighty... A weapon. He was a killer.


"What is it you wish to do then?" His voice split the silence of his thought like a knife, as, somewhere off in the distance, he could've sworn he heard some intimate cursing.
 
She removes the arrow from the bow and replaces it in her quiver. The man seemed to be in genuine pain... Or at least he was a convincing actor. Either way, her mind had transitioned from him being a threat to him being in need. She drops her bow and quiver of arrows near the car's front tire. She kneels on the ground, swinging her backpack around and setting it in front of her. She fishes through her pocket to retrieve the gauze she had taken off the bandit. "Let me wrap your ankle."


She didn't wait for his compliance - or lack thereof. No one was going to die an unnecessary death on her watch. She rolls up his pant leg, wincing at the sight at the wound. Even now, she wasn't a huge fan of blood. She dug through her bag looking for a rag to help soak up the blood. "This is gonna hurt like a bitch." She mumbles as she begins to wrap the rag around the wound followed by the gauze. She holds it in place with one hand and she rifles through her band with the other. She pulls out a roll of tape, wrapping it around his ankle to apply pressure to his wound. Enough for it to be snug - and most likely hurt - but not enough to cause any real harm. That was the only good thing about being alone. Supplies lasted longer.


She looks up at him from the ground, examining the growing circle of blood on his shirt. "Take your shirt off." She was trying to proceed cautiously but quickly. Being out in the open, unarmed, was one of the stupidest things you could do. She paws through her bag yet again to procure an extra t-shirt she packed. When she was leaving her home, she tried to cram as many useful things as she could find into her bag. Canned foods, scissors, a small set of cutlery... She still wished she had brought a bigger bag. She begins ripping the shift to use as a wrap for his chest wound. "I'm... I'm Charlie, by the way..." She says quietly.
 
"What is it you wish to do, then?"


Hmm. Good question. Gabby pauses, studying the man. She isn't sure of her opinion on him, not quite yet. He seems of the quietly powerful type to her, considering that he still has his hand wrapped around the corpse's head. What does she want? Her life back? Of course. Surviving? Duh. And, she wants the infection to be cured...


But secretly, she knows she wants to be the one who cures it all.


Gabby obviously doesn't want to tell that to the man in front of her. She has shared some of her dreams before- leading experiments that are miraculous and life changing, and the listeners studied her curiously, as if she was a frog in Biology class and they were the students, dissecting her body. And, also, there is the "dumb blonde" stereotype. Gabby swears to herself that if she ever hears someone tease her because of her strawberry blonde hair, she will personally knock them out, hard.


Gabby pauses in her thoughts, as she hears another male curse, definitely a distance away. Perhaps on that other street?


Focus and answer him, you idiot!


"Well, I want to survive, obviously. I don't know where, but I will live. Perhaps, once this is all over, I will go live back in Louisiana." She pauses, pursing her lips before she babbles any more to this stranger.


Gabby's thoughts drift back to the curse word that she distantly heard. Is he infected? Probably, since during her journey, she hears a lot of swearing from the infected as they wrestle in their fights, and either sprained their ankle or broke a bone. Deciding to investigate the area she heard the yell from later, she stares intently at the stranger, waiting for his reply.[/color]
 
He stares back. "Well, I want to survive, obviously. I don't know where, but I will live. Perhaps, once this is all over, I will go live back in Louisiana."


Her words shot him, far stronger than any bullet ever could, "Long way from home... aren't you?" He clenched the knuckles of his free hand white as he let the head of the dead man go. The curse of the masculine voice was definitely visible now, he sighed, another soul he felt compelled to help. Yet his attention remained on the girl, he knew she heard it to. And nodded his head in the direction of the vile language. "Care to make yourself useful?" He uttered as he turned his head slightly towards and alleyway that would lead to the next street. Everything was okay for n- No, it wasn't. He could feel it, he stopped and got into a defensive stance as he readied his M4A1 looking along the roofs of the buildings and across the street. It was coming!


