(Immediately after the Battle of Slaughter - Chapter 5)

The light faded as the Caravan escaped the Battle of Slaughter, wounded and maimed in tow, adrenaline the only thing keeping the hungry and rattled group moving onwards. Night was never the time to be out and about in the land of the undead. The group exchanged silent looks as they hustled through forest, darting in and around thick and thin trees, following a sweat-soaked, breathless Mahmoud, a duffle bag of weapons slung on his back. He knew tthe area best, but that didn't say much. In addition to leading the direction  Mahmoud kept aware of Lorenzo, who was in fact injured from before the fight, despite the tough act the man put on.

Isabelle had learned how to move quicker in a rush even with her one leg, though Dominic had to help her to keep pace. Luke assisted Bohannon, managing to convince the leg-shot(through and through, not mortal) cowboy to take the help so that he wouldn't fall behind, promising to keep Karen close who had her own wounds to contend with, so that Bo would take his help. She was still shell shocked from what her son and his group had done to them. Bohannon's wound had been fastened a hasty tourniquet, which would need to be changed the sooner the better.

Joe hauled Ricky over one shoulder, the tall elder Caravaner able to somehow manage this task despite his own rough shape, keeping pace with Mahmoud up front. Ricky was pale as a ghost and motionless, the arrow that had pierced his chest still lodged within his frame. Blood utterly soaked Joe's shoulder, streaming carmine red down his clothes. They couldn't just leave the man behind, even if it looked like he was finished. Not after what they'd been through. In any case, adrenaline had made their choices for them.

New Mexico stayed close to Tom and Hank, keeping his promise to the elder Lucion regarding the younger even though the battle was ostensibly over. The fight for shelter and calm was what they were after now. An additional but useful burden to NM was the 15 pound bag of rice they'd found in the house back in Slaughter.

It was dawn.

Sun broke over the Caravan's temporary home, a rusted metal barn that Mahmoud and Bohannon had crossed on their detour the day before, when flanking and coming to the aid of Caravan. Some of the walkers that they had lured to the Battle of Slaughter had come from this spot, giving Mahmoud some temporary confidence it was going to be clear.

A long forgotten RV sat next the barn. Wasn't much, but had yielded random supplies when the Caravan had searched it. Likewise with the metal barn. What didn't look like much, sometimes revealed surprising contents. Even little meant much these days.
The metal barn was able to be barricaded shut by equipment inside, giving some semblance of protection for the night. The inhabitants huddled together inside to keep warm by necessity or choice or both, like they were about to go into collective hibernation. Extreme fatigue overpowered all other senses the night before, leading all to eventually sleep. The bag of rice sat against the barn wall. They were too tired to cook.

Ricky had survived until they'd gotten to the barn. They'd laid him down at the base of a tree next to the barn, unable to help the mortally wounded a man, unable to make him even slightly comfortable. There were no emergency rooms anymore. There was nothing they could do.

They had said their goodbye's to Ricky as he shivered, every moment causing agony. The last thing he asked for was water, Joe clutching the young man's hand tightly as the light faded from his open eyes, which the old bowman then closed as a last favor. He'd been with the Caravan through so much, but it was over for him.

Ricky's body had been covered up with a blanket from the RV. Come early morning he lay where they left him, outside the barn under the tree, away from the group but still eerily close, his runners-clad feet sticking out from the bottom of the blanket.

Come morning Joe was already out digging a grave, using a shovel from the barn, a stroke of luck too late, though it wouldn't have been needed if they hadn't lost their man. Cauldershore had been expected to pass after a long illness, but Ricky was another case.

Note: you may feel free to scavenge items from your location, within enough reason of course.
This message was last edited by the GM at 16:18, Mon 15 Aug 2016.

Dominic ran through the forest, his hand gripping on tightly to Isabelle's as much for reassurance than to help her keep up the horrific pace he was setting. Their pursuers weren't far behind them and were rapidly gaining on them; they would have to move even quicker if they were to ever escape them.
A loud metallic crack could be heard a mere fraction before Izzy's scream as the bear trap slammed shut about her leg "No! I'm going to get you out of this just stay calm!" he shouted; desperately trying to prize apart the steel jaws that were crushing her leg "oh Dominic sweetie, you never went to that much effort to save me...what makes her so special?" a familiar voice purred from behind him. Turning his head he stared in horror as Sierra approached him; blood running down her face from the single bullet wound in her head "No...That’s not fair...I didn't..." Dominic began only to be cut off by yet more voices from his past
"And what about us? you didn't even bother looking for us" Nevada and Lizzie asked; their waterlogged clothes clinging to pallid rotting flesh with putrid water pouring from out of the mouths with every word they said "Shit boy, You couldn't even do you own dirty work!" Sam drawled with blood flowing from between his lips and looking like he’d just escaped an abattoir.
It was all Dominic could do to stop himself from screaming as rank after rank of dead friends and colleagues came towards him, eager to take their revenge upon him for failing to save them. He got up to run, to take Izzy's hand and save her from this hell even if it meant cutting off her leg all over again. But Izzy was gone and it was his foot in the trap. Looking up Dominic had enough time to watch as Sam and Brady drew large rusty Bowie knives before they fell upon him with Sam’s cackling words only just audible above his screams "boy, you have no idea how much I'm going to enjoy this!"

Dom awoke with a start; jamming his hand between his teeth to stifle the cry of terror welling up from deep within him. He’d had nightmares before but that had been one of the worst, with the memory of Ricky and Cauldershore pinning him in place as the dead Southerners had hacked him apart doing little to help calm him down.
Cautiously removing his hand from out of his mouth Dominic took a moment to idly examine the teeth marks within his flesh before pulling Izzy just that little bit closer to him. Like a little kid with a security blanket.

How had everything gone to hell so quickly? He'd done it. He'd gotten Ricky back, and then there was the arrow sticking through his chest mockingly; screaming to the world that once again he'd failed to save someone he'd cared about.
After that it had just been a blur of bullets, Zed's and explosions as the world around him seemed to go to hell. He'd stood there screaming at the top of his lungs at the Lost Boy's as he'd emptied the magazine of his gun at them, though for the life of him he couldn't tell you what it had been he was screaming...Kaidan's name perhaps? The gods alone knew how much he wanted to kill the little shit and to hell with Karen’s request.
Even now as he lay upon the pile of warm, dry hay with his arms around Izzy he couldn't quite fathom why Kaidan had done what he'd done. He’d gotten what he’d asked for and it wasn’t even like he’d test fired one of those dud pistols as Hank had feared he would. He’d just killed someone in cold blood and started a war for no apparent reason.

He’d have to get up soon and try and figure out what the hell they were going to do; they couldn’t stay here that was for certain as the Lost Boy’s would no doubt be out for their blood, but Dominic was at a loss as to where to suggest they go. With a large proportion of them sporting injuries they were in no fit state to travel long distances even if they weren’t half starved.
As his mind turned to that of the groups various wounds he couldn’t help but carefully probe the scar running along his cheek. He wasn’t sure what was worse; discovering that he’d unknowingly traded death for a large horizontal scar that ran just beneath his right cheekbone or having to put stitches into his own face using the RV’s wing mirror and bright pink cotton he’d found within a sewing kit on its back seat.
An agonising jolt of pain quickly told him that it still hurt like hell and that touching it was still a bad idea. The scar would be permanent, no two ways about that assuming of course it didn’t become infected and kill him…but that was ok because chicks dig scars right?
This message was last edited by the player at 17:14, Fri 19 Aug 2016.

That night Lorenzo had curled up in the most isolated corner he could find and slept like a rock. If he dreamed he couldn't remember. His arm felt swollen and stiff. It hadn't kept him awake though- after the horrible sleep he'd had the night before nothing short of the Lost Boys knocking on the door could've kept him awake.

Joe was already outside when he woke. Lorenzo curled his fingers into a fist few times, if only to prove to himself he could. For a moment he laid there and tried to make out the dim shapes of the others in the barn. Maybe he could just go back to sleep. It was an afterthought, he was already hauling himself up.

After a customary prowl around the barn looking for creepy-crawlies proved uneventful, he went back in to retrieve a rickety toolkit and a couple old planks of wood. He nodded to Joe, marching past to the RV some distance away.

He could still see the old guy working on the grave. He set the toolkit down by the wheel. Last night Lorenzo didn't have anything to say to Ricky. What are you supposed to say to a dying man? Sucks to be you? He just hung back while the others said their pieces, not really knowing what to do with himself but not wanting to outright leave either.

Later he wanted to work on the RV and see if it had any juice left in it. First things first though. He headed into the vehicle and laid his materials out on the table. It was annoying trying to grip the nail with his bum hand. Even more annoying during the first blow to drive it into the wood, but he stubbornly gritted his teeth. The out of place sound of hammering came from the RV and cut into the morning air.

When they had arrived at the metal refuge the night before, Izzy was not sure she would be able to sleep. Not after having to see off Ricky, who'd been with them for so long. She had grown hard of heart over time as the world had dissolved around her, that she felt more remorse that she did not feel more for the loss than she did. She knew she had, but she was both too exhausted, emotionally and physically, and too desensitized to let go her defenses that kept her from breaking down entirely.

During the night she was grateful for Dominic's embrace, not only keeping warm, but feeling safe, as strange as it was to admit. She'd fallen asleep almost immediately after laying down with her man, playing small spoon for the occasion. The hay felt like a feather bed. She was grimy, disheveled, her eyes had dark circles underneath, but she slept hard.

In reply to Dominic Dubreton (msg # 2):

Izzy first slept through Dominic's initial jolt awake, the still slumbering woman murmuring in her sleep in unconscious reply to the physical sensation. She shifted slightly as she began to just slowly come around, bunting her body back against Dominic's, a hand moving back to take and tug and on Dominic's clothing.

Eyes slowly opening to a half lidded state, the sounds of their 'camp' became more obvious. Firstly the sound of a shovel in the ground outside, and then of a hammer. Izzy rubbed her eyes, then turned over so she faced Dominic, nuzzling her face against his chest, her hand gripping a clump of his shirt. She noticed he'd been worrying his scar.

"You're still handsome." She spoke softly in a whisper, her tone carrying additional comments, such as 'I love you', 'I'm worried about you'.
This message was last edited by the player at 01:45, Fri 19 Aug 2016.

What was there to say about the events of the previous day?

The names and faces had become so numerous and fleeting that NM wasn't sure if he even had the energy to exert on the sorrow that accompanied the brutal reality of what their lives were like. It was like they could not catch a break. In the past, when his dad had been lecturing him about his laziness, his complaining, the old man had informed a slightly younger NM that he would know he was mature when out on his own, when he realized that there was no rescue coming, that anything better was on him. He'd scoffed at the old coot, who wasn't really that old now that the teen thought about it.

After saying goodbye to Ricky under the tree, he'd crashed like most if not all of the others, to varying degrees of comfort. Exhausted after the fight, he had put off any guilt over what they'd been through. Truth was, he'd never fired his gun once in the fight, instead he'd kept Tom close. With the walkers around the street, the Lost Boy's hadn't tried any attack at the back door. They'd gotten lucky, though it wasn't luck, it was Mahmoud and Benson coming to the rescue.

New Mexico kept close to Hank and Tom during the night, and he dreamed about his family. His younger sisters. He used to cook breakfast for them. Bacon. Almost every morning. It wasn't just a job, he enjoyed it.

Weirdly, he felt better when he woke up to the sounds of the group coming about. Sitting up, he noted who was still sleeping. His long shaggy hair was a mess. He really needed a cut, for not only was it uncomfortable with the weather getting hotter, but it was too easy for a biter to grab hold of.

Pulling a piece or two of straw from his brown locks, he observed Tom and Hank, then Lorenzo and Izzy for a moment before rising up.

On his way out of the barn, he glanced at the bag of rice they still had. NM had used it as a pillow during the night, though it hadn't been ideal.
Probably the only good thing to come out of Slaughter. He considered that if the RV could work, maybe they could cook the rice up in the vehicle over the stove top.

Gently closing the barn door behind him, the still half asleep teenager left the door open a crack to let morning air and a thin beam of light enter for the others. Dressed in a dirty dark green hoodie and jeans, he'd also slept in the combat boots stolen from the DEA van ghouls. He left behind his body armor where he'd slept, for now. The young Caravaner brought his machete though, sliding it back into the sheath fastened by straps to his thigh. He'd taken it out during the night so it wouldn't poke him uncomfortably.

First thing was first, he had to take a piss. It was hard to imagine he had any fluids considering he hadn't had water for a good bit now.
Glancing to Joe briefly, and to the pair of feet sticking out from under a blanket at the base of a nearby tree, NM moved to the side of the barn to do his business. He'd made sure not to pee directly on the metal, so as not to grossly wake up the others.

NM glanced over his shoulder once or twice, eyes squinting against the light of the rising sun, checking his blind spots for lurkers as he was most vulnerable.

---

Having survived the process of urination, New Mexico went to speak to Joe. He would have offered to help, but they had only one shovel, and Joe was nearly finished. They exchanged a few words of greeting, with a knowingness in their interaction, their gazes, that was almost like friends who'd been through war together. Joe told NM that Lorenzo was in the RV when the Kid asked.

Moving on, New Mexico entered the RV, following the sound of the hammering. His boots on the steps into the RV caused slight bounce before he opened the door to go inside. Clearly Lorenzo was working on something, but seemed to be having at least some discomfort as he did so. Was he building a cross for the grave?

"Hey dude. How's the arm?" He asked quietly, hands stuffed into his hoodie pockets, looking messy. The teen stepped closer but kept out of way of the hammer pull back.

Lorenzo had saved his life by taking on Sam during the storm, and though the guy was strong NM knew he was literally bent out of shape. NM had had his own scrape many months back, when one of Sam's goons shot him in the shoulder. He'd barely survived, Dominic and the others had saved his life, but they lost Mark and Rob in the process.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:34, Fri 19 Aug 2016.

Mahmoud groaned as he rolled over in the hay, a brown hand rising to scritch-scratch his big black beard. It had grown out over the last many months, though he'd tried to keep it reasonable at times, he was looking more and more like the other men in family photos, with Sikh men adorned in curling, well maintained beards. Luke would be proud. A traditional headdress though, that would be a bit much in times such as these. Mahmoud was a more modern guy anyway, it had never been his thing, even if expected.

The Caravner had led the group to this barn, that he and Benson had found on the way to reuniting with the group, which had happened just in time. Not in time for Ricky, though. He remembered back at the CDC when he, Ricky, Cookie, many others had chopped their way through dozens of undead to get to a boat that would take them to the ill-fated Fort Dixie.

Ricky's friend, the mute boy, hadn't made it out of that. They hadn't heard him scream because of it, and couldn't save him. They at least got to say goodbye to Ricky. Mahmoud had put up a brave face for Ricky, but had admittedly broken down a bit in exhaustion afterwards, shedding some tears and expressing true grief, but keeping quiet so as not to attract walkers in the night.

He was sure they all felt awful in the same way, and additionally awful in other ways. Mahmoud had become the guy that tried to take care of everyone else, from being the guy who had been, well, pretty much like Luke when he first joined the Caravan, same time as Izzy, in fact. To that point..

Mahmoud noticed that Luke, who'd slept next to him, had in fact grabbed onto him, in effect 'snuggling' him as he'd slept. His eyes widened open, and he would have tensed up even more than he had if wasn't still sluggish. And truly, he'd needed the sleep, and had gained some rest in spite of events.

"Ugh, off off off.." Mahmoud urged as he sat up, snaking out of Luke's arms, the young man drooling, mustache askew which Mahmoud knew would vex the vain millennial.

Karen may as well have been a ghost, the way she sat by Ricky under the tree. Had she been there all night? Her face was coloured in all different shades. Blue grey for the tired, haven't-slept-in-two-days bags under her eyes. Red for her eye lids and her nose, from quietly weeping all night long. And finally a pale white for her complexion, from not eating since the scraps in the office building after the storm, and brought on by the slight chill of the night.

Karen looked a mess. Considering the circumstances though, maybe that was acceptable. She slouched, her knees up, tight to her chest. Her back stuck to the tree, APD jacket scrunched up at the bottom. Every now and again she brought her hand up to wipe the snot from her nose and the tears from her eyes.

Early that morning when Joe had come out with the first crack of the sun to begin grave digging, he had found Karen there beside Ricky in exactly this posture. Joe had tried to talk to her, to get her to go inside and get some rest, but talking to the tree probably would have gotten the man more for his troubles. Karen just sat there, in a daze, mumbling and crying.

So, had she been out there all night?

Truthfully, Karen didn't remember leaving Slaughter. Everything after Kaidan... No. Atlanta fired that arrow at Ricky was gone. Not even a blur to her. Simply blank. Now the sight of Ricky, wrapped up in a blanket, his feet peeking out, the breeze fluttering what covered his blank, expressionless face. It was a sight all to vivid.

Karen took a deep breath in, recovering from another fit of quiet sobbing. "I'm so so sorry Ricky. It's my fault, I know. I'm such  horrible mother. Kaidan was right. He was right, I was never there. I was never there for him. I was gone. I was gone in Iraq. I was gone at work. I didn't want to come home. I didn't want to come home Ricky, I was scared. I was scared of him. I was scared of my boy!" She began weeping again. "He scared me!" Karen clamped her hands around her forehead and her face. "Antisocial personality disorder is impossible to diagnose in a child his age? Fuck you! Fuck you! You knew!" Karen shook her head over and over. "And I was scared to come home to him. I left him at home and I sent him away and I couldn't stop taking those pills, because I knew. I knew about him. I did this. I let this happen Ricky! I let this happen! I did this to you! Blame me Ricky! Blame me for this! It's my fault!" Karen cupped her hands around her face again and continued sobbing.

She had been like this all night. From the moment the last of them finished saying their goodbyes to Ricky, after he was gone and wrapped up, Karen took her turn. She sat beside the tree and said goodbye to him and she hadn't moved since. She just keep weeping and rambling and sobbing and ranting. And then when she wasn't doing that she just stared blankly at Ricky in silence.

Deep in thought Karen's heavy eyelids were locked on Ricky's face. Drooping slowly, over and over her eyes finally shut, only for a moment. Suddenly she saw not the arrow ripping through Ricky's chest, but rather Christopher. The man's face was devoid of any color, his lips darkening and his eyes struggling to stay open. He wasn't quite aware when the other's arrived, a weak cough from the mortally wounded man releasing some blood from his mouth before he could summon any words. "Don't waste the supplies.." He managed to say to Dominic. If he was able to raise his hand he would have waved off the treatment.

"Find the others.. Take my sword..Karen knows..-" Without a stir, he drifted off, his pale blue eyes still open, staring at the others with no life behind them. One hand still grasped his cavalry sabre, another human's blood clinging to the blade.

Karen's eyes snapped open once more. She had murdered Christopher along with so many others, their names unknown to her. And now Ricky, who had survived the attack on the farm that day only to be hauled to St. Louis where so many more people died, each and every one of their blood on Karen's hands too. Rachel, Doug, Sierra, Christopher... Each one of them died, to bring her son back to her, just so he could kill Ricky. It was a vicious cycle of blood, all in the service of one evil boy.

So much potential, gone in a hail of gunfire. Even if Kaiden didn't experience normal human emotions logic should have dictated the advantages of an alliance, or at least not starting a feud. Though sabotaging the guns would have been an issue. Joe was right, the Lost Boys weren't just kids anymore, they were survivors. At least the diversion Mahmoud and Benson had dissuaded any immediate chase. Just as well, between the shock and Ricky they hadn't made their best time.

Ricky...zombies were almost the expected way to go now. A psychotic teen during a hostage exchange? Who could have imagined that? He hadn't really known the young man, so hadn't known what to say after they laid him against the tree. Though a small, guilty part of him had been glad it wasn't Joe.

The sounds of people moving about slowly roused Hank, pinned by Tom's sleeping form. Given the yesterday's events the kid had curled up almost as soon as Hank had gotten the hay ready, something he hadn't done in a while. Sleep hadn't come easy as visions of the battle's aftermath played through his head. That had been the closest they'd been to dying by human hands since the fort.

Running a hand gently through Tom's hair he wondered how any further run ins with the Lost Boys would go. Surly they all couldn't be out for blood. If they ran into Wyoming they should be good, assuming he had made it out. There hadn't been time to see if he was among those shot down or overrun.

"Still? You mean I was handsome before?" Dominic replied; his quiet chuckling cut short by a hiss of pain as his wound reacted badly to his use of facial muscles, Ok, so laughing hurts...gonna have to remember that he wryly thought as he forced himself not to touch the side of his face by burying his free hand deep into Izzy's beautifully dark hair "I'll be alright, yesterday was just...bad" he finished with the word "Bad" not seeming to cut it, but knowing that to go any deeper would only cause more pain than it was worth.

