"And after the storm
I run and run as the rains come
And I look up, I look up
On my knees and out of luck
I look up..."
     - Mumford and Sons

Was that a red, or did I just make it? The thought vanished as quickly as it came, washed away by rain and tears. Hank knew he was going too fast yet he was resisting the urge to go faster. Tom's frantic call followed by the officer's neutral, no doubt practiced, tone still echoed in his head. Whipping around the turn he finally slowed, practically jumping out of the car not even bothering to put in park as he pulled the key out. Running to the house he through open the door, Tom's name on his lips. The sight that greeted him stopped him cold. A hillbilly had his brother while another was pointing a shotgun toward him. They were both grinning as the shotgun went off...

Hank woke with a start, breathing hard. The fire was basically dead he noted with a sigh, the file cabinet drawer he had loaded with broken chair parts held more then the baskets but still needed to be fed regularly. Looking down he smiled as he reached over and used his free hand to brush a strand of hair off Tom's face. His other was gripped by the kid who groaned as Hank pulled it free. Shhh...go back to sleep, the storms over. Standing he grimaced as his muscles protested. Tossing a few files and chair pieces to get the fire going again he looked around the room they had taken, clothes spread out to dry on various pieces of furniture. They had turned the table on it's side to use as a shield in case the window blew out.

We can't be the only ones. Shaking the thought away he focused on their situation. He'd talk to Tom later, but last night aside from Benson going ape shit on Brady the others seemed to be holding it together. And NM. He was worried about the teen. He couldn't imagine almost drowning, let alone loosing a large portion of the closest thing to family they had in one night. He had sent Tom to stay with him instead of going himself because he figured even if NM wanted to be alone he'd be less likely to push the kid away then himself. Now that the storm was past and they could breath a little easier he could try and talk to him himself. If only Mortimer were here, he's better qualified at this then me.

---

Spoiler text: (Highlight or hover over the text to view)
Just going to find NM. Don't know if he'd be awake somewhere or  still asleep.

---

Pure exhaustion had induced the rattled teenager to rest in the early morning hours when it had still been dark. He'd had Tom's welcome company through much of the aftermath of the fight with Sam and escaping the storm. Despite the escape of slumber, he was still troubled by events of late. Thirst and hunger dominated the parts of his mind that weren't fixated on the missing members of their band of survivors. Would they find everyone? Could they?.. Should they?

Awake for a little while already, NM sat against the wall where he'd planted the night before, barely having shifted much even in sleep. Bedraggled, the long haired youth glanced wearily towards Hank as the older survivor stirred awake. Licking his dry lips, New Mexeeco said nothing, managing only a solitary nod of sorts before his gaze drifted to the light peeking in from around the table they'd turned against the window. Although New Mexico had always bounced back he felt like he was walking a fine line this time. The living history of their group kept falling apart, and despite his young age he felt like the oldest man alive.

---

Spoiler text: (Highlight or hover over the text to view)
Here I am! Haha

---

This message was last edited by the player at 04:11, Sun 22 Nov 2015.

Dominic hadn't slept well. A combination of the storm, last nights fun and games with the Bohannon's, the medieval surgery he'd been forced to perform and the fact that he had to come up with some halfway decent plan of where the hell they should go resulted in him tossing and turning for several hours before finally giving up and examining their tattered and waterlogged map by the light of his Zippo.
As the first rays of daylight started to filter through the grimy windows Dominic; now red eyed and irritable felt that he had at least found something worth suggesting to the group as to where they should go next.
With people starting to stir from what little sleep they'd been able to get Dominic pulls on his still damp clothing and moves into the main part of the office "Get some cooking fires lit, everyone eats" he quietly announces, knowing that they would be needing their strength today. That and cans of food were damn heavy to carry.
Leaving the task of cooking something edible out of the odds and sods of canned food they had to those who knew better, Dominic sat down in one of the office chairs and slowly massaged his eyes with thumb and forefinger. Wishing that he had gotten a little more sleep last night or failing that, still had a pack of smokes on him.
Waiting until the smell of cooking had brought the bulk of the group into the main office Dominic would then proceed to speak to the group in calm if slightly weary voice "ok people listen up, as you may well have guessed, after last night we're moving on...now the way I see it we've got a couple of options, one option is that we could head north to the state pen in Angola; high walls, razor wire, food, medical supplies and riot gear, it wouldn't be easy but it'd be worthwhile once we managed it" or rather if we manage it Dom silently added. Taking out a prison full of zombie inmates would be no easy task even if they only went after a single wing. But on the other hand they'd have a veritable fortress in which to live in "...option two is we head south and set up shop in somewhere like Slaughter or St Francisville which would put us close enough to raid into Baton Rouge and the surrounding towns, hell we find ourselves a boat and we could sail on down to New Orleans if wanted to...so …any thoughts?" Dominic finished, asking the group as a whole but directing his gaze towards Mahmoud, Izzy, Hank and Lorenzo, in other words the people he felt he could depend on to say something useful about these suggestions. Admittedly it didn't mean that he would do what they said, but he'd at least listen to and take on board what they had to say about the situation they were in. Hell perhaps they could suggest something better that he’d overlooked. Either way he wasn’t going to go dictator on them all just yet.

