An Umbrella, and a Parasol

[Lunapocalypse]

Chapter 13
Dance. Dance. Motion.

The running never seemed to end, and the new grounds always appeared like an endless road in a horror flick. Time for a 'caption this' perhaps, but if you really want to live and leave that badly surely there must be an open door. What Alexia saw around her self should have only stayed in her nightmares, they had no right to walk on this plane of existence, but anything she said would only anger then and give them reason to attack and rip her limb from limb. You see it in your minds eye and turn around saying 'that's f**ken disgusting,' but there is nothing that you can do about it, its what your brain did to get you moving, sort of like a fill for the needed fuel in order to move your legs even though you've been running for hours. Most times you'd probably collapse, but when stuff like this happens your body no longer seems to be human, neither does your mind.
Alexia should have watched her footing a little more in the dining room area, now she leapt over corpses that stood up out of the mist of the tables, some of them attempting to grab at her pants and pull her down into their pull of dirt and blood. The room was too dark to see clearly, Alexia stumbled over chairs and tables while planting her heals on the face, chest and crotches of unknown people who moaned like mad on the floor. They didn't al moan, just some of them, other ones gurgles and hissed, Alexia even saw one vomit as she took a long stride over their munted and bloodied body.
Alexia let out a scream as she moved up a couple of steps, one of the bodies grabbing her pants and pulling her to the ground, she shoved her foot into its face. Literally into its face, withdrawing it resulted in blood bone and cartilage to fall from he shoe, she wiped it on the carpet as she saw more able bodies rise from her scream not only a few seconds ago. She rose to her feet, slipping slightly from the mess on her shoe but still managing to pull herself together enough. The steps leading to the ground level weren't much farther now, her hand touched the handle of the door that said 'emergency exit' in bright red letters and turned.
Looking through the door way she was able to see yet more fumbling messes marching down the stairs towards her, moaning and gurgling and hissing, she slammed the door closed and turned to find all the other corpses that she had stepped over moving towards her. No where to go, no where to run, no where to hide, shoot yourself for being stupid.
There was a clomping sound; Alexia looked to her left to see unknowns moving through a push door and raising weapons up. Alexia screamed at the amount of sound that came from the guns that fired round after round, some of them stopped now and them but were only replaced with others, it was like a process of stop and swap. She felt blood spatter across her face as she tried to amplify her scream over the loud weapons and call out for Spike. When it all went quiet Alexia looked up to see all able bodies’ dead on the floor, she rose to her feet and looked over all of them to make sure. A loud bang emitted from behind her as she turned around to see the 'emergency exit' door wide open, all the corpses from before lay on the stairs dead and a huge lanky figure stood in front of Alexia. It raised its gun high in the air, and in one fluent movement slammed the stock of it onto the left side of Alexia's temple. Her body twitched from the impact and her body fell limp to the floor, unconscious.

When Alexia awoke everything was blurred, well, most things anyway. The background was dark and very blurry while the items in the foreground were somewhat in focus, but still failed to show any major resemblance in anything. Alexia heard water, not in a river or lake or pond, but water against metal. Suddenly a huge amount of icy cold water was splashed in her face, at that same moment in time Alexia had inhaled through her nose; it was as if who ever they were timed the splash. Water went up Alexia's nose and made her cough terribly, she squinted her eyes to work out whether that would help in focusing them on the person in the room. Alexia tried her hands; she twisted and turned them but only got a sharp pain in return. Alexia realized that she was sitting on a hard wood chair and that her hands were bounded tight with thick rope behind herself, the twisting of her wrists caused severe rope burn which Alexia would no doubt regret later on.
As fast as the water had hit her face, light had followed, bright light, some sort of high powered globe. A 'creak' had been heard before hand which registered that it was a lamp with a fancy moveable neck, maybe this would end up being some sort of interrogation, Alexia hoped for nothing worse, "So, are you awake now miss Alexia?" a voice moved about the room, it was foreign, and Alexia was smart enough to know that it sounded Korean. Alexia gave out a faint cough to rid any more water from her self, "I'll take that as a belated 'yes' then," foot steps moved around the room, she felt them hit each wooden floor board as they got closer to her, "Maybe we'll wait for you to wake up a little more, would you like that...? Okay then..."
Alexia rolled her head around as she tried to move her fingers, but her hands were bound so tight together she couldn't move them at all. She heard more water, only this time she definitely knew that it was a stream; it was running water, water that never stopped, and it certainly sounded natural. Along with the water she heard more sounds, forest like sounds, tropical birds. Where the hell was she? As if she had asked the question out loud she was answered, but not in an answer she had in mind.
