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Post by Winters on Apr 29, 2010 15:51:11 GMT -5
There was the faint sound of scratching in the hallway outside of the door when Rey awake. Sunlight caught her eye, beaming in through the single window. Her arm was in a lot of pain, but she managed to get off the bed. Grabbing her handgun from the bedside, she carefully climbed onto the floor, and walked to the doorway. Holding the guns barrel to the crack when she turned the knob, the scratching stopped instantly, but she continued to investigate. Seeing marks all along the floor leading under another doorway, Rey was a little scared to go inside, but her curiosity got the best of her. She did want the others to worry about her, they shouldnt have to, she knew that Amanda was scared about what happened last night.
Opening up the door, Rey walked into the sunlit room, but everything was silent and empty. The scratch marks lead all the way to a pool of blood on the floor in the bedroom, and from there it appeared something was dragged out of a smashed window. Walking over to the window, she peered outside, looking down along the ground. The rain had pretty much washed all tracks or evidence leading away from the house, who knew where the body was now, or what happened exactly. But little to Rey, a shambling corpse had entered the room. As she turned around noticing footsteps, before she could even aim the gun, the infected had grabbed a hold of her arm and sank its teeth into her bandage.
Yelling at the top of her lungs, Amanda shook Chrys, and bolted out. "Wheres Rey?! You didnt see her leave?! Rey!" Amanda grabbed her gun, and ran out into the hallway. At that moment, she had heard a gunshot coming from far, far down the hallway, apparently in another room. By the time she found the location of the gunshot, she entered the room, and saw Rey sitting on the bed, holding her arm. Before Amanda even asked what she was doing just leaving the room like that, Rey had spoken up, with fear in her voice. "The bandage was getting loose, so I took it off to see how it looked. I was going to find something else to put on it, but he came from the bathroom while I was busy. Good thing... I... Shot it before it could come near me..."
Amanda ripped off the pillow case from the bed which Rey was sitting on, and began wrapping it up over her arm drenched in blood. She hadnt even noticed the bit wound with all the blood, Amanda just wrapped it up as best she could, until it stopped the bleeding. The thick material seemed to work well enough, as appose to her fake cotton sweater. Holding Rey up with her shoulder, Amanda walked her out of the room, where Chrys had been running across the hallway floor to them. "Its alright, Chrys, I took care of it... We have to get into Raccoon City, as soon as possible..." Amanda walked with her friend out into the main hall, luckily not running into anymore infected along the way, and waited for Chrys to unlock the big doors for her to carry out Rey.
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Post by Lunapocalypse on May 3, 2010 2:57:08 GMT -5
Violently awakened, Chrys had a bit of a grumpy look on her face, "...what..." before she could muster anything else she heard Amanda shouting something about watching Rey and stormed out of the room. Chrys took out her phone and checked the time; she'd only been asleep for a couple of hours; likely why she felt so miserable. Standing up was fairly easy, keeping balance was a different story. The room she was in was deserted, Rey must have left before Amanda; Chrys gathered her things and slung her bag over her back stepping outside and heading off in the direction she'd heard Amanda's footsteps trail in.
They were in one of the outer bedrooms. Both Amanda and Rey stepped out before Chrys could enter though; Amanda remarked that Rey's wound was alright and that they should be on their way to Raccoon, "All the more reason to get on our way if it's still bleeding," the Journalist commented while watching them round the corner she'd come from. Chrys stuck around for a second, leaning into the room; a dead zombie was on the floor, there was uncoagulated blood on the wood; why had the wound chosen to start bleeding again then and there? Chrys shook her head and followed after the two for the main entrance.
"You guys go for the main gate, don't unlock it though," Chrys said once they'd gotten out of the front door, "Wait 'til I come around with a car. I'll be back in a sec," she headed down the steps and moved off down the left wing of the house right around the back and to the garage door. Chrys pushed a button in the guard booth to get it to open up, the driveway leading into it headed down underground. A collection of old 1950's cars lined each side, all restored; Chrys frowned; none of them would have power steering. Finding the keys were pretty easy, considering a cabnit over to the basement entrance had the word 'keys' written on it. Chrys took the one closest to the exit and didn't bother dropping the garage door down.
Chrys used a utility road to get out of the perimetre fence and headed right around to the front. She jumped out and opened the back door for Amanda and Rey to get in, hopping back into the drivers seat and taking off once they were all comfortable.
