The End of All

Aldur

Aldur

Memory Dealer
Roleplay Availability
Roleplay Type(s)




Whatever this was. This... happening, it brought the dead back to life. People had been panicking all around. No matter where you went, it was all the same thing: ungodly screams, guts, blood, gunshots, and fear. And more blood. Was this really meant to be? It struck a cord in Derrick's mind. Was this a biological weapon? Was it an experiment gone wrong? And then it came to him.


"When there is no more room in Hell, the dead will walk the earth."
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He looked from behind his mask. Inside the neighborhood, there was only one house that didn't seem raided. However, it didn't come to Derrick's mind that it might be dangerous. He was desperate... and curious, a sin proven deadly in the past. It stood out like a pearl in a sea of pebbles. The night was approaching. A quick look at the watch revealed the time.


7:32 PM


The neighborhood wasn't empty. Most of the undead population around seemed interested or disinterested in their own activities. A beautiful young couple was busy enjoying their dinner. A mutilated corpse missing more than half of its face with a gnawed on a body of indistinguishable gender. A few more were banging their heads on the windows of different houses. 'Survivors?' Derrick thought to himself. 'Unlikely." The area seems devoid of any life. Holding a tight grip on his Glock, Derrick made for the Pearl. He scouted around the front yard, making as little noise as he could. Glances thrown through the windows revealed an eerie scene. It was clean. The house seemed empty and untouched. Uncanny, even. He thought that maybe the family was out when it hit and were unable to come back. That meant the front door was likely locked shut. Crouched, Derrick paced slowly towards the front door. It was just as he thought. He started looking for a key. Maybe under the doormat? Around the front yard? Unsuccessful. Derrick pressed his back against the door and sat there, thinking.
 
If there was one thing that Alisha hated, it was silence. She didn’t care what was happening or where she was- there needed to be some kind of noise. Anything. A tap, a beep, a voice, something. She wasn’t particularly sure when this sudden need to never be in silence had first struck her but she could remember those moments in school, fidgeting in her seat as the silence of the rest of the students taking their tests pushed at her from all sides. She felt as though the silence was a menacing bully, washing over her despite her rejection to it and making sure that it was known.


I am here Alisha. Whether you want me to be or not. I am here and I’m not going away any time soon.


The fidgeting would get worse and worse until she’d catch the attention of those around her; an apologetic smile coming to her lips as her teacher noticed her disruption. She hated those night of going home after getting the forbidden phone call from the teacher. The one where her parents would let loose on her until they saw her beat back down into the obedient little daughter they had raised and wanted to keep. So her dislike for the silence was something she’d kept bottled up. It was something she refused to complain about to anyone, even if they did wonder what was wrong with her. So she always had a small (unrealistic, she would admit) wish that there would be no silence. At some point noise would never stop.


But fuck, she didn’t mean in this way. It was absolutely horrifying listening to the screams of everyone around her as people were knocked off one by one until there were hard any left. Those ferocious growls that rung from those… Things that ate when they could. Of course she knew what they were. There were hundreds of shows, movies, shit everything revolving around those flesh-eating predators that seemed to multiply by the second. The noises they made along with the noises of the people would all mix into this cruel soundtrack of a show she did not want to watch nor listen to yet it continued to play on replay.


This was probably the first time she had ever wished for a moment of silence.


She had it now though. The same silence she had deemed as an enemy so long ago. It was bittersweet. Like a bully comforting her after ripping away every sing thing she’d worked so hard on. In this matter it would be the friends she’d been with from the beginning. They had been picked off one by one like it was no big deal but earlier that morning? They had been killed by those things and she tried everything she could do to stop it from happening but life wasn’t going to work that way- not for her. So in the end she simply cried as she was forced to run away from the death before her. Their screams and cries.


Now she was in silence once more. Her eyes were probably still red from her hours of crying over the cruel world she lived in now but she’d gotten a bit over it. Every once in a while there would be a few tears but sobbing wasn’t in the equation anymore. Now she had to survive.


Alisha had been looking for supplies since then as she hadn’t had many to begin with. She’d made her way to a neighborhood and went through house after house. They were all ransacked. None of them had anything except for a zombie here or there that she snuck up on. She’d used a trench knife on them, not wanting to use the baseball back that was kept snug in her book bag. She had a gun as well but she knew better than to make noise. That and she wasn’t the best at using it anyway. The hope of finding something was quickly dwindling as these houses were bare but she’d come to another house. This one certainly looked… Untouched. Alisha wondered why, feeling slightly suspicious of it. But it didn’t look like anyone was inside so maybe it would be okay? 


Unbeknownst to her, she would miss the extra guest of the house as she made her way to the back of the house, looking for a way in. The door would be locked and the windows closed… So how would she get in? With a small huff she’d run a hand through her hair (she desperately needed a hair tie). Her eyes would continue to search until she came across the open window on the second floor. There… That was her way in! Now she just had to get up there… Her eyes flickered around the yard seeing a few garbage cans though that wouldn’t do her good but not too far away she’d see a shed. A smirk came to her lips as she placed her bag down against the house and ran to it. If she got in this house, life would be great.
 
And then it happened. His curiosity got the better of him. Derrick was going to take a hearty bite out of that apple even if it was the last thing he was going to do. It wasn't though. He was prepared. A swift move clicked the safety on and drove the pistol in between the belt and his shirt. A few steps back and two looks in opposite directions were all he needed before he bolted, running his shoulder into the door. Nothing. A frown formed behind the mask. A spark of anger made Derrick kick the door. The foot hit the middle of the door. The door stood triumphant. Thinking a few zeds already heard the noise, he settled for the more practical. Derrick took a towel from his backpack and wrapped it around his right fist and arm. 


Breathe in. Breathe out.