"I suppose you're wondering where you are at the moment miss Alexia? Well, it shall come as a unique surprise to you no doubt, I certainly hope you enjoy the location," The voice may have been Korean, but they knew English well, that said a lot about the person. A defect? A spy for someone? Perhaps they were just a linguist that had to learn English for their job. The voice was somewhat high, same as many foreigners, there was a lisp and the screwed up for Alexia to have any chance for working out if they were male or female. In which case Alexia focused on body movement, when the person walked back around to the other side of the table, just from the foot steps she was able to tell that it was indeed a man. It could have been an over weight woman though, "I'll put you out of your misery. You're in Africa, deep in the forest where the Larcer lives. Your nice little friends the 'Larcer' that you've worked with for quite a few years now I believe. That's about as much as I can tell you on your location. As for who brought you here, that is blindingly obvious in so many ways. I'll keep things straight and say that Umbrella would like for you to work with them...oh, excuse me, I meant 'for' them. It's not like you have a choice now," the Korean finished with a laugh, "We have trouble on the Larcer case, there are some factors of our testing that you don't know about and would most definitely need to be told, although I've been requested to just give you a thick report for you to read. You are the best in knowing virtually everything about the Larcer virus, so it isn't like we can..." the Korean broke off, it was obvious he had a slippery mouth, "When you regain your eye sight you may begin to read the report, one of the guards will remove your restraints and food will be brought regularly. Be sure to give us the answer we want in the end,"
The lamp was moved away from Alexia's vision, she could see the blurry dark outline of the person standing up, and their figure indicated that they were indeed male. A door opened behind them as the blurry figure walked out and the door closed. The door was rickety, it sounded like it had been built by wood, nails and hammers only and it creaked as it closed shut. Alexia let her head hang as water dripped from her nose and chin, she felt herself fall back asleep as the sounds of the outside habitat wafted around her ears.
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I'm sitting behind a desk and looking at a computer, the computer isn't turned on but still I look at it, maybe there's some hidden subliminal message that I'm actually trying to find but nothing actually stands out. My mind clicks on and I boot up the computer, I then turn the LCD screen on. Two hands jump out of the computer screen and grab me by my shoulders pulling me towards the screen, a face comes out of the screen covered in blood and flesh wounds, it opens its mouth as it moans and maggots fall out. The mouth clamps down and begins to eat away at my face; my cries mean nothing because no one is coming to help. Suddenly my whole head has been eaten away, but that doesn't matter, now I'm looking through new eyes at my headless body spilling blood over the keyboard, seeping in between the various letters of the alphabet and a couple of numbers too.
I look up from the booth my dead body was in and see people standing up from all the other booths, they look around too quizzically but nothing stands out to them, they just remain confused. Suddenly they all begin to scream as their bodies light up in an menacing inferno, shrieking and sticking their hands up into the air as it to grab cloud nine in help. I look down at my own hands to see that they too are on fire, I look at my palms and then the back of my hands trying to work out has this even began to happen. Suddenly the fire is put out, I look up at the ceiling to see that the sprinkler units has been turned on. Clouds begin to emerge from the ceiling as the cement slowly disappears and the sprinkler unit turns into heavy rain.
I look down to see endless fields of grain, it was almost like looking at the ocean, the wind blowing over each reed forcing it to the side yet all in motion to a single wave. I walk through the grain, pulling myself over wooden fences that had no real meaning considering land itself didn't even seemed to be owned. Hands grip at my feet and start to pull me down into the grain like quick sand, I open my mouth the cry but nothing comes out except white butterflies the dissipate into the cloudy sky. My hand grabs at thin air to pull me out of this mess when finally my entire body is submerged, and I drown.
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Alexia had woken up to find her hands unbound and able to move freely about the place, her sight had returned completely and she found that it was night time, a gas lamp one the centre table was all that illuminated the room. Alexia stood up and walked quickly over to the door, grabbing the handle and jiggling it, but to her dismay it didn't turn. She looked at the door, took two steps back and then rushed towards it landing her shoulder in the centre. The door didn't budge, but her shoulder now hurt like hell, so much for a rickety door. Alexia looked around the room further, seeing a small open window around forehead height. It was barred closed with bamboo; Alexia smiled realizing how easy her escape would be. She put a hand on to separate pieces of bamboo from each side of the window and pulled, she put her feet up against the wall and pulled harder when nothing happened, and soon her grip failed and her fingers slipped sending her to the ground.
Alexia's back hurt for some time after that, standing up, she flicked her middle finger against one of the bamboo bars, no sound came from it at all. This meant that on the inside of the bamboo there was metal, which also meant that she wasn't going to get through that window any time too soon. There was no visible signs of escape in the room any more, just the table, chair, a tray of food and the thick report that the Korean from earlier had been telling her about. Alexia breathed trying to keep herself calm, she took a seat and looked at the report, then wiped the top page across so that she could read the next. The title of the report read 'L-virus', not gaining any clues from it Alexia started on day one of the tests.

[Lunapocalypse]

Chapter 14
Condemned soul

The underground car park was terribly cold, colder than the weather above ground; Spike almost couldn't believe the temperature and thought about the **** turning into ice myth. The shooting was long behind them now, but that was partially what was bugging Spike, they were still shooting even though both him and Emily had well exited the area. What they were shooting at Spike was oblivious to, he was sure that it wasn't at one another, perhaps it was just a major break for the two of them and that something a little more important had caught their attention.
