Atlanta signaled for Saskatchewan to send Ricky forward. The small man was relieved to have his bindings off and to finally be heading home to his friends. Since the hurricane Ricky felt like he had lost so much. Cass... The Caravan... And then to be scooped up by these awful kids and viciously interrogated by Kaidan, whom he had met in a strikingly similar position back in St. Louis, when Kaidan had pretended to be a prisoner locked in a conference room with the Caravan, trying to gather information. Now Ricky had discovered that Kaidan, now "Atlanta" was the ruthless leader of The Lost Boys. A position he had gained by force during the hurricane in an elaborate coup d'etat, backed by his lieutenants Kentucky and Dakota.
Atlanta's Lieutenants had made themselves loyal to him in the last days of Washington's reign over the Lost Boys. Washington has always been a fierce commander but in the weeks before the storm he had become cautious, scared of the decline in available resources in the costal New Orleans region. Atlanta convinced a few key players that Washington had grown weak and that it was time for new leadership. Kentucky was in love with Atlanta, Dakota agreed with his sales pitch, and Wyoming was intimidated into following. Then the night of the storm, the four of them overthrew Washington and saw to his death during the evacuation from their Neverland theme park. They set out to hit the road the same time the Caravan did, encountering first Ricky, who had headed south from the industrial complex, and second Joe, who was close on the heels of the Caravan. Once Atlanta discovered that his former group (and his mother) was in the area he ordered his Lost Boys to follow. They watched the Caravan loot the DEA van (which they were then seeing for the first time) and hatched a plan to acquire its contents, following them to Slaughter.
Now, at the climax of this plan, Atlanta was seconds away from getting what he wanted, and without too much trouble. As Ricky passed the bag of goodies Atlanta scooped it up in his hand and gave it to the boy that had sent Ricky forward. The deal was done and everyone was going to go on their "merry way," as Dominic had put it. But then a funny thought crossed Atlanta's head. Dominic hadn't played by the rules. He took Wyoming and held him ransom for the ransom Atlanta was using Ricky for and the whole thing was against the rules. And Atlanta didn't like it when people didn't follow his rules.
Dominic welcomed Ricky back into the fold, quickly ushering him away to the front door of the house. Both the Lost Boys and the Caravan held their positions as Saskatchewan brought the guns back to their house and Dominic brought Ricky back to his. Still standing in the middle of the street with Kentucky, Atlanta snatched Joe's bow from him and strung an arrow, releasing it in one swift movement. Everything happened in slow motion...
Kentucky's face turned to shock and horror. This deal was done and everybody was fine. He never expected this. Atlanta's eyes locked on Dominic's back, watching the arrow fly closer to its target. Ricky smiled as he was welcomed home, one last nice feeling before the arrow crashed through his chest. The broad head of the arrow pierced Ricky's lung, tore him up and burst through the front of his chest, spraying warm blood that felt like hot oil all over Dominic and spurted through the open front door.
It was unclear where the first gunshot came from. It was certainly from the Caravan's side. The Lost Boys were so damn frightened by what they saw Atlanta do, and since the first "act of war" came from their side, they didn't fire first. No the first shot came from the Caravan. Maybe it was Lorenzo, maybe it was Dominic, maybe it was Hank or Karen or Luke in the front windows, or maybe it was Isabelle upstairs. Where it came from didn't matter really so much as where it ended up. Kentucky was smart enough to know that when thet bow left his hand any chance of avoiding a war was over. As the arrow hit Ricky Kentucky grabbed Atlanta by the shoulders and pulled him down, toppled him over and landed his own body on top to protect him from what happened next.
The boy now known as Kentucky grew up on a farm near Paris, Kentucky. His ultra conservative father grew cereal crops and was very, very upset when he found "Kentucky" kissing another boy. In the years that followed 'Tucky was forbidden from being himself and was miserable. But when the world collapsed and the oppressive culture he lived in died he was finally allowed to be free. He met Atlanta last fall and it lit up his life like he never thought possible. He was in love and for the first time in his life, that felt okay.