Smash! No blood. It was relatively difficult to draw blood, considering it was wrapped in a towel and a leather sleeve. Before he could even hop through the window, he got his answer to the question "Why was this house intact?" The alarm could be heard from a long distance. The sudden realization hit Derrick hard and prompted him to do something. In a fit of frustration and panic, he cleaned the window and threw his backpack in first, after which he soon followed. He grabbed his bag and took his pistol back out. In the end, he got what hen wanted.
 
Frick. Shhhhhh-ut the front door. Hecking heck.


Loren's mind circled through off-brand curses like a carousel. She really, really should have picked up that metal pipe a house back, it was so perfect! But no. Instead she was power-walking away from a small posse of infected, fingers clenched around her measly little knife. It was an uncomfortable situation but not the worst, Loren thanked whatever that there weren't more. Plus the crowd seemed to be a rather calm bunch, mostly grumbling quietly and stumbling after the blonde with as much vigor as dead people can have.


Risking a glance behind herself to take stock, Loren pursed her lips slightly. There was about five or six of them, mostly men, average size. Thankfully no kids... She could barely handle offing adults, doing the same to kids really hammered the whole "end-of-world" concept home. It hadn't come up yet but Loren was pre-dreading the inevitable.


Oh god, and then there was Felix... Two days they'd been separated now. He had the shotgun to protect himself, but Loren knew full well neither of them were a great shot with the thing. She forced herself not to think about him too much, especially since a part of Loren thought it was her fault for letting him out of her sight. Mum and dad would kill her for that if they were there, but... Well, they suuuper weren't.


"Y'know, you guys suck as company." The blonde grumbled, turning her head to look at the group behind her again. "Honestly... How am I supposed to beat myself up for losing an entire person if there's only rotting ears to hear me!"
 
As expected, Alisha had found a ladder. It wasn’t exactly the tallest (the shed was tiny) but she figured that if she worked hard enough she would certainly be able to use it and get in this house. Or at least, she would try until she either tired herself out or died falling from the ladder. It took her a small while to try and get the ladder to the house, having tried not to make noise when getting it out of the shed. There was a decent amount of the undead just a yard away, walking around in that haphazard way that they did. She paused to stare at them for a moment, a small frown on her face before breaking out of the staring trance to continue what she was doing.


It hadn’t taken too long which was a surprise to her. As a matter of fact, she’d simply had to position it, get it stable and make her way up. She thanked the havens that she hadn’t cut her nails before the world went to hell as it made it easier to pry the screen open and climb in. A sigh of happiness escaped the young woman as she dropped to the floor staring up at the white ceiling. A wide grin was on her face and she let out a little squeal of happiness though that roused some clambering noise in the door that was closed next to her. She immediately shut up, moving away from the door with a wary look. So maybe the house wasn’t as empty as she thought… 


Immediately getting up, Alisha quickly made her way out of the bedroom, closing the door behind her before venturing into another room to see if there were any clothes she could swap into. So imagine her surprise at the sudden sound of glass breaking and whirling of an alarm. Shrieking in surprise, Alisha seemed to jump out of her skin. Panic washed over her as she ran to the window. Plenty of the undead that had been meandering the streets were now swiveled in her direction and making their way to the house. Was this house a trap? Who the fuck was out there?! 


“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK!” She shouted, though she was drowned out by the alarm as she dropped her bag and searched for her weapons. She had a gun and plenty of ammo stashed from the death of her friends but that was about as useful as she got. Alisha had never used a gun before and she was positive magical skills weren’t going to show up now when she truly needed them. So her only escape would have to be out. Quickly grabbing her things she would stuff it into her bag, going back to the closest she’d just been looking in and grabbing a shirt to throw in there. Clambering out of the room she’d find herself in another though this would be a child’s room. There leaning against the wall as though waiting would be a baseball bat which she would grab.


“Get me out of this house in one piece…” She summered to herself as she paused at the stairs to glance up at the ceiling. “That’s all I ask. This one time… Alright. Let’s do this.” 


With her last prayer, Alisha would take a deep breath and run down the steps, ready to get the fuck out of there until she came to see a person in the house with her. It was one thing to see a lone person during a time like this. It was another to be in such a close proximity. But to be in a house like this with a person wearing one of the scariest masks she’d ever seen was enough to push her off the edge. A scream would escape her lips as she jumped back, whipping out her and pointing it at the guy as she backed away.


“Come on!” She cried out, glaring at him before looking past him at the window to see the zombies. “This is literally the last thing I need right now!"
 
Felix was, by most people's standards, doing fairly well for himself. He'd only had to kill- what, one, two?- zombies since the... the incident. And he hadn't even gotten any wounds from that, which was nice, he guessed. Hadn't even had to kill that many zombies, or even run for too long. Sure, he was running out of food and was going to need more water soon, but most survivors probably had it worse, right?  However, that didn't change the fact he was currently freaking the fuck out.


Where was Loren?


Dead, duh, his mind helpfully informed him. That really did make the most sense, all things considered. After all, the weight in his arms reminded him, he had the gun.


Once again, he eyed the street he was on, still hidden in the shadows. It was one of the better streets to end up, only a few uninterested zombies here and there. That didn't mean he couldn't get bit any second, however, and he wasn't about to stop checking in on them, even if he did know that they probably didn't even realize he was there.


He couldn't believe he'd let his last confirmed living relative slip out of his grasp like that, hoards of the undead be damned.


Why couldn't they have avoided getting split up. Being without his sister sucked, no matter how much he might get annoyed when she was being the Swearing Police.


Whatever, she would've- she would've wanted him to stay alive, right? Right. A part of him whispered that there were a lot of things she would've wanted, like for him to be happy maybe, but he shut that part down pretty quickly.


He dipped into a nearby house, even though he knew it was, more likely than not, empty.


