With Dominic's orders to carry out, Cauldershore snuffed out the cook fire, tidied up the place a bit and packed what insignificant salvage they'd gathered into peoples packs. With Karen's continued insistence she was "fine" Cauldershore kept his watchful distance from the poor gal and let her be. The friendly man offered his assistance to everyone as they all readied themselves for the trek to Slaughter. Last time it had been about a four hour walk, and that was over good ground. There was no telling the state of the roads now after the storm and the flooding. It was quite likely that there could be some serious wash-outs along the highway, never even mind the fallen trees. This walk, with the bigger group, with the wounded, the tired, the hungry... this trip would be much harder on everyone.

"Shall we?" he offer Karen his gentlemanly arm for the stairs, seeing her hesitance to undertake them. "That wasn't so bad, was it? Being hurt doesn't make you weak, dear, but rather quite the contrar-" a violent cough cut him off at the end. Cauldershore held up his hand. He too was "fine."

He hadn't noticed the cowboy sat there on the kerb; his hand instinctively dropping to the sword at his waist as he heard the rasping sound coming from behind him. The man was in a sorry state; soaking wet, filthy and covered in blood but from what Dominic could see unhurt...at least physically anyway "In pain, but that’s to be expected...with some clean dressing and antiseptic she should be fine" Dominic replied in a casual voice as he destroyed the message he'd been writing with a quick smear of his hand. The paramedic deciding not to mention the obvious problem in finding those items, or asking the stupid question of where Brady was, the fact that he wasn’t here making it abundantly clear to him what had happened to him Well...that’s the Bohannon problem solved.
Ignoring the rest of the group as they filed out of the building, Dominic walks over to the bedraggled cowboy and holds out the man's revolver; handle first so that he could take it if he wanted to "we're heading back to Slaughter to regroup and rearm...depending on how things go we may stick around for a while before moving on" he said; bringing Benson up to speed on what was going on.
By this point the group was out of the building and getting ready to move out "Come mon ami, we've got a long way to go and Karen's been asking for you...I think she'll be glad to see a friendly face, though perhaps lose the blood first, ok?" Dominic finished with friendly voice and a quick hand gesture around his own nose and mouth to indicate what he was talking about before then moving away.
They had a long walk ahead of them.

With any luck the storm spread some of the zombies out of Slaughter. Hank thought, simply nodding at being put on point with NM. Reluctantly finishing his last bean he tossed the can into the corner before standing. Giving a slight knock on the closed door before entering he slipped in and reclosed it behind him as Dom went to look after Karen. Hey, um, we're going to heading to Slaughter. Get a better idea of what we have and what's next. Slipping his boots off he went over to his drier clothes and grabbed a couple things. Glancing to NM as he sat in a chair and slipped off his socks, You and me have point duty.

Choosing what to wear was simple enough for Tom, grab whatever was driest. Not wanting to push NM out of the room he used the table as a privacy screen, figuring if the other was changing it'd work for both of them. After that was done he moved the fire basket over and sat next to NM, digging into the green beans Hank had brought earlier. Cringing as Karen's scream made it's way to them through the door he looked NM. A scream's better then moaning and gunshots, right?

Looking up as his brother entered Tom paused a moment at his words. He briefly wondered why they weren't going back to the compound to look for the others. He was about to ask but stopped, not wanting to upset NM. Instead he focused on the here and now. When are leaving?

Soon, so get your things packed. He answered, waving his feet before the fire to dry a bit more. We didn't get to the houses so assuming they haven't been hit before use we should find some supplies. Standing he went behind the table and starting the wet to dry change process. Who knows, maybe we'll find some clothes that actually fit. Once he was changed and only slightly damp with all the clothes repacked he headed out with the others.

Seeing a lone Benson waiting he glanced around, hoping he and Brady were just keeping their distance. With no Brady in sight though his hand tightened briefly on the crowbar. Taking a breath he reminded himself they had gone out in a hurricane. The storm could be why there was only one now. Or Benson could have actually followed through with his revenge. Now wasn't the time to find out though, maybe after they got to Slaughter.

Karen came out the front door, Mr. Cauldershore offering his assistance to the wounded woman. Level ground felt fairly nice compared to the strain of going down stairs, each step down jarring the burnt hole in her side and causing her a slight cringe. Karen figured however that on flat ground at a reasonable pace she'd be able to walk to Slaughter unassisted. The uncertain prospect of narcotic painkillers was also a motivator to keep her moving.