It was as he was quietly speaking to Izzy that a shaft of light would stretch across the barn as one of the others got up and set about their morning routine, reminding Dominic once again that he still needed to come up with a plan as to what they were going to do "you know...I was thinking that perhaps we should head north? Get out of the state whilst the getting's good and look at finding one of those mountain lodges that Mahmoud was talking about...it'd be nice to be able to settle down for a little while, take this sword off and spend a little time with my girlfriend" he said; shifting position so that Izzy lay atop of him with his arms about her in a tender embrace. Why had it taken him so long to realise how pretty she was? Not to mention all the other qualities that had drawn him to her like a moth to a flame, hell if it hadn't been for that trip into the woods would they have gotten together sooner? Or had the accident been the catalyst that had set it all going? It was an interesting thought, though perhaps one for another time and kept to the confines of his head.

The idea of finding somewhere up in the mountains was kind of appealing. A place where they could all spend a couple of months growing crops and recovering from their various injuries before heading back out into Zombieland once again. Assuming of course that they ever wanted to, though considering their track record with permanent settlements perhaps it would be for the best if they did.
With the sound of a hammer coming from somewhere outside breaking him out of his little day dream he offers Izzy a smile before speaking to her "how are you holding up babe?" Dominic quietly asked the brunette currently dozing on his chest "...I know you and Ricky went through that whole St Louis mess together so...erm...if you want to...talk or something..." Dominic decided that perhaps it would be best to let the rest of that sentence hang seen as he didn't really know where he was going with it. Only knowing that if Izzy wanted to talk to him about it that she would do so and that he wasn't about to force the issue. He cared far too much about his beautiful warrior woman to ever do that to her.

Lorenzo glanced up when he heard someone enter the RV. Mexico. A couple things flashed across his face. Foremost surprise. People didn't tend to come talk with him for the hell of it. Usually they wanted something dangerous dead, something heavy moved, or were bumming a smoke. Then came defensiveness, all tense shoulders and wary eyes like he'd been caught doing something embarrassing- it disappeared once the kid asked about something unrelated to the cross.

"Too messed to lift anything, if that's what you're about to ask for," he answered simply. "'S still broke. Hurts like shit. Were you expecting something different?"

A teasing smile added some levity to his otherwise gruff tone.

His focus shifted back to the cross. When he was a kid even the family dog at least had the dignity of a grave marker. A big stone him and the other children painted. Sky blue with white splotches that were in theory supposed to be clouds, messy writing, and a trail of birds going across. Not unlike the birds he had tattooed by his shoulder, though the stories between the two were wildly different.

"How you doing México?" He watched the kid from the corner of his eye while he worked. "Did you need something?"

Tom had been drifting in and out of sleep all night. Everything had gone to hell so fast, one minute Dom had been out getting Ricky back then next... The island had provided protection, just not from the direction NM had been expecting. While the ringing had gone away every time he started to relax the sounds of gunfire would put a stop to it.

He had said an awkward goodbye to Ricky with the others, not really knowing what to say to someone with an arrow sticking out of them. Especially when the one who shot arrow had been the kid he had been looking forward to meeting. He had told Karen that surviving would depend on the people Kaiden would have met, but who could have imagined he'd be one of the crazies. At least he'd only know Kaiden as an enemy. What Karen would be going through was something he didn't even want to think about.

Hmm Tom grunted, pushing Hank's hand away from the lump where he had hit the wall. His eyes remained shut as he adjusted position, not wanting to deal with the day. Wake me up when the dead stay dead.

In reply to Lorenzo (msg # 10):

The night of the storm was hard. The battle of Slaughter the following day was worse. But last night was by far the worst. The weight of everything that had happened, everyone they had lost... Bohannon never got a chance to say goodbye to Ricky. He was too busy dealing with the bullet wound in his leg. But then again he never had a chance to say goodbye to everybody else they lost in the storm either. Man it had been a shit couple of days.

There was a frustrated stirring in the back of the camper as the sound of voices filled the modest space. The small, dangling curtain that separated the kitchen space from the back bed slowly slid open. A boxer short and bandage clad Bohannon stood in the archway, hair askew, scratching his beard, one eye squinted right shut. "Y'all maybe wanna keep it down? I'm tryin' to sleep here." He said as gruff as he could, but just sounding groggy. He shifted his weight uncomfortably to his good leg, the make-shift bandage around the bullet holes on his right thigh stained a few different shades of red-brown. Clearly the ninety-nine-cent-store sewing kit that Dominic had patched everybody up with last night hadn't done the trick. But he wasn't complaining.

Bohannon sighed, or huffed... Generally grunted sleepily. "Ugh, I'm up I guess. Anyone making breakfast?" The cowboy asked, trying to take a step and failing. Bohannon stumbled, catching himself on the edge of the counter. His leg was useless like this...

In reply to Mahmoud (msg # 6):

Luke awoke with Mahmoud's incessant urging to get off of him, causing the ruffled young man to detach from one of two of their rescuers the day before. He yawned loudly, bewildered momentarily, then rubbed his eyes as the sounds of camp filled his senses. Why hadn't he heard it until now? What if it had been lurkers?

The hipster Caravaner had slept on and off, so not well, but had succumbed in the end. He'd had weird dreams about Lord of the Rings, the second film, The Two Towers. At the end of the movie Gandalf comes to Helms Deep and saves everyone, but in place of the actual actors were Mahmoud as the wizard, and Bohannon as the Rohan dude played by Karl Urban.

The Brown Wizard. Luke thought weirdly as he sat up, looking over to Mahmoud, still unaware he'd caused the older-than-him man any anxiety by their close contact. "Mahmoud, I'm thirrsty." He teased his companion lightly, masking any dark emotions in him like many of them were like to do. Not particularly known for his deep-thinking, this trait, if true, might've been of particular help given what they'd gone through.

He was the last of the Fort Dixie crowd that had merged with the Caravan. After a rough winter with their large group, Luke had been given a crash course in survival out in the Z-lands. He missed Fort Dixie always even if it wasn't perfect. He'd rarely had to go outside the walls.

Luke hadn't known Ricky as well as others but he liked the guy. Ricky was easy going, but stood up for himself like against that bitch Janice, when needed. Now in the Caravan, though they lacked the vehicles to constitute the name, Luke was still trying to find his place, still on the way to proving he could keep pace. The mustachioed man was still there, when so many others hadn't pulled through.

At least he was lucky. But all the same, maybe it was time to take lessons in bow-shooting or whatever from the old timer.
This message was last edited by the player at 04:32, Fri 26 Aug 2016.

In reply to Luke, Hank, and Tom:

When Luke stirred and disentangled himself from Mahmoud, the elder survivor sighed, running his fingers through his mighty but unkempt beard, picking some more straw out of it. He felt, like they all did, not so much a human at the moment with their lack of stability, showers, etc. They'd gotten used to some of it, but still..

"You already got a good gulp last night, Pornstache. You can help fetch water and get it ready if you're so parched." Mahmoud teased Luke, sincere about the need to get some water, using Luke's mustache the guy worried over to much to lighten the matter and mood. He even added a ribbing grin. Mahmoud was thirsty too. And damn hungry.

Groping with one hand around his space for his belongings, he grasped his canteen, unscrewing the lid and bringing the forebodingly light container to his lips. He was only able to get a little bit, making sure to leave enough for Tom and Hank. It wouldn't satiate anyone, but it was better than nothing before they went after some water and boiled it along with the rice they had.  "Luke, get your head straight and then get ready for a water run."

Food. They had food. Just had to get it ready.

Mahmoud glanced across the barn to where Dominic and Isabelle spoke quietly, even smiling a little as they got close. This caused a sincere smile to evolve from Mahmouds lingering grin.

Toning down his expression, though he couldn't help but feel a swell of optimism for the group suddenly, he stood up, hay falling from his disheveled clothes. Breaking the beam of light through the doorway, Mahmoud approached Hank and Tom.

"Hey guys, how you doing?" He asked calmly and friendly, squatting down next to them, and extending his canteen for them. Water was low, but he had a couple gulps in there for them each before it was gone. The scruffy dark Caravaneer appeared ragged and exhausted, like them all, but had a smidgen of hope about him.

"I was thinking of going for water with Luke. There is a farming canal nearby, I think we could use some of the empty water jugs in the barn to collect and bring the good stuff back. We can boil it, fill the groups canteens and cook some rice. Heck, maybe we'll have enough to clean ourselves up before we move on." Mahmoud filled them in, his voice quieted so he did not distract or wake up Dominic and Izzy, but really he just wanted to give them some privacy and time. Dominic had tried everything he could to yield a positive outcome with the Lost Boys. He'd even gotten Joe back before Kaidan went nuts.

"Do you guys want to join in? Stretch your legs? You get first dibs on a drink and food, and I think it would make everyone happy, and help out Doc."
This message was last edited by the player at 04:51, Fri 26 Aug 2016.

In reply to Dominic Dubreton (msg # 9):

Izzy took Dominic's humor as a good sign, smiling a little herself until Dominic recoiled from the pain of his wound. She looked up at her boyfriend and leader, gauging his state, feeling sorry for his discomfort, her half lidded eyes closing for a moment as Dominic ran fingers through her thick dark hair. It had grown longer, and likely many of them needed a cut. She'd kept it slightly shorter in the past, to keep the walkers from snatching her, but that was some time ago.

Dominic's assessment brought a singular nod from Izzy. They'd gone through it all together, and knew where they each were coming from. Her bond with Dominic meant his burdens were her own. She'd do what she could for him, even if it was just being there, for now, or protecting him.

Members of their group began to shuffle about. Though they hadn't all slept well, it was a new day, and people were taking to it. A line of light entered the room, a sign of the morning that awaited just outside the heavy barn doors. Izzy's hand on Dominic's chest warmed from the light as it touched her sun tanned skin.

Dominic's musing about going North was one to consider. Indeed Mahmoud had offered some suggestions previously as did others that needed to be considered while they had a window of opportunity. Or so she thought. Settling anyone, or trying to, even in the mountains, brought its own unique challenges, but so did exposure in the Z-land wastes.

She reacted positively to his thoughts, if anything because it meant he was thinking of their future. One had to have a vision that was then to be followed through to, a purpose to keep going. "Oh yea? When do I get to meet this girlfriend of yours? " She teased him gently, her body accenting his own after they'd shifted with her atop of his warm form. They'd kept each other safe and warm during the night, and she kind of did not want to leave the barn, to face the real world. "I like the idea of setting up somewhere safer. I think we should do it. Our people need to heal, we've got to rebuild our group and be ready for anything." That anything wasn't entirely meaning violence, but a future together. A peaceful, or more peaceful one.

She left unspoken for now the reality that the Lost Boy's were still at large, even if damaged, and that there were grudges and vendetta's on both sides now. They couldn't be sure the Lost Boy's would leave them alone. They might have to be taken care of. It wasn't what she wanted but was what may be needed, but that was a discussion for another time. This time was theirs.

Izzy gave pause when Dominic asked her about how she was holding up. Looking up into his eyes, she broke the gaze just briefly, as if not wanting to address certain emotions or memories. "We've lost a lot of friends." She spoke quietly, reflecting before reasserting her soft stare on Dominic, a stare that normally hardened for the outside world.

"I kept myself distant from the group for a long time. But you can't help but have people grow on you. Lots of.. scar tissue. It hurts everytime so much, yet I'm getting too used to this happening. I don't want to think that this is the way it's going to be forever, but I've needed to keep strong. Embracing the way the world is now, we lose ourselves, but we stay alive.." She confessed, almost having started by saying she did not want to talk, and truly she didn't, but of course she did. And who better to talk to than he? Dominic just brought this out of her.

Her finger's tightened around Dominic's shirt, she pressed her body against him a bit more as if cold again. "I've tried to keep strong for my kids. I-I don't think I'll ever find them now.. So I'm going to be strong for our people, for you, for me, until the end, if there is one. Because I have to, because we don't get a choice." Mentioning her lost kids, a boy a girl, aged four and six, brought a glassiness to her eyes but she did not waver more than that, she did not allow herself to, or simple could not, cry. They weren't yet dead to her, but she doubted their survival.

She had began the apocalypse with her children, keeping them safe for a time, but barely. The group they were in at the time had became separated by a herd of biters. The last she saw of her children was their faces in the back window of a getaway vehicle, when her group split in half, divided by a sea of walking corpses.

They were all supposed to meet up again, re-unite. It never happened. They had been trying for the Colony before being separated. A crazy dream of a safe place, back then. They'd been inspired by supposed Guides from the place. Allegedly up North.

Their particular guide had been on the side of the zombie river with her kids. She hadn't a guide of her own.

Eventually losing her last companions she came into contact with a motley of dozens of survivors in the State Forest. That is where the Caravan was born. Rounded together and led by Guides of the same Colony that would have had her children. Those guides died from the biters, though, with only shadows of directions for their group.

She followed with the Caravan with the faint hope they'd reach the Colony, but they encountered so many problems on the way, so many detours were taken, so many choices out of their hands, that she'd all but given up. Only then, was she able to be vulnerable enough to let others in; the group, Dominic..

Her lover would knew her story by now, she'd told him eventually as they'd grown closer. Others in the group, though not all, knew of her story. Mahmoud, Mexico.. The others knew only bits.

In reply to Karen (msg # 7):

The tall, sinewy strong bowman stood in the grave freshly prepared for Ricky. He examined his early morning work, essentially completed. He was shirtless, his shoulders and arms toned and cut with archer's muscles while simultaneously thin like everyone else. In medieval times he'd probably look the part of a typical laborer or military archer.

The arrow that had killed Ricky was stuck into the ground near the grave. It wasn't a temporary marker, Joe intended to reuse the arrow, perhaps poetically return it to Kaidan.. The shit had stolen his bow during the battle. Joe could make another one, but he wanted HIS bow back. He'd get it back.

Sharp, piercing green eyes scanned his work, deeming sufficient before his hard gaze stared out to Karen next to Ricky's corpse. He'd allowed her to mourn and grieve both Ricky, her bastard son and herself through the night, checking on her periodically from the barn where he'd joined the others. Inside, he'd taken a sleeping spot above the group, having climbed into the rafters where extra hay lay.

Joe had continued to tolerate Karen's instability as it was at least confined to Ricky's stiff form, and because he was occupied with the burial.

Rising from the grave, Joe snatched up his dirty, bloodied, dark long sleeve henley shirt. The Lost Boy's had stolen his jacket during his capture.

Walking in a few, long, quiet strides that would be more numerous for the average person, the salt and pepper bearded survivor stepped towards Karen, stopping next to the broken woman and the dead Ricky.

He stood there next to her sitting position, his large, tightly booted feet parallel with one another in front of her. "You finished?"

In reply to Lorenzo & Benson:

If Mexico noticed the momentary tensing in Lorenzo, he did not address it. The guy had been toughing out a busted ass arm without a sling or many drugs, and so on. Really Mex enjoyed Lorenzo's way of carrying himself, NM grinned as Lorenzo signaled that there was no malice to his words in actuality. With nothing needing to be said on that count, as they understood eachother, the teen's attention shifted to Lorenzo's cross when the fighter did.

NM had spent enough time with his people, with many people, to know how to observe. Lorenzo had hardly known Ricky, but had gotten up early to make a cross for the guy, likewise Joe with the grave. That meant something, and NM didn't have to blow smoke up Lorenzo's ass to make it clear he appreciated it.

Lorenzo continued working, and NM watched when he wasn't looking over the RV. "I'm good man. Considering all the shit. Weird to say, but I've been through worse. We're going to be cool." Maybe it was a strange way to answer Lorenzo's question, but there was a note of clarity to it, a placidity. Mexico felt oddly sure. There were only so many times one could be traumatized before it just seemed like normal. Would he have an actual modern shower one day and freak out because it was so unreal?

"I was wondering if we might get the RV battery started, so that we could use the stove. We wouldn't have to start a fire outside then maybe, won't draw attention through the smoke when he cook up the rice. You think this thing is any salvageable?" He asked, not in any particular rush, and able to find the answer himself, but seeing as Lorenzo was already there he asked. Also, he felt like he should be assisting the guy with his task, but he didn't want to belittle Lorenzo by asking if he wanted help. "Hey can I get in on this cross-building if you aren't finished? I should've done something myself but I just crashed in the barn.."

Mexico's attention stirred as Benson rolled out of bed all haggard as hell and grumbly as fuck. Taking in the sight of the messy man, NM ribbed him in good natured sarcasm. "Well good morning 'Mister Underachievier Every Girl Wants to Sleep with'" The young survivor zoned in on Benson's bandaged leg where he'd been shot. The dressing was fucked, and needed a change soon if the guy was going to have a chance of healing right. Then again, what did they have to work with?

"We've got that bag of rice, just need to get some water and b-" Mexico answered, but when Benson tripped he moved forward to try to stop the cowboy's fall best he could. Benson caught himself, which was fortunate cause NM probably wouldn't have been able to help in time. He's injured, but at least for now its sleepy-injured.

"Fuck sakes man, careful. You alright? We should probably change those dank ass bandages.."

"Soon...I think you'd like her, she's smart, funny, sexy as hell and more than capable of keeping me in line" Dominic replied with a smile before leaning up to give Izzy a quick peck on the lips before settling back down within the hay.

With his hand gently rubbing her back in an absent manner he listened to her talk about her past; both the recent and not so recent.
He'd heard the story about how she'd become separated from her children before but it was still heartbreaking to see the pain in her eyes as she told it to him once again. The phrase "its alright, we're going to find them" springing to his lips but left unspoken despite how much he wanted to say those words; to bring comfort to the beautifully strong brunette lying atop of him. However, deep down he knew it would be cruel to do so, to promise what he couldn't deliver.
The country that had once been known as America was a very big place and had become a very dangerous place since adopting it's new moniker of Zombieland and it had been a very long time since that day that Izzy had become separated from her children meaning that as much as he'd love to help her search for them he knew the odds of their survival were not in their favour. Not to mention the fact that there were other people within the Caravan to consider as well and that he couldn't ask them to follow him on a wild goose chase across the country in search of a pair of young children that may already be dead.
So instead of uttering the cruel and painful lie he'd kissed her, hoping to convey how much she meant to him and how he would do whatever he could help her with a single heartfelt gesture.

Upon breaking off the kiss Dominic would take a moment to twine his fingers within Izzy's hair; marvelling at how long and thick it had gotten since he'd first met her. There had once been a time when he'd been almost as fastidious about his appearance as Luke was; keeping his hair short and spiked with gel and his face clean shaven. However after spending a great deal of time within Zombieland he'd given up, deciding instead to spend his time on things more crucial to his survival. As a result his hair was now rather long and shaggy if not quite as bad as NM's was and he had at least a weeks worth of stubble on his face that would no doubt turn into a beard to rival that of the Cowboys if he let it.
Offering Izzy a look that said he was about to destroy their little piece of happiness by bringing them back down to reality despite how much he didn’t want to "I suppose we should think about getting up and joining the others" Dominic said with a disappointed sigh, not really wanting to bring this moment to an end but knowing that it had to end eventually "...though it would appear that we have the entire barn to ourselves...now whatever would we do with that much privacy?" he asked with a glint in his eye as his hand slowly slid up Izzy's top. After all it'd be rude not to take full advantage of the situation.

In reply to Mahmoud & Tom

If only. Hank sighed, giving the kid a slight squeeze. Though if I do that we'll starve in this barn. Besides, I think some of the others are already up. The sound of footsteps getting louder brought his gaze up. Speaking of which... Shifting a grumbling Tom off to one side as Mahmoud approached he scooted up a bit on his backpack turned pillow.

Still in one piece. Any other day before now Hank's response would have had a bit levity to it, but today he was too drained for it. Though when the bearded man mentioned the canal he perked up a little. He hadn't seen it the night before, and with the canned food they could actually do a stew. Sure, I think we still have a stew or two. Get an actual meal before we have to hit the road again. He stretched, back cracking.

Come on. Sitting up he turned to Tom. You're coming too. The more water we can get the more uses we have. Standing he glanced to the two pillowcases he had managed to fill before the shooting began. Along with clothes he had managed a couple items from the hall closet. They'd actually be able to brush their teeth instead of just wiping them with a cloth.

In reply to Hank Lucion (msg # 19):

Mahmoud's hirsute head tilted slightly in an inquisitive way when Hank replied that he and Tom were in one piece in a downcast sort of way. Despite detecting this, Mahmoud smiled gentle but small, reading the disposition of the two brothers to detect how healthy they were. Hank would honestly look out for Tom and any other young ones, but Mahmoud reminded himself to make sure Hank looked after Hank.

It brightened Mahmoud to see the sprightliness in Hank upon mention of water, and therefore food. They had to keep moving on, and nothing would settle a mind like a settled stomach. Usually.

Mahmoud rose from squatting to stand as Hank did so. He followed the younger man's gaze the pillowcases of canned goods, reminding him of kids trick-or-treating, using pillow cases for depthy candy bags as Mahmoud had done when young. He'd dressed as as Samurai one year. His father had disapproved but let him have his fun.

He appreciated Hank's thrift and guile, and his disposition indicated as much. Mahmoud was glad to have Hank and Tom in the group. It was often no good to mention such things as they forbode finality, but through little gestures they could show eachother how much they cared.

