In reply to Brady Bohannon (msg # 17):

As Brady signaled he was getting up, Fred looked over his shoulder and couldn't help but to show a little smile. His beard probably covered most of it up but he wasn't aware of it. As he was waiting for Brady to get there he looked around. This roof definitely wouldn't serve as a vantage point at all but it was easily accessible. As long as people stayed in the middle it would be a safe place to be in case of an emergency. With each step he made to the center of the rooftop, he slowly shifted his weight to check if it would hold up.

A slap on the back reminded him that Brady was indeed on his way. Fred didn't startle but it did feel like he woke up from his thoughts as the southerner asked what he was doing up there.
"Just looking for soft spots, there was nothing else to do."
He pointed towards another rooftop that had a 3 foot gap between it and this one.  It also was a little lower. "If people are able to get in we could have them surrounded if some of us go up there then a bit further."

In reply to Hank Lucion (msg # 16):

Pleased as Hank played along, New Mexico chuckled lightly, reminded of how refreshing it was to have the Lucion' brothers in the group. They were closer to his own age, and had added some vitality much needed to their grizzled collection of survivors. There used to be other young folks in the group, such as Jack and Sugar. They didn't make it, in the end. He nodded in understanding as Hank mentioned the difference to being "out there" as opposed to "in here", the sunglasses hiding the knowing look in his eyes.

"Well we're happy to have you guys. I had sisters. Younger. I used to cook them breakfast." He replied, pausing noticeably as memories quick jolted him. Luckily he had the shades to hide it behind. The teenager never usually talked about that stuff. They were all too busy surviving.

"It's nice and quiet here. Maybe we won't have to move if the animals and plants come back. Where were you boys from again?" He was sure that Hank had mentioned it before, but the lack of sustenance had hampered recall.

With an arched eyebrow and a slightly amused expression on his face, Dominic watched as Benson plucked the cigarette from the corner of his mouth and lit it with a silver Zippo as he asked whether he could be finally rid of his cast. Taking back the proffered cigarette he takes single a long drag; exhaling a stream of smoke into the early morning air before replying “Sure, I think we’re safe to have that off of you now” he said handing back the cigarette before pushing himself off of the wall now content with his nicotine fix.
Knowing that the cowboy wouldn’t need to be told to follow him, Dominic crossed the courtyard to the building in which they’d set up a medical station within an old foreman’s office. The room was cramped even with much of the original furniture removed but it had served their purposes well; the single table within its centre having been used for more than one piece of minor surgery in the early days of them arriving. The injuries sustained during the fighting and subsequent escape from the old fort had drained them of much of their medical supplies leaving him and Loa to make do with what little they could scrounge or make themselves “Ok just lay your arm on the table and hold still” he instructed his patient as he collected the required tools from an old filing cabinet. Once the cowboys arm was upon the table it was a simple matter running a scalpel along the length of the cast to break the plaster before then cutting it off with a pair of heavy duty shears they’d found in one of the workshops. He’d been quite proud of the cast, the pair of them having managed to cobble it together using bandages soaked in plaster of Paris and judging from the results it had done the job admirably “Well...it looks like you’re going have another scar to add to the collection, but your arm looks to have healed straight” it had taken Dom around two days to link up with the rest of the group by which time the cowboys arm had been in a bad way, though thankfully they’d managed to stop the wound from becoming infected; one amputation was enough “...well let either Loa or me know if it causes you any pain or movement difficulties but other than that you’re good to go”

In reply to Isabelle (msg # 10):

 


Isabelle and the old sheriff walked slowly together, but had made it passed the Big House and were walking down a road toward the canal. Just as Isabelle described, the weather was beautiful, and the sun shone on their faces. Then, they saw Karen.

She was running toward the industrial site from the direction Bill and his companion were headed. She seemed concerned about something, for when Karen was concerned about something, she always became hysterical, and Bill recognized this at first sight. "Not everyone, I see." He smiled like the sun and looked at Isabelle to see if she noticed Karen.

Bill waved Karen down as if he had come across her in a squad car back in the good old days. "Hey now! What's the matter Karen?"