Since the gun fire was beginning to clear out Spike began to move from one car to another seeing whether or not the keys were still in the ignition, it wasn't like this was a public place and normally security would just monitor the car parks. Unfortunately for security Spike got the feeling that no one was manning there stations, and there for decided to see if he could get some fast wheels out of here. He looked into the drivers side window to see keys sitting in the ignition and the immobilizer off along with the alarm system, 'Nice work mister death,' he though. Spike went straight again and looked around himself, gun fire still faint, he pulled his elbow back and then thrust it into the window of the driver’s side. He pulled the lock open and opened the door, brushing glass shards off of the seat and then sitting down into the oh so fine car. Emily, some what shocked to find Spike breaking and entering a car, then pushed all criminal thoughts beside herself and took her own seat in the passenger side.
Spike turned the keys in the ignition and the car purred to life, nabbing a nice Mercedes never comes around too often but Spike didn't like the colour green so much. He shifted the car into reverse and pulled out quickly, shoving it into drive and then gunning it not wasting any time going around the corners. Spike wondered how low down they were in the ground, but found after four or so ramps they were at the gate.
Like everything else the gate was down, Spike thought about driving the car right on through, although this place was a mansion and those gates would demolish half the car before a proper dent could be rendered into them. They were spring back too by the looks, like that light weight metal you have setup on roads that have a cliff down one side and a cliff face on the other, it was used to bounce the car away from the edge. Mainly cement barriers are used in most cases though, but Ruben would have had this installed so that only minor damage would happen to the car rather than it buckle like an aluminium soft drink can.
Spike stopped the car and got out, resting his left arm on the door and blankly looking at the gate. He looked to his right at the guard booth with windows on all walls; no doubt you opened the gate from there. Spike looked outside of the gate into the night sky while walking around the front of the car, it would be morning soon, Spike was sure they were over the border of the beginning of dawn now. Spike opened the glass panel door to the guard both, shoving the roller chair out of the way as he looked at the labels of all of the buttons, he found 'garage gate' and pressed it. When nothing happened after a while he pressed it again, and again, repeating the process of press/depress until it got to a point where he was mashing his fist against it. When it got to that point he remembered the 'power' problem, realizing that the booth would no doubt be connected to the electrical grid.
Spike busted back out of the booth in an aggravated fashion, slamming the glass panel door behind him shut so fiercely that a crack appeared from top to bottom, small cracks branching off in other directions from here and there. Spike walked back over to the door of his car, letting out an annoyed sigh. Before getting back in the car for plan 'B', which was initially to break through the gates, he turned and looked down the ramp deeper into the underground car park. All forms of shooting had ceased now and were replaced by a new sound; Spike strained his ears as he heard a buzzing noise, then squinted as he looked down into the darkness. Spike turned the key in the ignition to prime and let the lights turn on, the hind lights doing some what of a job to light up the ramp.
Spike's eyes narrowed as he saw the outline of an inhuman object side stepping in their direction, "Emily get out of the car," he said while tapping the roof of their transportation.
Emily creased her brow and looked over at Spike, "What? Why?" She asked in reply, to her a car was good if they could get the gates open.
"Just get out of the car," Spike replied again, his voice rising, when the figure sped up he realized they were in trouble, "Get out now!" he yelled while running away from his side of the car to the side of the ramp, seeing more of the odd unknowns side stepped in advance to their position. He put his hand out to open the emergency exit door, pushing down as soon as he felt it and expecting the door to open, but only having his shoulder hit it hard. While continuing to look at the figures, Spike then ran to the other side of the ramp where he met up with Emily who had access to the other door. Spike heard her pleas to hurry, literally jumping through the door as he reached it feeling some sort of unknown appendage touch him. Without looking again to see what it exactly was that was beginning to chase them, Emily closed the door and kicked the floor bolt into place and pushed the ceiling bolt into place too.
Emily backed away from the door as screeches came from the other side followed by heavy bangs against it; she turned and ran towards Spike who had gone through yet another door. When she ran in she skidded to a halt, they were in a tool closet. Her heart sank realizing she had just gotten them caught up in a dead end zone with nightmare creatures attempting to barge in from behind and steal their souls. Spike on the other hand wasn't ready; he looked about the room, then towards the door. It was a much sturdier door than the one they had come through before hand; he shifted over to it and pushed it closed, then locking the latches that went from top to bottom. Spike looked behind himself one last time at Emily and the room then turned the light off, he memorized where some water proof fabric was and pulled on it covering him self and Emily in the process. Spike pulled Emily over into a corner and told her to sit down while doing the same; it was a nice game of hide and seek.
A sound similar to an explosion erupted at the door to the hall way connected to the gate ramp, more buzzing and thumping steps could be heard pounding in their direction. What ever they were they certainly weren't stupid, after a matter of seconds they began to punch at the door going into the tool room. Spike covered Emily's ears, and then closed his eyes.