He'd had the connection with the overly mutated creatures ever since he'd been injected and it had grown progressively worse, a loud roar filling the dusty air of the city. He sat himself down on one knee, this is what he lived for, this is why he was still alive, to fight those damned creatures with their ability. They weren't easily ever killed, but neither was he, the only thing about him was, he was weaker, he had a conscious. The thought of the male who was a street over quickly rang into his head, but who was he to save? The young girl, or a potential ally? Both. It had to be both, his sharp eyes checked every corner as he spun, watching an oversized monster jump across the street over them, making its way over to the cursing, he had been quiet enough to be fortunate for it to not pay him any heed. Good. He turned to the girl, who he quickly gestured over to his side.



Jason had to save the person a street over, he had to, if that man was human, or had any humanity in him at all, the creature, Experiment 4431 would come for him.



Nearly un-killable and three times the size of a normal man, the monstrosity peered over the ledge of a rooftop, staring at a car that sheltered a boy and a girl, each relatively young, but this would not bother the animal. It sent its dynamic roar against all grounds, infected beginning to pour out of anywhere they could be seen, the red eyes of the monster seeming to leave a traced line as it jumped from the roof, landing firmly on the ground, making its way towards them.



Jason stared at the young blonde,
"Hide... back in the recycling bin, I'll be back for you." His voice was sharp as he jabbed his finger through the air at the concealing object. He needed her to hide, and, if that male over there could fight, he'd need that too, with swift feet he began to run into the alley connecting the streets.
 
He stared at the female, if this was a trap, she would've killed him a long time ago. Seems like this was his lucky day, this day he wouldn't be another rotting corpse in the street. Even better, she decided to help him. A faint ''Thank you.'' came out of his lips, something that was rare to be coming out of his mouth, ever since he lost his friends. "Let me wrap your ankle."


He nodded, even if he had said no, the girl seemed too determined to do so.
''This is gonna hurt like a bitch.", the girl said, once again. He grabbed a piece of cloth and put him on his teeth, as she placed the rag on his wound and he let out a muffled, pain filled scream. The pain faded away in a question of seconds, wich was a relief, since if the pain laster for more, he would be knocked out by the pain. The girl had a lot of supplies, something that wasn't expected.


''Take your shirt off.'' He laughed, ''Only for you.'' he said jokingly. ''I'm Aleks, nice to meet you, Charlie. Thank you, once again, for all this you're doing. I owe you one.''
 
She uses the torn shirt to wound around the chest wound, repeating the same process she followed with his ankle. She flashes a ghost of a smile to him after she's finished. "That's the best I can do with what I have." She reaches into her bag one last time to grab a small bottle of water and pulls the granola bar she took off the bandit from her pocket. She hands both of them to him. "Here."





She stands and slings the backpack onto her shoulder. As she leans down to retrieve her quiver and bow, a monstrous roar shakes the street and the surrounding buildings. "What the hell was that?!" She glances frantically around the street for the source of the noise. Shelter. Go. Now. Leave... What are you waiting for?! Leave him! The thought of whatever that could be causes her breathing to grow rapid. She was not going to die here. "We need to move. Can you walk?"


We? Her mind taunts her in her sudden flash of anxiety. We? You think anyone would want to go with someone like you? You'd only bring them down. She pulls an arrow from her quiver. She needed to be ready to attack. As if the situation wasn't bad enough already, the shuffle of throngs of infected could be heard. The street, which was safe moments ago, would soon be overtaken by waves of them.
 
Jason reached the street, taking a strong knee as his eye peered down the sight, his mind was already in combat, there wasn't just a male, there was a girl, "More people!?" He muttered in a sharp whisper as he gave his gun a better feel in his shoulder, making certain it was stable, he needed to shave, his hair was getting in his eyes as he blew it out of his face, nearly three dozen infected were on that street, and what was that girl even armed with, a bow?


Regardless, what truly caused a small amount of panic for him was the massive creature who was slowly closing in on the location with the girl and... Oh for the love of- The male was injured. Damnable, he wouldn't let them die. He simply sat and waited, perhaps the girl had something in mind, perhaps all that was racing through her mind was to fight, he would not know, it was starting to bite at his brain. His heart began to race as they closed in, his finger over the trigger, waiting for its opportunity.