Just. Wait until you're somewhere safe to lose your shit, he told himself, Never mind that you're probably never going to be safe, and that you're really just looking for an excuse to avoid problems you should have dealt with yesterday or earlier. He went through the rooms systematically, stopping and locking the door once he'd found the kitchen and decided it was, indeed, safe enough for him to start looking for food.


And as expected, there was no food. Just ignore that itching feeling, he thought to himself, trying to ignore how cramped being inside was making him.


He unlocked the door, checked the house once again, and after one last glance behind him, went to open the front door.


And stopped. And listened. And yeah, there were zombie noises. Like, louder-than-before zombie noises. He really didn't want to deal with that. Maybe he could just... head back the way he came? That definitely sounded safer-


His stomach growled again.


There wasn't anything back that way, he knew that. And he needed food. And he'd always been quiet, right? Shit, his sister was dead. Stop thinking about it. You've had two days to think about it. Breathe.



Maybe he could just... sneak around? He had always been quiet, and dying from starvation or thirst sounded about as bad by zombies, and if he got bit he could just... He could just... Yeah.


So back out the door he snuck, cringing inside when the door let out the slightest creak. He looked up to see if any of the zombies had seen him, but they all still seemed to be off in their own little worlds. Okay. Great so far.


At random, he chose which direction to go, sticking to the shadows and entering any houses with unlocked doors, broken windows- any way he could get inside really.


With his luck, he thought as he exited his fourth house, unconsciously swatting at the invisible ants crawling on his arms, he mused that he'd probably finally find a can of green beans in the bag of a recently eviscerated human.


The noise was getting louder, but he tried to pay it no mind. And then he heard an indistinct grumble. A familiar grumble, one that sent him towards the sound instead of repelling him as a human voice usually would have.


'Cause that? That kind of sounded like Loren. And sure, he knew she was dead. Dead, dead, dead, deader than dirt, even if he hadn't seen her die himself- but still... but what if...


Yeah, this'll probably be what gets me killed, he thought as he headed to the turn of the street, looking both ways, Patheti-


There, walking down the street, right towards him, was Loren. Well, someone who looked like Loren, at least. Loren was dead, after all. Dead dead dead. Dead as dirt.


But he hadn't seen the body. And there were other people with... Oh. No, those were zombies.


Was. Did that mean.


No, zombies had a certain look to them, and that girl was definitely not it. So maybe...


Well, either way, there were quite a few zombies following them and their speedwalk... and they should probably get away while they could.


But they couldn't really bring themselves to move.


Yeah, this was definitely gonna be what got them killed.


Quiet enough that from the distance they probably wouldn't be able to hear them, Felix whispered, "L-Loren?"
 
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The low din of a thousand gurgling corpses was stifling and oppressive to the ear of Oliver Keen, the careworn septuagenarian who had traveled aimlessly from his home in search of food and the comforts of modern civilization. He cared not to find out if his children were alive, for he knew that his weak and melancholy heart could bear the unknowing better than news of their obliteration. His false hope shielding his psyche, he rambled on.


Back when he was an infant, hundreds of his neighbors had left Kansas in a similar way. They were leaving behind a home obliterated by the dust storms and stolen from them by the bank. Forced to sojourn in tent cities by the highway, dogged at every turn by the authorities, and left for California only to find the familiar feel of the policeman's baton, the pangs of hunger in the breadlines, the looks of disgust from the well-suited California men, grimaces from the women at their dirty Okie faces. 


Oliver now felt their pain on a much more immediately dangerous scale. There was no escape. Home held just as much misery as places beyond, but those other places held no memories of happier times. Besides, it was a great big country and he had seen very little of it. It was funny, how much suburban Indiana looked like Seoul during the Incheon campaign. The endless rows of looted and abandoned houses reminded him of the destruction he had seen as a young man left in the wake of the retreat of Kim Jung's forces from the city. Strange how history comes back in ways like these. 


Right now, one of those houses, a two story neo-Georgian marked by the scarring of fire and the shattered windows of post-apocalyptic vandalism, was his roost for the night. More accurately, the roof was. Although the small fire in the kitchen had somewhat weakened the structure, the slight weight of the old man would not burden the roof excessively. The pitch of the roof was slight and he had often pitched shingle before as a young man, so he knew how to not kill himself. He climbed onto the roof and set down his old Army satchel full of rations and his fiddle case, his Colt remained holstered at his side, his fishnet Army helmet was tight on his head. He didn't know why he wore the helmet besides that he was in a combat scenario and the instructions of his drill sergeant at Fort Jackson sixty years ago still rang true: your helmet may just save your damn life, so wear it you fucking dumbass.


His meager dinner eaten, Oliver picked up his fiddle and rosined up the bow. This was his favorite part of the day, the time for music. Music was a great pacifier, or at least for humans it was. It did something odd to these walking corpses, they cried and stamped their feet, clawed at their faces as if experiencing some severe discomfort. The fiddle ready, Oliver drew the strings across the bow and began the tune. The fiddle harkened to his gentle instruction, and in the instrument's own vibrational soprano, it sang the song.


Will the Circle,


Be unbroken? 


By and by, Lord


By and by


Is there a better,


Home awaiting,


In the sky, Lord


In the sky?


I was standing by the window
On one cold and cloudy day
When I saw the hearse come rolling
For to carry my mother away


I said to the undertaker
Undertaker please drive slow
For this lady you are carrying
Lord I hate to see her go


Oh, I followed close behind her
Tried to hold up and be brave
But I could not hide my sorrow
When they laid her in the grave


I went back home, the home was lonesome
Since my mother, she was gone
All my brothers and sisters crying
What a home so sad and alone


We sang songs of childhood
Hymns of faith that made us strong
Ones that mother maybelle taught us
Hear the angels sing along


Will the Circle,


Be unbroken? 


By and by, Lord


By and by


Is there a better,


Home awaiting,


In the sky, Lord


In the sky?