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I hated my family; they were a bunch of a**holes. Hah, I guess they passed it down the line, but I'm not as much of an a**hole as they all were. I wanted my family to be like all other families, but every day was a drag, and when it came to special celebrations, it always managed to get worse. For instance, every time Christmas was coming around the corner my dad would say 'We've decided to have a no present Christmas this year,' and I'd think in my head, 'You're missing one key word, 'again',' considering that went on for five years in a row. He said, 'It was just too much of a hassle,' I always thought it was one of the main points of Christmas, hell, I had fun finding gifts for people, like a 'I'm doing this because I want to not because I have to' feeling comes from deep inside me. I think my dad just did it as an excuse for not spending any money. I'd look through my neighbor’s windows in the morning and see them all huddled around a tree, real or not, each having fun and opening up their gifts. How many times I went without that feeling, god knows. Then came the point where I'd go to school and have all of my friends brag to me about what they got for Christmas, their lists ended up being endless. When I was asked what I had been given, all I could say was, 'Y'know, this and that,' sometimes I'd make up my own fake list so I didn't feel like I was out of the group.
When it came to camping it just sucked all round, I had the small tent, period. We always had to go camping with family 'friends' to...sure, that always made me have to put on a forced smile, there was never anything good about that. I was the outcast of the youth that were at the camp site, boy did that feel like s***, and sometimes I'd just lie in my tent all day to avoid contact with people, avoid conversations even if they were good. That point in time would have probably brought out the misanthrope in me for good, if I feel like I regret being around someone, that's because something about them just makes me hate them. It could be their body language or their attitude towards things, or their behavior over all. The way the person dresses also makes me feel like s***. I sit on a bus moving from one location to another when suddenly the bus stops and the door opens and a bunch of people wearing 'rap/gangster' like clothing will step aboard, then I just regret 'ever' getting aboard the bus because I know something s*** is going to happen. Clap your hands for premonition and sixth sense.
My brother was a complete tool, if things didn't go his way then he'd give you so much crap it'd make you want to feel like melting into the wall and failing to continue to exist. He'd either have to get equal or better in any case, if he didn't. He’d put a foot through what ever of mine I had and simply laughed while my parents ignored everything. When he wanted privacy and to be left alone I'd get a punch on the nose and told to get lost, if it was me looking for privacy...well, the mere essence of privacy didn't even exist. To my brother, my room is his room.
My mother was hell on wheels, she even looked like it more than half the time; I'd wake up in the morning and look at her and think 'who the f**k is this woman?' I couldn't even count the amount of times on both hands that she attempted to commit suicide, every time was a different thing as well. She has scars running vertical on her forehead from when she hesitated at driving a hatched into her temple, one of many visible things that have screwed her when she looks for a job...that's mainly why she doesn't have one.
I remember, and would never forget, every single one of my birthdays. It's like the one day my family wants to know about me the least, a piece of charred toast with a tooth pick in the centre was the main idea for a birthday cake. I would be alone in my room for most of the time, sleeping and reading and occasionally staring at the wall for long periods of time. Gifts never worked out around that time either, once as a personal joke I asked if, 'I could have the entire day alone,' then I knew I'd actually get a birthday gift.
I haven't heard from my family for a long time, and I hoped that long time lasts forever, because I know that if I ever saw them again I would just throw up on the spot. That or call the cops because I couldn't think of any other reason for them to be at my house than to rob it rotten.
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Spikes eyes opened, he was unaware of how long he had been sleeping for, some light managed to get into the room but Spike wasn't sure how. He pulled the sheet off them both; Emily was snuggled up next to him sucking her thumb in a childish way, she was still a baby Spike thought. He looked up at the ceiling, seeing a narrow window were grey light managed to squeeze through. Spike thought that maybe if he had seen that before last night they would have been outside already, but knew not even Emily would be able to fit through that.
Spike gathered up the sheet and move Emily off him, putting the sheet on the ground and then laying her head down onto it. He stood up while looking at Emily one last time to make sure she hadn't woken up then turned towards the window, putting his hands on the end and pulling himself up. He looked out at a small grassy patched area and a gravel road, no doubt leading to the front entrance. Spike lowered him self down and then moved over to the door in the small room putting his ear up to the metal, he heard nothing; good sign? Spike though so.
Spike opened the door as quickly as possible so that what ever was on the other side didn't work out fast enough that he was awake, and then slam the door in their face before they could react. Thankfully the 'slamming the door in their face part never took any course of action and Spike was free to look at the electronics and security unit maintenance hall. Spike turned, "Emily," he eyes opened, "Time to go," he finished as he walked out into the hall way.
Emily raised her head as she saw Spike walk off, sitting up and stretching and yawning, she waited for her eyes to adjust to the light, blink slightly in order for them to co-operate properly. She stood up, having a slight wobble, and stepped out of the room into the hall way. She tensed up a little more when she remembered the night before, she didn't remember when the banging stopped, in fact she didn't remember much after Spike put his hands over her ears.