)(Rey, Amanda, and Chrys have left for Raccoon City.)(
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Post by Rhinn on Dec 23, 2010 19:35:17 GMT -5
[glow=green,2,300] == Entering from the Wilderness ==[/glow] The sound of her motorcycle filled the deserted air. Zoe knew that any undead in the area would be attracted to it. She also knew that this was the quickest way to get around so she had to weigh the odds. It was the middle of the day, but the blistery air was beginning to cut through her face, chapping her skin, nose and lips. As she arrived, she slowed down, careful to not run into a horde of the walkers that strewn the countryside. At an intersection, she pulled back on the brakes, her F800GS coming to a halt in the middle of the road. She quickly looked around, making sure it was okay to stop, but never shutting off the motor. She was in a small town just outside Raccoon City named Circular River Community. She assumed it was from the way the river looped around. Pulling up her goggles, she pulled out her map and checked the area. She also reassuringly patted her S&W holstered securely on her hip. While she knew where she was at, she didn't know the area very well, so she had to travel within site of the town to make sure she was traveling in a straight path. She was in the older, richer part of town, by what she could tell. The yards here were at least 3 acres and the mansions that lined the streets were small estates. Tall wrought iron gates attached to thick walls seemed to keep everything in... or out pretty well. Up ahead, the street curved around the bend. At the bend was the biggest estate that Zoe had seen in the town. She gunned the engine a bit to get the bike going and then glided over to the gate. It was large and solid, with dried bloody prints on the outside. She looked around before the got off her bike. Putting her maps up she heaved on the door. It budged just a bit, but not enough to allow her to enter the estate. A moan floated upon the wind towards her. Zoe couldn't pick out the direction, but something inside of her urged her to get off the street. Well, it's unlocked, but just won't budge, she thought. Then she smiled. Hopping back into her bike she turned it to face the door and maneuvered it so that the front tire was against the gate. She popped the bike into first gear and revved the engine, taking care to gradually release the clutch. The bike pressed against the gate with more and more pressure, finally easing it open enough for Zoe to get her bike through. By now the moan was louder and more insistent. Quickly Zoe moved her bike in the gate and then spent another minute or two performing the same manuever to get the gate shut. Just as the moaning seemed to come from outside she slide the locking mechanism closed and then she tried to make herself flat against the stone wall, trying to hide from the undead, not daring to take a breath. A faint bump on the gate alerted her to the presence of the ghoul. Then two arms came through the gate as if it was a baby trying to get out of a playpen. The moaning became more insistent and Zoe realized that she couldn't hide from it. Shooting it would be the most expedient way of dealing with it, but the sound of the blast from the gun would definitely draw attention to herself. She unsheathed her machette and counted down from 5. At zero, she lept out of her hiding place and jabbed the machette through the iron gate and into the face of the ghoul. She twisted it quickly and move it from side to side. Evenutally the head of the ghoul was ripped off and fell to the ground with a soft thud... the body quickly followed. Zoe wiped the blade of her weapon on the wet grass, cleaning off the muck and she quickly sheathed it. Then she grabbed the handle bars of her bike and pushed it up to the house. Off to the right she could see a hedge that looked like a maze and she made a promise to never go in there unless absolutely necessary. After a few minutes, the main doorway of the house came into view. She could see that the door was ajar, as if people left here in a hurry. She wheeled her bike up onto the massive porch and put the kickstand down. Then she pulled out her machette and her revolver, aiming them both at the door. She approached slowly, the only sound she was hearing was her heartbeat thudding loudly in her ears. With the tip of the machette she pushed the door open and pointed the barrel of the gun inside. She looked around for just a bit and noticed the dried blood on the floor and the doors. At least it isn't fresh blood, she thought to herself. Then she looked over to her bike. This was as best place as any to rest. She had been traveling through the mountains for days and it seemed to get colder and colder. She could probably do with a few days rest at a place right here and it beat sleep in a tree. Still... there was something not right about this place... Attachments:
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Post by Rhinn on Dec 24, 2010 14:59:15 GMT -5
Zoe went back to her bike and unhooked the gas container from the left side of the bike. Then she opened the gas tank on the bike and spent the next few minutes filling up the tank of her F800 GS. It would be just her luck that she would be chased by a horde of undead and her tank would be dry. As she topped it off, she sloshed the rest of it around. There wasn’t much… probably enough to get her another half a tank. Before she left this area, she’d probably need to get it filled. But that was a task for a later time. Returning the can to its place on the bike and strapping it down, she popped open the rear seat container and pulled out a flashlight. Even though it was daylight outside, the likelihood that she would be stuck down in some dark dank basement were too great to ignore. That was just her luck. Pushing the door all the way opened and then started to step through the door, but stopped. She looked back at the bike sitting on the porch. It was like a bright beacon to all who passed by that someone was here. That was something that she didn’t want to do. Sighing, she maneuvered the bike through the doorway and into the foyer of the estate. The heavy wooden boards of the floor creaked but held the weight. To her right was a large wooden door and to her left was a door that was propped open with a heavy piece of furniture. She looked in that door and saw that it led down a hallway of smaller doors. Light shown in from some of the open doors and from the windows on the exterior of the house. Not liking open doorways, Zoe moved the cabinet away from the door and shut it. Then she grabbed her revolver and machete and went to the door on the right. Zoe’s heart started to beat harder and harder and her breath became ragged. Even through all this time of dealing with the undead, she always became nervous when she had to