"Good work on bringing those cans along, Hank." Mahmoud thanked the man with a nod and a soft clap on the older Lucion's shoulder. "Once you've got Tom here up and at 'em, meet Luke and I outside and we'll head off. Shouldn't take long, and we can have a certifiable feast. Also.. Might be nice to let the lovebirds have some private time." Mahmoud spoke quietly but a much needed dose of humor.

--

After he'd left Hank and Tom, Mahmoud had gathered up Luke as well as some plastic and metal bins from the barn, and waited outside the barn, preparing for the short trek to the canal. Luke was griping as usual, and Mahmoud was trying to minimize his eye rolling so he did not induce a seizure.

Mahmoud noticed Joe and Karen near Ricky's body, and assumed the others were in the RV trailer. With any luck they'd be back with water by the time the burial was nearing fruition, and provide everyone a much needed pick-up with food and drink.

In reply to Dominic Dubreton (msg # 18):

Dominic's humor helped Izzy keep her emotions in check. She'd always been good at it, it was only high stress events and a lack of food, water, shelter and security that made it tough to keep her head above water. She was strong, though, and with Dominic, she felt formidable. His description of her brought a smile to her still youthful features, betraying a sense of loss that threatened to show itself in all of them. When her man pecked her lips with his own, for her own part there was a tender, intense affection tightly kept under wraps but only so.

She loved the sensation of Dom's fingers intertwining with her long, dark hair, a thoughtful hum escaping her. Izzy was aware that there were no clear or right answers to her woes, to any of theirs, and she was glad that Dominic did not demean the darkness of her loss with empty words, but rather helped her with fulsome physicality.

Looking up at Dom from where she was perched upon his frame, she examined his weathered appearance compared to what he'd looked like months ago. Unkemptness became her boyfriend, telling of the weight of the world upon his shoulders, the responsibility that burdened him but also the wealthy experience gained through adversity. He'd taken her leg from her, to save her, months ago. She knew he'd do much and much more to save any one of the group if he could.



Izzy kept herself firmly entrenched on top of Dominic, like a stubborn cat in a way, but there was playfulness in her, brought out despite the dire circumstances they found themselves in. When one found happiness, one had to hold onto it as long as possible even if it would inevitably end.

A soft hand raised to touch and graze over Dominic's stubbled jaw, she shook her head in disagreement. She didn't want to get up, she didn't want to wake up.



Mahmoud, Hank and Tom, Luke.. They'd all sought about moving from the barn, leaving Dominic and Izzy to rise on their own time. She was immensely grateful for this unspoken gesture, for it was heavily needed.

"My my, Monsieur Dominic.. Seems you are right.. I can think of a few things we can do with this..opportunity.." Izzy smiled cleverly, her body warming to his touch. She leaned up from his body then, straddling his lean form. Her fingers curled about the bottom edge of her shirt, and she pulled it free off of her body, allowing her naked skin to breathe. Her hands then sought Dominic's shirt, unbuttoning the top few buttons before her familiar, skilled fingers would assist her tired boyfriend with his pants. He worked so hard, it was the least she could do..

*Fade to Black*
This message was last edited by the player at 05:35, Fri 02 Sept 2016.

In reply to New Mexico  (msg # 17):

Lorenzo snorted at the kid's offbeat answer. He wasn't sure cool everything would be in the grand scheme of things. He tended to not think ahead further than he had to. Take it day by day and let someone else figure it out. Probably why he'd stumbled on the Caravan half-frozen and delirious. When it came to solo planning he was lacking.



"I haven't taken a look yet," he said. He looked pleased NM had differed to him for an opinion on the RV. "I sure hope it is. I wonder if it's got any juice left. Would be nice to just pack everyone in and leave."



"Yeah, knock yourself out homie." Lorenzo gave the cross a funny look. "I keep making it all crooked and shit."

It didn't actually look that crooked. Honestly his arm was just killing him. He started when Benson popped out, the shocked look turning apologetic. He had no idea the dude was in there. He watched to make sure New Mexico wasn't going to fall on his face trying to catch the cowboy, but thankfully Benson steadied himself.

Lorenzo wasn't sure if they even had clean bandages. "I'm gonna go check out the engine and stuff," he excused himself. He glanced at NM. "I'll let you know if it's a no-go."

Sitting upon grass that was still wet with early morning dew, Dominic slowly traced the finger of one hand across the heavily worn map, as his other arm encircled Izzy's waist in an unashamedly romantic gesture. Gone was any pretence that he was offering her any form of support, instead he was simply enjoying the presence and physical contact of someone he cared about deeply.

They had taken their time together, with them both being sure to eek out every last drop of enjoyment they could from out of their "alone time" with neither of them being sure when they would next have an opportunity such as this.
Afterwards he had lain within her arms; caressing her smooth, soft skin and nuzzling her neck as he'd whispered sweet nothings to her in French. Sure, he was deep into sappy romance novel territory but if he couldn't be a little sappy around Izzy then where could he?

"I say we head west, cut across the Mississippi then strike north...see if we can't put the river between us and our new friends" Dominic suggested as he studied the map. There were a couple of towns and villages along the way from which they could scavenge supplies from though a lot of his plan hinged upon them crossing the river without the Lost Boys realising that they'd done so. As much as he wanted to kill that little shit Kaidan, the group was in no condition to fight another battle. Better to slip away and settle the score another time, when the odds were more in their favour "...not sure where to go after that, but it’s a start...what do you reckon?" he asked, wanting the pretty brunette's opinion before he took his idea to the rest of the group.
There was no guarantee that they'd go with his suggestion but it was better to have something prepared. A bad plan was better than no plan at all.

In reply to Hank Lucion (msg # 19):

Turning over as Hank and Mahmoud started talking about water and food Tom realized he wouldn't be going back to sleep. Sighing he sat up, rotating his back and wrists. Normally going on a supply would be something he'd be all over but today he wanted to just curl up till they started back on the road. Looking up he was almost tempted to flip his brother off and roll back, if not to sleep then at least to dig a little deeper into the safety of the hay. A rumble in his stomach stopped him however. Fine. he grumbled as he stood and made his way to the door. Rubbing his eyes he put a hand up as he walked into the morning sun. Seemed like they were the last ones to start their day.

Looking around he spotted Luke and Mahmoud with the containers. Heading over he thought back about what Joe had said about a proper reunion the other day. He still hadn't had time to say hi to the older man, maybe after Ricky was buried and they had some food.

In reply to Mahmoud (msg # 20):

Lorenzo grabbed half of them. Hank shrugged, never one to take direct compliments very well. We'll actually be able to brush our teeth when we're done. He said turning back, running a hand through his hair. Following Tom out he watched Joe talking near Karen and Ricky's body. Why. Was it an eye for an eye thing, because he could, an overreaction to them taking Wyoming? He knew they would likely never know the answer of why Kaiden shot Ricky, but it would linger with him. Shaking his head of the thought he went to where the others were gathering.

In reply to Hank, Tom;

A ruffled, mustachioed Luke had followed Mahmoud outside the barn, waiting for Hank and Tom. They had a large cooler-type bin that would need two men to carry it back when filled, with three fairly well sized metal pails for the others to carry back.

Mahmoud tightened his boots before standing up again, slinging his rifle over his shoulder. Because they'd kept hold of half the ammo and weapons in the battle, they weren't hurting for firepower, but he wasn't keen to us it. He'd scare off any scraggly survivors, but save the butt end of the gun or the bullets for the walkers. Hopefully they'd only run into walkers. People seemed more dangerous now. And gunshots would draw the undead.

Luke's handgun was holstered to his hip. Both Mahmoud and Luke carried night sticks pilfered from the DEA van they'd taken the guns from.

"Hey boys. I told Joe where we were off to. I figure the quicker we get this over with, the sooner we can eat, drink and get the hell out of here." If there wasn't much more to say, he would wave them to follow along, leading back behind the barn, following an understanding of where he knew the canal to be. "It's about a fifteen, maybe twenty minute walk. Faster getting there than coming back with the container's weighed down. Stay alert for crawlers, the grass is long.."

As they left sight of the barn and their impromptu camp, Mahmoud kept on as point man, with Luke following up in the very back, dragging his heels a bit.

"I don't know about you guys, but Karen is freaking me out. Maybe we should.. y'know.. cut her loose? What do you think, Hank? Her kids a fuckin psycho, uh, pardon my German."
This message was last edited by the GM at 23:59, Tue 06 Sept 2016.

Karen snapped back to the hear and now, like she hadn't been raving like a quiet lunatic all night. "Uhm. Yeah. Yeah, lets get him in there." Karen stood, slowly, stiffly, with a bit of unsteadiness as she got to her feet. Her voice was a quiet rasp and her eyes were dark phantoms of their former color. She moved to Ricky's shoulders, waiting for Joe to get the man's feet. with a ready, lift from Joe the couple picked up the body and lowered it gently into its final resting place, albeit with some difficulty on both their parts. Karen was shaky. Her side was stabbing all over again, and it had been almost a day and a half a day of no sleep and probably twelve hours with no Oxy in her system.

With her head spinning and her breathing hastened from the small exertion, Karen took a moment to compose herself before any digging activities commenced. She clasped a fist around one of the shovels Joe had used to dig the grave in the early morning.

With a big breath and a thousand yard stare Karen asked "Do you have children Joe?" Karen's legs fought to stay straight, giving up the ghost and easing their burden down once more to the ground. Karen brought her knees up to her chest, in an almost fetal position. She looked small. Meek. Childlike, in her small form. Her tired eyes shifted to meet Joe's.

The question, of course implied more than it asked. A simple sentence that, given the context, was a cry for help.

In reply to Lorenzo (msg # 22):

Bohannon pushed off the counter, holding his hurt leg up, and awkwardly manoeuvred himself to the RV's kitchen table to join the other boys. "Here, get me that." Bohannon pointed at a small leather parcel that had been living unnoticed on the counter since last night. It was stained with blood, both old and new. Upon receiving it, Bohannon unwound the slender leather tie that bound its contents and unrolled the parcel to reveal one tiny, bent needle, a diminished spool of thread and a tiny pair of jeweller's pliers.

Many long months ago, in an empty bar in Nashville, Benson Bohannon had been shot in the shoulder by his brother Brady. At that time, the cowboy was all alone. With no Dominic to patch him up, Bohannon had to figure out how to do it himself. He was able to scavenge a few small items from the storefronts close by. A needle and thread from a tailor. Pliers from a jeweller. Alcohol from the bar. He barricaded himself in that bar with his sewing kit, dug the bullet out and sewed himself up. He did a pretty poor job and after meeting the Caravan and venturing out on a raid to save New Mexico, Bohannon tore the damn thing open and had to get Dominic to fix it in exchange for cigarettes.

Leaning across to the counter Bohannon snatched up a little pairing knife and sliced his bandage off, letting it fall to the floor. He squeezed and prodded his bullet wound, wincing an grimacing all the while. The one side of the sutured hole had come open, it gaped disgustingly, seeping blood as the cowboy pushed and pulled on it. Using his good leg he pulled yesterday's pants from the floor of the "bedroom" towards him and rifled through his pockets. He produced his lighter and went to work sanitizing everything, threading the needle and biting down on the handle of the pairing knife.

Bohannon stuck the curved needle into his skin, using the small pliers to push and pull it through, closing the wound a little better than before, grunting and cursing through a clamped jaw. It only took a couple gruesome stitches to fix the wound, and the back of his leg was fine. As he finished he snipped the end of the thread with the knife, tossed it into the sink and wiped his fingers on his boxer shorts.

"Y'all didn't find any cigarettes did ya?"

Crawlers, great. Hank briefly considered going back for his crowbar, but dismissed the idea. Coming back would be tricky trying to carry full containers and the metal rod. Settling on a branch likely knocked down from the storm he followed after Mahmoud. While not the best weapon it was something he wouldn't mind leaving behind and the guns the two others were carrying would hopefully be enough to detour any of the living. If they weren't, well at least NM would get use out of his clothes and the others could use Tom's for bandages.

Knocking an overgrown weed over with a swing Hank sighed quietly. Well, I think that'd be up to her. If she can snap back, or at least push through till we get out of here that'd be the best case scenario. But... He shrugged, not liking the idea of leaving Karen behind because of what her kid did. When it comes time to leave, I have bigger concerns I need to worry about. He glanced briefly to Tom, wondering if he'd be safe from the Lost Boys. Turning back to the point man he gave a humorless chuckle. Even if things hadn't gone to Hell yesterday, we'd still be on the run.

In reply to Lorenzo (msg # 22):

From the sounds of it, Lorenzo was not entirely convinced of his sentiment that things would work out. He wasn't about to challenge him, because Lorenzo was probably right to be cynical. In fact, it was likely the best policy. He was glad to have the Hispanic tough guy in their group, he'd practically made the Lost Boy, Wyoming, piss his pants. It had to be taken as a vote of confidence at least that Lorenzo had not ditched them by now. Maybe that busted arm was keeping him close, though.

The teen had noticed the look of approval, but played it cool, happy enough not to simply annoy the guy that had saved him from a murky drowning from that sonofabitch Sam.
NM had been ready to help steady the cross as Lorenzo finished it, the Latino's endeavor meaning something because he hardly knew Ricky, rather it showed he cared that the group cared. Still, NM was figuring the guy out, but liked what he could see so far.


"Alright, man, I'll see to Cowboy and your cross while you do that. Fingers crossed on the thing working." NM replied to Lorenzo as the guy made his way out of the RV, the vehicle jostling slightly as the man descended the short steps.

In reply to Benson Bohannon (msg # 28):

Benson managed to haul his injured butt up on the table, and beckoned for a leather parcel. NM, used to being messy by now, was unperturbed by the blood stains and snagged it for the man, passing it over.

Turned out to be the sewing kit that was going to uncomfortably assist in the mending process. The teen upturned a subtle smirk, impressed and surprised, but keeping it low.

NM watched warily as Benson mucked around with his bandage, not wanting to belittle the guy by offering to help just yet, but concerned enough not to leave him to his devices. It was a gruesome sight, but NM was less likely to flinch and cringe as he would have been months, a year, previous. He empathized with the pain Benson felt, NM had been shot before too, a time where Benson earned his stripes helping out.  But the gore, he was desensitized to it.

The teen observed the entire process of Benson's self surgery without looking away, and raised his eyebrows slightly in some awe at the man's resolve. "Y'know, someone could have helped you with that." He commented dryly, not really to bug Benson, just 'sayin.

"No cigarettes I know of. You should ask Doc or Lorenzo. Soon we'll have rice and water, though..Hallelujah.." Mexico answered with a slight shrug. He didn't smoke. Maybe he should have started.

"Thanks for coming back to us yesterday. Next time maybe don't run off like an asshole and get yourself kidnapped by the He-Man-Woman-Haters-Club, eh?" Mexico chided Benson with a grin.

In reply to Dominic Dubreton (msg # 23):

Sitting with Dominic upon the grass, nestled close to him, Izzy wondered if she was getting soft, even after all this time. She reconciled that it was simply the joy of the moment, and that she still had what it took to survive, as they had. Despite any notion of what others may think, she knew what she wanted. She wanted Dom, she wanted to live. She could have both.

Their private time, though hardly private really, had been a boon to her mood, though she was cognizant of the pall that hung over them. They had not had the best of luck. For her own part, she wasn't going to let her boyfriend be put in an unwinnable situation with that maniac kid Kaidan next time. If there was a next time, she was going to put a bullet in the boy's face, and if his mother interfered, she might have to do the same. Though Izzy had gotten used to Karen and her boy, she hadn't forgotten that Christopher and dozens others had perished because of her.

Still, would she have done the same if it had been her own kids? Didn't matter. Right?

Izzy's arm hung around Dom's shoulder, her fingers caressing the crook of his neck, digits grazing the scruff of his jaw. The scar on his face would make him look fierce, even while she knew he was still the sweet guy he'd always been since joining the Caravan.

Dominic's plan provoked thought in Izzy, who pondered the knowables and unknowables, her eyes portraying that like Dominic, as much as she wanted to kill Kaidan and his fellow..kids, that they were in no shape to fight.

Asked for her opinion, her eyes narrowed a little as she scrutinized the map. "I don't know this area well enough. We need to get the RV or other vehicles, maybe a boat, to move the group or we'll be walker-bait moving overland, or those little shits will fall on us." She wished she had a better answer. Being without a leg, she could almost be thrown in with the wounded as the baggage part of the travel. She could move, though, but not as fast as they needed.

"We need to find higher ground. I like the idea of getting into the mountains. The biters will have a harder time finding their way up, and we'll see other people well enough before they get to us. We rest up, heal, take stock, and rebuild. I guess.." There was some uncertainty in her voice, but a hopefulness too though she wouldn't let it betray her features enough for anyone to notice but the man next to her.

"We need to buy time. Kaidan is going to be out there still.. One of us may know the region well enough to get us to an abandoned lodge. Benson knows the area, Joe can hunt, Lorenzo can fight, you can heal.. Just need to get out of here." She squeezed Dominic then, looking him in the eyes, she could be strong if he was.

In reply to Hank Lucion (msg # 29):

"It just all sucks, dude." Luke complained, perhaps nearing the worthiness of a kid though he was an adult. There were no easy answers to be had, probably. He wasn't about to lead the charge to get Karen out on his own, the best he could do was suggest it to the others, even if it made him queasy considering it. Were they going to be picked apart by Peter Pan kids their entire way to wherever the hell they were going?

"Sorry guys, I think I'm just hungry.. And thirsty.. Man I'd love a burger right now. Wouldn't even need to be vegetarian." The hipster Caravaner quipped as he trudged along behind everyone else, following Mahmoud to the canal. Groans and grunts from Luke would continue.

"We don't even have chopsticks or forks and stuff for the rice. Man, back at Fort Dixie we had all the trimmings. Remember that big breakfast we made for your people, Mahmoud? Toby brought it all out, and we had those walls.." Luke commented wistfully as he trudged forward.

Mahmoud frowned as Luke complained, not wanting Tom or Hank to feel as low as Luke did. They had to act like they were somewhat okay with the way the world was to make it easier for the kids. Luke was sized adult but Mahmoud knew that the guy was immature and would need to smarten up if he was going to make it.

While Luke commiserated, Mahmoud kept quiet as point man, with a sharp eye on his surroundings as he led the others, as as sharp as he could with a hunger as pointed as his was. He was ready to drop his empty water bin at a moments notice and swing his rifle out if he had to. The tall grass made him nervous, but he kept aloof for sake of the others.

After a little while longer, they neared the canal.. "Alright, here it is. Now be careful and work together here, watch your footing. There's got to be a safe enough way to scoop the good stuff out."

As the generator he'd been working on burst into a flurry of sparks, John let out a dictionary's worth of nasty words and sayings. He'd managed to barricade himself in with one of the water pumps, but the damn thing was making enough noise to attract every damn zombie this side of the river. Way he figured it, it must've been caught on something, forcing the gears to work overtime. It's explain the smoke all right, but there's little he could do to confirm it with his shack being surrounded by the dead.

"Just fuck off the lot of ya!"

John bellowed angrily as he brought his sledge down on a grabbing hand that'd made it's way through the defensive wall. Severing it through sheer force, the bloodied stump continued to wave around angrily. Somehow, the fresh water didn't seem so important to John. He just wanted to turn the damn thing off now. Moving more of the excess panels from the machinery and onto the door, John continued to fortify what he could, and plug what holes he needed to. But the situation was getting out of hand. Fast.

Eyes cast down, but still scanning the tall grass, Tom followed the others. He couldn't help but think of The Lost World: Jurassic Park. Except instead of raptors it was zombies they had to worry about. Part of him wondered if they'd be better off if dinosaurs had taken over, sure they'd be harder to kill but at least they'd kill you faster then a zombie bite. With no chance of resurrecting.

Swiping at a clump of ferns he wondered how long they would actually have before having to move. Would they, he and Hank? If it came to it would Wyoming's word be enough to save them from Kaiden's wrath? After all they had never even met the kid. Though if what he had heard about Karen's reunion was true was his own group even safe? What if they had run into them under different circumstances? Could the groups have worked together? He knew the Lost Boys was just a name, was there a chance he could have even found a girlfriend? Hormones didn't care about the apocalypse after all.

Luke's talk of food brought a rumbling to his stomach. The rice would be a nice change, more filling then just a can and hopefully they'd be able to use less cans in general. Though the man complaining about utensils was too much right now. Utensils, really? He almost laughed, the sheer absurdity of the complaint against what was going on would fit a sitcom perfectly. Well, I'd like a girlfriend. Which one do you think is more likely? His tone was sharper then usual, a combination of hunger and yesterday's events. Quickening his pace he overtook Hank.

In reply to Karen (msg # 27):

Joe stared down at Karen with steely yet enveloping, sharp green eyes as the guilty woman came to, managing to respond to him. If she hadn't, he might have hauled her up and struck her until she came to. The elder did not try to assist Karen as she unsteadily rose to her feet. Joe was not a man of malice, but he was not a man of coddling those who took to self pity. Didn't mean he did not have feeling.