Spike noticed that the door way that went out to the gate ramp was open, and splintered at that. What ever had been pursuing them dealt heavy damage to the door, and left it in the state it was in, although Spike didn't exactly imagine they would repair it let alone close it. Looking out of the gate it was easy to see that it was early morning, fog had fallen all over the place and the grass had gone white from gathering water, drops fell from the end like perspiration. One major problem Spike had with the view was the gate itself, it had been bent like a bastard, Spike put his money on the unknowns that pursued them, same went for the Mercedes. If that was the case then these things, and what ever else, were now roaming free among the rural landscape. It's not like they would reach any populated areas soon, but it was only a matter of time.
Spike heard a sound approaching their position, not the buzzing from before but a heavy beating. Spike signaled for Emily to follow him, her face showing amazement from the sight of the garage gate. Spike looked to his right; the path leading to the front entrance, the left must have gone to the back of the mansion. He began to move off in the left direction, taking in the scenery of the faint tree line that could be seen through the fog, wondering if any of those ghouls were sneaking about out there.
Spike crouched down and leaned around the corner, he set his sights high at the helicopter that had landed on the top most area of the roof directly above the ball room. He squinted as he saw four people; no, five people, one of them was holding another person in dangerously familiar clothing. Spike's mouth dropped when he realized that it was Alexia. Firstly he though about running out and calling up to them, calling to Alexia, but then he thought about the fact that Alexia was being carried. She could have been knocked over the head and sent unconscious, but she could also be in some sort of unstable state and being sent to the closest hospital. He was about to rush out at that thought but then remembered that they would have medical equipment and stretchers if it was a hospital chopper, they also wouldn't stop to have a friendly chat either. Spike, no matter how much he wanted to get to Alexia, played it safe.
All four people along with Alexia stepped into the chopper and it began to take off from the roof, its rotors beating heavier as it gained altitude. Spike now saw it heading east to god knew where, if only Spike was god. When the chopper was directly out of the area and could no longer be heard Spike straightened up, looking at his surroundings and then at the cemetery that seemed to go on for Aeon, he then turned and began to head back to the gates of the garage. Emily turned to him in question, "Where are you going?" she asked.
Without turning to add to the answer Spike responded, "Getting us a car," he looked up at the grey sky, it was going to rain again, "Getting us out of here," he finished as he continued on. Without further questions Emily followed.

[Lunapocalypse]

Chapter 15
Red with Insomnia

Sharp shooting isn't my only expertise; in my line of work, Insomnia is a gift if you have it. There may be the odd occasion where the person developed it over their life time, but those cases result in the person gaining depression or having other mental problems in the end. With me though, it's a whole different ball game. When I was young I had to find reasons to stay awake; I was continuously told that I needed sleep and that I was just 'awake' from the amount of sugar that was making me hyperactive, or I was simply believing that I didn't needed to sleep and that as soon as went under the covers of my bed I'd be unconscious instantly. Well, I hopped into bed, and would lay there for hours waiting for sleep to engulf me. I was so angry at how much time I wasted; time that I could have spent on other things rather than waiting for sleep.
In an average one hundred and sixty eight hour week I would only ever sleep ten of those hours, I believed that sleep metaphorically was the cousin of death, your body shut down and not much more was needed to render you dead. This meant that I had a lot of free time on my hands to do stuff, learn stuff, create things...basically making up for the wasted time when I was a child. It also meant that, when on a mission, I'd only need two or three hours of sleep before I would be able to continue fully recuperated. My insomnia was my next wonder that threw me up there with the best agents; one course I excelled at was the insomnia test, my hours flying over the top of everyone else’s.
Really it's a choice for me now, whether to sleep or not, but I have to choose the right time. I don't want to be fatigued while in the middle of a gun fight, that just moves the odds of survival a little too low, so I sleep when I am sure that I am completely safe and when I am sure I'm not going into action any time soon. Being a sniper it's relatively safe to choose when to sleep as long as you're not behind enemy lines or surrounded, but when you're an expert infiltration artist, choosing when and where to sleep is essential especially when you know you're not going to make it home for dinner.
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It was morning now, early morning, not that it mattered though because the dark clouds still managed to cast an ebony shadow over the entire land. The more darkness the better, Morgan thought. Light still had the privilege of hitting the earth though, and a lot of land scape could be seen. Morgan had avoided crossing over clearings, he was in no mood to be seen; instead he watched the clearings to see if anybody was dense enough to venture out into them. He never spent too long watching one clearing, he had to remind him self that the clock was ticking, even if it was a week and a half.
The wilderness was quiet too, like they were waiting for something, Morgan found it a pain in the ass when he didn't hear the peaceful tune of a wagtail or something of the same nature; it just didn't seem right. Although if it hadn't been for the quiet wilderness, Morgan wondered if he may have walked straight on past one major target. The distinct sound of leaves being pushed along the ground got Morgan’s attention, interested in the idea that they weren't crunched down on, but pushed in a shuffle.