explore an unknown place. She turned the doorknob and opened the door a crack. Hastily backing up, she aimed her S&W through the doorway and then, like the front door, used the blade of her machete to open the door. This room looked to be a either a large office or den area, with books lining shelves along the interior walls, and couches and furniture arranged around a huge fireplace that split up the shelves. A huge picture of a man, obviously a portrait, hung over the fireplace. It seemed to Zoe that he was looking down over all he owned. Her eyes swung to the exterior walls where windows lined the entire wall. Luckily for her, the windows had been boarded up on the outside and the storm shutters had been pulled tight on the inside. It was probably more secure than most interior walls, she thought. That was one thing that Zoe liked about older buildings. Most of the walls were structural and build with heavier, more solid materials. Blankets lined the couches, as if someone was staying there, but had left all of a sudden. Zoe touched one of the blankets and felt some dust on it. They hadn’t been used in some time. That was good for her. Zoe went back to the Foyer and pulled her bike into the Den. Then she shut the front door and went back to the den, closing the door behind her. This would be her base for while she stayed her and she wanted to make it as secure as possible. As she shut the door, she moved one of the couches over to block the doorway. Then she spent a few minutes looking through the room. Obviously there were no walkers in here, which was something that she was grateful for. Then she came to the door at the other end of the Den. Zoe slowly approached it, pulling out her gun and the machete again. This door opened inward into the Den just as the other door did. Zoe turned the doorknob and slowly pulled it open. She could only see a few feet as the rest of whatever room was there was shrouded in darkness. Zoe cursed to herself. She needed the flashlight, but that meant that she would need to either put down the revolver, or the machete. She holstered the S&W and picked up her flashlight. Flicking it on, she aimed it into the room. The bright beam swept across what turned out to be a smaller room. In the middle of the room were an old wooden desk and a high backed chair. More shelves line the wall and books littered the desk, floor and shelves. Cautiously, Zoe moved into the room, aware that there was no other door to the office. If anything wanted to escape, it would have to go through her. She shown the beam from one end of the room to the another, starting at the ground and then working her way up to the ceiling. In spite of the situation, how the world seemed to come down on her and destroy everything, Zoe had to marvel at the construction of this house. Wood panel ran the length and the height of the walls, and Zoe was pretty sure it was real wood, not the laminate knock off material found in most houses. The whole room spoke to the wealth of the family… and that appealed to Zoe. She made her way to the desk, keeping an eye on the doorway from which she came. Looking down, she saw that the book laying open on the desk was not a book at all. It was a photo album. The page it was opened to was of a birthday of a little girl, not much older than 6. She had cute blond curly hair and bright blue eyes and the smile on her face was from ear to ear. Cake was smeared on her face and a female, that could only be her mother, was holding her and smiling. Melancholy and sadness began to wash over Zoe. Without being here, she knew what had happened. This family, whoever they were had suffered the loss of their kid at some point during the outbreak. Grieving from their loss, one parent… probably the dad, spent his time in here with the book, lamenting over his loss. The feeling the parents must have felt, brought back the feelings of loss that Zoe had felt over her parents and her sister. Zoe looked through the book, noting that it stopped sometime around the child’s 10th birthday. The date at the bottom said 1998. Zoe realized that the little girl was probably just a bit younger than Zoe was right now. Again her thoughts went to her sister. She wiped a tear from her face as it ran down her cheek. Shaking the bad thoughts from her mind, she shut the album and began to check the desk. In the top drawer and one of the side drawers, she found nothing but pencils’, markers, papers and supplies… mostly useless stuff. The bottom drawer was locked so Zoe spent a few minutes scrounging around the drawers until she found a little key shoved in the back of the middle drawer. She took it and slid it into the lock and turned it. There was a faint click as the lock opened. Zoe slid the drawer open and looked inside. More papers and in the back a small black box that was locked. Zoe picked it up. It felt heavy and when she shook it, something heavy and solid banged around inside. It was about the size of a small briefcase. Zoe decide that was about it in the office and took the case back out into the Den. She shut the door and then walked over to one of the couches and tossed it on the seat cushion. Then she spent another 5 minutes looking around the room, making sure that the couch and the other door had not been opened. She thought about going through the last door, opposite the Foyer door, but by now the light outside was fading as late afternoon headed into evening. Looking at the fireplace, she saw that there was nothing to burn. She opened one of the cabinet doors to the left and saw a few pieces of wood still sitting there. She put them in the fireplace and used one of the books as kindling, lighting it with her lighter. Within 10 minutes, she had a nice fire going. It gave off warmth and enough light that she could save her flashlight. She sat back on the couch, taking one of her first rests she had had in a long time. With the windows boarded up and the storm shutters closed, it was a good bet that the light from the fire was blocked off from the outside. The smoke could be seen from the chimney, but it would blend in with the night sky. A growl in her stomach told her that she had neglected something. Zoe had food with her, but she didn’t know how long that would last. So now, she knew that she would have to search for the kitchen to see if there was anything to eat. Looking towards the door that hadn’t been searched, Zoe could see that the wood stopped at the doorframe. Shiny tile started at the door frame which gave Zoe a good indication that the next room over was probably the kitchen. Grabbing her flashlight, machete and revolver, she walked over to the door. Attachments:
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Post by Mikey on Dec 24, 2010 16:08:59 GMT -5
“Down!” A voice yelled, an explosion rocking the structure that the TFP fireteam was holed up on.