The task of making something resembling a meal wasn't something Lorenzo was interested in. It wasn't that he couldn't cook- he could, pretty decently actually, although that wasn't something that he advertised. He just knew with his arm the way it was, he'd just end up frustrating himself. Even though it wasn't his dominant arm that had been snapped, the limited mobility more than the pain was already annoying him to no end.

Lorenzo had already been awake, seated in one of the office chairs. It wasn't clear exactly how long he'd been in it, his arm had been bugging him too much to get any meaningful amount of sleep.

He listened to Dominic spitballing, swiveling his chair side to side with a somewhat bored expression. Lorenzo wasn't really the plan guy. He'd been told he was stupid often enough growing up to believe it, and was resigned to just muscling through things or kicking asses on someone else's behalf. He more or less just did whatever the more senior members of the group wanted- when it suited him, anyway.

"I'm not getting on no boat, Doc," he stated flatly, as soon as Dominic opened the floor. "That's gonna be a headache."

He continued to swivel the chair, looking off to the wall for a second. He didn't think he really needed to elaborate on why a boat wouldn't work out with their current crew.

"Something lowkey might be the best bet," he continued. He looked between the others, looking almost uncertain, as though he doubted they were listening. "We got, what? A buncha kids, a chick with one leg-" he held his palm up to Izzy, either trying to stop her from taking offense, or just trying to shut her up. "- old people, a few pussies, and two hicks who've fucked off to I dunno where."

"Not exactly a force to be reckoned with, y'know?" Lorenzo shrugged. "In my humble little opinion, I don't think storming the walls of a big, fat prison's the best option. Anyone close by and with halfa brain's gonna be set up there already. I seen that kind of game before, and I don't like our odds. Now, seizing a little piece of ranchland or something 'til we got our pants on right could work."

He leaned back in his chair, yawned, and shook his head. "Just what I'm thinking," he concluded nonchalantly. "I don't really give much of a shit."

Isabelle might not have moved as quickly as others but she could manage enough to help gather and prepare food that would bring everyone into one circle, more or less. On her mind was finding a staff or walking stick that could facilitate her mobility. Even though she was maimed, she was still a young woman.
Once they all began talking, she listened to Lorenzo, knowing before that he resented her as a liability. She was about to speak up for herself when he raised a hand to quell her counter.

Waiting a moment of the briefest of silence after his comments, Izzy took her turn. She had a vested interest in going north, because she had sent her children back in the day to a safe haven, at least at the time. She was cognizant of their state however, and wanted to conceal her bias for their destination for the time being until they were in shape to travel.

"I think we should set up in St. Francisville, or yes, Slaughter, so temporarily, while we regroup and ready the Caravan for a longer trip. We can organize our supplies, make sure our people are right enough in body and mind, as well as re-arm ourselves. If we can get a couple vehicles running, all the better. If we stay nearby for the short term maybe some of our people will find their way back to us." She spoke to Dominic but loosely to everyone present, then turned her attention to Lorenzo.

"Lorenzo, don't forget to include yourself in that list of invalids you just railed off." She had heard that Lorenzo had saved New Mexico from Sam, or at least had done so in the pursuit of their food stuffs the night before, so she countenanced Lorenzo's words with the fact the man hadn't slept well, and he had actually been a big help to the group, attitude aside. "Lorenzo might be right about the prison. In any case we don't have the muscle should we have to clear the area of walkers."
This message was last edited by the player at 19:16, Sun 22 Nov 2015.

