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Post by Lunapocalypse on Apr 12, 2012 5:15:51 GMT -5
Located on the Westside of Houston it was once the wealthiest neighborhood in Texas, now home to a signifigantly less population who struggle to survive with the supplies they have. Most of the affluent members of this community were wealthy enough to buy their way out before the infection spread too far, but those who stuck around or migrated inside. Because of that, the community was left relatively untouched and unscarred, making it the most effective housing section of the city.
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Post by Rhinn on Apr 12, 2012 17:45:21 GMT -5
[Jack enters River Oaks, Houston]
Jack pulled up to a stop in front of one of the rather large houses at the end of the cul-de-sac in River Oaks. He took a moment to take a drag on his cigar, savoring the smell and then blowing out the smoke. Then he put his Harley back in gear and pulled into the driveway of the nearest house. The houses in this neighborhood were, well let’s just say they were nicer than anything that Jack had stayed in. Most people had bugged out… where, Jack had no idea, but their loss was definitely his gain… at least for the time being.
As the driveway meandered around to the back of the house, Jack caught a glance of a wrought iron gate, blocking off the back. He stopped the bike and pulled out Vera, his Taurus revolver and aimed at the lock holding the gate together. With a pull of the trigger and a loud report, the lock shattered and Jack rode over to the gate. He kicked the gate open enough to drive through. Then he reached back and pulled it shut again. Part of him wanted to lock it, but the house hadn’t been cleared yet and he didn’t want to be locked in here with anything. At the back of the house, he used his elbow to smash through a small glass window and opened the door. He waited for the alarm to sound, but it had either been deactivated, or there was no power to the house. He really didn’t give a damn about it.
Instead of parking the Harley on the outside, he revved the engine and pushed his way in, cracking the door frame a bit. Once inside, he turned off the engine and kicked down the kickstand. Only then did he remove himself from the bike. He quickly shut the door and pulled the kitchen table over to keep it shut. Then he reloaded the spent round in the chamber of his revolver. With his rifle in one hand and his shotgun hanging from his back, he quickly surveyed the two story house.
“Damn Buggers have it nicer now than I ever did. Serves them right if they got eaten”, he said as he returned to his bike. To took another puff from his cigar and with a flick of the wrist his Rossi R92 was aimed down at a figure that approached him. He had seen the person when he had returned to the room, hiding in the shadows. Now the being, which turned out to be a small boy, was looking down the barrel of his rifle, a trigger finger itch away from having a .454 Casull part his skull.
“Best be gettin’ out of here!”
The boy didn’t move.
“I SAID GIT!!” yelled Jack, turning on the boy. That’s when he saw how frail and skinny the kid was. In fact, the kid wasn’t even looking at Jack… he was eyeing the pack on the Harley… the one with the food.
Even though Jack didn’t want any company tonight, he couldn’t see sending the boy away. He reached in his pocket and pulled out a stale PayDay bar that he had picked up. He tossed it to the kid. “Here you go, Nutter. Go Bonkers.” Then he sat down on the couch, keeping a close eye on the boy, but also watching out the window.
The boy snatched the candy bar out of the air and ripped the cover off of it. He jammed the whole thing in his mouth and then fell to the floor, scooping up all the peanuts that had dropped off. The sound of his chewing filled the quiet house. When he was done, he looked back at Jack.
“Well I suppose you need a name. And seeing as you ain’t speaking much, Nutter suits me just fine.” He took another puff on the cigar. “In fact, Nutter, I may just keep you around… ya know for my amusement.” Jack got up and approached the boy. The boy looked at him warily. “Yep, you look like a Nutter.” Jack reached out and ruffled the boy’s hair.
That’s when the boy when wild, screaming and yelling and throwing himself over the table. For his part, Jack was quick to jump back and had his rifle aimed at the kid again.
“Damn it Nutter, you best be shutting up or else I’ll shut you up!”
That did nothing. Grabbing a bottle of water and a slab of beef jerky, Jack tossed it over the table at the kid. The screaming stopped and the sound of frantic eating and drinking replaced it.
Jack went back to the couch, pulling another drag on the cigar. “It’s going to be one helluva night with you, ain’t it?”, he asked but didn’t expect an answer. “Well let’s get one thing straight. You touch anything of mine or me, I bash your skull in with this here stock.” Jack motioned with the butt of the rifle and a downward smashing motion. Nutter seemed to understand that, because he nodded and backed away to the corner.
“You ain’t been bit have you?”
The boy shook his head.
“Good, don’t feel like killing you tonight.”
Jack sat back down on the couch and pulled off his boots, letting the dirt and sand fall out of them. Then he took off his shoes and began to pick between his toes. A moment later, he farted, smelling up the room. Nutter moved farther away.
“What, like you smell any better? Damn ragsack.” And with that, Jack went back to his grooming.
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