The tune carried and lifted as its melancholy notes floated from house to house, street to street. The Dead that heard the tune were still, but like fire burned. They raised their hideous, gurgling voices in a dissident cacophony that barely rose above the low bass of involuntary groans to mask the sweet melody that drifted like scent on the breeze throughout the broken refuse of humanity. The tune enveloped the surrounding vicinity in music, and all present might stop and ask themselves from whence it had originated.
 


~
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Loren had been considering turning around and taking on a few of her companions, if only just to keep herself sane. Walking along a road for hours was incredibly boring despite the group of undead cannibals on her heels. Right left right left, forwards in a straight line. It had been too long without social interaction for Loren's taste. She had never been much of a social butterfly before the Incident, but once a person starts talking to dead people you know something is wrong.


Although she could have sworn she'd seen a shadow in her periphery... Another infected no doubt. Fan-fuckin'-tastic. There, she finally swore. Even if it was in her head. Happy now, universe? It only took the apocalypse to get the words out of her.


"L-Loren?"


Her stuttered name echoed in the blonde's brain for a moment. Had somebody just...? No, no probably not. She was just hearing things. Auditory hallucinations weren't out of the question, Loren really could stand to get more sleep. Although... With a sigh she turned her head to look, preparing for yet another dead guy, or an animal or literally just a tree or-


Or Felix. Loren was pretty sure her eyes bugged straight out of her head, cartoon style. How was he even- She had started to think- Oh god the group behind her was gonna be a problem. Eyes wide she looked between him and the infected, then out in front down the road somewhat. 


"Stay there!" She called, knowing he couldn't respond but hoping he'd listen. There were a lot of other things Loren would rather say, but now was not the time. "And give me a thumbs-up so I know you're not bleeding to death or something!"
 
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Oh. So that was Loren. He... hadn't been expecting that.


Maybe, if he'd been lucky (or whatever counted for lucky these days) nothing would have happened. More likely than not? He'd have been eaten alive because he decided to needlessly open his mouth like a dumbass. Or maybe, if you wanted to get really weird, the random stranger herself would have killed him. And even if that hadn't been what occurred, he'd still have ended up dead by the end of the week because he couldn't find any. fucking. food.


The girl actually being Loren? The thought hadn't even crossed his mind.


Dumbfounded, he gave Loren a thumbs up, careful to keep the gun cradled in his arms in some semblance of safe handling. Had he even turned the safety on? Even if he wasn't handling a gun properly, he thought, giving the zombies following his sister a cautious look, he'd still managed to get himself in less trouble than his sister, which was at the very least an excuse he could use if she tried to lecture him on it. 


What the fuck, Loren. He left her alone for two days- two days!- and she amasses a small horde. He wasn't that surprised- there had to be some cosmic balance to all that good luck he'd been having, right?


At least she isn't dead, some part of his mind whispered. Even without the gun, she was alive and present enough he had to worry about the cursing police again, and Felix couldn't help but find that a bit miraculous.


For a second, Felix thought he could hear a violin playing, and he found himself hoping it was just his brain messing around, filling in a happy moment with what it personally felt would be a good soundtrack choice. He knew it was more likely it was a fellow human, but he could, dare he say it, hope, right? Why would anyone be playing a violin in the middle of the apocalypse? And if they were crazy enough to do that, then he doubted they'd be all that friendly to actual people.
 

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In his own rush, Derrick did not notice the girl coming down the stairs until she screamed. In a split second, he turned his body to face her. Noting the shotgun, he chose to reach for the stars and back away slowly. 
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"Ditto!" He shouted, trying not to do anything abrupt. Derrick heard the zombies outside, stumbling towards the broken window. If only this hadn't happened. He could've used these wasted seconds to search the upstairs. A deep sigh exited his lips, resonating against the hard plastic that was covering his face. "Can we do this some other time? There are loads of undead outside that would love to taste our guts..." 


On his way back, he noticed the kitchen had one counter that was positioned at the end and facing the other way. His hands were twitching as he tried to stop himself from reaching for the gun. The perfect distraction was underway. Violin. A tune was being played into existence from who knows where. It was audible and soon after the zombies went crazy. A door opened, and Derrick literally threw himself to the side, taking cover behind the counter and grabbing his weapon. He removed the safety and put both of his hands on the pistol. He wouldn't dare try to run away. The chick had a shotgun pointed at him.
 


~
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Oh thank god, that's a thumbs-up.


Loren released the breath she didn't realize she'd been holding, slowly dragging her eyes away from Felix. It was a bit hard to do since she'd just found him again, but dealing with the trail of undead behind her was the priority. If she could just find a good place to lose them, duck behind something and circle back... Yeah, that'd probably work.


But the universe had apparently decided that it was gonna give Loren a small break. Soft violin had started up a little ways away, momentarily interrupting the blonde's train of thought. Who the hell-? A person either had to be completely nuts or angsty as hell to be playing violin right now. Unless she had just imagined it... No, no it was still there. By some miracle had even distracted a few of the infected, giving Loren a chance to speed up and slip behind a house. Three out of the five quickly lost sight of her, and subsequently interest, groaning away to follow the lilting music.


Okay... Okay only two left, and you can handle that, Loren thought. Her fingers slipped down to tug her knife free, flipping it around to a comfortable position as she turned to face the oncoming dead. The first one -a few paces ahead of the other- stumbled around the corner of the house... Straight into the teenager's waiting knife. She winced and awkwardly jerked the weapon free of the infected's skull, preparing for other attacker as best she could. The second dead took a bit more finagling but it too went down after a few stabs. Loren shuddered once it was done, quickly wiping her knife off on the grass. She forced herself to ignore the rotting smell that urged her stomach to empty. It was not pleasant.


With a quick peek around the building to make sure the other three were well-and-truly distracted, Loren doubled back and hoped that Felix had listened to her and stayed put.
 