Mahmoud stood amongst the group, a mostly empty can in one hand which he sampled like a soda pop to avoid getting his dirty hands on the precious food. His face was becoming quite grizzled, given time he may be able to grow a majestic Sikh beard like his father.
Also they lacked spoons. The others had gotten their share of the contents before Mahmoud had gotten at it himself. Food was a great motivator for early morning meetings, it reminded him of when he was working his programming job in Houston, and management would bring platters in for 5AM meetings.

His rifle slung on his back, one hand's fingers hooked under the strap along his shoulder, the other gripping the can of food as he listened to the others, mindful of any sniping between their friends due to the stress of the last many hours.

"Rallying somewhere in the area briefly would help us take stock of our supplies and situation. As for bigger plans, we're going to run into Biters no matter where we go, but someplace sparsely populated or at least with lots of open, or high ground is ideal. We aren't far from the Appalachian Mountains, really, I'm sure we could find some cabins up there, and plenty of food with the spring and summer opening up. Whether we stay there or not, if there are boats left on the coastline we could set up on a small island, clear it of walkers, use the water as a buffer from hostile folks, and make occasional raids back to the mainland."

Hank didn't know if NM not moving during the night was a good thing or not. Grabbing a couple dry, well, drier socks off a chair and slid down next to him. Hey. He held a pair out to the teen. They might be a bit loose on you but until you find some clothes that fit feel free to use mine. He paused a moment looked to the ceiling. Hell they're starting to be a bit loose on me. Mulling over his next words he ran through what he remembered from his sessions after the crash. I can't say I know what you've been through, or I know how to make everything better overnight. Turning to look at the other he put a hand his shoulder, hoping to get some focus. But keeping it in isn't good, it just...lets things build until they explode. That I know. He glanced to Tom, though his tone suggested it wasn't just the kid he was talking about. What you do, is up to you. But you don't have to do it alone.

Hearing the others moving around from the ajar door he stretched out his legs. Get changed, you need something a bit drier. I'll bring you guys some food if you want to stay in here. Standing he moved to the door and took the impromptu door stop out from under it. Turning before heading out he added over his shoulder, Have Tom get changed also when he wakes up.

Sitting by the door as the others started talking about their next move Hank picked his green beans one by one. The water had been the first thing gone to make getting them easier. He'd given NM a can and left one for Tom before starting on his. He suppressed a smile at what he'd imagine Janice's reaction would be at Lorenzo's snipe. I'm for going north at some point, hopefully someplace we can't be surprised by hurricanes. We didn't get a chance to hit the houses at Slaughter but who knows how many zombies are still around.

Mr. Cauldershore stoked the meagre cook fire, the smoke from it venting through an open window. The man sat quietly and tried to listen but he was haunted by those lost to the storm. Nevada, Cass, Ricky, Saito, Hector, Joe... Not to mention that bad bit of business in the car park that took Gary. The severity of this storm might have been less than Katrina, But Cauldershore was feeling the pain much harder this time. There was community back then, shelters, FEMA. Now there was a bunch of wet, nice folks in a junk arse office eating crummy old canned food.

"Going south at all won't do. The hurricane will have taken New Orleans from us. We need to move north east, away from the Mississippi River, away from the flooding. Either that or cross the river and head west. But I don't know where we'll go...
There's nothing left for us but the walking dead."

Cauldershore's face was pale and his expression was blank. He was still dressed in his wet clothes but at least the small fire gave him the illusion of being warm.

FLASHBACK - St. Louis, before the Caravan Ambush

"No no no, please don't do this!" Karen screamed as the white haired man hit her again and again. She was on the floor of the office, blood pouring from her face, unable to protect herself from the madman. "Shut up!" He yelled back. "You'll do this or you'll never see him again!" He kicked her hard in the side, cracking a rib in two. Karen struggled to catch her breath.

A dark eyed man burst through the door, dragging Kaidan by the arm. "If you try to run, we'll do this again! If you try to escape, we will kill your mom and then we'll kill you! Do you understand me?" He yelled in Kaidan's face, pointing at Karen, broken on the floor, making it clear that these people were not to be toyed with.

Chapter 5 - The Caravan "And After the Storm"

"Fuuuuck!" Karen awoke suddenly and screaming. She curled and rolled on to the side that didn't hurt and screamed once again in agony. The jagged wound in her side was one thing, but the civil war era fix that melted her skin back together was totally another. The cauterization had indeed stopped the bleeding but now she had a nasty burn wound and was susceptible to infection.