His observant gaze took in the fullness of her, expecting her to fall incapacitated as much as assist with any due work. He said nothing though, no chastisement, no vitriol yet, as she cooperated in the raising of the dead Ricky. Joe had carried the dying man in a run the night before after release from their joint captivity under the Lost Boys. He could do as much now, but why should he carry sole burden? And it was right and just that Karen assist in this process as she was indirectly responsible.

Directing the carry, Joe proved himself to be physical capable despite his imprisonment and torture, ably directing the three of them towards the grave where Karen and he set Ricky within. The kid still wore his glasses. He was paler than usual. At least he hadn't taken a shot to the face.

Joe easily caught the pain in the injured woman, and spared her from further exertion after the dead lift by taking the only shovel himself. The survivor set about returning the earth to the hole he'd dug that morning, slowly covering Ricky's young form with soil. There was no betrayal of unsteady emotion from Joe. He was taut and resilient, at least on the outside.

Karen was unsuited to further tasks, but Joe harangued her little on this point as he continued to work. Her question brought a glance from the tall, sinewy man, though he was not shook by the query.

"Had children. Yes." He answered with little hesitation, but vibrant contemplation in his fierce eyes.

The ringing of hammer on metal had ceased from the RV, though Joe did not look over. He heard Lorenzo descend from the RV to gander at the entrails of the engine. No need to look, he knew the steps' owner by ear.

Ricky was all but covered in a solid layer of earth then, only a hand protruding from the ground, which Joe promptly covered, his thin muscles shimmering with sweat. Taking a break before the final finish, though the greatest work was done, Joe stabbed the shovel end into the soil between his feet, wiping his brow then with a forearm, and then resting on the end of the staff.

"There's just enough space left for you to jump in with Ricky. That is, if you want to give up. Got to be something keeping you going. In this world, seeing your flesh and blood for the creature they are, must just about do you in, eh?" Joe spoke quietly, not cruelly, but honestly. He searched the broken Karen for any signs of life, little sympathy in his disposition, but no malice either.

"I get it. You're at a loss. Asking yourself what the hell reason there is to continue. All your hard work, for nothin'." Joe continued, straightening his back as he continued to work, filling the grave the rest of the way.

"Missed your chance. Now you've got to keep living dead like the rest." He focused on his work, only after finishing fill the rest of the grave did he turn to Karen again. "No one's gonna give you a reason to go on. You best find a reason yourself. You feel responsible for Kaidan? Than BE responsible for your boy. If you think blood is on your hands, you ain't kidding." Joe went on, but now moved towards Karen, shovel in one hand, he then dropped it at her feet. His imposing height stood before her like a Colossus.

"You're wounded, tired, hungry, thirsty. I get it. So for your benefit I'm going to give you a reason t keep going. Should you not accept, you can start digging your own grave, and I'll put you in and fill it for you, it's the least I owe you. Why? Because even though you sired a snake, it struck the wrong man. Your boy should have killed me instead, Karen."

His tone turned darker, righteous but quiet just for her, "I'm going to kill your son. Or you are going to finish what you started.. You best make this right, or I'll put you in the ground next to him, where neither of you can cause any more harm, or leave you to the rippers.." Neutral but full of contained fury, or sustained contempt, Joe as nonetheless placid as a mountain lake.

He squatted down in front of her, so that they were eye level. A leathery, weathered, veined hand extended and drew Karen's blond hair from her face so he could see her better. His touch was gentle, grandfatherly, but misleading as to what he was capable of.

"You need to wake up, Karen. Be who you are meant to be, don't keep failing at what was never there. You're a soldier, and a soldier does their duty. You may think you were a mother, but ya can't mother a beast." He stared her down, unblinking, "If you're gonna stay breathing, you better make it count. Anyone who's living now best have a reason."

He wasn't sure if she'd take to anything he said, but it was more than anyone else was willing to offer. They would string her along because they were good people. Not Joe. She was going to evolve, like the rest had to, using the skills and drive that she had left, or he was going to drop her. He resolved this quietly, and in his way, overtly to Karen. Dominic couldn't or wouldn't do it, he figured.

Joe would do what he had to to protect the others, to protect Tom, New Mexico, Hank. His boys.

"The fellas are getting water, the others are seeing to the RV. Doc's planning. Get on your feet, or stay down there for good." Joe stood up.

And extended a hand to Karen, to help her up.

In reply to John Cobb (msg # 34):

The small tin shack was old. Its construction appeared to be just as much rust as it was metal, and the thing had bit of a lean. The shack was a pumphouse, with a large metal pipe protruding out the side and down into the murky, slow running irrigation canal. The water from the storm has washed all manner of nasties into the water, and getting anything potable from it was going to be a challenge. A challenge, apparently, that someone had already under taken.

The small shack came into view as the Caravan water fetchers crested a small rise. And as it did, so did the handful of hungry, rotting, snapping, grabbing zombies that were trying to force their way into it. A terrible racket echoed from behind the thin walls, faintly reverberating off every surface for miles around. Whoever was in there was in trouble. The noise was attracting more zombies by the second.

Sweat ran down Mahmoud's temple, pooling at his jawline before dripping onto his damp, smelly shirt. He was half listening to the conversation behind him, tempted to tell Luke to shut his mouth so they could keep aware of their surroundings. They were close though, so he left it alone for now. The sound of machinery suddenly cut into the air more continuously and Mahmoud grew concerned.

Nearing the ridge to overlook down to the canal, the veteran Caravaner frowned as he noticed smoke drifting into the air. One hand held his empty bin while the other raised up in a sign of silence to the others behind him. Glancing back warily to catch the gazes of his water crew, he motioned for them to follow.

They could hear the gnashing of teeth, the groans and hisses, the symphony of death that was undoubtedly a gathering of undead before they even crested the hill and caught sight of a congregation of rotters battering their decomposing but dangerous limbs against a tin can of a shack.

The noise of the shack was palpable, and whether there was a human/s inside or not was beside the point. They needed the water of the canal, and this shack was drawing walkers from all around.

"Damnit. We have to draw them off the shack and get that racket down." As much as he wanted to withdraw, they needed water, and he thought he saw someone inside the shack, moving about frantically. Maybe the person knew how to use the equipment to get the water most productively. To an analytical guy like Mahmoud that counted.

"Luke, no gunshots, it'll only draw more of them." Mahmoud ordered with warning look to the young man. With that, Mahmoud dropped his empty water bin and looked to Hank and Tom quickly. Unslinging his rifle he would thrust it into Tom's hands as he was closer than Hank now.

"You guy's keep us covered if it comes to that. The others will hear the shots but so will the lurkers. If you have to; RUN. Luke, give them your handgun and lets go. " Mahmoud and Luke were armed with SWAT batons as their melee weapons, and the experienced Caravaner was no sooner passing off his and Luke's weapons to Hank and Tom before he was seizing the frightened Luke by the collar and pulling him along down the ridge towards the shack.

A few of the undead detected Mahmoud and Luke approaching, the men running down towards the fray, Mahmoud in the lead, bushy beard bristling, his arms thick with muscle after months of survival.

The first he struck in an upswing, sending the rattled corpse back from the sheer force and into the tall grass. He pushed another that encroached too soon to quick, earning him a moment to take a hold with his free hand of a disgusting mass of flesh that was the creature's throat. With a tired jerk of the hand, Mahmoud sent it behind him, for Luke to dispatch. Mahmoud knew that he had to keep Luke close or the kid might mess up and get them both killed. He'd have to use him as an extension of himself.

The batons were effective, even Luke managing to edge off a few walkers, but more were appearing at the treeline's, some of them stumbling into the canal.

Mahmoud used this to his advantage, as he was exhausted already. With the lack of food, and the exertion of days of conflict and exposure, he hardly had the energy.

"Hey! If anyone's in there, turn this damn thing off!" Mahmoud called into the shack as he tried to get through to it. Of course the pump was malfunctioning, but Mahmoud's blurred mind didn't care about that fact.
"Shit." He breathed out, fatigued, as he used a SWAT boot clad foot to send a biter from the shack and in enough backwards momentum to fall into the canal.

He could sense Luke behind him doing likewise, and they were making some progress but now they were at the focal point of attention and were in danger of being surrounded also. The looks on their sweaty faces indicated they were well aware of the danger.

"Get out here and help us or let us in!" Mahmoud yelled into the shack, knocking the wall with his baton before a zed descended upon him, effectively pinning him to the wall of the shack as Mahmoud used his baton to block the snapping teeth of the walker before it took his nose off. He rose a knee to keep it just far enough away so it couldn't yet get a firm grasp on him with its cold, pallid hands.

"Luke!" Mahmoud called out, seeing further undead approaching surprisingly quick behind the one that was keeping him bottled up.

Luke was in a similar predicament, but reacting far less effectively, and was backing up along the edge of the pumphouse they had temporarily cleared, until he was up against the canal edge, teetering practically.

"Fuck!" The mustached millennial panicked as a biter with its intestines hanging from its midsection came at him, eyes bleary and rotted out, revealing some black abyss behind.

As it grabbed onto him, Luke screamed, stabbing the pointy end of his baton through the sloshy eye socket and into the brain, slaying the zed. However, this sent it's corpse falling onto him, and Luke lost his footing, both of them falling into the canal with a loud and voluminous splash. He didn't emerge, at least not yet, as bubbles crept to the surface.

In the canal, undead writhed as they sank underneath the water, some managing to stay up by getting caught on debris along the sides.

"Hey, we're going to be fine once we get out of this rough patch things will pick up for us...you'll see" Dominic said with an optimistic smile hoping to dispel any uncertainty Izzy may have over the future. Given a bit of time he was certain that with the variety of skills that the group possessed that they would be able to carve something out for themselves somewhere.

Hearing the door to the RV opening Dominic would briefly look up to see Lorenzo making his way round to the vehicles engine compartment, with Joe and Karen meanwhile talking together as they buried Ricky. Dom wasn't sure what to do about Karen; this was the second time her actions had led to members of the caravan being killed even if it wasn't her who had done the killing. Part of him wanted to put her down but was it really fair to kill a person over the actions of another?
Knowing that there was still no easy answer to the question he drew his attention away from the problematic blonde and back to the ragged map draped across his and Izzy's knees like a really bad blanket. Giving the situation they were in some more thought before speaking again "well first things first, we need to cross the river, if Lorenzo can get that RV going then we’ll have little trouble reaching the bridge, failing that we should be able to find something in Lindsay we can use" the town wasn't very far from where they were and there were some farms along the way too that may yield an ageing pickup truck. The only downside was that the town was kind of an obvious move and he'd hate to turn up only to find Kaidan sat there waiting for them. Better to get the RV working and skirt around the place entirely.

It was with these thoughts running through his head that he'd hear a distant rumbling sound. It was so long ago since he'd last heard a man made sound that it took him several moments to realise that is was some kind of a generator, though there was no telling how far away it was as sound had an unfortunate habit of travelling in the relative silence of Zombieland.
Deciding that it wasn't worth worrying about and with more important things to occupy him, Dom returned to the map "So...we head east and hope to pick up a few vehicles on the way and then cross the river" what could possibly go wrong?

Other than a noncommittal uh-huh to New Mexico, which was as close the kid was going to get to an expression of gratitude, Lorenzo left the RV. He plodded down the steps and nudged the toolbox closer to the front wheel, lit up one of his few remaining smokes, and set to work.

He was aware of the others outside- it was hard for a survivor to not be hyper aware, especially one usually raring for a fight. Hopefully his arm would heal soon. Other than knocking zeds' heads together, or sniping at the people who were supposed to be his teammates, Lorenzo didn't have many ways of blowing of steam these days.

What did he used to do to occupy himself? He tried to remember, only half-focused on the task at hand. Helped strip cars. Finished fights. Wait, that was more stuff he had to do. What did he like to do?

Listen to music. Stupidly loud music. The kind of stupidly loud where it felt like the car windows were shaking. He couldn't imagine doing that now, he might as well get a speaker phone and scream come eat me! He grumbled to himself and stopped the half-assed recollections there. He listened to the sound of the dirt being piled into the grave. Sucked to be Ricky. Just when they got rid of Janice, too. Aw well, at least she couldn't bother him from hell.

He kept working, trying to gauge the state of the rig. He squinted, muttering under his breath in Spanish.

In reply to Mahmoud (msg # 38):

Hank raised an eyebrow at Tom's outburst, though didn't say anything about it. They'd been doing fine without utensils so far, and he could understand his brother's sentiment. Ya, there were things that could be taken care by oneself, but the right tools made things a lot easier. Giving Tom his space he returned to scanning the grass, looking for a rustle that couldn't be the wind.

At sound of commotion ahead Hank regretted not bringing his crowbar. It was almost a cardinal sin nowadays, but they'd needed all the free hands they could get if they were going to bring back enough water. Following Mahmoud he swore under his breath at the sight.

Um...ok. Tom stammered as the gun was shoved into his hands. The only time he'd really trained with a ranged weapon was with Joe, until joining the caravan Hank hadn't wanted them to rely on something that could run out of ammo and made so much noise. Following his video game training he crouched and tried to line up the sights as best he could.

Right. Hank took Luke's gun with a nod. He wasn't about to just leave the other two, but in a world where the dead walked a gun was almost as valuable as a person, more so depending on who you asked. Watching them charge in he was impressed at the progress they made before the element of surprise faded. Tapping his branch he watched Luke fall into the canal with his slain foe. Shit. Scanning the numbers approaching and the distances involved he let out a sigh. He couldn't hit anything from here, but then again he didn't need to. Tom, stay here. I'm going to draw some away to give them some breathing room. Shoot and run if you have to. Not giving the kid a chance to object he took off.

Scooping up a rock he hurled it at what used to be a man several walkers ahead. Come and get it. He called as it turned, aware he was drawing more then just the couple in front of him. Using the branch he didn't go for killing blows, not wanting to break it. Instead he went for jabs to the face and only swung for their knees, backing away all the while, only giving the briefest glances back to make sure he didn't run into another one. He just wanted to give Mahmoud room to get in the shack and deal with the noise, then they could deal with the leftovers. Even though he wasn't going on a rampage like the others had been he was soon just as sweat logged.

In reply to New Mexico  (msg # 30):

Bohannon turned his gaze out the window, peering through the ugly floral curtains that adorned the undersized opening in the side of the RV. He saw Karen and Joe chatting graveside, the former slumping down into a ball once again. "Some of us need more help than others..." He said absently, thinking of the poor, sad woman he had had a fling with just before the storm.

Rejoining the conversation a little more presently, Bohannon rebutted "You wanna be helpful? Here, grab that." He pointed to his orange nylon duffel bag, tucked out of the way, just under the foot of the bed. It had the last of his extra clothes, a nearly full box of  .45 Colts, and beneath all that was a jumbo evidence bag of assorted prescription narcotics.

New Mexico kicked the bag over to the cowboy. It rattled tellingly as it connected with the leg of the table, announcing the illicit portion of its contents. Bohannon ignored it and pulled out his last fresh set of clothes. A pair of faded jeans and a navy t-shirt with a badge logo that read "the police never find it as funny as you do." It took some careful maneuvering to get his leg into the pants without snagging his wound, but he managed it.

Now fully clothed, Bohannon turned to the topic on everyone's mind. "So Kiddo, what do you think the next move is for our merry little band of adventurers?" He asked with a wry grin.

In reply to Mahmoud (msg # 38):

Rather surprised to hear another voice coming from outside the shack that had more in its repertoire than a gaggle of moans, John let his momentary surprise distract him from his work...as the second flurry of sparks could attest. Some bastard was knocking on his door to fix the machine making the noise. John responded with the utmost urgency and politeness one could in his situation. Adjusting his tone to properly express his feelings over the loud whine of the engines.

"AND JUST WHAT IN BUMBLEFUCK DO YOU THINK I'M DOIN' IN HERE DICKHEAD? LISTENING TO A FUCKING MIXTAPE?!"


In his temporary rage, John managed to get his hand caught in a belt, replace a blowout, and figure out what in the hell he could do about the noise. Quickly wrapping his hand while he thought up an idea, he set to work on the wires to find a quick cure-all. The labels were well worn with age and poor maintenance, it was no wonder this thing was going to shit. Probably hadn't seen a repair since it was made.

The man outside began asking for help as John shimmed along the cords in his search.

"I CANT GET SHIT OPEN FOR YOU WHEN IM SHOULDER DEEP IN GEARS GODDAMN IT. JUST FUCK OFF FOR A BIT, OR CLIMB A FUCKING TREE!"

John was a bit more aggressive than usual, sure. But with the situation unfolding the way it was, he needed to him himself to help anyone else. And it was a solid ten minute search before he deducted which one of the rusted valves were the emergency shut-off. Damn thing had more rust than a tank sitting in Chernobyl. Hefting his weight onto a makeshift prybar, John used some leverage to slowly move the Vale around. When the screeching sound finally quit around him, he found that the constant banging went with it. So at least he knew it was working. Though it'd have to be fixed later, there were more pressing matters outside.

"PUMPS OFF, YOU HANGIN' ON?"

He bellowed as he began to unbarricade the door.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:39, Tue 20 Sept 2016.

In reply to Joe (msg # 36):

Karen took Joe's offered hand and rose to meet him on the side of the grave, eye to eye. The old man was right. Full of shit, but right. Anybody living in Zombieland needed to have a reason to keep going, whatever that reason was. Maybe this was it. Maybe Joe's pep-talk had given her her reason. But perhaps it wasn't the reason Joe wanted.

"How do I do that Joe?" she asked, horsely. "How the hell do I do that?" Karen held his attention. She straightened her back, feeling her strength returning to her. "You want me to kill my boy? Otherwise, what? You're gonna have to do it for me?" Karen reached out and grabbed the handle of Joe's shovel, preventing him from finishing his task. "My son is sick Joe. He spent his childhood seeing councillors, therapists, psychologists, you name it. He was institutionalized when he was nine. But they couldn't find anything wrong with him. I did everything I could. And the shit he's been through... Me almost dying in Iraq, his dad's suicide... The fucking end of the world! The first time he saw them they ate his friend's parents, right in front of him. Bit the kid he was in love with. By the time I found him he had a gun to the poor boy's head and he pulled the trigger to keep him from turning. A few months later he was taken from me. He watched them beat me. Kick me over and over again until my ribs broke. And when they dragged me away from him they had him for three days, alone in their lab. The day after we got to Fort Dixie he disappeared. Vanished into thin air to spend the winter doing god-knows-what. He's been through Hell! He's sick and he's been forced to live through an absolute Hell that no child should ever have to endure. You want me to kill him Joe? Fuck you. He doesn't need to die, he needs help. You want me to find my reason to live? There it is. I found it. I'm going to save my son."

In reply to Dominic Dubreton (msg # 39):

Izzy listened to the positivity in her mate and allowed it to affect her, having learned enough that to be content or happy one really had to choose to be that way, and let it be that way so long as it could. In spite of any doubts that would almost always remain, she managed a sidelong look to Dominic, her lips forming into a small, knowing grin, albeit cautiously at first. "Yea, yea you're right, hun." She looked him in the eyes, not just playing around, and confirming he really meant what he said.

With Dom going over the working plan further, Isabelle ran the details through her mind again, almost not trusting her judgement with how hungry she was. It was worse for her men, she understood. Back in pioneering days the Donner Party had been devastated by exposure and starvation, the men suffering the most, as they required the most 'fuel' to keep going. Giving Dominic a subtle look over, she resolved to keep an eye on him to make sure he did not succumb to that trait of leaders, of putting everyone and everything above themselves, to the point of dire consequence.

Izzy heard the inscrutable sound the same time as Dominic, her ears practically perking as it disrupted the forest serenity, perverse as it was with Ricky buried not far away. Dominic seemed unworried, or at least willing to let it go for the time being. She might have reached the same conclusion. "Maybe our guys found something." She pondered, a free hand moving to her side, fingertips roaming the holstered grip of her glock at her waist, making sure it was there in case something they ignored came to call. They could be beset by walkers at any point, but that sound would draw the dead away, which was fine so long as it wasn't towards their own boys. But if it wasn't their own, was that any better?..

"Plans rarely survive first contact with the enemy. That was something I taught the kids in my high school history classes. What other choice do we have? Heh. We've survived this long, we keep going, we get ourselves the means to move and then we move our butts to higher ground and let our people recover. If Atlanta comes to call then we get rid of him once and for all." Izzy added to Dom's assessment of their working plan, her gaze shifting from her lover out to Karen some distance away, silently acknowledging the liability, perhaps preparing herself mentally for a choice she alone may be capable of making should Karen prove untrue. When you had just one leg, you couldn't run away from reality as easily as everyone else.

"That sound.. Do you think?.."