In reply to New Mexico  (msg # 19):

Hank's grin dropped slightly at New Mexico's pause. There hadn't been much time during the winter to really dig into pasts, any free time spent trying not to freeze to death. Nodding slightly he looked away to give the kid time to recover, or continue depending on how this rare insight went. It was an odd person who didn't last this long without losing someone, just a matter of how close they were.

Turning back when the teen started again Hank nodded. Maybe the kid wasn't ready yet to talk about what happened before. Maybe he never would be. Nature's gonna take back what belongs to it. Plus we can probably grab supplies from the town. Tapping his crowbar on the ground absently for a couple seconds he thought about just how far they'd gone. Jersey, about ten minutes east of Philly. Running a hand through his dirty hair he smiled absently. Hopefully the water is going to get warm soon, at least enough so we can wash without freezing our balls off.

In reply to Bill (msg # 21):

"Damn. Here we go." Karen's fast approach resulted in Isabelle gripping onto Bill's arm a little tighter. Something was clearly off, and she hoped that it wasn't that someone was hurt or god forbid, bitten. As they stood there, Isabelle decided to take the moment to have a drink. Whatever Karen had to say, they would probably have to hurry in some result. Pivoting briefly on her crutch, her hand left Bill's arm to gently unholster the man's liquor flask, filled with water. She smiled a little at Bill, in appreciating but also light jest for taking his flask. Unscrewing it carefully given her stance, she began to bring it to her lips for a swish.

In reply to Bill (msg # 21):
In reply to Isabelle (msg # 23):

Karen came running, sprinting really, towards Bill and Izzy. She was panting hard, wheezing even. Maybe it was the broken rib she'd sustained last fall, or the lack of good food, but she was pushing herself. "STOP!" She screamed out, further reducing her lung capacity. As she entered range of Bill and Isabelle, Karen smashed the flask away from Izzy's mouth. "The..." She panted, struggling to catch her breath. "The water!" Karen shook her head. "Don't drink it!" Her hands were on her knees. Sweat was dripping from her face. "There's a floater in the canal." Her air was returning. "Bill... Can you run back... and warn the others..? We need a couple strong pairs of hands.... To fish the guy out." Karen fell to her knees, placing her hand on her chest.

In reply to Dominic Dubreton (msg # 20):

"Thanks Doc" The cowboy uttered plainly, cigarette still perched on his lips. His wrist was stiff, having been in a cast that long. Bohannon did that move people do in movies when they get their handcuffs taken off. It felt like his handcuffs were taken off.. "Much obliged." was all he said as he ashed the cigarette on the floor on his way out.

What to do now? It was like after the winter and with his cast removed, Bohannon was finally free. And with his new found freedom, Benson walked back into the common area and found a spot next to the fire to warm himself. He sat on the floor and fingered the hairless patch of new scar on the bottom of his forearm.

But it was now more than ever that Benson Bohannon felt lost. His dream of starting a new life burnt with Fort Dixie. And his mission to find Brady and exact revenge for the shooting in Nashville ended when Brady turned up at the Fort and circumstances changed for the worse. Contrary to what old man Bohannon had always said about his son, Brady Bohannon was too useful to kill.

So for now, he sat by the fire and finished Dominic's cigarette, tossing the butt into the flames.

In reply to Frederick Struve (msg # 18):

"Sure, that makes sense." Brady replied, half sarcastically. "So I take it you're a "glass-half-empty" kind 'a guy, ain't ya?" Brady sat on an old air duct that ran across the roof. "How 'bout you help me with something a little more... Optimistic?" The camo cap wearing man pondered for a moment. "I'm going out hunting. I need to decide who to bring with me." Brady looked down from the roof, considering each member of the Caravan. "I want your first impressions. Who do you think?"

In reply to Hank Lucion (msg # 22):

Maintaining some of that swagger he normally tried to portray, the teen endeavored to pretend like he hadn't just fallen into the cozy past for a moment. Pining too much for the past could drive a survivor mad.

New Mexico nodded in response to Hank's ruminations concerning the near future , glad to find he wasn't the only person thinking of the possibilities open to them with the roads navigable, and everything in bloom. Hank's follow up to the origin's question drew a genuine toothy smile from the teen. "I was pretty sure but I didn't want to offend you if I was wrong. Cookie's from Jersey, too y'know." New Mexico himself was in the easy position of wearing his state of origin as his name-tag,  at least allegedly. The shaggy Caravaneer sat up in his lawn chair, turning then so that his legs hung off the side, facing Hank. "Now we just need to get our hands on some soap or shampoo in preparation." He noted Hank's dirty hair, and ran a few fingers through his own thick brown mess of tangles, wondering if he ought to finally cut it all down for a bit. He was turning eighteen after all. "Did'ya know it was my birthday?"