It was a person, in a morning robe, with slippers on and the messiest hair you could ever ask for. They were in an open area not far from the tree line; he was; Morgan was able to register that it was a man in his late forties with long hair. In instinctive movement, Morgan suddenly crouched down behind the closest cover he could find no matter how significant it was, the tree was thin and wouldn't stop bullets from going in one side and exploding out of the other but he was a smaller target to hit. Morgan was hiding more than taking cover though, it didn't seem this person would be carrying a gun just from the attire that they wore. He was forced to address the situation though, going over simulations of what was what. The man seemed dumb almost, tripping up over nothing when he turned to face another direction, he looked like he was sleep walking. Morgan wasn't sure about the whole 'Waking up a sleep walker is dangerous' thing, but considered one simulation may end up leaving this person alone completely.
Morgan took his chances, at the moment he was looking for Intel on what's going on and the area that he was in, he stood up and walked closer to the man while taking cover at several intervals just to keep safe. When Morgan was sitting on the border of the tree line and the clearing he addressed the person, hoping not to startle them from his outward appearance, "Excuse me, sir, could I ask a few questions?" Morgan asked politely while still staying crouched somewhat. The man turned to look in his direction; squinting to try and focus on who had spoken. He was a total mess, he had some sort of flesh bug eating away at his mouth and cheeks to show the meaty red, the front of his robe was covered and waterlogged in red and the ends of the front of his air looked like they had been dipped in red dye.
Morgan slipped the camera out and held it up as the man started to walk towards him, he turned on the video option and pressed play, "Sir, just a few questions," the man continued to walk towards him, "Do you have any information on the possible genocide that has been going on in this rural area for the past month or more?" the man held up his arms and let out a heavy moan while struggling to pick up his feet, "Are you alright, sir?" Morgan asked, finally curious about the mans state.
At the end of that the man began to run at him, instinctively Morgan knew when to run and not to shoot; he would need clarification before this man was actually a thread, which he wasn't due to how many times Morgan could have shot him now. It was when the man was beginning to pick up a large amount of speed that Morgan was starting to worry, he had to keep an eye in front of himself to make sure he didn't run into any trees and behind him so that the he was sure he was keeping distance from the man. Morgan had just wished that he had eyes in the back of his head when he felt a searing pain crawl up from his nether regions to his stomach, looking to see that he had hit a rather thin tree, then behind himself to see the man encroaching towards him. Morgan moved around to quickly for his own good, holding the rifle in one hand and his nether region in the other. There was a sharp snap from the rifle as the man suddenly fell to the ground, limp. Morgan rubbed his nether region as he stood up and walked over to the man, prodding him with the front of his rifle.
The head trauma was extensive, in simplistic words, his insides were on the outside like a hollowed out bowl or something with a hole in the bottom. Morgan brought the camera up into his vision and saw that the video was still taping, "Male, mid to late forties, attempted assault, and potential murder. Motives are unknown," Morgan said briefly and then turned the video off, taking a couple more pictures of the body, pushing him over, and then taking more of his face. Morgan stepped back and leaned against a tree, whispering, "Damn it,"
Morgan wasn't mourning over the person, he didn't even have a clue who he was, and he wasn't sad that he had evidently shot someone. Mainly it was because Morgan didn't get exactly what he wanted, perhaps if the person wasn't crazy he would have told Morgan everything that he knew, which might have been nothing. Morgan preferred nothing information rather than video footage of a psycho, even an accurate time of when the murders had begun would have been better. The only thing that Morgan could make out of the situation was that there was a building not far away and the man had come from it, the mans behavior made Morgan dead set on finding the place that he had come from, he might be able to find more there.
Another mile or so and Morgan was beginning to walk into what looked like dead mans land, the trees weren't as alive here as they were behind him, perhaps the soil wasn't as beneficial. Morgan soon got his answer; a trash dump, or what looked like one, and illegal at that. There were heaps of broken down cars, all European and old in design at that, evidence to Morgan that this wasn't a dump, but rather a collection. The piles were high and the wreckages went far, hall ways had been created amongst them to move about freely without having to clamber over a load of crap. Morgan moved among the trash heap, heading towards the centre were it looked only a little more civilized in the slightest.
There was a trailer or more of the back of a Winnebago with the front demolished. Around the place were strange creations, metal art work no doubt, and certain other rusted trinkets that had been lain out on tables. Morgan stood in the centre of the trash heap for a while as he looked around him self, listening, her made several revolutions of his surroundings until he was satisfied that he was alone. Morgan walked towards the trailer, opening the door; it was certainly large inside, the entire structure being divided up into three rooms. Morgan paused as he thought he heard something from the back of the trailer, but when it didn't happen again he continued entering. The interior was somewhat messy, that of a trailer park king, Morgan wasn't worried about leaving traces since he was suited up well; placing a mitt on handle of the fridge he opened it, the contents were beer, some food of European sorts, and enough drugs to last an army. The fridge wasn't the brightest place to store cocaine, but maybe the man had different ideas towards his hiding spot, although when you have a warrant you check everywhere; it wasn't like he would have already gotten fined for illegally setting up his trash heap anyway.