“Get some fire on that mortar!” A voice yelled. Samuel got up to a knee and brought the SAW to his shoulder, pressing tight and holding down the trigger. Rounds exploded from the weapon and downrange, entering the mortar nest and shredding the men manning the launcher. But not before the last explosive launched into the air.
“Down!” Samuel yelled, going back to his stomach and covering his head. Another explosion rocked them, the ceiling of the room collapsing in on them. He felt the weight hit him, burying him under the debris.
A grunt exited his mouth, he strained to get free only for more weight to come crashing down on him. He could hear boot steps thudding on the floor, not sure if they were friendly or enemy. All seemed lost then. If the enemy didn’t get them, the zombies of the area would. The whole mission had gone wrong. They were just supposed to set up a transmitter for a looping radio transmission telling people where to find safe zones. All of a sudden, f**kers who were way too well armed and way too bent on stopping them from helping civilians showed up, pounded them to s***. Several of them were already dead, the ones left wounded. And it seemed they would soon be following their fallen comrades.
Gunfire exploded in the room, the retort of Jenkins’ twelve gauge. Several shots of it, with some automatic gunfire mixed in, and the shotgun was silenced. Samuel struggled further against the materials that threatened to be his tomb, pushing up just enough to get his knees underneath him. Gunfire hit the pieces of ceiling that trapped him, stopping the rounds well enough. He wasn’t going down without a fight…
On his knees, he grabbed a piece of rebar to keep the sheet of concrete standing as a shield, grabbing the revolver from his leg holster. He stuck the barrel out and fired off a few rounds, then giving the barrier a shove. Two men were left, and even with the winning odds, they gave pause to the man in front of them. The sleeping giant, it seemed, had been awaken and was plenty ****ed about it.
Dipping down only to come up on the reverse side, Samuel fired two rounds into the first man. He went to the ground with little incident. The second opened fire, hitting Samuel several times. The specialized body armor that was standard for the TFP stopped the shots, and the enemy’s magazine went dry shortly after. Pulling out a small revolver from his side, the man aimed and started to fire as quickly as he could while all seven feet and change of Samuel “Sasquatch” Winters advanced. Again, the body armor held up, and Samuel was able to make it to the shooter just as the .38 went dry. Dropping his .44 in favor of something a bit more sadistic, Samuel grabbed the man by the throat with both hands and dead lifted him into the air. Turning and slamming him against the wall, Samuel let the grip on the man’s throat loose as he moved his hands up. His massive hands found the mans face, his thumbs the mans eyes. Two quick jerks, and Samuel muscled past the soft tissue of the eyes. He didn’t relent, not stopping until he could feel grey matter. Fingernails digging into scalp, scraping red lines across the enemy’s head, he didn’t stop until the enemy went limp.
Letting the man drop to an unceremonious heap on the floor, he walked over to the man on the ground. Still breathing. Lifting his size twenty two boot in the air, he brought it down with all the force he could muster, cracking the skull with a sharp curb stomp.
Panting and looking around at the silence of the war zone, he walked over to Jenkins and patted his friend on the shoulder. Picking up Jenkins’ weapon, along with his own revolver and a belt of shells, he exited the building.
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Samuel woke from his sleep with a start, the sudden feeling of falling waking him up in an instant. His heart raced, he was panting, covered in cold sweat.
f**king dreams… He’d been having them for some time now. He’d broken his sobriety to try and get them to go away, but it wasn’t working. Drinking more and more to try and black out the dreams… Had it really come to this?
Reaching to the stand beside the couch he slept on, grabbing the plastic bottle of Jack Daniels and starting to take a sip, only to find it was empty.