With a can of food in his hands Dominic quietly listened to what the others had to say; trying not to examine too closely what it was he was actually eating and simply contenting himself with the fact that it was warm and filling.
The general consensus was that taking over the prison was a firm no, and when he actually thought about it he had to agree, though he did find himself clenching both teeth and fists when he heard Lorenzo bad mouthing Izzy with only the girl’s own retort preventing him from saying or doing anything unwise. Sure Izzy wasn’t exactly capable wading into the thick of things anymore but there was no need for Lorenzo to write her off as being useless.
Taking a moment to get a handle on his temper Dom simply lets the rest of the group say their piece before speaking in a reasonably calm voice “The problem with heading north is that we’ll freeze to death come next winter...that and there’s going to be Zed’s no matter where we go, though at least if we steer clear of the cities it shouldn’t be too bad” Dom pointed out, echoing what Mahmoud had already said on the subject of the Zeds before continuing “...personally I think we need to find somewhere a little more permanent, there’s only so long we can survive on what we can scavenge, we need to start growing our own food...rear pigs, go hunting and so on” not that he had the first clue as to how to do any of that. His uncle had taken him fishing once; three hours sat by a river and he’d caught nothing but a cold though that wasn’t to say that they couldn’t get food that way, only that he was certainly no fisherman. He also had to admit that Mahmoud’s idea of finding an island or a place in the mountains was more than a little appealing but first they had to regroup and rearm.
With his breakfast finished he tosses the empty can into one of the dying braziers; licking the tomato sauce from off of his fingers before speaking to the group “Well...Slaughter may not be the Promised Land but it’ll do for a start...eat up we’re heading south” and we’ll just have to hope it’s not underwater though they should be pretty safe as it was a fair distance away from the Mississippi and besides if it became apparent that the whole area was flooded then they could always change direction and go elsewhere.
It was just as they were reaching this decision that Karen suddenly awoke with a scream prompting Dominic in Benson’s absence to go and see if she was alright “It’s ok, you’re alright” he said, placing a hand upon her arm in what he hoped was a comforting manner “Now I am just going to check your wound...c’est bon...right, good news is the bleeding has stopped however the bad news is that you’ve now got a rather nasty burn, sorry about that” Dominic apologised sheepishly once he’d finished examining her side, wishing that he hadn’t had to resort to using methods such as that. Normally he’d apply antiseptic to a wound such as this before then applying the dressing in order to prevent infection setting in, but with all of his supplies currently under several feet of water that was going to prove problematic “I don’t suppose any of you found a first aid kit in this place?” Dominic asked over his shoulder already suspecting that the answer was no, meaning that he’d just have to hope that they could find what he needed in Slaughter and that it wouldn’t be too late when he did.

In reply to Hank Lucion (msg # 8):

It took NM a moment to register but finally he blinked and accepted the dry-ish socks from Hank with a small smile, as if to reassure him that he was still there, somewhere, and was grateful, with Hank's hand on his shoulder serving as a temporary, emotional anchor. Contact was something people used to take for granted before the apocalypse, in the present it could get you killed, depending on the circumstances. New Mexeeco hadn't broken down in tears yet because he was still exhausted as of late to do so, and even then he reminded himself that he could keep it together a bit more, as long they didn't lose any more friends. It used to be that he could count his lost comrades off on one hand, then it was two, and now he was losing count, though the names were never forgotten.

"Hey, Hank.. Um, thank you." The teenager replied after Hank had risen, and asked NM to help Tom get up and going. "I'm glad you and Tom are still here."

Beginning to slip on the socks after peeling his own damp ones off, the dryness of the new(not really) pair caused him to feel some respite from the reality of the struggle they were living. "Hey, Tommyboy, its time to get up. I think the others are meeting."
This message was last edited by the player at 02:02, Sun 29 Nov 2015.

Karen gritted her teeth as hard as she could. "You burned me?!" She asked the doc, taking in a deep breath, trying to hold it together with the pain of the large patch of melted skin. It was hard to think about anything else, but she tried. Karen slowly and carefully rose to a sitting position, pain shooting through her core and tunnel vision threatening to topple her, but she made it. "Please tell me the pain meds made it out of the Big House with us..." She said, shaking a little.

Between the cold and the rain last night, and the wound in her side, Karen was feeling a bit frail. This wound was by no means the worst she'd suffered. In Iraq Karen was all but blown to bits by an IED, and the first time she'd met Dominic he was patching up her busted face and broken rib. Now, she was simply seared like a steak. Karen could make it through that.