Cauldershore found himself, as he often did, in the Caravan's "kitchen." It was an employee break room, just off the main room a tad, and it housed all of their meagre rations. The cooking fire was set up in an exterior wall, vented nicely so as not to slowly suffocate everyone in an attempt to feed them. But on this morning, the fireplace was cold. Cauldershore and Loa were not preparing breakfast for the hungry Caravaneers. Rather, they had taken to the counting of cans and bottles and bags and boxes and individual snack items, the kind you'd have packed in your littl'un's lunch pail before sending him off to primary school. They were almost done the inventory, what with the distinct lack of actual food they had left.

"Ah, there is another can of peaches-and-cream corn, so make that two there on the page, if you'd be a darling."

Cauldershore stood and wiped the dust from his hands and reached out a hand to ask for the inventory from Loa. The thick bearded man with thin hair perused the single paper quietly, a look of discomfiture on his face. "Oh dear me. This won't do." Cauldershore passed the page back to Loa. "We've just three days worth of food. A little more if we draw straws again to sit a couple out. Though I daresay I'd prefer to avoid that, wouldn't you?"

Cauldershore turned to examine the table of food that remained. "Breakfast shall have to be a light one today. Anyhow, what do you fancy?"

Loa stood in the center of the kitchen, looking everything like an assistant-something, her dark hair tied back, her brown eyes intelligent but ever empathetic. In spite of the lack of food on offer, she enjoyed the distraction of running inventory, not that it wasn't a serious situation they were contending with. She stood in dirty clothes, though not as dirty as they had been without a cistern of rainwater. In her hands was a rough, brown piece of paper, re-used but surprisingly durable and pliable. Perhaps it was used for drafting in the in the factory setting. She wrote with a nubbed down little pencil, though it had a formidably sharpened point, like a mini-spear.

Marking down the inventory as Cauldershore took a count, "Check." She replied attentively, the pencil-tip scratching on the rough parchment. Upon offer, she extended the sheet to her companion, finding his scruffy reaction to the list somewhat endearing if it weren't so forlorn. Patiently waiting and observing, as if everyone were a patient to those of the Hippocratic profession.



"I'm open to suggestions, Mister Cauldershore." She replied, powerless but somehow reassuring at the same time. Her gaze followed his towards the scant display of food, her eyes shifting briefly to the inventory list as if there was some merchandising miracle to be discovered, but there was not.

"No need to draw straws, I'd be happy to go without for a day. I ate the day before last, I can go a little longer." She replied, fighting her immense hunger, knowing sacrifices must be made. "The hunters and the young should eat first, at least until a catch is brought back. I'm sure we're close.."

In reply to New Mexico  (msg # 27):

Hank waved away NM's concern about offending him, figuring the kid probably based most of his ideas of people from Jersey off Cookie and the Jersey Shore. My guess would be someplace in North Jersey. Oh, and a little overlooked fact, the Jersey Shore people were like, 99% New Yorkers. He couldn't tell people he was from New Jersey while the show was on without people asking if that was what they were all like.

Turning his body slightly toward the chair as the other repositioned himself Hank sighed. I'd be happy just to be able to go in all the way without worrying about freezing to death or coming out looking like a five year old again. Given the weather he could safely assume even just trying to do his hair in the river would be more hazardous then it was worth.

At the mention of it being his birthday Hank shook his head. The ice cream cake was the first I heard. Well, if no one else has, He put the crowbar down on the ground and wiped his hands the best he could on his stained jeans and held out a hand, sincerely finishing with let me be the first to say Happy Birthday. You should come by our tent later, we'll celebrate. I can't promise cake, but I should be able to manage something. He thought to the small bag of leftovers he'd been saving from his rations, set aside for an emergency or something special. So...how many birthday punches are you in for? He asked, a slightly mischievous smile starting to form.