Chapter 6 - The Caravan THE LOST BOYS "Amongst The Mud And The Blood"

Flashback - St. Louis - Chapter 3 - Lyle, Justin and Kaidan

"Come on Jee, stay with me! Stay with me buddy." Lyle Caranza stooped over Justin's body as he slipped away, succumbing to bites on his arms and his shoulders. The trio had swept the CDC building and found a nothing more than what you'd expect. Now they found themselves at the end of a dead-end alley way in downtown St. Louis with nowhere to go. Justin was dead. Lyle was panicked. And Kaidan sat on his knees, watching the dead make their slow approach to consume them all. They had tried all the doors on their route, finding each one chained, bolted or otherwise impassible. This was the end of the line for Kaidan...

Lyle rose to his feet, furious at his friend's passing. "This is all your fault! Jee is dead because of you! And now we are too!" Lyle lunged forward and punched the slender teen in the face. As Kaidan toppled Lyle kicked him again and again. Suddenly a loading door behind them rolled up revealing three teenagers. "Hey come on! We're here to rescue you!" One of them shouted, ushering Lyle and Kaidan inside before the Zombies could get them.

With the loading dock shut tight behind them Kaidan started scrambling away from Lyle. "This guy kidnapped me and my friend out there! Please you have to help me!" he lied.

The teen who seemed to be in charge faced Lyle, who immediately denied it. It was becoming a shouting match. The words "he tried to have sex with me" cut through the noise. That was enough. The leader of the teens smashed Lyle over the head with his club, uttering "pervert" and approaching Kaidan, offering him his hand in alliance.

"Are you alright? My name is Washington. My friends here are Dakota and Kentucky. What's your name?"

Kaidan hesitated for a moment, his eye caught by the boy called Kentucky. "Well... I guess I don't want to be "Georgia" so... I'm Atlanta. Nice to meet you guys."

...

Present - Somewhere Near Slaughter, Louisiana.

The surviving Lost Boys ran down the highway, the horde in hungry pursuit. The morning's first rays of sunlight peeked over the trees informing Atlanta that they'd been running all night. The dried blood in the boy's hair was washing down his face with his sweat. He and his group were exhausted.

"We can't keep going like this!" Dakota screamed at him. "Atlanna!"

Atlanta swivelled his head back to look at the horde close behind. He looked all around him at his group. Dakota was right. They couldn't run forever. He'd hoped they could outrun the zombies by now but they just weren't fast enough like this. Sweat poured down his face, dripping off his nose and lips. He struggled to catch his breath, still whipping his head around, taking in his options. Atlanta stopped and pointed with Joe's bow into the distance. A small house presented its silhouetted shape to him, the morning light framing it in soft blue grays. "Farm house!" was all he said.

The Lost Boys resumed their marathon run in the direction of the farm house. As they neared the yard Atlanta lead them over the barb-wire fence, hoping to slow the zombies down just a little. The Boys crossed the pasture, one more fence and stormed the porch. The house's front door was wide open. A likely family of dormant walkers stirred as the tired group crashed into the living space. They were able to dispatch the ghouls with relative ease as they emerged from their not-so-final resting places as Wyoming and two others barricaded the front door.

"Everybody upstairs!" Atlanta ordered his people, still short of breath. He got them to fill the stairwell with as much of the upstairs furniture they could lift before he collapsed on the hallway floor. With his back against the wall he spoke softly. "Nobody make a sound. They'll lose interest."

A few hours passed with some of the Lost Boys catching some shut eye before the low distant rumbling sound of a malfunctioning water pump motor permeated the air. The majority of the pursuing horde were distracted by the sound and headed off in its direction, leaving Atlanta and his Lost Boys to catch a break for the time being.

Unfortunately for Dominic and his Caravan, the horde was amassing, and they were headed in his direction, growing stronger in numbers every minute. By the time the pump shut off it was too late. Zombies were following Zombies now, not even knowing where they were going or what had grabbed their attention in the first place.

It was only a matter of time before they reached the Caravan...

"Oh we've got plenty of options, but they're all as bad as each other" Dominic replied with a grin, knowing full well that the plan was liable to change at least two or three times between here and the river and that all they could do was hope that it would work out for the best "so...History teacher huh? Always knew you was a classy girl, ma mere would be proud of me" he spoke teasingly before giving Izzy a kiss on the cheek; with him feeling more than a little tempted to drag her back into the barn. But alas he had places to be, people to see...Zombies to slay, so that would have to wait for another time.

Unsurprisingly the conversation would turn to that of the distant droning of what Dom assumed to be a generator "What? That it’s Kaidan?" Dom suggested as an ending to Izzy's half asked question "…we can only hope, because that thing is going to be drawing every Zed in a five mile radius straight for it" though to be honest it'd be a little disappointing if the little shit was torn apart by Zeds instead of receiving his just desserts from the Caravan, but if it got the job done so be it.
However it was as he was saying those words that several troubling thoughts entered his head; thoughts such as: If its not the Lost Boys...then who is it? How close are we to that thing? And how many Zeds are going to pass through our camp in order to reach it? With none of these questions resulting in answers that he liked Dominic got the sudden urge to find out how Lorenzo was doing with their only form of transport and so after folding away the map and giving Izzy another peck on the cheek Dom made his way over to join him by the RV "Hey Lorenzo, how’s it looking? Do you reckon you can get it running again?" and if so how quickly because we may soon need to run like hell!

In reply to Lorenzo (msg # 40):
In reply to Benson Bohannon (msg # 42):

Mexico glanced to the front zone of the RV, observing Lorenzo pop the hood of the RV to take a look at the no doubt dusty innards of the beached whale of a vehicle. The guy was tough, but over time true colors always showed themselves, maybe Lorenzo did want them to see he wasn't that bad a guy. He couldn't blame him if that was the case though, being hard-edged gave you the edge over others, but it was exhausting.

Benson seemed to have taken the moment to survey their group as well. The RV was like a little watchtower, though it could easily become a tomb if biter's found them and surrounded them and they couldn't get the rust bucket moving.



The increasingly long-haired teen followed Benson's gaze out to Karen and Joe, guessing at who and what the cowboy meant though he wasn't about to call it out. He his fingers through his messy hair, pulling it from his face; he was going to have to tie it back or it was liable to get him killed.
An off hand comment like Bensons, devoid of eye contact, was close enough to tenderness from the gruff, increasingly beaten up outlaw that NM was liable to get. He considered that Lorenzo and Benson ought to get along for their tendency to be the assholes with hearts of gold.

Mexico grinned sarcastically when Benson enlisted him in passing his bag over, which NM did with a lackadaisical bunt with the side of his SWAT boot. The bag was a noticeable orange, which didn't matter to walkers but could be easily noticed by people of course.

The teenager's eyes went to the bag when it jostled with the contents therein, his gaze then shifting up to Benson as if to read the cowboy's intentions, both present and going forward. Not too long ago Izzy had started a confrontation with Bohannon over this matter.

Normally it would have been awkward to stand watching another man get dressed in front of him but they all knew eachother intimately enough by now. Hell he was pretty sure that Doc and Izzy were due for some private time as the mom and dad of the group, kinda. The thought brought humor to him.

As did Benson's shirt. NM's head tilted slightly as he smiled more outwardly, raising his eyebrows in silent question to Bohannon as if to ask if the man had picked that shirt out specifically or just grabbed one that might fit and was clean. Probably both.

NM walked slowly a few steps towards the front of the RV, glancing at Benson's bag a moment on the way. His left hand rested at his side, his right bracing his too slim form as he leaned against the cockpit doorway, watching brief glimpses of Lorenzo around the cracks of the popped RV hood.

The fingers of his left hand lowered a bit to drum against the hilt of his machete, sheathed accessibly where the sheath was strapped around his upper thigh with old belts.



"I think we get out of here, on the road, keep moving like before. Find ourselves some high ground I guess.We need to kill some time so some of us can heal up."

The young man answered with some thought. Their options were always limited, as they had to consider everyone in the group. It had been harder when there had been dozens of them, but for a time there had been safety in numbers even if the dangers were greater. They were more fluid with just a handful left, which could help, sadly enough.

NM had been alone most of the apocalypse since it started, until he met up with people usually one at a time. He had some survivor's guilt lingering, as anyone he'd ever met had died by the biters or by other people. NM had almost been killed by Sam's cronies, and then Sam himself, but true to form he made it out. Part of him considered what it would be like to be alone again, but na, he was a people person, and these were his people, even if just for now.

"I once travelled with this kid, Abbie. Real badass despite her age. I think kids, some kids, adapt better to this new world than most adults. She was fast, and smart. I was with her, just the two of us for quite a while. We found some luck in the city, hung out in a penthouse apartment for a bit. Eventually had to move on, but it was a nice place. We just did whatever we wanted. Just wandered, no real purpose."

He paused then turned back from watching Lorenzo to Benson again, a smile popping up again, "So yea, I have no clue. Same old same old right?" Changing tack slightly, NM nodded at Benson's bag. "Mind if I try something? My shoulder's been nagging me still."

In reply to Lorenzo (msg # 40):



The camp went about its routine, the tree's and bushes surrounding the area listing softly in a cool breeze. Earlier in the morning birds had been heard singing and going about their mating and foraging rituals, but at present the air was quiet and still but for the noise in the distance, in the direction of the canal that started, and then shortly later, stopped.

A walker stalked barefoot through the woods, following at first the sound from the canal, and then the sounds of camp, sporadic enough but telling the monster which way to go. They were the dumbest of creatures, but they never rested, and would often walk in one direction endlessly until distracted by a sound of life, the singing of birds, etcetera, until a more obvious opportunity distracted them yet again.

As Lorenzo went about his work at the RV, a white haired, heavily mangled but still intact walker broke through the bushes a few meters from Lorenzo. Its raspy, ragged breathelessness fortelling its presence just before it became visible.

The lipless mouth presented grey-ish yellow teeth, clacking and snapping together as if the flesh of the Caravaner were already in its maw.

Arms extended as far as the dried out nature of the body would allow, and it staggered forward towards Lorenzo, pale, dead, rubbery eyes seeming engaged suddenly as if it was still capable of feeling alive.

In reply to Hank Lucion (msg # 41):
In reply to John Cobb (msg # 43):


Mahmoud was glad that Tom and Hank were there to cover for them, though he was worried for them all the same, kicking himself for getting cornered like he had. A rule to staying alive was not being a hero all the time. He wasn't afraid of dying, but he didn't want to die being gnawed on by these things.

Sweat rolled down Mahmoud's face as his muscles strained to keep back the dead weight of the rotter. There was nothing he could do for Luke then, and while he hoped he was alright his own attention became more and more singular. He could see Hank arrive up close to lure off the dead that were about to mob around the shack, giving Mahmoud a break.

The man inside the shack yelled back at him after his own cries, with Mahmoud gritting his teeth briefly, just as frustrated but feeling in the most danger. "Funny guy! You're welcome." Mahmoud groused, breathing heavily. He was fatigued, and weakened from the lack of food and water lately. His rushing in might have been ill-conceived. In fact, it certainly was. He'd wanted to help. But he'd dragged the others into this mess too..

"We're trying!" He spouted back to the shack man, relief washing some of his trepidation off when that attention grabbing sound went away. The walker upon him kept attacking unabated however, its meal just within its grasp.

When the door became unbarricaded behind him, the pressure of Mahmoud and the sizable biter trying to envelop him caused the door to give way, with both the living and the dead falling inside to join John.

Mahmoud dropped his baton, and instead braced his forearm under the snapping jaw of the lurker as it snapped at his face, "Kill it, kill it!" He was losing his stamina to keep it off of him.

Luke emerged from the canal water with a hefty splash of water all around, taking a deep gasp of air as he did so. The walkers that had fallen in around him tried to go after him, but it was far from a sure thing as the water carried them aimlessly down the canal or into the grassy siding.

The soaked hipster cried out and thrashed for the edge of the canal that his people were on, tattooed arms reaching out frantically, grabbing grass, reeds, anything to get him out. He succeeded only in pulled grassy debris and muddy earth into the canal with him however, panic set in his eyes.

"It's holding onto my Alden Indys!!" Luke exclaimed in intense fear, meaning of course his expensive leather, handmade hip shoes. The walker who'd fallen in with him had a hold on them.
This message was last edited by the player at 21:42, Mon 26 Sept 2016.

In reply to Dominic Dubreton (msg # 47):

It was probably a good thing the doc came over, because Lorenzo looked like he was about a second away from cranking the obscenities he'd been muttering at the RV up to shouting. Stupid thing. Not that it could understand it was a stupid thing, it was just a stupid RV, but that didn't make him any less annoyed or the RV any less stupid. He'd really wanted it to be their ticket out of here. Now what? Wait for the gaggle of middle-schoolers to catch up to start another firefight?

He turned to Dominic with a marginally cooler expression. The misplaced ire he had toward the medic had dried up now that there were more pressing matters. "It's no good," he complained, waving an accusatory hand toward the RV. "Unless I can pull a new battery outta my ass, I don't know how else to fix this fucking-" puncuated by a kick to the front fire "- stupid thing."

He stared at the vehicle for a moment, thinking, but was rudely interrupted by a sudden crashing. The ugly knife hung at his hip was drawn in a flash. As soon as he registered the ghoul, Lorenzo was already maneuvering to the side, starting a routine as practiced and fluid as any dancers'. One wanderer wasn't a big deal. It was hardly even fun, really.

"Oh, he looks hungry! You think he's alone?" he crowed to Dominic. He whistled at the monster. "Come on then, speed racer."

Keeping half an eye on the brush, though he trusted Dominic to handle any stragglers, Lorenzo tried to goad the creature further from the treeline. He wasn't willing to bet his life on the thing being alone. Efficiency trumped the desire to put it down, so he waited for the right moment, trying to lure it into a lunge.

Then he'd stick 'em.

Lorenzo grinned toothily. Jarring, but he looked almost playful.

In reply to Karen (msg # 44):

He'd gotten Karen to her feet, and that in itself was something, as the woman damn near croaked and trembled all over again. Joe regarded her with his sharp eyes as she seized upon the shovel, imploring, arguing, to himself or to herself, one or both.

"I've heard sadder stories, Blondie. Your boy ain't special except that he's a psychopath."

It wasn't so much as beef with him as she had a beef with herself, and Joe released the shovel as she finished her tirade, letting her have it if she was so keen to grip on to something other than the right course of action she'd have to take when the time came.

"You jeopardize anyone in this group again, and I'll give ya the peace ya so clearly need." Joe threatened coolly to the distraught woman, his features stoic as he turned to witness Lorenzo coaxing a walker out of the treeline before turning back to Karen as it seemed the situation was under control.

'You got anymore air to waste or you finished?"

In reply to Atlanta (msg # 46):

Atlanta put a finger to his lips as some of his people stirred. He held out a hand to keep them calm. Whispering he said "I don't think that sound is a vehicle. Maybe some heavy equipment, I don't know, but It could be the Caravan! Saskatchewan? Take Orleans, sneak out of here, quiet as a mouse. You two go find out if it's them. Don't get seen! 'Sippi, Tex, Tennessee: Go find us some cars, get 'em running, get back here." Texas pipped up. "Atlanna? Getting cars running was usually P.K.'s job... I'm not so good with engines as he were." Atlanta rebutted. "You spent time with him on the road, you watched him work. You learned something, go figure it out!" As some of Atlanta's crew began to disperse he turned to his most trusted lieutenants. "Dakota, put a couple on watch and take whoever's left over to scavenge this house. Anything useful bring it up here, get it ready to go when Texas gets back. Wy, come with me."

Atlanta led Wyoming out a bedroom window and up onto the highest part of the roof of the farm house. There they watched the horde, far off down the road and in the fields getting further off, meandering towards the sound of the motor. Atlanta calmly and gently extended his fingertips out from his side to find Wyoming's, slowly grasping the other boy's hand. Wyoming shook him off, pulling his hand away. "Atlanna? I..." Atlanta cut him off. "'Tucky is dead Wy. I'm sad." He looked to Wyoming with puppy dog eyes, reaching out for his hand once more. Wyoming recoiled again. "He's dead because of you! It's your damn fault!" Wyoming wasn't angry with Atlanta, more just stating the facts. He walked down the roof to get away from him. "I'm not what you think I am. I can't be... what you want. Just leave me alone."

Atlanta took a few steps in pursuit of Wyoming, his face vacant of emotion, and a little frightening. "Wy! Nobody says "no" to me. You're my lieutenant now. You are going to do as I say. You'll learn that." He turned to gaze back out at the horde for a second before turning his head back to Wyoming in taunt. "I saved your life, you owe me."

Wyoming passed Dakota on his way down. She climbed up to meet Atlanta atop the roof where she found him sitting, staring out at the wanderers. "What was that about?" She asked him, with enough trust that he'd tell her the truth. "Wyoming needs to figure out his value around here. He's gonna have to pay his dues eventually. What'd you find?" He asked, perking up with new found interest. "Pantry was pretty much in tact. Stale cereal, some canned food... An old couple's stocked medicine drawer. Blood pressure, cholesterol..." Dakota shrugged those ones off. "A nearly full bottle of some pretty strong antibiotics. One of those dead zeds in there must have had strep throat or something when this thing started, poor thing." Dakota put her arm around Atlanta's hip, offering him a box of Raisin Bran and squeezing him tight. "I'm sorry." She said. "Paris Kentucky was a really nice boy. He'll be missed, by all of us, even if you don't know what that means." Dakota made sure Atlanta looked her in the eye. "The other's need to know this affects you. At least they need to think that." She finished, resting her head on Atlanta's shoulder, her hair blowing gently in the breeze while Atlanta crunched on the stale yet chewy cereal.

...

Flashback - Somewhere between St Louis and Fort Dixie, on the cusp of winter last year.

The night air was cold on the Mississippi River bank tonight. The Lost Boys, with Atlanta in tow were traveling to Fort Dixie to meet up with the Caravan and join the people of Fort Dixie.

Fallen leaves of yellow, red and orange painted the landscape a vibrant colour, though it was too dim to appreciate but for in the small ring of warmth and glow around the camp fire. The Lost Boys camp was a hive of subdued and cautiously quiet excitement. The prospect of having a Fort to call home for the winter was a thrill to all. the kids talked amongst themselves in hushed voices, trying to make sure they didn't attract any undue attention to themselves.

Washington and Dakota knelt by the firelight, pouring over a map, trying to decipher from Atlanta's descriptions how far they might be from Fort Dixie. They were arguing, clearly disagreeing about how to get where they were going, like most couples did. The others sat around the fire talking, only a few clever enough to get some sleep while the getting was good.

Kentucky had the south watch tonight. He wore his Carhardt work coat and his hair poked out from underneath his camo hunting toque, as always. Washington still hadn't added Atlanta to the watch rotation, so he had little else to keep himself busy, so he decided to sit with 'Tucky. The boys had traveled together the last couple of days. Getting to know each other better. Flirting a little.

Atlanta was trying to figure out this boy. He'd been around the block a couple of times before the end of the world, but it was clear Kentucky hadn't. Atlanta wasn't really even sure which team he was playing for. But he was getting a definite certain sort of vibe from Kentucky.

Sitting close to Kentucky in his borrowed blue hoodie, Atlanta leaned in close. The tension between them was killing him. Whatever they were talking about had faded in both their minds. They're lips were so close... Until Kentucky turned his head to look back at camp. "I...I can't do this." He said nervously. "They might see." Atlanta laid his hand gently on Kentucky's cheek. "Yes you can. The world we came from is gone. You can have anything you want, you just have to reach out and take it." with that Atlanta kissed Kentucky. Slowly at first, tentatively. Then more fervently.

Kentucky had never done this before, with anyone. He was nervous, scared even. worried that they might get caught. Worried they might get in trouble. But after a second, his fear went away. He kissed Atlanta, trying things to this point he'd never done himself, only seen in the movies, and finding that is was in fact as fun as it looked. Atlanta stopped for a brief moment to look into Kentucky's eyes. Kentucky bit his lip and said simply with a smile "Okay."

Meanwhile at the fire Washington watched his watchman, carrying on like that, with an uncharacteristic smile. Maybe things would finally actually be okay for his people. "Wyoming, can you please take the south watch? I'm not confident it's being covered..." Wyoming, was about to put up a fight until Washington pointed out why. "We should reach Fort Dixie late tomorrow, maybe early the next day, if we're slow. Everybody else get some sleep."

Upon hearing Lorenzo's diagnosis that without a new battery that the RV was as good as dead, Dominic couldn't help but swear under his breath, though considering the groups string of bad luck he probably shouldn't have been too surprised that the RV was a no go "what about all that farm machinery in the barn? Any of them use a battery?" he asked; knowing deep down that the odds of them finding a working battery in that lot weren't in their favour.

Hearing the rustle of bushes Dominic turned to watch the Zed as it shambled out of the undergrowth with Lorenzo eagerly moving in for the kill "We'd better hope its by itself, we're in no position to be fighting off a horde...especially with half of the group not here" Dominic replied; loosening his sword within its scabbard just in case any more decided to make an appearance "...speaking of which, where the fuck are they? It shouldn't have taken them this long" he continued as bad thoughts entered his mind concerning the missing group members and the generator they'd heard not that long ago with the appearance of the Zed not making him feel any better about the situation, no...they wouldn't have been stupid enough to turn that thing on...would they? "Hey Lorenzo, maybe you and me better go take a walk and see what the hold up is…what do you say?"