“f**k…” He muttered quietly. He sat up and stretched his long arms, cracking his neck and then his back to try to shake the cramps from sleeping on a couch, he stood and pulled a cigarette from the pack on the stand. Lighting it with the Zippo in his pocket, he pulled the revolver out of his holster and started toward the kitchen. He’d seen a cabinet filled with booze when he took a look around earlier. He was thinking he’d pop open a bottle of Jimmy boy. Just for the hell of it.
He quietly walked out of the family room he had been using as a bedroom, always being quiet. He was trying to avoid detection. He didn’t want them things banding together and breaking down the gate. He walked to the main area of the house, only to pause in mid step. Who’s motorcycle was this?
Quietly thumbing back the hammer on his .44 Magnum, he went back to his training and quietly stalked the halls of the house. He could hear the slight creak of a door to his right, knowing whoever it was had gone into the kitchen. He circled around to the den, knowing that was the door they had taken. He’d catch them from behind. He didn’t take much time to muse on the fire in the chimney, or look at anything that may or may not have been touched since he had fallen asleep.
Creeping in a way that seemed impossible for a man his size, he saw the dark outline of the body.
“Freeze.” He said, his deep voice low. “Weapons on the ground, kick em away. Hands on your head, fingers laced, now.” He ordered. He released the hammer on his weapon and cocked it again. The noise of a large frame revolver quite different than smaller framed ones and even automatics. Whoever they were, they’d know they had a gun trained on them.
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Post by Rhinn on Dec 27, 2010 11:36:51 GMT -5
The dark outline turned to the man standing in the doorway, as if considering him. Then the figure advanced on the man, a horrible guttural moan escaping from the maw of its dead mouth. Broken fingers outstretched the undead figure grabbed at the man.
From another doorway, a blast of a .357 Magnum sounded. Along with the sound was a brief explosion as the powder in the bullet ignited. The slug crossed the distance instantly, slamming into the side of the skull of the undead walker. The entry was just a small hole, but the exit wound was full of skull shrapnel, blood and gray material of a dead rotting brain. The walker fell to the ground.
In the darkness of the pantry door, Zoe pulled back the hammer of her revolver and pressed herself closer into the darkness. She had been in the pantry pulling what cans of food she could find. She had heard the walker enter the kitchen and was waiting to see how more would emerge before she dispatched it. It was only when she heard another voice that she made her move. The man standing in the doorway from the kitchen to the den was positively huge. She knew he was armed as she heard the click of the revolver, but she didn’t know how many there were here.
“Who are you? What do you want? Why don’t you put down your gun first!”
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Post by Mikey on Dec 28, 2010 2:32:18 GMT -5
“Breaking and entering is a crime, you know that?” Samuel said, uninterested in the fact that he had missed a zombie for being a zombie, after so much training of dealing with them. Or the fact that a woman was holding a gun on him. He chalked it up to still being half drunk and in a generally foul mood.
“If your going to shoot me, just get it over with.” He said, swinging his arm a bit and letting the revolver go at the end of the swing. The .44 clattered on the counter with a sharp thud and came to a rest about a foot from where it started. He stood there for a moment and looked at her, eye to eye. No move was made in the next few seconds, and he turned away from her, uninterested. He abandoned the search for alcohol, more interested in finding something for his headache.
Settling on a bottle of Advil in the cabinet, he twisted the cap off and dumped the contents into his hand. Nine pills left, a hundred milligrams each. Not enough, but he’d settle for it. Grabbing a glass and getting some water from the tap, he took a drink to wet his throat and popped all of them into his mouth, downing the rest of the glass.
“Name’s Ben. Ben Dover. Came looking for sex, drugs, and liquor, coming up empty on all three.” He said, shooting a quick glance over his shoulder before he spoke and then rummaging through another cabinet to find something to eat. There was no humor in his deep voice.
Running a hand over his scarred up face, feeling the stubble growing. He turned back around to face her and bent down, half leaning and half sitting on the counter top. He crossed his arms in front of his chest and waited for her to do or say something. He couldn’t say he’d be sad if she decided to shoot him.
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Post by Rhinn on Dec 28, 2010 12:23:04 GMT -5
In spite of herself, Zoe laughed. She had heard the gun clatter to the ground and was glad that it didn’t go off. Of course he could have another gun behind his back, but the fact he was willing to drop it was at least a little promising. She heard him rummage around in the cabinets and then the water came on. It reminded her that she needed a shower. She sighed and holstered her revolver and then stepped out, her machete and flashlight still in her hands.
“I’m Anita Beer”, she said, continuing on with the theme of silly names. She shined the flashlight on him, keeping the beam from directly hitting his face, but providing enough illumination to see his facial features. He had scars on his face… from either fighting or from birth, Zoe really couldn’t tell. She carefully made her way to the other side of the island in the middle of the kitchen. He hadn’t made a move towards her, but she was still going to stay out of range of him.