"Don't worry about it Mon ami, I'll just add it to you're tab" Dom said with a wry smile as Benson took his leave; the paramedic taking the opportunity to run a quick inventory of their medical supplies. In short it wasn't good as nearly all of their pain meds were gone along with a sizeable portion of their medical dressings "We'll be using bits of torn shirt at this rate" Dominic muttered quietly to himself as he closed the cabinet door.
Perhaps it was time he took a walk into the nearby town and see there was anything worth looting. He was fairly confident that if he mentioned the "F" word he'd get a couple of volunteers to come with him. Speaking of which perhaps it was time he actually had something to eat.

Walking the short distance to the makeshift kitchen Dom found himself looking at Loa, Cauldershore and a rather small pile of food "That doesn't look good...how long have we got?" he asked quietly. Perhaps he wouldn't be eating today after all.

In reply to Brady Bohannon (msg # 26):


Frederick didn't really reply to Brady's question except for showing a little nod. He wasn't really sure about it anymore. He always liked to think of himself as a positive person. Yet being alone for so long made him think. And everyone knows that having too much time to think never is a good thing. He often wondered if he wasn't just running from his problems by coming to this continent as opposed to trying to start a new life. Also, the experience of loosing the first group he was with caused Fred to be prepared for anything.

When Brady asked him for his opinion or help, Fred was more then willing to. The group gave him a lot of things to do but often it wasn't enough. He still felt he needed to prove himself and had a hard time just enjoying his time. Looking over the people that were on the ground he pondered for a moment while rubbing his beard."I don't know. To be honest I don't know any of them well enough."
Fred turned his head to look Brady in the eyes. "I would offer you my help but all I have is my strenght and agility. We didn't have guns where I came from and I can't shoot for shite."

Cookie had in fact been busy, but it was a rather unusual sort of busy.  Looking in the containers for a specific item, she'd managed to find something not terribly awful and was now looking for something to wrap it in.  Possibly the oldest, stalest Twizzlers in the immediate vicinity were being wrapped by a piece of ribbon she'd done the best to wipe the dust off of, before going to find New Mexico.

"Happy birthday," she said to the young New Mexico, and held out the package.  She eyed the other Jersian and sat down.  Time to have a chat.

In reply to Dominic Dubreton (msg # 31):

"Good day to you Dominic!" Cauldershore greeted the medic cheerfully. He always tried to maintain his cherrie demeanour, even as the situation became more dire. "Looks like three days, give or take." He replied, matter-of-factly. "I think we'll have to draw straws again, though young Loa here has been kind enough to volunteer. Though I can't be certain it's your turn again darling." He said in protest to Loa's offer. "I suppose we shall have to ask Gary to organize another raid. Where's that man been off to, anyhow?"

In reply to Hank Lucion (msg # 30):
In reply to Cookie (msg # 33):


New Mexico raised his hands up a little as if surrendering. "In my defense I said nothing about Jersey Shore." He smiled as if he was pretty slick. The imagery conjured by Hank's follow up in regards to bathing caused a chuckle from the teenager, "It takes sacrifices to be the best, dear Hank. I do declare, I do declare.." N'Mexico replied in an imitated Southern Dixie type accent, likely making slight fun of the southerns in their group, as he ran a hand through his thick hair for dramatic effect.

When Hank pointed out that NM had already declared it to be his birthday the young man flushed lightly, "Yea I guess I'm a wee bit more stoked for it than I was trying to let on." He shrugged, lighthearted or at least pretending to be. Extending an equally dirty hand after also wiping it off on his jeans, NM accepted the shake of congratulations for living another year. "I'm gonna hold you to that promise." He winked, though it was hidden for the most part by old missing Blind-Lime's shades. "Don't even think of it, dude, I may look like a Southern Belle with my hair this long, but I'm street walkin' cheetah with a heart full of napalm." NM teased, bringing his fists up into a boxing position as if ready to duke it out with the other man.

With Cookie approaching New Mexico dropped his fists, one turning into a wave of greeting as his friend approached. He didn't quite see what she was carrying till she passed it to him along with a birthday congrats. His smile having had no reason to go away, he accepted the gift, and pulled off his sunglasses to examine the rare, delicious licorice Twizzlers. "Aw, thanks Cookie." He replied warmly, leaning over from his chair to the now sitting Cookie to give her a quick hug whether she found it awkward or not. It wasn't just for her gift, but other things she did and had done for the group and for him specifically.