Seeing Benson on the street without Brady gave Karen the clear explanation of why she'd woken up with out him this morning. She had of course hoped to see him again, but now discovering that he'd run off to fulfil some half-baked revenge plot instead of being there to help her through the night had no doubt impacted their strange post-apocalyptic quasi-relationship.

Karen approached the spot where Benson and Dominic stood, clutching her side. She spoke to Bohannon in what most men would recognize as the tone of a displeased woman. "So he's dead then?" She asked, accusatorially. As Benson nodded regretfully back at her, she snapped back "Kay" and walked off.

She really wasn't trying to act like Cookie...
This message was last edited by the player at 06:15, Tue 08 Dec 2015.

In reply to Dominic Dubreton (msg # 19):

Izzy was able to keep up with the others, but it was going to be an issue when they ran into the next big herd. She knew it, they knew it, but she wasn't prepared to lay down and die, not while her boys were out there, somewhere, in this hell hole. She'd even gone so far as to tie a blade around the pointy end of her improvised walking stick so if need be she could use a biter's eye-socket as leverage.

On the walk, she kept with the main body of the group, smiling a little Dominic's way when her companion briefly joined her to ask her opinion. "It's like public speaking, no one knows you make mistakes unless you point them out yourself. Don't worry about wingin' it, Dom. That's all Cookie ever did, and Kail before her. No one can expect more than your best. That won't stop them from blaming you when something goes to shit, though." She said with a quietly humorous tone, though there was seriousness in there.

Noting Bohannon along with Dominic, Izzy continued to move as their medic and new leader moved to address the now sole Bohannon brother.

New Mexeeco was already standing and essentially ready when the inner circle meeting wrapped up. He'd grown a bit quieter in the last short while, still reliving some trauma that he thought he'd gotten over, while dealing with the new mental scars as well. The teenager was silently dreading going out on the open road, but kept it to himself as he withdrew his machete from the scabbard, now strung so as to sit at his lower back on its side for easy, initially stealthy withdrawal when the time came. He had no real pack to carry, but at least he'd travel light.

Karen's screams had given NM some tension, which melted somewhat with Tom's rejoinder, which earned a knowing nod from a world weary NM. "Alright." Was his simple response to Hank's mention of their duty as point men. He'd done it before, but was still a bit out of sorts. Still, he knew better than to complain, and would try to do the best job he could.

As they headed out of the office, NM gave Tom a small smile and a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder. He wanted Tom to feel that he was okay, even if he wasn't.
The sun hitting his face, NM averted his gaze, seeing at the same time Hank did a solitary Benson but no Brady. "I'm glad they stuck you and I together." NM mentioned quietly to Hank as they made their way to the front of the group, which on point would be some distance ahead of the others to screen for walkers, or worse, people.

The Caravan was on the road again. Sometimes, "on the road" felt more like home than any home ever did for the Caravan. The farm house, the Fort, the Industrial complex, they were all stops along the way. But the road was the most consistent thing the Caravan had. It was always the same.

The problem for Bohannon this time was that he felt more alone now than he ever had in his life. Brady was dead. Ever since Nashville Benson had been picturing the moment he'd take his revenge. He'd longed for it, he'd fantasized about it. It had become his very purpose. But now that Brady was gone, Benson felt more empty and lonely than before. He might even go so far as to say he hated himself.

And now after last night it was entirely possible that the only other person in Zombieland Bohannon got along with might hate him too. He watched Karen walking up ahead, alongside Dominic. The way she moved, it almost taunted him. Almost told him "you could'a had me."

Bohannon was so far lost inside his own troubled mind he didn't even notice the thick jam of abandoned traffic strewn across the highway until the Caravan was almost upon it.

Karen worked as hard as Izzy to keep up with Dominic, but for different reasons. She had sensed the woman's feeling towards Dom, and got the impression that it was probably mutual. But Karen wanted to be near Dominic for simple pragmatic reasons. She felt unwell. The weather was fairly cool, yet Karen was breaking a sweat. And her whole body felt achy and shaky. She was probably fighting an infection, which was dramatically worse than the pure and intense pain she felt constantly in her side.

As the Caravan drew near the jumble of cars ahead Karen hesitantly slowed her pace. "What do you wanna do Dom? Go around, or go through?" She asked, drawing her weapon and confirming she had no ammo. If things got sticky in there, they might be screwed...