Morgan slipped out a small slip from his pack and tore it open, he snapped open one of the bricks and took a swab of the cocaine, putting it in a small plastic slip. There may have been some additive that drove people crazy perhaps, and if that was the reason then Morgan wanted to make sure he didn't miss it. He opened up the rest of the cupboards, but they were mostly empty except for the occasional cereal box or moldy bread...maybe a dead rat. Morgan broke open another slip and took a swab from the inside of the rats mouth; it was somewhat a fresh death, it had barely decomposed, but Morgan was sure that with the type of wood floor of the cupboard that if he turned the rat over it would have rotted much faster, and he would have seen perfectly on the inside. Thankfully all he needed was a swab.
Morgan put the swab in a plastic slip and packed it away, he had been given parametres not to touch any of the murderers no matter how healthy they seemed; he hoped that what ever it was they had gotten wasn't air born, but he stuck to parametres. Morgan didn't want to load up on too much material though, this was just a prime spot really, he was supposed to photograph and take footage of everything instead.
There was that sound again, Morgan drew his P226 and held it in front of him self, lowering it briefly as he moved through the door way to the next room but then bringing it back up into his sights. The next room was just a sleeping area, empty beer bottles had piled up in one corner and the walls were bare except for the odd porn poster. Morgan was aiming for the next doorway though; the one that went into what must have been the bath room. He side stepped in quickly ready to fire his weapon, lowering it when he saw that it was yet another man. This person looked a lot cleaner to Morgan and certainly didn't have any ties with robe man. He held his shaking hands up to show that he had no weapons on him and that he meant no harm, but Morgan wasn't ready to lower his weapon just yet.
What caught his eye was the tag over the mans heart region, 'AP Peter Bracket'. So the Associated Press wanted to get their noses dirty in this ruckus too, how had they managed to find out apart from their daily wire which would have most certainly not have had any information of the murders in this area. Unless it was a message sent from the area itself which made things a little different. These guys were war reporters, they knew the thick of it, but when you came across an AP member and saw them shaking like that you knew that something was terribly wrong.
Morgan lowered his weapon and crouched down, "Yo, bud, y'okay?" he used his simplified vocabulary and put on his calm and collected voice, tapping the side of the AP's shoe. The AP jolted as his wide eyes looked into Morgan’s; this man had seen fear, period, "Peter, what's goin' on man..." Morgan just wanted to extract as much info and then get the guy out of the area, "What happened here," Morgan looked to his left next to the sitting and shivering AP to see that he had a small but heavy duty camera. Morgan leaned over and pulled it towards him self, looking at it while he waited for Peter's reply. Morgan ejected the tape and pocketed it, planning on watching it later, then looked back up at the AP, "Yo, Peter, y'deaf?" Morgan then said tapping the AP on the side of the shoulder. Peter jolted heavily this time, sweat dripped from his nose as he shivered. He attempted to speak but continued to fail, "'S'wrong man, what'cha see?"
Peter was about speak again when he jolted even more heavily, the shaking increased as he looked at the ceiling. Morgan was also alert; he heard a heavy clang out side of the trailer which put him into motion. He looked back at Peter who was now having the s*** shaken out of him, the AP let out a short, less than a second, scream of terror, stupidity as well. Morgan put his finger to his lips and let out the 'shh' sound, but it wasn't good enough; who ever was on the outside had heard Peter and had already exploded through the door of the trailer, another ten or so steps and the intruder would be in the bathroom. Morgan simulated as quickly as possible, then in frantic desperation slammed his left shoulder into the small window of the bathroom and forced him self out of the trailer. The AP had screamed again crying, "Don't leave me in here!" the end of the sentence had merged into a scream as who ever had entered the entrance of the trailer was now in the bathroom and doing what sounded like mortifying deeds. Morgan was glad that the window was high enough for him not to see back inside, the screaming would be some what of a distraction for him to get away successfully enough.
Little did Morgan know that the time it took for him to go through the trailer was enough time for the trailer to be virtually surrounded; at least ten or so people who all looked like they were in the same zone as robe man stopped their shuffling and all looked at Morgan, Morgan returned the stare as the screaming continued behind him. It didn't feel good looking back into the eyes of these people, it felt...scary. Morgan didn't waste any time to pull him self over a trash heap and into one of the corridors of cars. He heard the people who had surrounded the trailer start up and attempt to find ways around the piles of cars; a thump sound caused Morgan to turn and look up to see that one of the people had pulled themselves up onto the wreckages and shone their blood shot eyes as their mouths foamed. Morgan didn't want to fire his pistol in case of attracting more of these unwanted people.