"Here, I wanna share some of these with you both." The birthday boy offered, pulling out a strand of licorice for each of them, and passing them out before taking his first bite. "Perfection. I can say that, considering I'm the best cook the Caravan ever had. Hank, you should have seen me when we had bacon and eggs back in Illinois, Cookie can attest to my ability." He went on, cheerful and digesting sugar which gave the thinning youth some color.

"Y'know if this was Canada I would be legal age to get drunk. If Bill hasn't really stopped drinking maybe he'll bring me in on his shenanigans."
This message was last edited by the player at 05:46, Mon 02 Mar 2015.

In reply to Frederick Struve (msg # 32):

Brady shook his head, somewhat disappointed. "Well Freddie. That ain't very helpful, now is it? Maybe you should spend the rest of the day talking to people and learning to shoot. Might even be more fun than standing up here all alone, y'never know." Brady turned around and left the roof, leaving Fred to his own devices. For now, Brady had a mission of his own: find a good hunting buddy.

As Brady reached the main area he stopped, perusing the members of the camp. He was going to convince one of these people to wander out into the wild with him. But who would it be? Brady's eyes landed on old Joe. Now maybe he wasn't the best choice and maybe he was. On the one hand, He was still carrying that nice big bow, but on the other hand, he was somewheres around a hundred... But hey, teach a man to fish, right?

"Mornin' Joe. Mind if I bother you with summ'in?" Brady asked a bit formally, still not being too comfortable around the old man. There was something awful strange about Joe. "You're pretty damn good with that bow, ain'tcha? Here's the thing. I'm plannin' to go out huntin' and, well, even if we had enough bullets, I'd have to be pretty God damed stupid to go out into the woods making that much noise. Y'know what I'm sayin'?"

Hank rolled his eyes at the teen's surrender and imitation. When the fists came up the grin stayed. Tempting, but it can wait.

With the sound of another person approaching and his hand Hank instinctively reached for his crowbar again. Not the mad grab of it possibly being needed, more of him not wanting it out of reach for long. Hey. He greeted Cookie with a stretch, the sight her holding food stopping him for a second. Not ice cream cake, but still. Briefly he wondered how long she had been holding on to he candy, considering how long ago he had last seen them in their stock.

Thanks. He was slightly  Taking the proffered sweet he twirled it in his free hand a moment, before taking a small bite off the top and keeping it hanging while he found a relatively clean pocket. Folding it the leftover piece in half he tucked it in. There was enough for three semi quality pieces for later. Slowly chewing his piece he fought the urge to swallow it whole. Well, with any luck we'll find a wild hog and put that to the test.

At this point I don't think Bill had much of a choice. But I'll be sure to keep my eye out next town we hit. He shrugged, Not like they can charge me with anything at this point.

Turning to Cookie, What's up?

In reply to Karen (msg # 24):

Isabelle recoiled as Karen smacked the flask out of her hand, not immediately comprehending what Karen was getting at until Karen explained what the problem was. "Hell.." She responded with a sigh, understanding and grasping immediately the problem that was going to arise. The Caravan collected their water from the canal or from rainwater, and the cistern that held the rainwater had been getting low for some time.

The one legged Caravaneer wanted to volunteer to help, but she had unfortunately gotten used to being of little physical help. It was infuriating, but she knew she had gotten off somewhat lucky, even if it didn't feel that way. Frowning slightly, she looked to Bill, "You  can go ahead, Bill, I can get myself around. Best call a meeting after the floater is out, as well."

“Morning Cauldershore” Dom said with a slight nod of his head in response to the man’s greeting. It had taken Dom a little while to get used to the other man’s personality and realise that he wasn’t being sarcastic but was just naturally cheerful no matter how grim things got.
Upon hearing that Loa had already volunteered to go without in light of their dwindling supplies he turns to look at the former vet as he obviously performed some kind of mental arithmetic “did she now...Loa when was the last time you ate?” he asked; his voice automatically adopting the formal business like tones of “The Doc” “...look after yourself Loa, there are no prizes for martyrdom” he finished not wanting to sound like he was lecturing or god forbid his dad. Though if that was what it would take stop her from starving herself then so be it “I don’t know about Gary...but I can always take a walk into town and see if there’s anything still kicking around” he volunteered. He somehow doubted that he’d hit the mother lode and solve all of their problems but every little helped and it sure beat hanging around here all day with an empty stomach.