Hanging back seemed like a good idea to Lorenzo, so he took up the rear. Less chance of getting mowed down like a row of stupid ducks. Also, he didn't need to deal with any of the conversations going on. That was a bonus. He'd felt gloomy and pissed off since last night and just didn't want to deal with... Well, anyone here, really. The tolerance he usually had for their dramatics was at an all time low.

He tried to tell himself he should be making more of an effort, socially at least. These people had been nothing but nice to him for the most part, and had taken him in when he was hungry and freezing his ass off. He sighed heavily and tapped his fist against his head a few times, lightly, like he was just barely resisting the urge to sock himself.

The clogged roadway didn't warrant the momentary, indecisive pause among the group in Lorenzo's mind. No point in planning if he didn't know what he was up against. Pausing was frustrating. Talking instead of doing was annoying. Why was Dominic's input so important? What, did he have some blinding insight on the cars that they didn't? Lorenzo sincerely doubted it, so he couldn't give less of a shit on what Dom's verdict was.

He was still stubbornly laden with a stupid amount of gear, two packs and an empty rifle across his back, but he didn't pause. It looked like he was going to keep stomping right into the cars, but he stopped a few paces ahead of Dominic. It was obviously not going to be a permanent arrangement. He stopped only to take stock of the situation, arm throbbing from the jolts his heavy footfalls had caused. He winced and elected to ignore it. Broken arm be damned. He wasn't going to twiddle his thumbs at the back the entire time like a gimp.

"Yo, México!" he called out to the guys up front. His knife was drawn and he was shifting on his feet, already filled with the sort of anticipatory buzz that came before a fight. His next words sounded almost hopeful."What'cha boys got up there? See anything?"

Tired, damp and with several members injured the group’s pace could almost be described as leisurely were it not for their haggard appearance. In fact in their current state a passerby could be forgiven in mistaking them for a small herd of Zed’s as they made their way down the road. The days of them being healthy, well fed and armed now seemingly long gone as they walked down the road dressed dirty, ragged clothes, carrying guns for which they had no bullets and with only the shakiest of plans for the future.
Glancing up at a road sign Dominic found himself suppressing a groan as he saw how many more miles they still had to go before they reached Slaughter where they would then have to find somewhere secure to spend the night, assuming of course that nightfall didn’t simply force them all into the first building they found.
 It was at this point that Karen asked him what he planned to do about the long stretch of vehicle strewn highway that was coming up before them; an inconvenient and potentially dangerous obstacle or treasure trove depending on your point of view. Considering her previously close relationship with Benson he was kind of surprised to find Karen walking with him and Izzy whom Dominic had decided to stay close to just in case she needed any help across some of the muddier patches of ground they’d come across of course...or at least that was what he kept telling himself anyway.
Looking over at Karen it didn’t take any medical training to tell that she was far from being healthy which perhaps answered the question of why she was walking with him and not the cowboy. Ignoring her question for the time being Dominic walks over to her and places a hand upon her forehead before then carefully lifting her top just enough for him to inspect the wound; grimacing as he discovered the first possible signs of an infection.
Not for the first time Dominic found himself cursing the storm that had forced them out of their home and robbed him of the means of helping these people, many of whom he considered to be friends “Ok Karen, you’re with me from now on, the pair of us are going to take things nice and steady” Dominic said, slipping a supportive arm around her shoulders; surprised that she was still able to stand let alone walk considering how hot and feverish she was “...we’re going to stick to the verge and hard shoulder where the ground is better, it’ll also allow us to check out some of those cars along the way” Dominic explained, quietly hoping that at least one of those cars would have a first aid kit he could use, hell if it wasn’t for the fact that they were all jammed together he’d suggest they try starting some of them up and drive the rest of the way to Slaughter though maybe that idea was best forgotten until they reached the end of the traffic jam and were sure that there were no Zed’s lurking nearby. Sure it’d be safer for them to by-pass the cars entirely but that would mean going cross country and he doubted that Karen and Izzy would cope with the quagmire last night’s storm had produced for very long, and besides they were in desperate need of supplies and Dom didn’t want to pass up the opportunity of being able to find something in amongst those cars. Maybe they’d even get lucky and find something like an ambulance just waiting to be opened up and looted.