Once she was a decently safe distance from Ben, she dropped some containers on the counter. A couple of jars of condensed soup and vegetables clattered on the counter. “There is not much in the pantry, but some of the food still looks edible. And I don’t shoot the living unless I need to. Do I need to shoot you?”
It seemed to be a weird conversation, but nowadays, weird was the new normal. “And the door was left ajar, so technically I wasn’t breaking and entering, it was just entering, but I’ll concede the point that I probably shouldn’t be here. After I eat, I’ll just get my stuff and go.”
Zoe really didn’t want to leave in the middle of the night, which was what it was by now. Plus, the weather, this time of the year, was bitter and cold and she wouldn’t last long outside in the elements if she didn’t find shelter quickly. Then she remembered the name she had seen on the exterior wall of the estate. This was the Jefferson Estate… not the Ben Dover estate. A little smirk appeared on her face. “Seems like I’m not the only one breaking and entering, am I?” She asked, calling his bluff.
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Post by Mikey on Dec 30, 2010 4:27:53 GMT -5
“House sitting.” He said simply when she addressed his own infraction. “Feeding the fish, sorting the mail, you know how it goes.” He said, looking back at her. She put her gun away, that was a good sign. For now. Unless she could quick draw, then it was just a formality. “Back door didn’t have a good lock on it.” He said. If she checked, she’d find the frame in splinters, a huge boot print on it. She asked if she needed to shoot him, and he thought about it.
“Given your attitude matches mine, I don’t think we’ll have any problems.” He said. She seemed like him. Gritty and dirty from long traveling, the look in her eyes that said she was lacking some sleep. The fact that shortly after entering she was looking for food. She was like him. Drifting around, trying to survive. She plopped the food down on the counter and told him the pickings were slim. Pickings were slim, and it seemed like she was getting ready to share. Maybe she wasn’t that bad. Maybe he could drop the s***, talk to her like a potential friend instead of someone he was trying to get rid of.
“Samuel.” He said, locking eyes with her. He reached over onto the counter and grabbed his revolver, flipping the safety on and putting it back into the holster on his belt. “Looks to me we’re in the same boat.” He said. She’d know what boat that was.
“Truce?” He said, holding out his massive hand but making no move to walk toward her. He didn’t want her to get the wrong idea and yank that gun out, plug him full of holes. It was counterproductive to the whole exorcise.
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Post by Rhinn on Dec 31, 2010 16:34:59 GMT -5
Zoe waited a few seconds and then nodded. “Truce… and it’s Zoe.” She tensed as she reached over and quickly shook his hand. She was amazed at the way his hand engulfed hers like it was a child’s. She quickly drew her hand back and then began sorting the cans of food she had pulled from the pantry. “We have 3 soups… it looks like beef stew and 2 chicken noodles. We also have 2 cans of beans and then one of corn. I also noticed some condensed milk in there… and these.”
Zoe pulled up a box of twinkies that she had found in the pantry. They weren’t that nutritional, but they were good. “This could be the last twinkies in the entire world.” She opened the box and pulled out one, opening the package and popping it into her mouth. The soft sponge cake tasted great after all those MRE’s that she had been chewing on. She chewed on it for a bit and then slide the box over to Samuel.
“Now if we can just find a pot and a can opener then we can have a feast. I can…” her voice trailed off as a thumping sound could be heard coming from somewhere.
“How much of the house have you checked?”
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Post by Mikey on Jan 1, 2011 3:12:00 GMT -5
Samuel couldn’t help but let a small smirk cross his face as he reached into the box and took a Twinkie out. He opened it and let the wrapper fall to the counter, putting the whole thing into his mouth. To him, it was just like taking a bite of it like she had. Chewing it, savoring the taste, he looked around when she talked about getting some pots and a can opener together. He reached to his belt and pulled out the Ka Bar, grabbing a can of chicken soup and preparing to pry the top off when he heard the noise she heard.
“Every bit of it.” Samuel responded, going silent for a moment. He looked at his watch and sighed.
“Four hours ago.” He said. He just now registered what she had said about the front door being open. He knew it had been closed. Since when were those things smart enough to open doors? f**k…
He put the knife back and pulled out his revolver. It was still full, all six rounds. In a habit, he hit the release and let the cylinder fall out. He looked at the primers on all six rounds and saw them all in good shape, pushing it back with his left hand. He flipped the safety off and waved to the south side of the house.
“I’ll take the south, you take the north, we’ll meet at the stairs and split the same way for the top floor.” He said. Bit of a habit. He’d commanded men in the TFP. Not a lot. Usually only three at a time, but he had commanded them. Old habits die hard, he supposed.