The gun would continue to be trained on the masked crusader before her, albeit shakily. But now wasn’t the time for Alisha to be scared. Here was this man before her who could possibly try and overtake her and end her life. There was also the group of zombies outsides. Those damn pests were trying to get into the house. She winced as she heard an obvious thud of one against the front door which she let her eyes flicker to for a moment. His words would however grab her attention once more.


He certainly had a point. They could continue their stand off in the house but it would all be for naught if the winner was only eaten afterwards. So partnership would have to be the right answer this time. Alisha would nod her head, her eyebrows furrowing slightly. 


“Temporary truce!” She called out to him. Despite this, the gun would still remain trained on him. It would waver slightly when the sound of a soothing tune came into her ears. She’d pause for a moment, her attention on the violin that danced throughout the air between them. She’d let her eyes go to the window, watching in fascination as the zombies that had once been trying to get into the house became immobile. They stood there almost like mannequins, almost as if they were listening to the music themselves and had become entranced. Was this because of the music? It had to be…


But just like that, the music would end and the zombies would reanimate, their groans increasing in volume as they resumed trying to get in. The guy’s actions wouldn’t help her out much either and she’d jump at the sound of both him ducking to the side and door opening. She would immediately stumble back, the gun now pointed towards the ground as she went into her own hiding spot behind the couch (certainly a tacky looking piece of trash, but now was not the time for home decor criticism). Her eyes would dart back towards the window and she’d curse at the amount by the window.


“You got an idea on how to get the hell out of here?” She called out, not bothering to search for the man. “I came in through a window upstairs. Ladder to the ground. I doubt that’ll be much help unless they’ve got that area clear.”


‘What we need is for that damn music to play again… Doubt that’ll happen though. Fuck.’ She thought to herself, wincing as the sound of a window crashing could be heard from somewhere else within the house. Either one of those creatures managed to use their body to break a window or an entrance had just been made. Either way, Alisha had no desire to know the answer.
 
Oliver finished the tune and stopped to take a rest. The Undead below, even more animated in their ghoulish night terrors, began to crawl in their macabre ritual, to hunt the living. To Oliver's surprise, though, there seemed to be a small cohort of perhaps ten or fifteen crowding the house directly across the street. He took out his field binoculars and trained them intently on the windows of the abandoned structure, and suspected that he had detected movement. Intelligent movement. Sure enough, he saw the dark silhouettes of people with guns.


People with guns. Three different groups of people could be encompassed by that label. Those that would not hesitate to kill Oliver where he stood, take his weapons and ammunition, food, hell, maybe even his clothes. Or perhaps some kind-hearted people like him, just trying to survive. There was a third alternative, kind-hearted people who would potentially annoy him. The grumpy old man in him conceded that being stuck with a couple of whiny kids in skinny jeans who survived the Apocalypse by sheer luck would be a fate worse than death. Then again, maybe that would be the price he had to pay for human companionship. He would risk it.


Looking down the roof, he could see that it gently sloped down and came to a ledge over top of the first story roofing. It wouldn't be too far to drop to the first floor roof, and from there he could easily clamber onto the top of a parked mini van and off onto the ground. Piece of cake.


Oliver gathered his strength, spry for his eighties but still not as springy as he once was, his worn dress shoes made for slippery climbing gear, and it was an exercise in balance not to fall to certain injury and likely death. He used his satchel as a counter-weight as he slowly made his way to the roof's edge. Once there, he exhaled deeply before clinging to the ledge and dropping down onto the first floor roof. Here, he encountered problems as his shoes began to slip on the shingle. He glided down the roof before hitting the top of the van--landing on his feet miraculously.


The thud attracted ghouls away from the window and the house in which Alisha and Derrick were hiding. Faced with this threat, Oliver drew his service pistol and used both hands to steady his aim. The first zombie's head exploded in blood and bony shrapnel as the .45 auto cartridge found its mark. As more turned to the sound, rounds found their heads and torsos. After seven well-aimed blasts from his hand cannon and a half dozen zombies down, the pistol clicked dry. Oliver quickly ejected the magazine and slipped it into his coat pocket before ramming another clip home and drawing back the action. Rinse and repeat. By the end of a minute, a small horde lay sprawled on the road between the two houses and Oliver could be seen loading his weapon once more. This rescue mission had better have been worth the fourteen bullets he had expended for their asses. He checked his surroundings, and for now the coast was clear. Before advancing any further, the old war horse did as was customary to do in a war zone: he scavenged.


One of the walking corpses happened to be a former policeman, thoroughly de-brained after a clean execution from about twenty feet. Oliver relieved him of his nine millimeter police issue and two magazines, which he quickly stuffed away in his coat and satchel respectively. He then approached the door to the house, which was slightly ajar, and pushed it open.


"Hello? Anyone here?" He asked in a haggard voice.


As he came into focus, Oliver would appear as a man of advancing years but retaining a certain elasticity and vitality. He was tallish, with a very thin, spindly frame and atrophied but still prominent muscles on his arms and shoulders. His exceedingly pale skin was contrasted by a dark green, old and tattered double-breasted winter coat--possibly old Army surplus, and black slacks. His brown dress shoes were scuffed and in desperate need of polish, of course they just served as wrappings for his feet at this point. Indeed, one of the shoes was held together by a piece of fabric tied tight about the middle of the foot. In his right hand he held a pistol, pointing down at the ground. In his left, a bloodstained lug wrench. On top of his wispy-haired head, an old fishnet helmet was perched with some sort of pin or medallion on the side. Across his shoulder, a satchel and a fiddle case dangled near his midsection.
 
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Okay, so the music was very real. Shit, that meant there were people nearby. But then the zombies started acting... weird. All the zombies around them, which was creepy but whatever. At least the nearby people were being somewhat helpful.