In reply to New Mexico  (msg # 48):

"Ain't a bad idea." Bohannon shrugged at the thought of being back out on the open road again. Before the Fort, the Caravan had spent most of their time moving from place to place. It was free. And exciting. Digging in had lost its thrill... "Where would we go though?" He asked the boy young man.

Bohannon pulled the orange bag back into the corner of the booth he was seated in. He tilted his head and gave New Mexico a sly grin. "What, the Doc run outta children's Advil again?" He leaned forward, suddenly interested. "You want somethin' stronger, you're gonna have to pay for it." This is what Bohannon was after when he took the pills from the van in the first place. He learned early on in Zombieland that those who had things had power.

Before he had a chance to barter with New Mexico though he caught glimpse of Dominic, finally emerged from the barn. Bohannon turned, unwilling to stand and go see Dominic, and wrapped his knuckles on the window. "Doc!" He shouted as he did so. "C'mere!"

It would be a second before Dominic joined them, if he decided to grace the cowboy with his presence this morning, so Bohannon looked eagerly back to New Mexico for an offer.

Lorenzo stepped to the side and evaded the staggering ghoul's lunge, allowing the creature to throw its self off kilter. He plunged the knife into the back of its head, angling the blade upward, then slid it out quickly with a wet squelch. In a matter of seconds the ghoul was dispatched, and Lorenzo was standing over it with a blackened, gory knife, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

"Sure, yeah. Sounds good to me," he replied. He gave the the corpse a soft kick to make sure it was done for. "Man. The longer this shit goes on the squishier they get, huh."

He glanced up at the rapping on the window, already annoyed by the potential delay. "Oh yeah," he said like he'd just remembered something. "He probably wants you 'cause his leg is all fucked. Don't know what you can really do about that though."

In reply to Joe (msg # 53):

Karen stopped listening to Joe's words as the thought donned on her that she'd been so hurt by what happened that she forgot to be a cop. Her head hung low while she thought, then snapped back up, her eyes all business. "What happened? When they took you, what happened? The flood waters came in and separated everybody, then what? How soon after did they find you? Where did they take you? How many of them were there?" Karen felt stupid that she'd spent so much time and energy thinking with her heart instead of with her head. Joe was the victim of a kidnapping, Kaidan a person of interest in the case. It was standard police work.

Karen let go of the shovel. It fell in place, for Joe to pick up if he wanted it. She closed the gap between them a little, levelling with him, as it were. "Joe we both want the same thing. We want to find him. For different reasons, sure, but we both want to find him. And If I can talk to him, one on one, when he doesn't have an audience to play to, no show to put on, I can help him. My boy needs help Joe. I need to find him."

In reply to Mahmoud (msg # 50):

Catching his thumb with the last piece of rebar that had been holding the door in place, John gave an unsolicited opinion of the sudden intruders, alongside a rather nasty comment about what they happened to do with their free time and a variety of not-so-sexual objects that didn't seem to fit the part. That said, he also stepped to the side and brought his sledge above his shoulder.

"CLOSE YER HATCH SON!"

And with a swing that more rightfully belonged in a fine game of polo, (but seeings as there were painfully few, or more to the point, no games of polo being played, it had decided to give up and join many other swings in zombie slaying), crushed the head of the intrusive zombie, and embedded itself well into it's neck. This, of course, left a small shell of what was once a zombie's head around John's favorite tool. And that just wouldn't do. Pulling the now re-deceased body off of John's guest, he began to pry his slegde free of it's meat puppet.

"Hey buddy...y'all'right?"

Watching Lorenzo dispatch the Zed with style, Dominic couldn't help but but smile at the thought that one day they might simply disintegrate leaving them solely with the issue of dealing with the living. So intent had he been on the Zed and the surrounding woodlands that he hadn't noticed the sound of the Cowboy's knuckles rapping on the RV's plexiglass until Lorenzo pointed it out to him, with the medic grumbling  "I can put him down like a dog" as he headed for the RV's door.
He'd already stitched the guy's leg up for him so short of cutting it off there wasn't much he could do for him with his severely depleted supply of medical equipment "Give me two minutes to see what he's whining about then we'll get going" Dom spoke over his shoulder to Lorenzo before pushing open the RV's door and stepping inside "Alright Bohannon, what is it you're after?"

In reply to Dominic Dubreton (msg # 60):

With difficulty, Bohannon hauled his hurt leg up onto the seat, crossing his other ankle over top of it to put himself in a lounge position... Distinctly not offering Dominic a seat as he entered the RV. It wasn't that Bohannon didn't like Dominic, it was just that In this situation he wanted to put him on the spot. The cowboy cocked his head to the side, charming as always. "Well Doc, me and my little friend here were just discussing the future. And seeing as how Cookie up and walked out on us making you the new boss man, well, we wanted to get your opinion on the matter. So, wha'da'ya think Boss? How do we deal with..." he shot his thumb in a pointed gesture out the window at Karen. "...our mutual friends, and where do we go after?"

Lorenzo snorted back a laugh and nodded. While he waited he took a rag from his pocket and wiped off his knife. He watched Karen and Joe idly for a moment, unable to make out their words, then sheathed his weapon and continued to look around.

He wasn't really thinking too hard on where the others were. There hadn't been gunfire so he doubted the after school special gang had jumped them. They didn't strike him as strong enough to try and bludgeon someone to death... Well, wondering about it wasn't going to conjure any answers. The best way to find out was to just go see. He stepped over the body to go watch the treeline, waiting for Dominic to finish up.

As he stood within the RV, Dom listened to the Cowboy's questions distinctly aware of the interview like situation he was in, in fact he was kind of surprised that Bohannon didn't have a notepad in order to record his responses for later study "Kaidan is a dead man along anyone else stupid enough to get in the way" Dominic growled with a quick glance out of the window signalling that just because she was in the Caravan that Karen was by no means excluded from his threat. As far as Dominic was concerned this was the second time that people had died because of her and her son, Good people, and he was determined that it wouldn't happen again even if it meant putting her in the ground along with her psychotic offspring "...sadly however, that is for another day...today we head west, pick up some vehicles and cross the Mississippi, so get your gear together because as soon as I get back with the others we've got a long walk ahead of us...unless of course you know where we can find a working battery for this piece of junk" Dominic spoke; jabbing a accusing finger towards the RV's engine compartment still cursing their misfortune over finding an RV with dud battery in it before continuing with the vague outline of his plan "Anyway, after we've found ourselves somewhere secure to rest up a couple of weeks and heal our wounds, we'll then come back and kill the little shit, sound good to you?" Dominic finished with just a hint of sarcasm edging into his voice. He knew he shouldn’t let the Cowboy get under his skin but the Cowboy had a way of pushing his buttons and Dominic more than suspected that he also knew that and so did it on purpose.
With his piece said, he'd wait around to see if either Bohannon or NM had anything to say on the matter. It wasn't a perfect plan, he knew that much himself but it was better than nothing and he was more than confidant that they'd be able to fill in the blanks as they went, after all that was the beauty of keeping things vague.

In reply to Luke (msg # 51):

Tom watched the scene in front of him, hands twisting around the rifle. Occasionally he took aim at one of the farther ones, trying to figure out if he could actually make a shot from here. Shoot and run. He wasn't particularly worried about Hank as long as his brother didn't get bogged down, after all they had made it this far by following the old boxing motto of "dodge and weave". Or at least that's what he told himself. With Brady gone the only other ones he truly felt comfortable with were NM and Joe. Maybe Lorenzo in an odd way, after all he helped Wyoming when Karen went crazy, so he couldn't be all bad.

Looking over as Luke emerged from his watery hiding spot he let out a small sigh of relief. Though when it was obvious the guy wasn't going to be getting out himself his hands tightened around the gun. Mahmoud was inside the shed, and Hank was busy drawing the horde's attention. Just a kid. No, he shook his head. I'm not just some kid. Taking a deep breath he watched for an opening before making his way forward, staying low to take advantage of the tall grass. Reaching the edge of the canal he grabbed a floating branch and held it out for the hipster. Keep it down, you don't want them to come here, do? He hissed, trying to keep his own voice from attracting unwanted attention.

In reply to Dominic Dubreton (msg # 63):

Bohannon leaned back in his seat, bringing his arm up to rest on the back of his chair, He looked at his hands and began picking at some small imperfection he noticed. "Actually, none of that sounds good to me." He didn't look at Dominic, just kind of turned his head and avoided eye contact. "First, I ain't walkin' nowhere, second, we ain't goin' to war with those kids." The cowboy chewed the corner of a fingernail off and flicked it away, bringing his eyes back up to Dominic. "They're kids for Christ's sake. I ain't killin' no kids. So what they killed Ricky? Better him than us I say. You really wanna risk all our necks just to avenge him?" Boh shook his head disappointedly. "No way. Lets get this RV fixed up and get out on the open road. Couple of days an' we can put enough miles between them and us we can forget about the whole thing. What'd'ya say?"

"Fuck off Cowboy, you know full well that Kaidan isn't going to let us be, the kid's a psycho and needs putting in the ground before he kills someone else" Dominic replied in a tetchy voice. Feeling just a little pissed off that the Cowboy of all people was taking the moral high ground against him Like we don't all know what you did! "we're not in the civilised world anymore, this is the Dark Ages, we're hunter gatherers with guns and all them beings kids means is that they're younger, faster and more dangerous than we are, and the quicker you figure that out the better...oh and as for walking...well...you'd better figure out a way of getting this thing working then, hadn't you?" Dominic finished in a snarky tone as he stepped out of the RV; kicking the door closed with his heel as he went. Every fucking time! Just once it'd be nice for him to walk away from a conversation with the Cowboy without getting pissed off. It was times like these that he missed smoking.

Heading in the direction that would lead them to the canal, Dom would give Lorenzo a single follow me gesture as he went, not really wanting to discuss his conversation with Bohannon, or at least not until he'd calmed down a little.

As the trail led into the long grass he once again loosened his sword within its scabbard just in case there really was something lurking in amongst it all and he wasn’t just being paranoid. With a lifetime of horror films and war movies supplying him with ample source material for what could happen in a place like this.
Assuming that he wasn't ambushed along the way it shouldn't take him too long to catch up with the others and find out what the hold up was.

New Mexico had given Benson a look that was more daring than it should have been for a teenager of that age. An offer? The thought intrigued him, and he appeared to be running through some thoughts on it before Dominic and Benson got into it and he had missed the first salvo to answer. That was fine, Cowboy's stuff wasn't going anywhere and neither was the Cowboy.

The long haired eighteen year old brought an idle hand up to where he'd tied his hair back, his other arm resting against the wall as he watched the exchange between the two. Though he felt the implication that he should give some input or take a side, he simple watched the scene unfold. These guys knew that he was on their side, not one or the other.

Mexeeco watched Dominic through the RV window as he stormed away with Lorenzo. It was good to see fire in the guy, he just hoped he didn't take Benson too seriously. Dominic wasn't wounded like Lorenzo, Karen, or Bohannon. He was calling the shots, he just had to realize that, but Doc was running on fumes like the rest of them on top of being in charge.

NM's gaze shifted nonchalantly to Benson as he continued to lean against the wall. "He's got a point." The teen offered up with a shrug, reading Bohannon subtly, keeping his own counsel. He'd been with so many groups until hitting the Caravan, and when things became tense or perilous, he had to really start to watch his own back. He was growin' up. "You aren't whipped by Karen are you?" NM grinned a little to play by Benson's rules and take the sting out of an otherwise serious question.

"So you told me to make an offer. How about my vote?" Mexico stated, enjoying the repartee with the Cowboy. He was so used to conflict, he felt oddly calm despite everything that had happened. In Slaughter something changed in him, and he was cooler, maybe a bit darker.

"Or is there something else you want that I have?"

In reply to John Cobb (msg # 59):

Mahmoud clenched his teeth as the sledge hammer came forth and shattered the undead head into a gooey mess. Blood and bits covered the brown, Sikh beared survivor, and it took a moment for him to breathe, which came out in a relieved but 'fuck my life' sigh.

"I'm alright.." He almost couldn't believe it. Mahmoud thought that he knew what he was doing. But that was way too close.

"I'm Mahmoud, who the hell are you?" He asked as he moved to his feet, kind of astonished by the guy with the hammer, the shack man. The fellow had a gruff way about him, but a keenness to his eyes. A verifiable survivor.

"Are you alone out here?"

He then realized from the sound of the skirmish that Hank was still out there, outnumbered. "I gotta help my guy Hank. Think you've got enough in you to use that a bit more?" Since the guy saved his life, he didn't get the impression he was an assumed enemy. Finally maybe just another person out here, that could potentially be reasonable.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:36, Tue 18 Oct 2016.

In reply to Tom (msg # 64):

Luke's thrashing about churned up the water, his finely manicured mustache and hair all soaked, he looked like a very hip wet rat. When Tom appeared at the edge of the canal Luke grasped out, seizing it with both hands while making all sorts of contorted faces as he tried to get out.

"It's gonna take my Alden Indys!" He exclaimed, before Tom hushed him, causing Luke to smarten up momentarily, the dominant direction from their youngest actually hitting him correctly.

Grimacing and whimpering a little, Luke tried to use Tom's assistance to pull himself out, legs twisting awkwardly as he did so until finally he seemed to come free towards the bank. "Save me little dude, save me, save me!"

Getting partly onto it with his forearms, one hand grasped the earth desperately to help the process. Once out he flopped into the tall grass, first on top of Tom, getting the kid wet, before moving off and falling onto his back, exhausted.

His shoes were still on his feet, just soaked. "M-My Indys..I hope they're okay!?"
This message was last edited by the player at 02:42, Tue 18 Oct 2016.

Joe looked back to Karen when she seemed to seize into a more alert mode. She was on and then off, and was as bewildering as always, making him eerie of her. He knew what she wanted immediately but for good measure she laid it out to him.

"None of that matters now, so you leave me the hell alone about it!" Joe snapped at her, piercing green eyes inflaming as he held up a strong sinewy hand to point in Karen's face, his posture tensing and brow raising, all a warning. He didn't want to think about what had happened. Wanted to stow it away until he could use it to stay alive.

Her imploring to team up for a confederation of sorts drew a look of disgust from Joe, "Horseshit. You need me to track him, I don't need you one goddamn bit."  He began to turn away, shaking his head about this whole situation, "You're crazy. You're going to get someone else killed. Again." Joe spoke ominously before then stalking towards the barn.

Re: Chapter 6 - The Caravan The Lost Boys "Amongst The Mud And The Blood"



Saskatchewan and Orleans were running as fast as they could. they had deduced that the sound they heard was coming from somewhere down the canal, so ,down the canal they went. They ran along the bank on the small little goat trail that paralleled it. From here, it was impossible to say how far away the sound was, seeing as how they couldn't hear it any more. But Saskatchewan was confident they were headed in the right direction.

Saskatchewan was fifteen, sixteen in three more months. His friend Orleans, she was only thirteen, the youngest of all the Lost Boys. Orleans followed Saskatchewan around like a puppy, acting like she had something to prove, like she had to be one of the big boys. She'd cut her hair off so long ago, Sask didn't even remember what her hair had looked like when this whole thing started. He liked having her around. She reminded him of his little sister, who he'd last seen back home in Canada before the Fall, and had no idea if she was alive. Orleans was one tough kid... and she was faster than him. She was all the way around the bend of the canal ahead of Saskatchewan when she stopped dead in her tracks. There, Orleans dropped to the ground suddenly like she'd seen a ghost.

Saskatchewan got low and crept forward. "Hey, what is it?" Sask asked. "Shh! Dunno." Orleans snapped back. She parted the grass in front of her to get a better look.

Far off in the distance, near the dugout was a small rusty pump-house, surrounded by the dead. And to the left, much, much closer were two men, traveling through the tall grass.

"Who's that?" Saskatchewan asked, struggling to remember the names of the Caravan people from Slaughter. "SHH!" Orleans shushed him again. "Thats the doctor there, and the other one, that's the guy that took Wyoming I think." Orleans' face was scrunched up, she was trying to focus on everybody's movements. The small hill was between Dominic's position and the pump-house, so she knew they hadn't seen the dead yet, but more were on their way, coming from over on the other side of the canal, coming from the far side of the pump-house, and coming from... behind them!

Suddenly a cold hand reached out and grabbed Orleans by the shoulder, pulling her backwards. She let out a reactionary scream, immediately regretting it as she tried to push the zombie off of her. Saskatchewan fell over out of the way of the thing as it grabbed his friend. He stood and charged the walker, his buck knife in hand and he jabbed the thing through the throat. A spray of blood covered his face, making it difficult to see to finish it off.

Orleans, however was on the ball. She drew her makeshift sword (crafted from a brightly coloured piece of scrap steel and meticulously filed to a keen edge) from its home on her back and swung the heavy blade in a double arc to cleave the zombie's head clean (not clean at all) in two.

The ghoul was dead again, but their position was compromised. Dominic had surely heard Orleans' scream and seen their display of commonplace violence. Their cover was blown. Atlanta would not be happy.

In reply to New Mexico  (msg # 67):

The cowboy was grinning from ear to ear, revelling in Dominic's reaction to his protest. He placed both hands behind his head, leaned back against the outside wall of the camper and listened to what New Mexico had to say. As he did, his grin faded and his brow furrowed.

"You mean you don't wanna to go to war with Atlanna? Why? It don't matter why I told the Doc what I told him, but why don't you want to fight? You tell me that, I'll give ya this."

Bohannon reached under the table and pulled out a bottle of pills to dangle in front of New Mexico.

"Name's John."

He said, surprisingly devoid of any wiity quips. Finally prying free his large cudgel with a rather unnerving cracking sound, he looked out to see if there was any immediate danger before relaxing a tad. Stiing his sledge down so it's head lay on the ground while he leaned on it's handle, John gave a brief explination.

"Oh no, didn't ya see the U.S. army hiding behind the shack there? Right behind the rusted pipes? I'm fixing a goddaamn watter pump in fuckoff nowhere of course i'm alone-"

Cutting himself off as the Mohammod brought up the fact that now REALLY wasn't the time for it, hefted his hammer back into his hands. And tossed around the idea of simply leaving rather than helping, but thought better of it seeings as how the damn place was surrounded a bit. Besides, he could always bill them later.

"More'n enough. Call it a favor."

Hearing the sound of a woman screaming, Dominic was already running towards its source with his sword drawn before he realised that both of the women within their group were safely back at the camp. However it didn't take him long to discover the source of the scream as he crested the low rise in time to see a teenage girl dispatch a zed with a homemade sword that he couldn't help but recognise "Lorenzo, we've got a pair of Lost Boy's here!" he shouted as he headed straight for the girl with the sword, with murder in mind.
Neither of them was Kaidan, which was a shame but all the same their presence put the group at risk meaning that one way or another he had to make sure that they never returned to the rest of their group with tales of the Caravan's location.
It was with this thought in mind that Dom swung his sword in a long flat arc destined to remove the girl's head from her neck.

In reply to Dominic Dubreton (msg # 74):

The cavalry sword shone in the sunlight. The arced blade whistled through the air like a bird soaring through the clouds. The glistening, antique metal struck the thirteen year old girl in the back corner of her jaw, on the left side of her face. Had Dominic consumed a few more calories today, or had he adjusted his angle of attack ever so slightly, Orleans' head would have toppled right off her shoulders and hit the ground before her body did, but, as the case was, the blade got caught in her slender jawbone expending a great deal of its momentum. Orleans' small head snapped to her right as the sword bore its way deeper into her neck. Blood erupted from the girl like a powerful crimson fourth of July fireworks display. The blade, slowing ever further tore Orleans' jaw from her face, leaving it to hang loose and grotesque showing off the teeth that her mother had always teased were perfect, just like her father's. Dominic's sword came to rest about a third of the way through Orleans' spinal column, the fairly robust cluster of various tissues providing the final resistance to end the blade's travel. Orleans' head jerked back abruptly as the medic yanked the blade free from her face. Her body slumped down into a heap as the girl's blood turned the soil to mud. Her broken jaw flapped foolishly a few times before resting awkwardly off to one side.

"YOU MURDERED HER!" Saskatchewan screamed as the tears poured from his face. The boy, on his back, scampered backwards towards the canal edge, terrified for his life. His small Buck knife was no defence against Dominic's brutal sword, but Saskatchewan brandished it anyways. Pointed it straight out towards Dominic, his hands shaking.

The terror was so real, so consuming. He'd never felt anything like it before. He'd fought zombies lots of times. Killed more than he could count, nearly been eaten alive enough times too, but in all that, he'd never felt fear like this. Somehow, the furious wrath of a living, breathing man, a man who had just hacked the head off his best friend in the world, was something far more chilling than the hunger of the dead. His heart pounded so hard, he felt it in his throat. His breath was short, shallow, shaky, it was hard to get enough air.

"Please don't kill me!" Saskatchewan screamed, suddenly noticing movement from a few meters behind Dominic.