Tessa was perched on the rusted railing of a fire escape.   She sat there looking down on the comings and goings of what she called the courtyard.  It was just the area in front of the building they had all taken refuge in during the coldest month of the winter but, hey, it was easier to say courtyard than 'that place we all gather outside'.  Her auburn hair was braided and hung down her back.  It was neat and easy and stayed out of the way like that.  She'd met this group a little over a month ago, after having escaped from another group she had unfortunately met.  Her suitcase and purse were long gone, but she still had her backpack, and in that she had transferred all her essentials.  When everything first when to hell, she'd dumped the entire contents of her purse into the backpack so she could use the purse, filled with rocks, as a weapon.

It had worked rather well, until the strap broke.  Her pack already had most of her most important items within and then she shoved what clothing she could from her suitcase into it as well and the case was left behind, with a nasty surprise.  She may not have approved of her families trade and tutelage before but it sure came in handy now.  Her ability to climb and get into tight spaces, as well as secured ones, had made searching the upper floors of some of the buildings her domain, since a lot of damage had made traditional means to the upper floors near impossible.  She didn't mind, the chance of finding a Creeper, as she liked to call them, was slim, seeing as the place had been abandoned.  There had been a couple, though, as vagrants had probably used the place while passing through.

It was not the sort of place they would settle permanently as there was nothing around it, therefore no people to beg a buck off of, no garbage to root through for goodies.  She was a quiet one, she smiled, they had thought her deaf and dumb at first, but she finally told them her name.  She didn't have much to say, they didn't seem to either.  Oh, they'd all exchanged names and such, she knew who they were and they knew who she was..we they knew each others identity, knowing a person, and knowing their name were two very different things.   She looked up when Karen came running in all out of breath and panicky.  Floater in the water?  Ewwww.  She made a face and was glad she'd not drank any of the canal water.  She listened in to see what they would do.

In reply to Isabelle (msg # 38) & Karen (msg # 24):

"Oh-" Bill knew why Karen was so upset. "That's terrible." He imagined the worst, and frowned. Who knew how long that body had been in there? What would happen, if they had already drank the contaminated water?

Karen fell to the ground exhausted. Bill let go of Isabelle's arm, her leaning on her crutch, and picked up his old flask. He tried to remember where he had gotten the water, and couldn't. He dried it off and put it back in his jacket pocket. "Alright" he said, "I'm going." Bill hurried off toward the main building.

He saw Tessa, the red haired girl, sitting on the fire escape. "Tessa!" Running out of breath himself, he waved at her, calling her down. When she came near, he said to her "I need your help. Find Dominic or Loa, and meet me over there, in the courtyard." Bill took a deep breath, and wondered if the girl had any idea what he was talking about. "In the water, there is a body or something. It's dead. They're doctors, we need to ask them if we should be worried about getting sick or... never mind." He didn't want to worry the young girl yet. "Can you find them for me?"

Gary Szymanski was enjoying the fire in the main room of the 'Big House', which looked like it used to be a factory or chemical plant, but now all of the machinery was gone, and all that was left was this oil drum and an awkward pool of water running down the middle of the room. A lot of the windows were smashed out, but they all let in the light of the spring morning, casting rays of yellow in the mostly grey room. With the combination of sunlight and warmth, Gary tried to think positive. Things could be worse.

He looked at his map. Gary had been worrying about their food supply. If he had to guess, he'd guess they had three to four days worth of food left. The last raid they went on, in the nearby town of St. Francisville, had been successful. There was only minor trouble with walkers, and they found enough food to last them this whole last month. There was probably something left there, but they had taken most of the remaining food and medical supplies they could find. Next time, they would have to go somewhere else, somewhere farther. They had options, but with no fuel and a greater distance to cover, this would be more difficult than the last raid.

Gary looked up, rubbing his head. He saw Benson Bohannon staring into the fire. "Hey!" Gary said, smiling "You got your cast off! Bet you feel better now, huh?"