And then Loren was off. His legs itched to follow her, but she had said to stay put, and as much as he may resent it at times, she was his older sister, and in emergency situations she was in charge. And the zombie apocalypse definitely counted as an emergency situation.


He shifted from leg to leg instead, fighting the urge to just... run off, maybe not even to Loren. He eyed the zombies again wearily. The music was still playing, but he didn't know how long that would last, and it surely wouldn't be that long afterwards that their eyes were once again on him...


But Loren had said not to move.


God, he hoped Loren wouldn't take forever or... oh god what if she got bit? He'd just found her, how could he just let her run off like that? She could be bleeding out somewhere right now, having to choose between zombifying and gruesomely offing herself and-


Oh shit something had just moved. He turned to face it, ready to find out that the spell the violin had cast on the surrounding area had broken and he was about to die die die and- oh. That was Loren. And Loren was okay.


His shoulders sagged, and he relaxed for a second before jolting back up, checking the zombies behind him. They appeared to be moving away, but he stayed weary. The music could end at any second, and then their attention might turn back to him and his sister. He had to stay alert.


He headed towards her slowly, attention switching between seeing if the zombies were still... entranced... and if his sister had any obvious bite marks. Logically, he knew that she wouldn't just come back over this calm if she had been bitten, but those nagging what-ifs always seemed to get the better of him.


"Uh. H-hey," he mumbled, once he was close enough to his sister she would actually be able to hear him. This had the added bonus of getting him close enough to see that, yes, Loren was indeed not bleeding. All was well. The music stopped. He turned quickly, positive the zombies' attention would once again be on Loren, and, by association, him. However, they were still shambling off, presumably in the direction of the music.


He turned back to his sister. "W-We should get out of here. L-like immediately." They needed to talk, and here and now was not the place for it.



Of course, that was when a gun shot rang out. In the direction the zombies were going. It was close, and he knew how Loren was with gunshots.


He turned to Loren, eyes pleading, as the shots continued. "L-Loren, please no."

 


~
​




The violin had finally, thankfully faded out. Sure it had been a blessing, but honestly Loren had listened to enough melancholic music to last a lifetime. Or at least her current teenage lifetime. Which honestly with how things were going... Well, it didn't seem all that likely she'd live to adulthood. As optimistic as she was, even Loren was aware of the chances.


Or rather the lack thereof.


Pursing her lips she quickly picked her way back, sneaking behind buildings and around patches of lingering undead. It didn't take long before she was stumbling down towards her brother yet again, speeding up even more once he was in sight. Felix had stayed there like his sister had told him too, which was fantastic. The pair hadn't exactly talked about their new dynamic now that their parents were... Missing. But being the eldest came with the proverbial "in-charge" card, as well as protective responsibilities. The latter was slowly making Loren's brain overload, but she was doing her best.


Just barely managing to stop before she bashed into him, Loren immediately started checking Felix over for injuries. Or worse, but she'd cross that bridge much later. 


"Yeah yeah I know we need to talk, but you're really okay?" She breathed, still catching her breath. Her arms automatically extended, hands anxiously patting Felix down as if he was somehow hiding a fatal wound. "Okay, okay you're good... Sorry. You're right, we should find a house or something-"


BANG.


A gunshot effectively cut her off, spikes of adrenaline shooting straight through Loren's nerves and jerking her head around to look. It had been uncomfortably close by. Not like one-tree-over close, but maybe a block or two? Too close to ignore. Too close to walk away from without at least checking. Clearly Felix knew his sister well, since he quickly protested before she could even say anything.


"... Dang it. You can't pull the 'please' card on me now, Fe..." Loren muttered in response, glancing between him and the gunshots. "But hell, I can't keep dragging you into danger. This is how we got separated in the first place and I'm not doing that again..."


Sending one last look towards the source of the noise -now silent, though whether the outcome was victorious or morbid was a mystery- the blonde groaned and shook her head, swiveling back to look at Felix.


"Alright fine, we'll go hole up somewhere. But if the gunshots start again or there's pained screaming then I'm going to check, okay?"
 
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Felix sagged with relief before once again checking behind them for zombies.


"Okay," he murmured, after a second grudgingly adding, "Th-thanks."


He began glancing around for a house in the opposite direction of the gunshots that looked both vacant and already broken into. Like sure, an empty house could be bad if there was a zombie or another survivor or something, but what if one of these houses had an alarm system?


Finally, his eyes landed on a house that fit his admittedly vague description: It was yellow, the front windows shattered and the grimy white door ajar.  He began working his way over, tentatively shuffling the gun in his arms so he could take their sister's hand as they walked towards the house. Taking her hand was definitely just so that he wouldn't have to tell her where they were going or trust her to follow him, and it definitely had nothing to do with wanting to reassure himself that she was here and real with the added benefit of not worrying she was going to disappear again. The very idea was ridiculous.


When they reached the house, he let go of Loren's hand wordlessly, gingerly inching the door open further, cringing as the door hinges creaked minutely. He peeked inside, grip tightening on the gun.


It looked... normal. The door opened into a living room, the kitchen, wood stained baby blue, straight to the back of the front area, and the dining room nestled in between the open space of the dark colored couches and the blue island.



Sure, the pantry door was thrown open, and one of the four dining room chairs had been knocked over, and trying to turn on the lights would be pointless, but... it was so jarring to see such a jarringly normal-looking- not even normal, no, suave, as if it were a model and not somewhere anyone had ever actually lived, even if the stink of what could only be the fridge said otherwise- home, as if the chaos outside hadn't affected it in the least.


He stepped inside wearily, listening for any noises that might indicate someone else being, y'know, in the house...


He turned back to his sister, feeling a bit better when he could look behind her and see the sky and remember that some semblance of sanity was still in place (how crazy was it that "shitty zombie apocalypse" had become any semblance of sanity to him in the first place?).