Looking down at the mangled mess he'd made of the girl's face Dominic felt more than a little sick as his empty stomach tied itself in knots. Having spent nearly ten years of his life as a paramedic he had grown used to blood and sight of grisly accidents, but that was nothing like this Jesus...what the fuck I have I done!? a voice at the back of his mind whimpered pitifully as blood dripped from the end of his sword. The kid was younger than his half sister Marie and other than the sword looked completely harmless…and he’d killed her without a moments hesitation, what was wrong with him!?

His macabre reverie was quickly broken however by the screaming of a teenage boy as he hurriedly backed away from him until his progress was halted by the canal’s edge, clearly terrified of the blood soaked medic and his sword "you couldn't have just left us alone could you? You had to come looking for us...well here we are!" Dominic announced with grin that bordered on insane as he threw his arms wide so that a shower of blood flew from his blood soaked arms, with the steel blade of his killing tool flashing in the sun.

Dominic advanced upon the boy with a deep feeling of dark and imminent dread building up inside of him. There was no way out of this, the kid had seen too much and no matter how much that voice in the back of his mind pleaded and whined for him not to kill him he couldn't risk letting him go either.
This wasn't like killing mindless, unfeeling Zed's, nor was it like the fire fights he'd been involved in; they were simply survival. This however was something entirely different and he was crossing a very dark line, a line that once crossed there would be no coming back from.

As the boy gave his final scream; begging for Dominic not to kill him, the medic simply sighed as he slowly shook his head "Its nothing personal kid...I just want me and my girlfriend to survive" his said in a tired voice, meaning every word that he said as he raised his blade ready to deliver a single thrust to the heart. He may have botched the last killing, but this one at least he’d make quick...the kid deserved that much at least.

Lorenzo started into a jog to catch up with Dominic. He'd been confused as to how the medic was so sure these kids were with the teenage group of psychopaths, and that had given him pause. There probably wasn't many other children who would be running around the woods though, right? Before he could even think to question anything, the kid was already dead.

He came up behind Dominic. He stopped about a foot away from him. A bloody sword. Shouting. A dead kid behind him. The guy looked completely fucking crazy and not in a good way. "Ay, fuck! Dominic! What the fuck?" Lorenzo demanded, not sure what he was demanding. "What, we stabbing every fucking kid we see now?"

He hadn't drawn his knife, but his good hand moved to his rifle sling. "He with Karen's crazy kid? Can't you at least shoot the fucking guy?"

He glanced around the woods, not watching the kid or Dominic.

Hank let out a grunt as he kicked in the face of a zombie crawling toward him. Looking around he saw he had given himself a little space, most of the crowd he had distracted now on the ground pulling themselves toward him. Let's get some water they said, it won't take long they said... His muttering puttered out as he saw Tom break cover and run toward the resurfaced Luke. Dammit. Glancing toward the treeline he could see more coming. HEY, IF YOU'RE COMING OUT OF THE SHED, NOW'S YOU"RE CHANCE! He didn't need to worry about being quiet like the others, and the more fighters the better. JUST WATCH OUT FOR CRAWLERS!

At the sound of a nearby scream he turned. It was too high pitched to be one of their group's remaining members. Was it one of the Lost Boys? He didn't have time to consider as a tug at his pants reminded him he had bigger problems. Trying to step back he swiped at the thing's arms, unbalancing himself in the process. A LITTLE HELP WOULD BE APPRECIATED! He called out, using the stick and his free leg to beat it back. The call was toward the shed and whoever was on the other side of the ridge.

Mexico regarded Bohannon as the cowboy took a non chalant stance outside the trailer, after the interaction with Dominic, characteristically pleased with himself. The guy had things in common with Sam, while still being two sides of a coin as far as NM saw it. Izzy had gotten into it with Benson the day before, before Slaughter, over the drugs, for this was what she foresaw, the cowboy trading fortunes of glory and escapism.

The young man didn't immediately respond to Bohannon's question/terms as he likewise leaned back against the RV outside wall next to the drug dealer. Eyes squinted against the sun a little before settling as he looked to his side at the grizzly survivor.

Mexeeco grinned small and sarcastically as Benson dangled the bottle as if NM was already hooked hopelessly.

"Y'know, I could just wait for the bag of goodies to tire you out, what with that leg wound of yours. If this RV doesn't get fixed up, you might be nicely asking me to take the lot of it off your hands." Mexico replied, perhaps skirting around the question while making a stab at dark humor.

Screams came out of the not so far off distance, screams that didn't match the women currently in camp. Mexico could put two and two together as he stood up from the RV, taking a few steps forward along the dirt and grass, his eyes searching, ears perking. "I'm going to go check it out, stay here and try not to open your wound, alright?" New Mexico quickly adjusted the hair he'd tied back into a messy ponytail as if to assure that it wouldn't come undone and get in his face when he took off running.

A hand moving to the hilt of his machete they lay strung to his upper thigh, he seemed to be waiting for confirmation the often reckless cowboy would indeed stay and not make himself a liability due to his injury. Also the assumption he was weak would piss Benson off which was a side benefit.
This message was last edited by the player at 19:38, Thu 27 Oct 2016.

John

The man dropped his name soundly and without fanfare like the initial smash of the seldgehammer against the walker split open temple down between them. Mahmoud breathed deeply as he caught his breath after the fatigue of the struggle he'd had trying to get the shack. Damn he was thirsty. Very overheated, he felt a bit disoriented as well, it all suddenly hitting him.

John's sarcastic reply to his question would have drawn a look of 'Okay, fuck me right?' from Mahmoud had they not had rotten fish to fry.

"Thank you. John." He didn't make any promises to pay the man for help, as they did not have anything, and because the argument could be made that they had somewhat saved eachother. It did occur to Mahmoud that the guy might have been fine on his own, but nevertheless they were working together for now anyway so they could all get out. Already he knew he wanted to keep this guy around if possible. They could use the help.

Hearing Hank's voice outside, and knowing Tom and Luke were out there and vulnerable too, Mahmoud seized out of the shack, his baton by now in hand and blood. A female scream rang out from nearby, and he considered that Izzy or Karen were in danger out there.
He expected John to come out behind him, and hoped the guy wouldn't plug him with the hammer accidentally with those righteous swings. Right away he followed the hoard assembling around Hank, his pace slowing as he took a stance and wound up his arm to strike a walker in the knee. It crumpled to the ground, and Mahmoud raised his SWAT boot and slammed down on its fragile skull.

"Hank!?" Mahmoud was exhausted, and running on adrenaline, not aware of where Tom or Luke were, just focused on helping out the elder Lucion.

Seeing Hank beset with a grasping biter, Mahmoud picked up his pace and body checked a zed out of the way, sending it staggering to the ground and temporarily out of play. When he reacehed Hank he dropped his baton so as to grab the crawler by its lower remains and pull it back and away from his comrade. Like with the last walker, he slammed his heel down into its rotting temple, hurting his ankle in the process and wringing a grunt of pain from the Sikh. That skull had been harder than he expected.

Picking up his baton, he barrelled through his dehydration and the pain in his right ankle, and extended a hand to Hank to pull the other man up so they could face this together. John's presence Mahmoud left unexplained until they were all safe, introductions could wait.

"Where's Tom, Luke? That scream.. Who was-" Mahmoud asked with little breath as a crawler struggled towards them, earning it an upward swing of the baton to the eye socket. It didn't do the trick unfortunately.

In reply to Joe (msg # 70):

Karen tossed both her hands up at Joe's back, flipping him a frustrated double-bird before storming off as well. Approaching the RV, Karen peered through the window and saw New Mexico and Bohannon sitting at the table talking. The looks on their faces indicating they were actually enjoying heir conversation. She was just about to the door when the girl's faint scream reached the camp. Karen instinctively drew her weapon and scanned the horizon. New Mexico sprang from the RV and took off running. Karen lingered at the door, her eyes meeting Bohannon's. "Go" he said. "Me, stumpy and Grandpa'll hold the fort, you go back up the kid."

The phrase "hold the fort" brought up painful memories but there was no time to  dwell. Karen held Bohannon's gaze for a second longer, not finding any words to say to him and then she too took off running towards the screams.

Hank, Tom, Luke, Mahmoud, Dominic, Lorenzo, and now New Mexico were all spread all over the damn place, and someone was screaming. By the sounds of it it was a small girl, but it could also have been Luke...

The route from the camp to the canal took Mexico and Karen across two fields. The crops once planted there had given way to a weedy, overgrown, more natural state. Trees lined the right hand side in a wind-break a few rows deep. Up ahead a small undulating hill broke their line of sight from both Dom and Lorenzo, and the water crew.

Catching up to New Mexico was harder than she'd hoped. The festering wound in her side really slowed her down. Her whole body ached, feeling like the had the flu, but she knew from experience that that wasn't it.

"Which way?" she asked New Mexico in as few words as possible to save her breath. The sound of "Please don't kill me" from the other side of the hill came as her answer. Karen and New Mexico quickened their pace.

Karen pointed to the tree line trying to get Mexico's attention. "Zombies... there." she said, pointing out a few shamblers emerging from the shade and heading in the direction of the shouts. There were only a few she saw at first, but more appeared with each passing moment.

The pair crested the small rise, the canal came into view a short distance away, and so did Dominic, Lorenzo, and three bodies. One was a zombie. The other two were children. "Sweet Jesus." Karen gasped, covering her mouth in shock. The blood on these kids was fresh, and Dominic had some to match.

"What did you do Dominic?"

With his eyes fixed upon the terrified boy in front of him, it took several moments for Lorenzo's words to register within his mind with Dominic half turning his head in Lorenzo's direction as he responded to the guys final request "what...and let his friends know where we are?...Non" he simply stated before sending the sword crashing down through the kids ribs just to the left of his sternum. With a quick twist and a spray of blood he ripped the sword free before quickly whipping it across the boy’s throat for good measure. There, he'd done it, it was over and they were safe from Kaidan for a little while longer and all it had cost him was his soul A little melodramatic don't you think?...yeah, you're probably right.

He was in the process of liberating the kids Buck knife and sheath; a single press stud attaching it to his belt when he heard Karen's horrified voice coming from behind him when did she get here? His mind quietly asked before deciding that it didn’t really matter. Straightening himself up to his full height Dom would look Karen in the eye before responding in a grim voice "what needed to be done" he said; clipping his newly acquired knife to his belt "Now lets find the others and get out of here before I'm forced to kill any more of you son's minions" he growled, plucking his sword from where he’d left it standing point first in the dirt and heading back up the hill in the hope that he’d be able to see where the others were, after all they couldn’t be too far away.

In reply to Luke (msg # 69):

So kick off the damn shoes. Tom thought, resisting the urge to snap at the man. Shoes were important now that a simple cut could mean a slow and agonizing death. Though death by drowning didn't sound much better. Luckily Luke still had enough sense to actually try and help out and didn't assume the teen could drag him out by himself. With a final "umph" the hipster was free, sending both of them sprawling and Tom briefly smothered. Great... He panted, getting a whiff of the canal water up close. The wetness didn't bother him, but combined with the stagnant stench...

Turning at Hank's call he took a deep a deep breath and sat up. There wasn't time to worry about Luke's obsession with his shoes. They were shoes or boots, no need to get technical with brand names. Grabbing the rifle he went to see what was happening.

In reply to Mahmoud (msg # 80):

Stupid...let go. Hank growled as he tried to work his legs free. Should have grabbed the crowbar. This would be the mother of all stupid ways to die. He was half tempted to get the gun out when Mahmoud arrived, giving the struggling survivor the chance he needed. Pushing back a couple paces he took the proffered hand with a grateful nod. Thanks. I think Tom went to fish Luke out of the canal. No idea about the scream. Swallowing hard he focused on the crawler Mahmoud had taken a swing at. If the baton didn't do the trick then there was no way his stick would. Aiming for its face he kicked out and finished what the other strike had started, caving in the pre-broken eye socket. I say we grab them and get the hell out of here.

Following behind the bearded commando, John had more than a few questions for why these people had come out this way. Sadly, John had simply gotten used to not knowing what, why, or how. Frankly, if he couldn't fix it with a hammer swing or some time with a welder, he figured it wasn't his problem. Thankfully the situation that was unfolding fit very nicely into his definition of 'personal problems'. Following behind the man, it was clear that John had been well rested. Swinging a twenty pound sledgehammer like a baseball bat and bursting the rotted heads like vicera filled piñatas. Losing himself to a bloodrage only momentarily, John had bashed his way tthrough six walkers before turning back to see how Mohammed had been fairing.

"Oh for fuck's sake."

John bellowed, half angry at the two men engrossed in the situation, and half disappointed in himself for distancing himself from the people he was supposed to be helping. Anger was a consuming thing for John, always had been, but with the fall of society he'd been hard pressed to control himself. He had to regain control of the reins and focus. Taking a breath, John hefted his weight and charged over to the two, body checking a walker and sending it off its feet a few feet away before moving over to join the two. Looking down at the kid, there was a brief condescending stare that wondered what the hell a kid was doing in a place like this. John haf never had a kid, true, but he still felt as though they could've had aplace for him to stay out of trouble. His eyes didn't linger long, as they quickly looked over Mahmoud before speaking up.

"Gettin' worse by the minute I'd say, might be easier to come back after a few of 'em piss off."

John said, a tad winded. He was agreeing agreeing with the kid who Mahmoud had rushed to save. And it wasn't long until John figured out that Mahmoud had began to favor one leg over the other. John considered this for a time...

"Need me to carry you out? No bullshit from me this time, just a yes or a no."
This message was last edited by the player at 23:04, Fri 04 Nov 2016.

Dominic, Lorenzo, Karen and New Mexico reached the top of the gentle rise that separated them from the view of the others. There, they saw the horror that awaited them. Mahmoud, Hank, Tom, Luke and some new guy they'd never seen before were fighting their way through a growing horde. As each moment passed more zombies arrived. The initial noise drawing the first ones, those zombies drawing the second ones. Each zombie killed was replaced by three more. The majority of them were coming from the far side of the scene, opposite Dominic & Co.'s position. But the longer they lingered, the more began to creep up behind them. Soon the irrigation ditch and the pump-house would be overrun.

There was still hope for the Caravan however. The path back to camp wasn't yet completely overrun. They still had a chance to pull Hank and his group out of there and fight it back to camp to reach their people.

An injured Bohannon, a one legged Isabelle and an exhausted Joe were depending on them.

Cresting the gentle rise, Dominic finally found the others along with the reason why they hadn't returned "Merde" he muttered in a horror filled voice as he watched the ever growing horde of Zeds gathering around his people. They couldn't put this down with anything short of explosives and even then there was no guarantee that it would work, after all the army had tried that back in the early days, no, their only option was to try and outrun the herd before it rolled over them like an avalanche "NM...I want you to run back and warn the others, they need to get ready to run as soon as we get back"or even before we get back and even then it may be too late he silently added, wondering how the hell he was going to get everyone out of this mess in one piece, and more importantly how was he going to get Izzy and himself out?

Readjusting his grip on his blood soaked sword, Dominic took a single deep breath before speaking to the remainder of his group in an approximation of a calm voice "D'accord...we stay together and cut a path through to the others, we'll only get one shot at this so we can’t hang around for stragglers…and then we run” sure the plan could have been devised by a five year old but it was the best they had. The alternative being that they leave their friends to their fate and make a run for it on their own, a rather scummy thing to do in Dom’s opinion even if he had just brutally murdered a pair of teenagers for no other reason than they were in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Strolling towards the mass of walking dead at an almost casual pace, Dom cut down the first of many with a single decapitating swing, that more than proved Lorenzo’s theory that the dead were far easier to kill. He’d have to hope that those gathered around the pump house would notice their arrival and start working their way towards him as there was no way for him to contact them without attracting any undue attention from the Zeds and so thrusting his sword through the rotting eye socket of the next Zed in line Dom carried on head towards Mahmoud and the others, hoping to reach them before it was too late.

Shit. Not much time had passed, or had it, but it seemed Hank had gone further then Tom would have guessed. He needed to find an opening to get back to them. Luckily it seemed the guy who must have been in the shack was a beast, and gave them the chance he needed. Turning to Luke he almost swore again as he saw the zombies closing in from behind them. Come on, we need to get over there before the gap closes. Not waiting to see if the older man was following he took off through the clearing made by the sledgehammer wielder.

Back on his feet and with Mahmoud and the new guy, Hank was able to use the branch to its fullest again. Though he still cursed himself for leaving the crowbar behind. Common sense would have had him running the second the other two showed up but he needed to give Tom as much time as possible. Knocking a zombie to the side he gave a ragged sigh of relief at the sight of his brother running toward them, a bit moister then the last time he saw him. About damn time you showed up. He called, grinning at the one fingered salute he got in return. Now we can leave.

Tom rolled his eyes at Hank's greeting and then some. OK, next time you get to scoop him out of the canal. Glancing around their position didn't look too good, with more arriving from other directions beside the treeline.

In reply to Atlanta (msg # 54):

Flashback - the day following the Battle of Fort Dixie

"Dude, I'm sorry." Kentucky said solemnly, standing at the gates of Fort Dixie.

Fort Dixie was once a proud destination. A symbol of hope and renewal. A gleaming emblem of man's stubborn perseverance and unwavering commitment to survival. It was a home to many. It was a trading outpost. It was a stronghold. And as Atlanta and the Lost Boys made their way up the road to Fort Dixie they found it burning.

Smoke rose from the Fort, darkening the afternoon sky. The Lost Boys had approached cautiously, crossing the overgrown field. The gates were smashed open. Parts of the walls were collapsed. The barracks were burnt to the ground... And nobody was there.

Washington and Dakota led a group inside. Kentucky and Atlanta stayed back to watch the gate. The sounds of the Fort were erie, strangely calm but sporadic. Pieces of the burnt out buildings collapsed and fell. The aged wood creaked and groaned as the heat distorted it.

Atlanta stood in the centre of the open gate, smoke all around him. He was a statue. Unmoving, and seemingly unaffected. Kentucky moved up closer to him, grabbing his hand gently in his own. "We'll find them." Kentucky said, reassuringly.

"No we won't!" Atlanta took on a despondent tone. "They're gone! They're dead, or they left me! Either way it's the same. I'm alone." "You're not alone Atlanna." Kentucky hugged him, comforting him. "You're with us now."

The words "Kaidan go ***t" were scrawled across the gate in white letters. The last word was spoiled by smoke, making the message left for him by his mother completely useless. The others didn't really notice it. They didn't know what Atlanta's name was. So to them, Atlanta was abandoned. That's what he wanted them to think anyways. It bought him sympathy. It bought him trust. They would go out of their way to bring him into their midst now. He was in.
This message was last edited by the player at 03:56, Thu 24 Nov 2016.

In reply to Atlanta (msg # 89):

Flashback - the day following the Battle of Fort Dixie

Washington's group finished their search of Fort Dixie, finding not a whole lot that was in tact, and not taken by the Caravan when they left. "What the fuck is this Atlanta!? What happened here? Tell me the truth or so help me..." Washington walked up and shoved Atlanta to the side, asserting his dominance. "What?!" Atlanta was caught off guard. "I had no idea they were attacked! They were here when I went in to St. Louis! I don't know what happened! Or where they are!" Kentucky stepped between the two of them as Atlanta stepped towards Washington. "Hey, Wash, c'mon. Take it easy. He was just as surprised as we were to see this. Give the guy a break."


"Whatever." Washington said as he stormed off with Dakota. "What are we going to do Wash? This was our best chance to survive the winter. We came a long way for this, it's kinda a huge blow." Said Dakota. Washington hung his head and rubbed his face with both hands. The two of them were out in the tall grass in the field, out of sight of the others. '"I know!" He shouted. "I know, okay?" Dakota knelt down beside Washington. "Let's go south, like we talked about. We'll find somewhere to live, somewhere we can all stay? Sound good?" Washington felt comforted by Dakota. He nodded. "I'll go gather the troops." She said.

Dakota returned to the gates, where the rest of the Lost Boys were gathered. "Alright listen up! Grab some water from the well, then get your shit together. We're moving out. We head south then make camp as far away from here as we can before we lose the light. Got it? Good." Dakota approached Atlanta. "We'll make camp tonight and we'll talk about trying to find your people."

"They're gone Dakota. They left me behind." Atlanta shrugged. "If it's all the same to you, I'll take my chances with you guys. If you'll have me." He added.

Later, as the Lost Boys were on the road again, putting distance between them and Fort Dixie Kentucky walked with Atlanta (as usual.) "Hey Atlanna, I've been wondering something." "Yeah, what's that?" Atlanta asked. "Who's Kaidan?" Atlanta was startled hearing his own name coming from Kentucky's mouth. "It said "Kaidan go" on the gate back there. I was just wondering who's Kaidan..."

Atlanta made convincing, sincere eye contact with Kentucky as they walked. "I dunno. Whoever "Kaidan" is they're probably dead now."

Dominic's arms ached from over use, with his sword seeming to grow heavier and heavier with each successive swing he took and worse still he was beginning to feel dizzy and faint, no doubt due to the lack of food he'd eaten followed by the mornings exertions.