So when it was time to give up his life to save Atlanta's, he gave no hesitation. Kentucky landed on top of Atlanta as the bullets ripped holes in his back and arms and legs. Kentucky's blood poured all over Atlanta, leaving a soaked puddle on the pavement. The sound of the gunfire was tremendous. It was like thunder and fireworks all at once. As the boys went down in the street, the Lost Boys returned fire at the Caravan. Bullets clapped against the wood of both houses, sending splinters into the air in every direction. The car that was parked in front of the Lost Boys' house lost a tire first, and then another, and then the back window launched tiny glass sparkles into the air that danced in the light as they trickled across the pavement.
Only a couple brief pauses could be felt as each side took a second to reload. Karen watched through the window as her son made a completely illogical decision and started a gun battle. The mother looked on in horror as the boys went down and the boy protecting hers was ripped to pieces. All senses faded away. There was only a defening ringing in her ears as she collapsed onto the floor at the window. She was oblivious to what was happening now. Karen missed the others dragging Dominic and a wounded Ricky inside barely clinging on to life, she missed what happened to Lorenzo and she missed everything that was happening outside. Broken glass, splinters of wood and clouds of drywall dust landed in her hair, but she didn't care. She felt like her heart was ripped out of her all over again seeing Kaidan senselessly try to murder Ricky.
The gun battle raged on for what seemed like forever but might have only been a few minutes until both sides began running low on ammo.
...
Mahmoud had moved swiftly to pick up Benson's trail after departing from the others. Time was of the essence, but the trail was haphazard, and truly his state of hurry hampered his efforts to objectively and calmly pick out the tracks that would reveal the location of their companion.
If it had been some time before Zombieland, he certainly wouldn't have had the stamina to do what he had to. Since that fateful day that the world ended, though, he'd sharpened his skills and honed his body into that of a fighter, a scout, a survivor.
Establishing a trail, Mahmoud was still unable to complete his task, given the mob of Mad Max style youth's that passed him by on their way to his own group. He'd had to dodge down into the muck to avoid detection, which was thankfully easy enough to accomplish given it was just he, opposed to the great number of hostiles, albeit little ones. He kept his rifle up out of the mud so as not to clog the parts, sacrificing his already tenuously dry clothing.
He had to make a call, to continue on or to rejoin his own people while he still could. Luckily there were plenty of new tracks to follow the Lost Boy's home should they get through the exchange..
Mahmoud had trailed the Lost Boys as they marched to Slaughter, but to do war or business, he could not tell. On their heels he met up with a rattled and slightly wounded Bohannon. When
the gun went off an inch from his head, the bullet had grazed and bounced off of his skull, rendering him unconscious as the one who had survived the encounter dragged him away, trying to get him back to his people. But Bohannon came to, got up and tried to whoop the boy who was only just strong enough to drag the full grown man through the mud. But, having suffered a head wound, he could not keep up to the boy as he ran off to report back to Atlanta.
Wandering through the woods, in the general yet somewhat disoriented direction of the Lost Boys, Bohannon bumped into Mahmoud and together they devised their own plan to intervene in the whole mess of a situation. They figured that any group that would claim to have hostages, and try to capture more like they had could certainly be up to no good and had to be stopped. They had to get their people out of there...
...
Phase one of the plan was rushed as Bohannon heard the gunfight erupt from his position on the outskirts of town. He couldn't wait for Mahmoud any longer, he'd have to improvise. The men had found a farm yard not too far from Slaughter that happened to have a pickup truck with a slip-tank in the back and enough gas to do what they needed. So Bohannon started the engine of his new found fuel truck and sped it into town, careening around the corner at the end of the street and slamming it head-on into the car parked in front of the Lost Boys' house. Both vehicles skidded about ten, fifteen feet and ended up mangled together on the lawn. As he had hoped, he ended up with the drivers door pointing towards the Caravan's house. Dizzy and a little shaken from the crash, Bohannon wrestled the door open, fell out onto the ground and took shelter behind the rear wheel. The gunfire resumed from the Lost Boy's side, with the Caravan now providing cover for their cowboy. Bohannon dug deep into his pocket and produced his lighter and a rag. Bohannon shoved the rag into the truck's fuel tank and lit it. He counted down a few seconds before taking a deep breath and sprinting like mad towards the front door of the Caravan's house, waiving his arms like a crazy person. Somewhere between the truck and the house the gas caught fire and the whole thing went up. First the truck's gas tank went up in flames with a whud, a moment later the slip tank exploded in a magnificent fireball, shards of metal raining down on the Lost Boy's house.