"W-We should p-robably check the house before we start t-talking..." He didn't really think he could sit down and have this conversation with his not-dead sister- she wasn't dead it still felt dream-like really, he had been so sure. How could she possibly survive two days in this - before he knew for a fact that the house was empty of any other creatures, living or undead.
 
Alisha wondered if she’d ever felt as alone as she did then. Sure there were plenty of undead outside of the house that would have loved to meet her. Not to mention that actual live person hiding not to far from her inside the house. But the crushing feel of despair and the sense of her hope about to run out was enough for her to feel pretty damn bad. Her thoughts raced this way and that, torn on what strategy would work out best in a situation like this. Trying to escape on the level they were on now would be nothing more than suicide as they seemed to be completely surrounded by the damn zombies. Could there possibly be an exit on the second floor? She’d have to look through all of the windows and see if any were close to another roof of some sort. But this didn’t mean she’d find an exit. Too much risk. Not enough time.


The panicking young woman would be too lost in her own thoughts to hear any telltale sounds of thumping coming from something other than the grotesque creatures surrounding her. Her eyes would be shut, eyebrows furrowed as she tried to come up with some kind of plan. What would catch her attention however would be the sound of bullets. A gun was going off. Her head would whip towards where friendly stranger was but didn’t see him aiming. The guy was still hiding for fuck’s sakes. So that meant it was coming outside. Had this been a trap after all? A way for people to lure unsuspecting survivors into a house filled with fortune only to off them and take their own possessions? 


“Well I lived life the best I could…” Alisha muttered to herself, not bothering to stand up and go to the window. If she had, she would have seen the elderly gentleman standing on top of the minivan. To be honest, it would have something of a comical sight to see but her despair was wrapped up around her a bit too tightly to have any thoughts. She would sit there, deciding on whether she’d let herself go in surrender or at least die trying. The moment the shots finished echoing, she’d make up her mind. Gun aimed at the door not too far from her, she’d give off the best look of fierceness that she could. The advice of ‘fake it till you make it’ came to mind and she wondered if faking her ferocity would be enough to get her to make it out alive. Only time would tell now and she prayed for her stomach to stop twisting up in the knots it was having a ball doing as of then.


She’d watch the door open, her heartbeat quickening in fear and her stomach dropping. Alisha was almost ready to simply give up when the voice that spoke out afterwards caused a momentary lapse of confusion. That’s when her eyes would take in the sudden body that would enter the house, her head cocking to the side just a bit. The gun would still be pointed at this… Old man? The hell? Alisha had a feeling that she was staring at a blast from the past as she took in his attire and all around aura. It was certainly different from her tattered jeans, long sleeved shirt, and bomber jacket that had a huge hole in one of the arms that was held together by combat boots she’d found on a dead woman a week ago. Her gun would slowly drop, no longer aiming at her elder before her as she forced herself up into a stand.


Her eyes would glance outside, taking notice of the multitude of dead bodies now littered across the ground. “That was you…” She spoke up first, turning to look at him once again and sending a gracious nod his way since she had no idea what else to do. “Thank you. You’ve saved my... well our-“ She pointed at the man still hiding- “lives. It’s truly appreciated. What can I do to repay you?” If there was one thing she had learned was that most things were done with the thought of getting something in return. Alisha wasn’t sure if this man would have the same mentality but it was always nice to be on the safe side and ask. Keep it cordial to avoid any problems because problems always led to death and death was something Alisha would rather not have the pleasure of meeting.


@Shireling @Aldur
 
The old man tucked his gun away and lowered the tire lug wrench he was holding, a look of either pity or sadness crept over his weathered face. 


"I don't want nothin', but if you're willing to give I won't make waste of anything." His gaze turned from the young woman to the masked man. "It doesn't appear that you two are friends." 


His keen eyes glossed over the man with distrust. He looked like the "shoot-you-and-take-your-stuff" type. 


@JujuBee @Aldur
 
For this man to respond that he wanted nothing was something of a surprise to Alisha. But she wouldn’t comment on it either. He did say he wouldn’t make waste of anything though and Alisha had a feeling that she’d feel a lot better once she helped this man out, whether it be giving him food and clothes in exchange or ultimately saving his life as well. However, the taking out of the creatures he’d done with ease told her that trying to save his life wasn’t going to happen easily. Unconsciously, Alisha would reach up, scratching the back of her head momentarily as the older man before her looked back and forth from her and the creepy guy not to far away.


“You would be right.” She’d respond, rubbing an arm as she glanced at the other stranger. “We just so happened to find momentary haven in this house.”


The young woman turned away, grabbing her book bag she’d stuffed earlier and opening it to see if she could give him anyway. “I’ve got some peaches and a can of beans. Take them.” She said, holding the small cans out to him before glancing at the kitchen. She would have to raid the kitchen and see if she’d be able to find some more food.


@Shireling
 
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@JujuBee @Shireling


Derrick clicked the safety back into place, allowing the gun to be fired successfully once again and unload a storm of bullets into the incoming undead. Luck would have it that he didn't need to use any of his own ammo. Shots from outside ringed all the way into his ears. When the silence arrived, so did an old man. Derrick pointed his Glock at him. Wouldn't be the first time he got screwed over by someone who was a lot older than him. 


He heard the woman behind him thanking the old timer and the masked man would do the same, had he not been paranoid about a potential crew of people hiding somewhere. What if they sent the old man first so they'd fall for the "old and harmless" thing? They wouldn't fool Derrick, who is obviously one step ahead of these imaginary baddies. 


"Haven, my ass. We almost got eaten." Derrick said from behind the iron sights. "I'm probably the culprit. I broke the window. Sorry about that, lady." he directed the apology towards the person with the shotgun and the peaches. "Old timer! How do we know there aren't any other people outside waiting for us to let our guard down? How do we know you're not a distraction?"
 