"Where's Bohannon?" She asked looking through the soggy members of the Caravan that remained in the room. Having only scattered memories of last night after getting hurt and passing out, Karen wasn't sure what had happened to the man she had spent the night with before the storm.

Sleep, when it came, was fitful. A part of him knew he should probably have gotten out of his wet clothes before falling asleep. The bigger part was exhaustion, at the storm and their flight from the compound. That and all of his extras were soaked at the time. Feeling Hank move away he lifted his head slightly before being told to rest. Turning over he adjusted the chair cushion he had been using as a pillow, vaguely aware of NM and Hank talking.

Eyes slowly opening at the mention of his name Tom gave a slight shiver. The fire had been nice but nowhere near enough to fully dry him out with clothes on. Stretching he rolled to his back, all 5'5 of him giving another shiver. Rising to an elbow he rubbed his eyes. I hate hurricanes. He murmured. Looking over he gave a small smile at the sight of NM moving around. Morning. Coming to a full sitting position he inched his way closer to the fire before adding another piece of wood. I'm ah, sorry I was so quiet last night. Just with the storm and all... He shrugged, not really sure where he was going.

“It was the only way I could stop the bleeding” Dom said in an apologetic voice as he responded to Karen’s accusation that he’d burnt her before she then inevitably went on to the subject of painkillers. He couldn’t blame her, he’d be wanting painkillers too if he’d just had a hot knife pressed against his side, but unfortunately it would seem that he had no good news for her as she then asked him where the cowboy was causing him to wonder which of those questions was worse? Whether it was the fact that he had no real pain medication to give her or that her boyfriend; assuming of course that Benson was in fact her boyfriend, was currently missing.
Wishing that he didn’t have to be the bearer of bad news Dominic pulled the battered packet of Paracetamol from out of his pocket and popped first two and then after a moment’s thought three of the pills out of the packet and handed them to Karen “I am afraid that that’s as strong as its going to get...the rest of my stuff is underwater, as for the cowboy...well...I don’t know how much you remember about last night but he and Brady had a major falling out, me and Luke had to step in to stop them killing one another” Dominic explained deciding to gloss over the fact that only one of the brothers had been in any real danger of being killed last night  “...the last I saw them they were walking out into the storm together to talk things through...I was kind of hoping that they’d have come back by now” he said genuinely curious as to where they could be and hoping that nothing untoward had happened to either of them.
Either way the brothers had until everyone had finished eating and had packed up their things to turn up or Dominic would be forced to leave them a note and hope that they would be able to make it Slaughter by themselves.

Lorenzo shot Izzy a venomous look at her comment about him being an invalid. He was cocksure that even with the use of one arm he was still going to be a better fighter, and just better at getting shit done in general, than half the bozos sitting around in here. At least his arm would heal. Izzy would be legless until the day she died. Then again, he honestly thought she had a better chance of growing it back than someone like Luke did of growing a pair of balls.

He continued to swivel in the chair somewhat lazily, but now his jaw was clenched. The conversation quickly turned to more productive things than Lorenzo insulting most of the people present, so all he ended up doing was exhaling sharply in a huff and fell silent.

Once the debate concluded he felt calmer. Snaps of anger usually came and went quickly. He wasn't sure why he got pissed so easily. Probably got it from his dad or something. It had been an asset in his old crew, but these guys seemed a lot more touchy-feely or some shit.

Lorenzo let out an annoyed sounding sigh and reached for his smokes, then made an even more frustrated sound when he remembered he didn't have many left. He just wanted something to occupy himself with until they could leave. Oddly enough, he didn't have much of an appetite since yesterday.

He'd already cleaned his knife last night, but he drew it and started going over the blade with a damp rag, holding the knife limply in his busted arm to keep it still. He listened to Karen and Dominic but it wasn't like he had anything helpful to offer. Still, he found himself mouthing off anyway.

"The mysterious case of the missing rednecks," Lorenzo muttered. He looked up from the knife, one-part wry, and one-part just plain mean. "Those two were always fuckin' tense, even I could see that. And to get rid of tension like that, you either gotta fuck each other or you gotta kill each other. Now, I don't know how y'all do it in the South, but seeing's how they're brothers... Wouldn't hold my breath on either of 'em coming back."

It was probably entirely too blunt, but Lorenzo wasn't known for his tact. He honestly couldn't think of a nicer, less sarcastic way of saying he wasn't going to be waiting around on two guys who had chose to wander off last night.