Leaving his bag with one of the uninjured and otherwise unhampered members Hank gave his brother a hug before heading to the front. I know, I know. I don't think there was anything we could have done. He murmured, following the kid's stink eye to the lone Bohannon. Just focus on the here and now, ok. I'm going to need you to keep an eye out in case any zombies sneak past us.

Heading up with NM he glanced at the teen as he spoke. Me too. Luckily the trip was uneventful, with only the occasional deer rustling along the road side. Taking the occasional glance behind them he stayed silent during the trek, processing their losses. With no idea on Joe's current whereabouts currently Brady's was the hardest to take. The man had taken a shotgun blast to help save Tom, and despite his words to the kid he couldn't help wonder if things would have turned out this way if he had spoken in Brady's defense.

Stopping at the jam he tried a couple of the leading cars, not willing to risk setting off a car alarm by breaking a window. How's your shoulder? He asked, looking for a way through to the cars stuck in the middle lanes. Pulling two reusable bags from a Cube he gave one to NM.

Hearing Lorenzo and the others approaching he made his way back with the Home Depot reusable bag he had found. While he didn't have a huge haul every little bit helped. He shrugged, Couple stale boxes of crackers and flat soda. Depending on how far this thing goes there's bound to be a police car or ambulance in there somewhere, right?

New Mexico listened to Hank's advice concerning Bohannon etc, having no reason not to agree with the older guy, who'd done right by him all along since they'd been together in the Caravan. It was useful advice, focusing on the here and now, which was all they ever had anymore, which used to be all Mexeeco needed, but might not have been enough anymore. "You're right, you're right. I will.." In spite of his own issues, he knew he had to be responsible and watch out for the few of them they had left at that moment. Like a wayward thread from a bedraggled sweater, all they needed was a good pull to come undone. "Eventually there need to be rules, we can't just keep ignoring when people in our group just go and murder one another, can we?" He mentioned quietly to Hank, the circumstances of Brady's disappearance among others not sitting well with him, but he wasn't in charge, and didn't want to be.

Further up from the group, coming to the logjam of vehicles, NM joined Hank in meandering through or over a couple. They tried to gain some sight of what lay ahead, similarly unwilling to mountain climb possibly alarm ridden cars, broken glass, or groping undead arms. Finding a cube truck with Hank, New Mexico took on one of the bags they found from Hank as the other asked about his old, not so old injury. "I've noticed over time that this big patch of numbness there hasn't gone away." He answered, guarding his emotions a little, but not well from someone like Hank, well practiced at reading his own brother. "I.. I kind of worry that I'll cut myself, or, or get a bite or scratch from a walker and not notice." The teen frowned, brow furrowing briefly in thought when they heard Lorenzo call out. On the bright side, Hank had spotted supplies, even if they were scant, they were a bonanza to the group at this time.

Making their way back, he was glad that Hank had spotted the Cube so they had something to contribute to the group. "Hank spotted the Cube truck with this stuff. Its a good find, considering what we lost. I think I saw a police van further up, it had some D-E-something acronym on the side."

Mahmoud brightened up when Hank and NM returned to the main body of the group with the crackers and soda. The dark skinned Caravaner, without shaving supplies, was in the process of growing a great black Maharajah style beard naturally due to his ethnicity. His genuine smile broke up the manscruff. "Great job, you two. You make a good team I think." He promptly moved forward, a pack hung on his back, ready to take anything so they could remain light of foot. Uninjured and one of the fitter members of the group at this point, he had volunteered to be pack animal, which also gave him an excuse to keep an eye on Lorenzo. The volatile fellow wouldn't accept help easily, so Mahmoud would linger close since he wasn't given point-man duty anyway. With his rifle slung over his shoulder and the handful of bullets left, he'd do better as a Sheppard anyhow.

Under Dominic's direction, they began to meander around the traffic on the shoulder of the road. It was a good call for their wounded, which included Lorenzo even if the guy wouldn't admit it. "A DEA van is probably what you saw, 'Mexico. Good eye. Maybe we can get some medicine for our people, might make the trek less uncomfortable for some." Mahmoud cast a glance to Dom, helping Karen, then Lorenzo, who at least could carry himself, though the logistics guy of the group was concerned about that arm. "I don't know about you guys, but I'm hoping for a box of beer. Maybe we'll find one in a creek near the road, eh? Bet that'd keep 'em cool." He was at least trying to keep spirits up, even if it sounded strange coming from a man who was quite a straight laced, almost managerial type.