Morgan sprinted through the isles, using his hands to push him self in different directions when taking a sharp turn. He saw that even though he was taking low profile that more crazed people still popped up out of no where and climbing on top of the heaps. Morgan had a large amount of distance to sprint when he saw yet another person crawl on top of a stack of cars; Morgan sped up, pumping his arms and legs, he leapt into the air and planted both feet onto the stack and pushed off of them as he back flipped. Morgan landed on his feet firmly as the stack of cars crumpled and tilted in the other direction, eventually tipping over, the person on top hit the ground soon followed by an old, blue, three wheeled European car toppling on top of him.
Morgan looked behind him self being tagged by a whole heap of crazies that tried to push in front of each other to take the lead; Morgan thought about sticking to the halls of stacked cars and losing them that way seeing as they were slowing each other down by trying to get to him first, all Morgan had to do was make distance and then find his way back to more lively forest and get back on track to the mansion. Morgan turned and raised his P226, giving up in a great sense for only a mere couple of seconds before deciding to continue. The pistol unloaded into the bodies of the crazies, some fell over dead while others tripped over the read and piled up on themselves giving Morgan even more time to make distance. Morgan turned, pulling a cylinder out of a clip in his pack and screwing it onto the pistol, if he planned on using it again then he wanted to make absolutely sure that he was keeping to silent mode.
Morgan was pushed to the side and rammed against a stack of cars as a crazy leaped down beside him. The crazy took hold of his arm and pulled it up to his face opening his mouth wide; Morgan jabbed his free arm into the crazy's face and wrenched his arm free, then punching the crazy again and jabbing it in the stomach. Morgan finally put his boot up and pushed the crazy away from him as more came over the piles.
Morgan thought about putting on a poker face, but this wasn't sniping, instead her pulled out one of his smoke grenades and flicked the pin out with his thumb, letting the primer flick out, and then dropped the grenade to the ground. Morgan waited for the smoke to erupt and cloud the entire area before grabbing hold of the side of a stack of cars and pulling himself up, climbing to the top, and then letting him self fall back down to the ground on the other side a little awkwardly. He now stood in a new hall of stacks, but could hear that the crazies were having a tough time trying to find out where on earth he had gotten to; Morgan was sure he had also heard fighting. He tried to play it safe and tip toed almost down the new isle until he reached the end and turned left, sprinting down a new direction.
Morgan was grateful to hear the sounds behind him drift away; now all he had to do was find an exit. Morgan thought he was in the clear when suddenly the right hand side stack of cars rocked in his direction and collapsed above him. Morgan crouched and moved to the left, the wrecks wedged themselves into position so that Morgan had just enough room to move. He felt grateful that they hadn't moved to ground zero, other wise he would have been crushed. Morgan crawled at high speed on his hands and knees to get to the opening before the whole lot collapsed, to his horror a crazy dropped down at the exit and started crawling in after him; Morgan looked back in the other direction to see yet the same thing. They had boxed him in!
Morgan looked about him self for a way out, then looked up. He looked through the gaps in the cars and was easily able to plot a course to the surface; Morgan put his hand up and clamped onto the door handle of a green putt-putt-bang and pulled it open, he crawled into the driver’s side seat finding it awkward to keep his balance steady then pulled the vertical door back up. Morgan moved onto the passenger side door and opened that as best as possible until he could squeeze out and close the door. Next car was a red Lamborghini; flat enough as it was it looked like the thing had gone through hell, now it was stuck in a trash dump. Morgan opened the door and found foot holds, closing the door and looking through the dirty window to see the two crazies fighting over who would go through the now smashed window of the putt-putt-bang first. Morgan ignored them seeing as their stupidity would no doubt lead them to losing him.
Morgan couldn't open the passenger side door of the Lamborghini, so instead he put his foot to the back window and smashed it open, then put his foot through the windscreen of a dark blue Range Rover. Morgan did his best to remove the small remaining shards of glass and squeeze through; the Rover was the right way up gratefully, and looking up showed that it had a roof window. Morgan tried to slip it open with his bare hands, but once again resulted to his boot, leaning onto his back and shoving his heel through it and bracing the small pieces of glass that fell through onto his face. Morgan pulled him self through to find him self stuck in a narrow area between the roof of the Rover and the roof of an old Brumby. Morgan was able to fit through so that he had some area at the bonnet of the Brumby, then slid through where the missing windscreen should have been. Morgan looked to his right to see that he was getting closer to the outer area of the piled up cars; grateful of the fact, Morgan opened the door of the brumby and slid onto the roof of an old racing mobile; if he wasn't in such a rush he would have stopped to admire the old cars, unfortunately he had to make distance before anything else.
Morgan climbed down the pile of cars onto the gravel of the outer area of the car dump; he looked around him self to make sure no crazies had seen him escape, then sprinted as fast as possible away from the dump. The fallen pile behind him then went that much further and crushed the two crazies who had still been fighting over getting through the putt-putt-bangs window.