Luke had listened to the discussions, somehow managing not to interrupt with a suggestion or two of his own, perhaps realizing that planning for the group was not his forte. Things had become awkward before with the Benson's fighting, with Gary being lost not all that far from the group, and then Lorenzo had started picking at Izzy. To top it all off, Karen's rude awakening and the helplessness of the medical situation had put Luke on edge yet again.

Shifting his feet as he stood near a window, keeping an eye on the outside, he remembered being out in the open when on the raid, and how they'd been chased back by biters. He'd spent most of the time since Z-Day inside of Fort Dixie. Without walls and safety in numbers, he was clearly worried about hiking out again.

"Man why does the place have to be called Slaughter? I'm gettin a bad feeling about this.."

Mahmoud had already began gathering up the packs, making sure that inventory (what there was of it) was ready to go despite the general state of the group. With Dominic deciding where they were going, he was eager to get a move on while they had plenty of daylight. He hadn't been to Slaughter like some of the others, so he wanted to be prepared as much as possible. It wasn't just getting to the town on foot with wounded people in their group, it was setting up a secure space in the town once there.

Rifle slung over his shoulder, with a meager pack of goods in a pack upon his back, Mahmoud approached Karen and Dominic, moving to his haunches to be at eye level. "We'll be able to travel light enough for obvious reasons, but we'll need to have someone on point, while others help Karen. I think Izzy will be okay moving with a staff but we may need to assist if we are pursued out there. We'll organize how you like, we just gotta get to Slaugher as soon as possible, as quietly as possible."

"You're probably right but it won't hurt to scrawl something on the door just in case" Dominic reluctantly agreed with Lorenzo, the guys somewhat blunt mannerism's starting to get on his nerves, though for now he was going to put it all down to a lack of pain medication.
As Mahmoud joined him as he finished with Karen, Dominic listened as he urged them to get moving; suggesting he find someone to take point before they started moving.
With both Karen and Lorenzo wounded and Gary and Benson missing, Dominic's choice of point men was kind of limited. Once the majority of the group were ready to go Dominic got up onto his feet and quickly started organising things "Ok listen up; Hank I want you and NM to take point, if you find anything out there that we need to know about then come back and let us know, Don't pick any fights...Cauldershore I want you to help Karen, the rest of you stick together and follow me" with his instructions delivered he makes his way downstairs and waits for the others to join him. Taking the time to scrawl a brief message on one of the grimy windows to tell the Bohannon brothers that they were heading for Slaughter should they still be alive.

Sticking to the roads as best they could in order to avoid the quagmire like conditions resulting from last nights storm, Dominic would wait until the group was moving before dropping back to join Izzy as she moved along with her improvised staff "are you alright? That arse Lorenzo not causing you any bother is he?" he asked in a low voice. Wanting to see if she was ok without making her think that he thought she couldn't stick up for herself or anything daft like that "...Also how badly am I doing? I mean...can you tell I am making it up as I go along?" he asked with a slight smile and only half joking when he asked it.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:39, Sun 06 Dec 2015.

"You're shitting me Dominic. All we have is Tylenol?" Through Karen's medical history she'd been put of all sorts of high power pain meds, Tylenol may as well be Pez, for what its worth. But it would have to do... Karen swallowed the pills with a gulp and tried to stand. With Mahmoud's words about Karen slowing down the group, she was compelled to prove him wrong. Unfortunately, Karen overestimated her strength and pain tolerance for the moment and came tumbling right back down, her face all scrunched up her eyes glistening in the flickering light of the cook fire. "I'm fine!" She interjected before anyone could say anything. "I'll be alright for the trip to Slaughter." She added, rising this time successfully to her feet. "I won't be a burden, I've had worse than this." Karen crossed the room, trying to get a feel for what the pain level would be like out on the road. She could take it. "Let's go."

In reply to Dominic Dubreton (msg # 19):

Benson Bohannon sat alone on the curb outside the office building, his hair and clothes soaking wet from the rain, his boots and arms covered in mud, and his nose and mouth dripping with blood. The cowboy sat still and unnoticed, solemn sadness in his eyes as he watched Dominic write a message on the window. "Dominic..." The cowboy's usual smooth Georgian accent was now hoarse and raspy. Bohannon wiped his eyes and rose to his feet. "How is she?" Bohannon ignored the others as they slowly trickled out of the building, his focus only on the one he cared about, and on Dominic's answer.
This message was last edited by the player at 06:48, Sun 06 Dec 2015.