Tom followed the others out, glad most of the water weight was gone from his pack. Any hope that the Bohannon brothers had worked things out was squashed at the sight of just one waiting for them outside. If looks could kill...Right... Easier said then done. Watching Hank head up to take point he ran through some of his breathing exercises, gripping his tire wrench.

Keeping as far as he could from Benson Tom watched the side of the road. Despite what Hank said he couldn't help but occasionally glance to Benson, his grip tightening slightly every time. When they caught up with NM and Hank he stayed to the side, purposely keeping his eyes locked on the forest around them.

Benson could feel the collective eyes burning holes in the back of his head, but he ignored it. Moving on and pushing through was more important now. The jam was an unfortunate conundrum. They could take the time to pick through and search for loot, but the amount of time that would take combined with the danger of stirring up trouble would spell disaster for their wounded. Lingering here could spell the end for them. But if there was some meds, or a proper first aid kit or something in one of these cars, that might be the one thing that they need. So they were screwed either way... Damned if you do, damned if you don't, right?

Bohannon peered in through the windows of the cars he passed, not spending any time on each one, just giving it a cursory glance as he walked. He ignored Dominic and meandered through the roadway to get a better look. The caravan's pace was such that if he moved quickly, he could peek in the windows and still keep up. If he saw a backpack or a bag or anything in the car that looked untouched, he'd try to scavenge it.

Benson peered in on a crashed old white Neon and saw an orange duffel plunked on the passenger seat. A decaying body  slumped over the steering wheel told Bohannon that the driver had died there. The cowboy moved over to the passenger side door and took a second look before gently pulling the handle. The duffel bag caught the sunlight and almost gleamed like a prize in front of Bohannon. He pulled it open and spilled the contents on the seat and combed through it. It was the guy's clothes and a wrapper from a Cliff bar... Son of a bitch.

Benson stripped off his damp, bloodstained and muddy shirt and traded it for a baggy tee and a pretty ugly checkered shirt. Then he pulled off his wet socks and replaced them too before shoving them back in his wet boots. The cowboy threw the strap of the duffel bag over his shoulder and shoved some of the clothed back in it, jus so at least he had something.

The sighting of the DEA van piqued Boh's interest. The possibilities of what could be in there were endless. He wanted in.

"Drug Enforcement Agency?" Karen beheld the large black armoured van with genuine curiosity as the Caravan approached it. "Why would they be out here, you'd think the war on drugs would have taken a back seat to the war on the dead, right?" But they were out here none the less. "We have to get in there." She said excitedly while clutching her side. "Woah." Karen felt dizzy for a moment and threw her arm out to catch Dominic's shoulder to stabilize herself. "If this is a SWAT van, we could get weapons and armour, a first aid kit, they might have some seized product in there too, which might help Lorenzo and I, right buddy?" she said to her injured counterpart, kind of joking but not really.

Karen turned to Dominic. "We have to open it. I just hope they're not still inside, like, you know, risen..." Karen moved slowly and painfully to the rear door or the tall van, pressing her ear against it. "I don't hear anything, should I knock?"

Karen had spent part of her career riding in vans like this, she knew them inside and out, and she didn't like their odds of springing the sealed, heavy armoured doors, especially not quietly. And if the Zed tac-team was inside the van they'd be hard to kill dressed head to toe in kevlar.

“That’s…kind of what I was worried about” Dominic replied to Karen’s statement over whether or not whoever had been riding in the back was still inside Armoured Zed’s, just what we need! Dominic wryly thought as Karen limped over to the doors with him following close behind just in case she keeled over again. Like everyone else in the group he was excited by the prospect of what lay within the van; his mind filled with visions of tactical body armour, assault weaponry and pharmaceutical grade medication just waiting for them to take. However he was also wary over the fact that nobody else had thought to open up such a prize, which begged the question, why?
“Oui…see if there’s anybody home, I’ll go check the front” Dominic spoke as Karen suggested knocking. Better to find out there was a mob of Zed’s inside now rather than after they flung the doors open.
Walking round to the front of the vehicle Dominic was greeted with an open passenger door; the driver still laid slumped in the corner with most of his now congealed brains still decorating the window; the passenger perhaps? Dominic mused as he climbed into the vacant passenger’s seat. A quick search telling him that the driver’s gun and the contents of the glove box other than a few pieces of litter were long gone however the keys were still thankfully within the ignition. Cautiously leaning across the corpse of the driver Dominic caught a glimpse of the teeth marks on the dead man’s arm giving him a better idea of what had happened that day as he pulled the keys.
Finding nothing of interest Dominic returns to the others; tossing the keys to Karen so that he could draw his sword “See if any of these will open her up, if there’s anyone inside we let them out one at a time and deal with them like that” Zed’s weren’t renowned for their balance so Dom hoped that they would be easy enough to deal with once they were sprawled on the floor, even if they were armoured “D’accord…open the door whenever you're ready”
This message was last edited by the player at 17:06, Sun 03 Jan 2016.