He took deep breaths as his hair took to either strand of the gun, the curtains as his eye peered through the sight, the center piece on the monstrously large creature, he was ready.
 
A roar. A giant roar was audible, as it nearly broke the windows of the car. It was some sort of roar and screech, at the same time, something that wasn't from here. ''We need to move.'' The girl said. He laughed, shaking his head at the same time. His feet were in no condition to even walk, and the chances for her to support his weight were extremely slim, taking note of her physique.


As he peeked over the hood of the car, he saw the giant monster, ducking back down and staring deeply at the girl, wtih a faint smirk drawn on his face. He glanced down, staring at the floor and fiddling with his hands, thinking on what to do in this situation.



''Leave. If you take me, I'll slow you down. I won't die, I'll get out of this. Meet me at the abandoned hospital, in the thick mist area. Go!'' he shouted the last part, with anger and autorithy, not taking a no. He wasn't going to die, something told him that, he'd be better off alone that on the shoulder of her, and same story for her. He twisted his arm back, opening his backpack and grabbing his gun, showing the girl a sweeping motion.
 
Gabby shudders. What is that? But, as the male instructs her to hide in the recycling bin, this time she is happy to obey.


Happy to be safe and unhappy to be sitting on glass again, Gabby recounts what happened today. First, she had arrived into town, but just as she had squinted to read the sign, she kicked a rock and a three year old boy, enraged that she had kicked the rock, started towards her.


"Go back to Mommy.." she said at once, knowing that there was probably a mom frantically running behind him.


"No! You no tell me what to do!" the toddler screamed, and charged her. And, much to Gabby's surprise, when he head butted into her stomach, it hurt. Very badly.


So, she decided that she'd run for it before her pride and herself was damaged even more.


Then, she ended up in that suburb neighborhood, where she hid in a recycling bin, almost identical to this, and fooled the infected men so she could escape, since she couldn't pull herself out of the bin. And now, she is here. Hiding to be safe, while the man went to go kill... Whatever the heck that thing was. What if he is dead? She can't stay inside of here forever...


Gabby inhales and exhales deeply. A few minutes. She tells herself. then I'll get back out.
 
"I..." She glances toward the creature. Die a hero or live to save more lives? She weighs the options quickly, bouncing around. "I'm sorry." She gives the man a kiss on the cheek with a mumble of "Promise me you'll be there. You can't break a promise." This was not a time for indecision and she had made her choice. It may not have been the noblest one, but it was too late now.


Again, her feet hit the pavement in a sprint. The rhythmic thud coinciding with the rapid beats of her heart. The only things she could hear - no, the only things she didn't refuse to hear - were her heartbeat pounding in her ears and her pants as she races down the streets. To part with a stranger in times like these was almost just as bad as parting with a life long friend. I can't die alone... I.... She was suddenly aware of the hot tears running down her cheeks. How long have I been crying? Did he see me cry?





She skids around a street corner, nearly toppling over. The monster could be right behind her. She was too lost in her own thoughts to even listen. Turning around would only slow her down. So, she pushes on, running blindly through the streets and regretting having left the only person that seemed like they didn't want to kill her.
 
The girl escaped, good, the male, probably too injured to do any severe fighting. Now...


His finger tightened on the trigger as the repetitive sound of the automatic filled the air, emerging from the cover as he walked towards the mass, drawing all the attention towards him. His bullets did little to nothing against the mutant as several lesser infected rushed at him, he drew the knife from his belt, slashing them if they grew too close, standing his ground, he never released the trigger against the monster. His cries of battle filling the air, and soon, a clicking sound pinged his ear, no ammo left in the magazine. Quickly, he cleared a path to the male, using his revolver to take a few shots, here and there, the deafening sounds filling the street with life as the mutant began to recover.


Sliding his way towards the car, he ended up seated next to the injured man, his eyes peering over the car and never once looking at the man, remerging himself in the cover, he reloaded his rifle, the clicking sound of a new magazine in the gun gave him a cocky smile. "Can you fight!?" He whispered sharp, sliding from the defensive position of the car every now and then to kill an infected that grew ever closer, the mutant now with his eyes on the noise.
 

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