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Post by Rhinn on Jan 3, 2011 18:19:31 GMT -5
Zoe just nodded and pulled out her revolver. She replaced the empty shell with a new round and closed the chamber. Then she grabbed her machete and her flashlight. “I just want to check on my stuff in the Den, first.” She headed toward the door that led from the kitchen to the den. As the door opened she saw that her bike, her pack, the little black box and her rifle were still in its place. She relaxed a bit and then headed through the den towards the foyer. “Let’s say we meet back at the stairs in 20 minutes. Anything longer than 30 and assume the worst. If I am dead, you can have my gear.” Zoe smiled a bit and then opened the door to the foyer. It was empty. She went back over to the front door. It was shut… just like she had left it. She turned the top lock and heard the snap of it bolting, securing the door. The north of the house was hers to check and… just her luck, it started off with the long corridor that she had first seen… the doorway that had been propped open with the cabinet. Tentatively, she entered the doorway. By now, night had fallen and she only saw darkness with the occasion shadow. Again she had to choose between her revolver, the machete and the flashlight. She swore to herself that once she got to a gunshop, she’d buy a light that fit on the barrel. She stopped to sheath the machete and then picked up the flashlight with her left hand. She flashed the light all through the corridor and saw that nothing moved. She took a few more steps in. It seemed to take forever for Zoe to get to the first room, but it was only a couple of seconds. She tried the doorknob… locked. Again she tried to turn the knob and put her shoulder into it. The door was solid wood and didn’t budge at all. Relieved that nothing was going to break through, she went to the next door. It was unlocked and Zoe opened it and stepped back and pointed the light and the gun through the doorway. It was a bathroom. A large soaker tub was in the corner and Zoe wished for a brief second that she could run some water and just relax. A quick look around showed that there was no other way in or out and that the room was empty. Zoe shut the door behind her and then went to the third door and tried it. It opened into a formal dining room that was vacant except for a long table, a few chairs and a china cabinet. She shut that door as well. As she continued down the hallway, it turned to take her towards the back of the house. She had been mentally counting the rooms that she had seen… foyer… den… office… kitchen… unknown room… bathroom… dining room… The next room she came across was light up by the night sky. At first she thought the roof had fallen in, but that turned out not to be the case. It was a great sun room with double pane glass panels for walls and for the ceiling. The room itself had a lot of plants in it and Zoe was hesitant to go in. Instead, she shone the light into the room. The light played off the windows and part of it was reflected back towards her. She looked in for a few minutes, but couldn’t see anything. The door was shut, but unlocked. She grabbed a chair from the hallway and wedged it up underneath knob. If something was able to get through, they would hear the chair topple over. The twenty minutes are almost up, she thought as she hurried around the corner. At the end of the hallway was a set of two massive wooden doors. They seemed to reach up into the second story. Slowly she pushed open the left door with the barrel of her gun. Her beam of light shown into the room and it took her breath away. What she had mistaken for the great room at the front of the house, now seemed to be a small library. This room was positively huge. At least three couches were positioned around a great stone hearth. The fireplace in the hearth was big enough for Zoe to walk into without lowering her head. As she shone the light around, the scope of the room threatened to overwhelm her. Heads of animals were all over the walls and over the fireplace, a huge hunting rifle hung on two pegs. Zoe made note of it and then continued around the room. With two of the walls on the interior, and a great stone hearth taking up a third wall, there were only a few windows on the fourth wall that shown out onto the back of the house. They were boarded up as well. Standing in the middle of the room, she gazed up at the ceiling. Running around the edge of the room was a small landing that seemed to be only 6 feet wide. A door led from the upper area back to what Zoe could only guess was the second floor. There was no other exist from the room except for the door that Zoe came through. Zoe knew it was time to get back to the stairs, but she didn’t like to leave any weapons that could be useful. She went over to the mantel and pulled down the hunting rifle. It was an old side by side shotgun. The thing was well kept but Zoe could tell it was meant to be a showpiece. It had ornate carving on the handle and on most of the metal. Zoe ran her hands over it, feeling the wood and the cool metal. Then she shown her light down at a box that sat on the counter of the bookends of the hearth. It was an old wooden box and Zoe opened it. Inside, there was a box of shells for the shotgun. Zoe opened the box and counted 20 shells. She picked them up and quickly loaded two shells into the shotgun and snapped the barrels back in place to the stock. Then she cocked the hammers on the shotgun and holstered her revolver. Holding her light underneath the barrel, she made her way back down the way she came, back toward the stairs. As she walked, she wondered what was on the other side of the house, since she couldn’t think of any more rooms that could be on the first floor. Once it became light outside… if she was still alive… she would search the grounds to see what else this property held for her. She arrived back at the stairs and waited for Samuel. Attachments:
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Post by Mikey on Jan 7, 2011 19:50:36 GMT -5
“Likewise.” Samuel said, referring to the survivor taking the dead one’s stuff. Again, just like her, he was going to his bag in the living room. He hadn’t bothered to get his flashlight from the duffle bag, he hadn’t needed it for a quick trip to the kitchen. For a sweep, he actually needed it.