"Sounds good Dom." Karen wanted to prove she could handle this, even if she was hurt and fighting an infection and feeling a little bit feverish. Karen banged three or four times on the doors and listened to the sound that came after. It was the distinctive clangour of armoured bodies bumping against the walls of the van. "Ready?" She swiped her retractable whoopin' stick from her police belt and held it at the ready.

"Three..." Karen took in a deep breath. "Two..." She gave the baton a practice swing, noting the strain on her side. "One!" Karen pulled down on the door handle, the weight of the zombies pressing against it burst it open with underestimated might. The first zed fell flat on his face, the second landed on top of him and stumbled forwards towards Dominic, and the third only got half way out before Karen slammed the door on his leg. This one was flailing around with his leg pinned in the door trying to get free or get to Karen, he clearly wasn't sure which. The pinned guy flung his weight to the side with a hard jerk and snapped his leg in half as Karen continued to try to shut the door. "FUCK fuck fuck, help me out here!!!"

Karen swung down at the pinned guy as his rotten jaws snapped up at her, but she didn't have the strength to hold the door and fight him off. So she put a boot on his face and used his head as a stool to apply greater pressure to the door, managing to just hold the other reaching limbs at bay.

The plan had been sound in theory but in practice had been less than desirable as the combined weight of the Zed’s flung the door open before an injured Karen could slam it shut again.
Raising a booted foot high, Dom placed it upon the helmeted head of the second Zed to leave the van; pinning its face against the road to expose its neck. A pair of swift over arm cuts quickly severed the rotting flesh of its neck allowing Dominic kick its still snapping head under a car leaving the first Zed still struggling to move out from beneath the motionless corpse atop of it allowing him to assist Karen.
Thrusting his sword into the skull of a thankfully helmet-less Zed he shouts over his shoulder to the others “A little help over here guys!” the medic suddenly realising that it would take more than the two of them to deal with the van’s occupants that were currently trying to force their way out.
Throwing his weight against the door Dominic watched as the Zed that had been the first to fall from out of the van finally freed itself and crawled towards him. With both of his hands busy keeping the door closed; he knew that he would have to move away from the door in order to dispatch it. However with Karen in such a weakened state he feared that she would be unable to keep it closed by herself and thus allowing the rest out as a result. How many men were there in a SWAT team anyway? Damn! The questions you think of asking after it was too late.
Meanwhile the Zed inched closer and closer towards them with Dom praying that if the thing decided to go for him that it would try for his boot and not his jeans as he doubted even Kevlar would stand up against teeth for long and so taking a deep breath Dominic once again shouted to the others “Hey! We could really do with that help around about now!”

Very quickly the pillaging of the DEA van had turned into a mighty scrap. Though it probably wasn't wise to have let Karen involve herself in the endeavor, they hadn't known there were any walkers inside. Also, she, unlike Luke, was trained military. And Dom was their leader, and had saved Luke's ass a few times already, he wasn't about to question.

Although Dom and Karen were able to take out the first couple, they were quickly overwhelmed by the clown-carlike van of armored biters. Wavering, Luke had hung back, freezing up, looking around at the others as seconds ticked like hours before finally snapping into action.

Since the hurricane he'd taken to arming himself with a long metal rod akin to what was strewn through cement blocks, and with this he sprung forward. Raising it up above his head like samurai sword or woodchopping axe he swung down on the kevlar-clad biter crawling up towards Dominic and Karen, of course doing little damage. The thing did not even wince.

Panicking briefly as it was about to bring its jagged teeth to Dominic's boot, Luke dropped his metal rod, the item clanging on the asphalt. Bending down, he grabbed hold of the tactical legging of the prone zed and hauled ass backwards, pulling it away from Karen and Dominic a couple meters before he tripped on road debris, sending him onto his backside.