~
​




Felix wasn't really the touchy sort unless things were bad, so Loren shouldn't have been surprised that he grabbed for her hand. Neither should she have had the sudden urge to bodily fling herself at him for a hug, and yet the urge was definitely there. But no, Loren was a big girl and an older sister and she could handle her own crippling terror. Totally. Especially since she knew breaking down now wouldn't be good for Felix's emotional health...


Opting to squeeze his hand gently in return, the blonde followed Felix to his chosen safe-house and let her unoccupied hand trail over the knife stuck to her hip. Had Felix dealt with any infected while they were separated? Had he used any bullets? Had he eaten? Had Loren even eaten? Jesus, it was definitely food-time as soon as they were safe.


Psh, safe... A rare thing these days, and unpleasantly enough usually granted by sharp objects and locked doors. By some miracle the one leading to their house of choice was unlocked, though that usually meant a few dead had wandered in. Nothing Loren couldn't handle, heh heh...


Pale fingers slid around the handle of her knife as Felix sloooowly opened the door, the two wincing in unison as it creaked like a cheesy horror movie. The inside didn't give way to a horde of monsters immediately which was a good sign. The interior was even pretty intact, almost as if the apocalypse had just kinda... Brushed over. Sure it smelled god-awful and there was clear traces of panic in the toppled furniture, but at least there were no artistic splatters of blood! At least from what she could see of the front entrance anyways... There was still time for thriller style ambushes.


Wait, didn't blonde girls always die first in those movies...?


"Whew..." Loren whispered, switching mental subjects to clearing the house. "Alright, do you want to stick together and check rooms? Splitting up would be faster but the risk makes me nervous..."
 
Oliver had looked down the barrel of a gun many times in his life, but never had the feeling been so acutely uncomfortable. 


"You don't, kid." Oliver said grimly. "But considering you two were huddled in here with guns and about to let the shamblers eat you, if I was a smart man I would've let them have you and then picked the goods off your carcass." 


Oliver flashed the masked man a look that communicated annoyance. "So you can put that gun down now, son. And show a little respect." 


@JujuBee @Aldur
 
Dark eyes would flicker over to mask man when he’d finally speak up, a bit of annoyance flickering over her face. So he’d been her reason why? That asshole! She would give him a slight glare in response to his apology, letting out a small noise before looking back to the elderly man before them. Then just like that, the man would retaliate with his own attitude.



Alisha groaned inwardly. Oh all the people, how had she ended up in a situation with someone like these two?


“We weren’t about to let them eat us.” Alisha interjected, sending him a small look as she closed her book bag and slung it back on, the can still being held tightly in her hand. “When they got inside, we were going to shoot them… Or at least that was what I planned.”


Turning away, Alisha would look for the bat she’d brought down with her, grinning when it lay on the ground just where she’d been sitting. Jogging to it, she snatched it up and held it close. Now she’d actually have a chance. She fucking hated guns. The young woman would look over at Mask (She’d call him that for now on), waiting to see what he’d say in response. Both men seemed to have this aura of pride or so and she wondered if this would cause a problem. She had only just met them though so her thinking could most certainly be wrong. She certainly hoped so.


“My name is Alisha.” She said, hoping to stop any chances of a feisty fest between the two. “If it’s quite alright, I’d rather us go through the house. I haven’t had the chance yet.” Then with that, she see the stairs going down to what she assumed was the basement and would make her over there, disappearing from the two where she wouldn’t see them but hear them. Alisha hoped she’d made a good decision.


@Shireling @Aldur
 




For a second Felix panicked. He'd just found his sister and she was already suggesting splitting up? In an unfamiliar house? He ran his nails across his inner thumb thoughtlessly, already soothing imaginary itches.


He didn't want to split up. He wasn't going to say that, though, so instead, he simply scoffed.


"You make it sound as if I'm gonna let you out of my sight for even a second after that fiasco," he muttered, going to grab Loren's hand before he stopped himself. Had to play it cool, right?


Instead, he just continued cradling the gun, shuffling it into a more comfortable position for his aching arms. Though he'd never have thought he'd feel this way in a million years, he was getting tired of holding the gun. It should've been Loren's turn days ago, after all.


Nonchalantly, he asked, "D-do you m-maybe wanna hold the gun? My arms could k-kinda use the break." He'd tried to end on a flippant note, but ended up more sincere than he really wanted to think about. 


"Also, uh," he added, almost as an afterthought, taking a few more cautious steps forward, carefully eyeing the three doorways he could see. "w-where do you wanna ch-check first?"
 


~
​




Eee, yeah maybe bringing that up was a bad plan. Felix squeezed his hand in that telltale anxious way, even if his face and voice didn't betray the same. Loren didn't like the idea either in all honesty. The house was too big, too full of awkward rooms and small hallways. If one got cornered it would be hard for the other to help. Besides, sticking together meant double the eyes and ears.


"Alright yeah, you're right." The sister finally responded, shaking her head. "No splitting up, we can watch each other's backs that way."


Letting her head swivel around to take in the closest rooms she thought of which would be better to check first. Out of the three doorways only one wasn't across from another, so that was probably their best bet to start. 


"Oh and yeah, gimme the rifle." She added, holding out her knife in return. It would be bad if Felix was totally weaponless. "How many bullets do we have left? Just the ones inside?"


It was one of Loren's many regrets that they didn't manage to grab their dad's briefcase of gun accessories. They wouldn't know what to do with half the contents, but at least there would have been plenty of bullets. Maybe even a scope! She definitely preferred the scope during forced hunting trips, it kept whatever she was shooting at a solid distance away. Woulda certainly been helpful for the walking corpses lumbering around outside...


Taking a quick breath Loren went through a mental checklist for the rifle, settling it into the indent of her shoulder and checking that it's loaded before finally clicking the safety off.


"Okie dokie... First door on the right?"
 
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