Now for phase two of the guy's plan. Mahmoud sweated profusely as he moved swift and as quietly as possible through the woods that backed up the town of Slaughter. The approach would place him facing the front of the house his people had set up inside, and behind the Lost Boys' that he could see amassed on one side of the street once Mahmoud had delved behind the houses after clearing the treeline.
It would be suicide but a heroic distraction for his people if he were to attack the Lost Boy's from behind. Thankfully he was not alone, he'd brought reinforcements, of a sort.
What had caused Mahmoud to keep such a brisk pace was a crowd of followers, namely a twenty or so thick herd of walkers, biters, lurkers, creepy-crawlers. They were as motley as ever, in various states of decay, undress, injury, and demographics. Mahmoud was sure they could smell him acutely, and he made sure that they saw plenty of his backside to keep the lot of them interested enough to give staggered chase.
Knowing that his 'relief force' would spot the backs of the Lost Boys' if not detect the commotion that ensued between the two groups, Mahmoud clammored up the back steps of a residence. On the back porch, he kicked away the rotting steps he'd used in a couple sound, forceful kicks to make it difficult for any walkers to follow him up.
The groans and undead grieving continued as the monsters tried to give chase, losing site of Mahmoud as he moved into the house, closing the back door behind him, barricading it with an upturned table. Outside, the creatures that lost interest or could not clamor up onto the back porch of the house would stream past the home, to the streets where the Lost Boys and Caravan met, to attack, to tear, to rip, to eat.
Like a soldier fighting house to house, he rushed through the home, taking up to the top floor, kicking open the door to a little girl's room. Rushing past stuffed animals and varieties of pink shades, he moved to the window, yanking it open before taking a knee on the floor. Raising his rifle up to a sniper form, the dark skinned Caravaneer leveled his sights on the Lost Boys and watched as the truck exploded in flames, welcoming the horde of zombies to the BBQ.
...
The Zombies went after whoever they could find, so many possible meals laid out in front of them in every direction. The Lost Boys turned their fire from the Caravan and tried to fight off the evil dead with their dwindling ammo reserves. Somewhere in the commotion of the explosion and the arrival of the walkers a small contingent went out to collect Atlanta. One of his saviours was picked off from a distance by Mahmoud but the smoke from the fire obscured any further shots.
As Bohannon was running to the house a bullet jumped up and bit him in the thigh, passing clean trough from back to front. The smoke from the explosion and the distraction of Mahmoud's hungry cavalry gave him the cover he needed to limp and hop his was back to the house.
Isabelle laid down fire like an old pro, albeit a rusty old pro. In the shock and confusion of everything that was happening, she never noticed that Mr. Cauldershore hadn't fired a single shot. The poor man succumbed to his illness moments before Ricky went down. He slumped down, still clutching the pistol Izzy had given him. Isabelle took responsibility for letting Cauldershore off the hook from Dominic, but ultimately it was too much for her to handle. She gave him the gun and asked him to hang of because she couldn't accept that he was going to die, and that she had to help him. She chose to ignore it and maybe he would hang on just a little longer. But he couldn't.
Atlanta accepted defeat and signalled the retreat of his greatly reduced force. The Lost Boys fled first into their house and then out the back, quietly fighting their way through the lighter load of Zombies behind the house and disappearing into the woods. The horde on the street prevented the Caravan from making chase, but provided them a reprieve from fighting a prolonged battle of extermination against the Lost Boys.
Today's battle was over, tomorrow's battle was just beginning.
This message was last edited by the GM at 05:04, Mon 15 Aug 2016.