Events escalated quickly, Mahmoud, like Tom, keeping an eye on their surroundings while the van was investigated, before all attention turned to what was now a highly dangerous situation. Carrying the pack of supplies on his back, Mahmoud was armed only with his rifle, but wasn't keen to use it, especially on biters with body armor. Once Luke had pulled away the last of the walkers to make it out of the van, so far, Mahmoud moved in. The creature wore a helmet, making brain piercing difficult, leading the dark skinned, increasingly bearded survivor to wind up and deliver a solid, steel-toed boot tip into the rotter's jaw. Sinewy flesh and brittle bone and cartilidge snapped and all it took was a second strike to knock the jaw completely off of the biter.

It still writhed, but was far less formidable with only the top of its mouth.  "Finish it!" Mahmoud told the others, while then throwing his body weight against the van doors in assistance of Dominic and Karen. One of the taller members of the group, and stronger as time went on, even Mahmoud had difficulty keeping back an unknown amount of impending doom.

"There's nothing for it, we have to fight it out." In the back of all of their minds was the great need for the supplies, hell even if the attire the zed infested van had to offer. It wasn't like they could run either with the kind of rag tag group they had, also.

Isabelle took her chance when Luke's initial efforts only bought time, with Mahmoud delivering the real saving grace by dislocating and removing by boot the crawling walker's pointy bottom teeth.  One legged, yes, but assisted by her walking stick, Izzy moved forward quickly and without fear, her body light so that even while minus a leg she could move when she needed to, at least briefly.

Using her lone leg as leverage against the debris Luke had tripped over, Izzy shoved the bottom end of her staff under the side of the still writhing and potentially dangerous zed, who like her, could still be dangerous when not whole. With a quick jerk and considerable exertion that the crisis demanded she flipped the walker on its stomach. Its arms extended upwards as it tried to get up, tongue flopping and frothing from a jaw less head, Izzy raised her staff again in realignment and slammed down into the roof of the creature's mouth, perforating the skull from below, destroying the brain, rendering the beast motionless.

This fucking guy.

As Izzy prepared to give the zed on the ground the coup de grâce, Lorenzo diverted his path toward Luke. With his good hand he yanked the mustachioed moron up by the back of the shirt, hoping to minimize the time the guy spent panicked on the ground. Poor little bastard.

"Up and at 'em," he growled. He continued to walk with his hand on the back of Luke's neck, steering him back into the fray like one might do with a disobedient child who had wandered away. The ghoul Izzy had dropped was good and dead now. Lorenzo regarded them both for a second. There was something on his face that looked vaguely like approval, but it was gone as quickly as it came.

"What the fuck's the deal? They busted the latch?" he asked Luke sharply, watching the trio holding the door shut. He had missed whatever had transpired with the van, and wasn't sure how the previously dormant vehicle became a threat. "Whatever. Follow me. I'm gonna show you a cool trick."

Finally releasing Luke, he swatted him lightly once on the back of the head as a reprimand. It was good he had actually made a grab for one of the zeds. Not so much that he had landed flat on his ass like a scared little girl. The two things cancelled it each other out in Lorenzo's eyes, but now he was trying to give Luke another chance to actually be useful in his own weird, abrasive way.

"Tell me if they move so I don't get bit in the ass," Lorenzo said to Luke. "I'm gonna see if I can get the car behind the van in neutral. Get in the driver's side, you're the wheelman. And brakeman."

Lowering onto his belly to see if there were any surprise guests under the car made his eyes water. His arm hurt so bad he thought he was going to puke, so he rolled over onto his back and scooted under the car. "Oh yeah, and let me know when it starts rolling so my head don't get squished," he wheezed out from under the vehicle. "Atta boy."

Assuming nothing cataclysmic happened, Lorenzo shone his light around the underbelly. He knew enough about cars to steal them and didn't care enough to learn the terms beyond the basics. Thankfully his less than reputable mechanic background meant he could work quick. He knew he'd find the transmission cable, and beside it would be the whatsit with the lever-thing that would get the rig moving once disconnected.

He wiggled back out, hoping the incline and the somewhat incompetent wheelman would be enough to ease the car forward. If not, he'd go around the back and push. Hopefully the vehicle could give the other guys some breathing room and act as a sort of buffer. Or something... Because right now things were looking a little touch and go.