He went the way he had come, through the den and the archway that led into the room he had been asleep in previously. His revolver was out and he led with it, just in case. The sounds seemed like they had come further away, the other side of the house. He didn’t think he’d run into anything on this trip. But what he thought and what occurred hadn’t always matched up.
He got to the den with no trouble and little time wasted, flipping the flap open on the unzipped bag and grabbing the Maglite off the top of the pile. He flipped it on, squinting his eyes at the bright light for a moment before he got in his stance and started moving. The gun hand on top of the light hand, using the Harrison technique. Taught to him as the most effective way to use a light or knife in his off hand in addition to a sidearm. Of course, it was usually a knife, the gun usually always had a light on it. Oh well.
He got his bearings, facing the back of the house, the South end. Making his way as far to the left as he could, he’d start there.
This end of the house seemed to be bedrooms mostly. He’d taken a look through them earlier. No one home. Dresser drawers were torn open, the things inside cleaned out. Other than that, not much had been touched. The people left in a hurry, taking essentials and leaving anything they couldn’t use. He had noticed several spots on the wall where pictures were missing. All that was left of the family memories? Maybe of a family member who didn’t make it? So many possibilities.
The first in line was a child’s room, a little girl by the look of it. Pink walls and the like, princess memorabilia, s*** like that. Nothing here. Nothing in any of the bedrooms he checked. Which made him think that the far off sound had come from, surprise, far off. How something or someone had gotten inside and upstairs without leaving a trace and going right by him was what he didn’t understand.
He got out and went back to the main room, seeing Zoe by the steps.
“I’m thinking its upstairs.” He said. She’d probably come to the same conclusion, now that he thought of it. He noticed her new trophy, an old double barrel with a lot of engraving on it. He’d seen it, but he liked his Remington better.
He took the first steps up the staircase, leaving room for her to come up beside him and cover the right side while he took the left.
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Post by Rhinn on Jan 9, 2011 13:53:30 GMT -5
Zoe nodded and looked up the stairs. From somewhere up there came another thumping sound. Zoe loaded up her side by side and locked the barrel in place. Then she checked her revolver and shoved it into her holster. She started up the stairs and then stopped.
"I'll go first so that you can shoot over me, but if I feel any pellets dig into my skin from the backside, I'll shove this scattergun up your butt and unload both barrels." Zoe was serious, but she softened it with a smile. Then she turned and continued up the stairs. She fanned the gun from side to side as she approached the top of the second floor. The upstairs was smaller than the downstairs and the corridor split off to the north and to the south. Zoe nodded to Samuel and then turned to the South. The corridor was smaller with doors on both side. She estimated that there were only 6 doors down her side.
She slowly crept away from Samuel, feeling more vulnerable now that the big man wasn't behind her. She almost made it to the first door, when she heard a creak from behind it. She swung her gun to the door but the barrel slammed into the side of the wall. Cursing, she backed up and brought the barrel of the gun around to face the door.
The floor creaked again and Zoe felt that there was someone just on the other side of the door. Slowly, she reached out and turned the doorknob.
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Post by Mikey on Jan 10, 2011 9:58:20 GMT -5
“Don’t tempt me.“ Samuel said, letting a slight nod out and moved up the stairs with Zoe. Letting her go a step ahead and following her closely, he covered the left side of the hallway. When they were both at the top, he spun to the left and swept the hallway. Not much there. No signs of someone passing by any time recently. No blood or even any wrinkles in the rug. Nothing had passed by here since he’d checked it. The other side, however?
He didn’t know how keen her eyes were, but he saw the signs of passing immediately. The small drops of blood on the carpet, the faint muddy footprints on the rug. A person had walked along, spun to look behind them, and then spun again to look behind them. He had a feeling it was more a person in terror and less a zombie looking for a snack. The blood on the ground gave that way. It was liquid, dried over in even patterns. Undead blood usually wouldn’t even drop from an undead body, let along drop and dry in perfectly smooth patterns.
He looked up sharply when he heard the thump, her barrel hitting the frame. Smirking slightly, an amateur mistake. She probably didn’t have any formal training.
He got into position next to her and aimed over her shoulder. The gun was over her head, but it was positioned over her shoulder, anyway. He had a good idea of what they would find inside. Probably a person who had come here for a place to stay, somewhere to patch themselves up, maybe catch a bit of shuteye. Most likely unaware of what they were going to become, with the bite they had the intention of patching up.
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