Cutting a path through to the others hadn't proved to be any major obstacle; the majority of the Zeds had been focused upon eating the others rather than the threat coming from behind them so it had been child’s play to hack their way through; that and the horde had yet to fully form.

With the two groups now together it had been a matter of making their way back down the track to where the rest of the group was waiting for them. The normally simple task of walking the relatively short distance was not only hampered by the wounded within their midst but by their own fatigue meaning that they were only just ahead of the shambling horde when they finally reached the RV "We...we need to...merde...need to get out of here" Dominic said between deep breath's, silently cursing all those years of cigarettes and alcohol "…Grab what...you can, then we need to start running" yeah like any of us are capable of running! his mind sneered in derision, though unless somebody stepped up and fixed that stupid RV it was their only option.

Hank kept an eye on the opening the stranger had created, knowing it would be their best bet to turn and run. Glancing back at the sound of dropping body parts he let out a sigh of relief as Dom made his way to them. Between the two openings getting away was easier then he had would thought. Though there was still the issue of the horde following them after they were free, and the fact they'd had next to nothing to eat since yesterday. Should have insisted on a can before we left.

Think...we could wait them out upstairs in the barn? Hands on his knees Hank looked over to the barn. Let them pass? Even as he asked he motioned Tom to the barn to grab their stuff.

"Maybe...if they actually pass that is" Dominic replied breathlessly as he lent up against the side of the RV. He wasn't particularly keen on the idea of holing up in the barn as there was no guarantee as to how long the horde would take to pass them by, assuming of course that they did pass them by because if they didn't then they would be trapped within the ageing tin barn with next to no food or water.

Unfortunately with a large proportion of their group either too badly injured or weak to move at any real pace and with the dead rapidly closing in, holing up in the barn was rapidly coming to be their only option "Ok guys can we get this damn RV working or not? Because we're rapidly running out of time!" Dominic shouted at the group in the hope that one of them would have some idea about how to fix it.
If they could only get the damn thing working then they would be able to not only outpace the dead but get well on their way to leaving this state and more importantly the Lost Boys far behind.

The Caravan groups reunited at the camp with the horde only moments behind them. Karen banged on the side of the RV. "Hhhhorde!" was all she panted to the three inside. The tired, out-of-breath, lightly wounded woman rounded the side of the recreational vehicle to join Dom and Hank. "We don't have..." She was trying to catch her breath. "...the supplies to..." another breath, "...Outlast them." She struggled to get the words out. Like Hank she was doubled over, hands on her knees, fighting for air. Her heart was pounding so hard she could hear it inside her head, it was nearly deafening. "RV." She pointed to the large rectangular house-on-wheels. "We need... the RV... Izzy, Boh." She trailed off, waiving her hand dismissively as a means of completing her sentence, implying that the RV was the only chance of escape for those two. Karen pointed to herself, Hank, Tom, Dominic, Mahmoud, Luke, and New Mexico. "We defend, They fix." she added, pointing to Lorenzo and John.

"What do you think?" Whatever they were going to do, everybody had to be on board with it, or it would never work. The horde was within sight of the camp. Like Dominic said, they were running out of time.

If we hid before they saw us... Hank bit back, growling slightly as that option disappeared. Hell they could have probably been safe in the RV, just stay low and jam the door closed so it couldn't be bumped open. Only choice now. He took a deep breath, throat still raw from fighting and running.

Coming back from the barn with their bags Tom looked around at the others, then back at the RV. Ummm...what if it isn't fixable?

He's right...we need to lure at least some of them away...give the others a chance to find out. He spoke slowly, the consequences of a futile defense obvious. Even if the RV wasn't fixable leading a chunk away would make the horde a little easier to deal with. The only issue would be who, injury and malnutrition was rampant among the group. Taking his crowbar back he put a hand on Tom's shoulder.Get whatever you think may be useful into the RV...there may be a couple tools we could use, maybe even some seed that haven't had mice in it.

Lorenzo spread a hand out, visibly frustrated, the other one tucked close to his stomach in the makeshift splint. "Do any of you got a spare battery jammed up your asses?" he asked snappishly. "'Cause if not, I don't know how to get this piece of shit running!"

Regardless, he went back over to the RV, wracking his brain. There had to be some way to jumpstart the damn thing. Mother of god, he worked in some two-bit chop-shop and suddenly he had to be McGyver? There had to be something, something, somewhere, that someone mentioned to him before the dead started walking.

With the horde now disastrously close to camp time was up and the decision was made for them. To the barn!

The door of the RV flew open, Joe standing in it, helping both Izzy and Bohannon down the steps before exiting himself. The old timer helped Izzy reach Dominic before turning back to help Bohannon hobble as fast as he could to the relative safety of the barn. Bohannon refused the help though, opting instead to limp excruciatingly to the barn on his own, a trickle of blood running down his leg once more. He'd grabbed his duffel on the way out, figuring the painkillers inside would be of some serious value to him in a few moments time.

The zombies were now staggering into camp. The first couple coming around the RV were now in reach of the Caravan. Boh' saw Karen take a swing a couple of times, bringing up the rear, defending the retreat. Mahmoud and Luke were now inside the barn, on the doors ready to slam them shut the second the last person was through. Mahmoud had his side closed and ready, he was waiving everybody in. "Come on! Come on!"

Bohannon passed New Mexico as the boy turned to help cover the retreat with Karen. He saw Lorenzo fleeing the front of the RV, stopping to take out his frustrations on the dead. But Bohannon kept moving. He limped as fast as his leg would carry him until he reached the inside of the barn. He collapsed to the floor. The cowboy rolled over grasping his leg and watched the others as they each began to trickle in.

With their time now well and truly up Dominic took a moment to stare in horror as the horde of walking dead shambled from out of the trees and headed straight for them like the unstoppable force that it was before chasing after an irate Lorenzo "Fuck the RV! Let’s get in the barn while we still can!" Dominic shouted; snagging Lorenzo's good arm and giving it a quick tug in order to encourage the guy to give up his futile attempt to fix the RV. Though to be honest only an idiot would try and fend off the wave of death currently descending upon them and although Lorenzo was a lot of things, an idiot wasn't one of them.

Meeting up with Joe as he made his way back from the RV's engine compartment, Dominic wasted little time in picking Izzy up in a fireman's lift and heading for the barn as quickly as his malnourished and fatigued form would take him. He'd apologise about having to haul the love of his live like a sack of potatoes later but for now the only thing that mattered was getting them both into that barn and away from the Zed's...even if it meant locking somebody else out. With the realisation that he'd even consider such vile act making the paramedic feel disgusted with himself. What the hell was wrong with him!? He wasn't a murderer...he was a good man! Or at least he used to be…after what had happened down by the canal he wasn’t so sure anymore

All but collapsing upon the hay next to Izzy, Dominic just about found enough energy to draw his pistol and chamber a round with shaking hands as he struggled to draw ragged breaths into his abused lungs. He had no desire to be torn apart by the dead and nor did he want to risk coming back as one of them to kill his friends. No, two bullets, one for him, one for Izzy would make sure that would never happen and then perhaps he’d be able to get a decent nights sleep for a change.

The door creaked and groaned its way shut as the rest of the Caravan made their way inside. Karen, Hank, Tom and all the others were now safe... relatively speaking of course. Mahmoud threw every ounce of his weight against the door and with the help of Luke's slender frame they were able to squeeze a board through the handles to lock it up tight. For the moment anyways.

The rickety old doors would not hold against the combined weight of the whole horde forever. The Caravan needed a plan to get out of this barn and on the road as soon as possible so they could find something to eat. With Hank's stash of canned food they maybe had one meal together in the barn before they were completely out of food, and they were already out of water since the canal had been a bust.

Mahmoud rubbed his dry fingers on his itchy bearded cheek. "What are we going to do?" He asked in a whisper, making eye contact with Dominic specifically, almost able to read the thoughts of ending it all on his face as the medic gripped the pistol with enough force to turn his knuckles white.

The doors closed with an agonising slowness as Luke and Mahmoud manoeuvred it into position before then being wedging it shut with the entire group having managed to get inside before the horde could reach them, with Mahmoud then asking the question on everyone's mind "Attendez que la mort ..."Dominic muttered with a wry laugh and just a touch of madness within his eyes and he tightly held onto the gun in his hand.

Thankfully however whatever madness had gripped him was short lived as his mind snapped back to the real world, I've not done that in a while he suddenly thought to himself; realising that he had just lapsed into speaking French and that none of the group were liable to understand what he'd just said, giving nervous laugh before speaking to them in a low voice "Tom; you and NM go up into the hayloft and see if you can find any cracks in the tin or something to see through; I'd like to know what we're up against...also lets put something heavy in front of that door so they can't get in" he said eyeing several pieces of farm machinery that would fit the bill.

Still out of breath, Dom left the others the task of hauling something in front of the door as he looked over at Izzy who was currently lying beside him "Sorry mon cheri, I didn't mean to throw you around like that, things got a little...desperate...forgive me?" he quietly apologised to the beautiful brunette, hoping that he hadn’t bruised her or her feelings too badly as a result of his rough treatment of her.

It was as he was leaning in to kiss her cheek that he would notice the pistol still in his hand; the paramedic frowning at the weapon as if uncertain as to how it had come to be there before returning it to its holster. Keep it together mon ami, we need to get everyone out of here...you can totally lose it once this is all over he quietly scolded himself before setting his mind back to the problem of how they were going to get out of the barn alive.

Lorenzo let himself be coerced back to the barn. He dropped his bag and rifle on the ground, rolled his shoulder, sniffed. With his good hand he patted the front of his shirt, under his jacket. The crumpled up cigarette carton had about four, dried up, shitty smokes.

Damn, that could last the rest of his life.

He smiled to himself, chuckled in the back of his throat, looking up at the planks of the loft overhead like they'd provide some sort of divine solution.

"There could be a little window up there too, kiddos," Lorenzo added after Dom addressed the two younger caravaneers.

He went over to help with the heavy lifting and barricade. "How sturdy's this piece of shit?" he asked, meaning the barn. "Any way to pry some boards off the side and slip out?"

"This shitty building survived the hurricane, let's hope it survives this." Boh interjected from his seated position in the middle of the dirt floor. "Should be a vent up there," he gestured up to the top of the rear wall. "A small one, just for air flow. But if you can get to it it should be big enough for a skinny guy like New Mexico to shimmy through." (The hell if I know how he'd get down though...) He thought to himself.

The packed earth that made up the floor of the building had become moist with blood from Bohannon's leg wound. The short excursion from the RV to here was enough to re-tear open the cowboy's second-rate suture job he did on himself. Bohannon rose carefully as the others worked to barricade the door and scout their escape options. He limped over to Dominic and Isabelle.

"Say Doc, sorry to interrupt, but I could use a hand here." He said, placing a shaky hand on his blood stained thigh. "The stitches ain't holding. Is there... another option?" What he was asking was gruesome, and it worried him, but the thought of slowly bleeding out or catching an infection and watching his leg rot off his own body were both worse options.

Karen helped the others push the sturdy workbench and the heavy tool boxes against the door to fortify the barricade. She clutched her side after the initial effort and nodded at Mahmoud as he suggested she sit out. Feeling out of sorts Karen moved to the side of the barn where nobody was. She watched from the sidelines as the two boys climbed up towards the ceiling and out of her line of sight. She watched as the others piled the last few heavy objects in front of the door. She watched Dominic comforting the woman he cared so much for and she watched the cowboy whom she'd shared a moment of passion with not too long ago approach the couple to attend to his wounds.

She took note of the abandoned orange pack in the centre of the floor where Boh had been laying. The bag that just so happened to be filled with pilfered narcotic painkillers... Just what the doctor ordered she thought.

While everyone was busy Karen swooped across the barn and swiped the orange bag, disappearing off into one of the side stalls to be alone with it. Dropping to her knees Karen hurriedly dug through it. Oxy, Vicodin, Percocet, a little of this, a little of that. There was a felony quantity in the bag, enough that if they all divvied it up and swallowed it there'd be more than enough to kill the whole Caravan twice over. Why did the cowboy steal this from the van? What was he planning to do with it? She wondered with her hands full of different bottles. Karen shook her head. There was no time to waste. finding a baggie in the bottom of the duffel Karen dispensed a trail-mix of pain pills into it and slipped it into her inside coat pocket. She had enough there that if she rationed it it'd keep her high for probably a couple months.

Karen closed up the bag and snuck back out into the main space in the barn with the others. She discarded the somewhat lighter orange bag off to the side of the room and went to go sit as far away from it as she could, re-joining the others.

"Hank, what do we have to eat?" She asked casually with a tired look in her eyes.

In reply to Dominic Dubreton (msg # 100):

"You only hurt my pride a little." Isabelle replied with a gently smile and a quiet giggle. Izzy took Dominic's hand in hers, the one holding the pistol. She rubbed the back of his hand and his fingers with the slightest, relaxing touch. "We're still here." She told him, reassuringly. "What happened at the canal? You've got this look in your eye, like," She paused, looking for words. "Like I haven't seen since Sierra. Like you're shaken, and I know it isn't the horde."

They were interrupted by the cowboy before Dominic could respond. "Say Doc, sorry to interrupt, but I could use a hand here. The stitches ain't holding. Is there... another option?"

"Go," Isabelle said. "Talk after?" Her voice was equal parts "get to work" and "come back to me."

Damn it! Hank grabbed his bag from Tom and pushed him toward the barn, joining the others as his plan went out the window. Would it have even worked? He thought as he tossed the bag toward where they had slept the night before. Or would I have just separated myself from the Tom and the others? Shaking his head clear he went to help jam the doors closed, musing over Dom and Lorenzo's words about openings.

Tom ran with the others, little needing his brother's encouragement. Looking around he was glad everyone made it but he realized they had made it into a closed box. Ah...sure. His dry throat managed at Dom's words. Using the task to distract him from the idea they just sealed their own coffin he added his bag to Hank's and went with NM to see what could be seen through whatever vents or windows were on the upper level. Once they were up and as away from the others as possible the relative size of their surroundings and lack of exits became apparent. So...you guys have been in worst situations then this before right? I mean, of course me and Hank have been, and with everyone here this should be no problem... He kept his voice low but had started to ramble, not sure if he was trying to reassure NM or himself.

Hank looked up from where he was digging through his bag at Karen's approach. A school backback's worth of cans, probably a couple meals depending on how we ration. He shrugged Plus the rice, not sure how much use it'll be without water but it's something.

"That's not a bad idea, though we'd need to keep the Zeds on this side of the barn" Dominic replied' glancing over his shoulder as if hoping to see an exit sign. The plan would only be any good if the way was clear, hence why he wanted NM and Tom to take a look outside, and even they would have to move pretty damn fast so as to avoid the horde's attention, though with no other suggestions it was the best plan they had so far.

With the rest of the group occupied Dominic took the opportunity to speak with Izzy who thankfully wasn't upset with him over his treatment of her. However when she asked him what had happened down by the canal the paramedic would freeze, unsure as to how or even if he should tell her what had happened, of how he had killed those kids in cold blood she’d understand, she’s not Karen she’d understand that I had no choice and that by letting them live I’d be putting the entire group at risk, and yet he was still terrified that she’d be just as disgusted with him as Karen had been and would want nothing more to do with him I…I can’t lose her I just can’t!

Thankfully the Cowboy would choose this moment to seek medical attention having torn the stitches in his leg during his dash to the barn, with the Southerner asking if there was another option “Well…I can re-stitch the wound and bandage it up nice and tight and hope that it holds or…” Dominic hesitated; glancing over at the old acetylene torch currently stacked against the barn door with the other tools and junk within the cabinets and chests they’d found “…I could cauterise it for you” he quietly suggested with the memories of the last time he’d performed that particular procedure still very fresh in his mind.

In reply to Atlanta (msg # 90):

Chapter 6 - The Caravan  The Lost Boys "Amongst The Mud And The Blood"

Mississippi emerged from the upstairs bedroom window and stepped out onto the roof to where Atlanta and Dakota sat together. "A'lanna, we got some wheels." She said, having returned with Texas an Tenn. "Perfect," Atlanta replied, "what did Saskatchewan find? Was it them?" he asked, making the assumption that Saskatchewan and Orleans had both returned from scouting the canal.

"They ain't back yet..." Mississippi said, scratching the back of her head uncomfortably and wrinkling her face. "What!?!?" Atlanta snarled back. He rose from his position beside Dakota and stormed into the house.

The Lost Boys mounted up and rode out of the farm house, proceeding in their new found pickup truck. Texas, being the oldest, drove with 'Sippi riding shotgun. All the others rode in the box. Texas parked the truck on the little goat-trail road that paralleled the canal, driving in as far as he could before the trail was too overgrown with wild grass to pass.

"The rest of you stay here, Dakota, Wy and I are going to see where our friends are." He hopped off the truck and popped in at the drivers window. "If something happens, meet back at the farm house?" Tex nodded. "Hey, keep your head up bud." he said, encouragingly to Atlanta.

The trio took off down the canal road on foot. Atlanta lead confidently, hiding how worried he was about Saskatchewan and New Orleans. Dakota was in the middle, armed with the group's best rifle (The ones gained from the hostage fiasco being sabotaged the Lost Boys only had a couple of long guns land a set of pistols eft with ammo.) Wyoming brought up the rear with a nervous look on his face. He, unlike Atlanta, made no attempt to hide his fears about the fate of their friends.

Wyoming broke the silence first. "What's your plan here, Chief? I mean, if you do find those people? What are you going to do?" Wyoming asked Atlanta in a sort of confrontational, accusatory tone.

"Finish what I started, Wy. They're the bad guys Wyoming. They need to be stopped." He told him, not even turning to face him.

"You keep saying that, but I still don't get it! For all I know, we're the bad guys!" Wyoming stopped in his tracks. Atlanta whipped around, side-stepped Dakota, who just rolled her eyes at the on-going disagreement and stood by to let it play out.

"They're murderers Wyoming. Murderers, thieves, pillagers, taking advantage of the weak, preying on those without the strength to fight them!" Atlanta confronted Wyoming, getting right in his face. "You still haven't given me any reason to buy that."

"Did I ever tell you how I met those people? No, I didn't, did I?" He had told Kentucky the story he was going to tell Wyoming now, and he had told Dakota. He used it as a solid sales pitch to convince the others of his cause, but Wyoming had never been wiling to hear it until now.

"So, my mom was stationed at the CDC's outpost in St. Louis. We were happy there for months. Fed and safe. But, my Mother, saint as she is, thought she needed to go out and find people. Recruit survivors to come back with her. Save them she thought." Atlanta shrugged. "so she finds the Caravan, spends a couple days with them, tries to decide if they're a good group to come back with her. Well, they do. They come to St. Louis guns blazing, smash a fucking winnebago through the barricades and drive the thing into the front doors of the building, bringing the whole damn horde with them. It was a slaughter Wyoming." Atlanta's hands were in fists of pent-up anger. "They killed all the doctors, the researchers that were searching for a cure for all this, and the whole rest of the US Army unit that was supposed to be protecting it. The Caravan plundered their food stores and their supplies and burnt the building to the ground as the zombies started bursting at the seams." Atlanta took a step back, cooling off. calming down, reaching the turning point in the story.

"They took us with them, back to that Fort. There were good people at the fort. They were't like those Caravan assholes, they were good, decent people. We were safe there, even with the Caravan. But then that guy Lyle kidnapped me and took me to St. Louis, and by the time you guys found me and saved me the fucking Caravan tore the Fort apart too. I guess, they just couldn't get enough, y'know?"

Once Atlanta was done selling Wyoming on the "Caravan is evil" story they continued onwards. Wyoming was still confused. He wasn't sure that all the facts added up, or if Atlanta was full of shit. If it was true though, attacking the CDC? killing all the doctors? Murdering the scientists trying to fix the world? That was a lot to think about. Plus Wyoming saw the destruction at Fort Dixie with his own eyes. How did the Caravan people turn Atlanta's mom though..? Wyoming shook it off. There was something more pressing to worry about right now.

Dakota let out a short, shocked scream before covering her mouth with her hands. She ran full tilt over to the side of the canal where Saskatchewan and New Orleans lay beside each other, hacked to pieces. Distraught, Dakota fell to her knees, tears streaming down her face as she tried to place a trembling hand over Orleans crooked eyes. She couldn't even bring herself to touch the dead girl's mangled face.

The wounds were straight chops. Atlanta's friends were hacked to death with a blade. It was obviously not death by zombie. And there was one guy Atlanta could think of that proudly carried a cavalry sword on his hip... Dominic Shaken by the discovery of these deaths Atlanta scanned the horizon. He gently pried the rifle from Dakota, using the hunting scope to get a better look. He tapped Wyoming on the shoulder. "Horde, see?" he handed the gun to Wy so he could see. "I'll bet you anything that they're there." Atlanta left the rifle with Wyoming as he stooped to place a comforting hand on Dakota's back. "We're gonna get the bastards that killed them. I promise." Atlanta collected New Orleans' makeshift sword and took it for himself. it was a fine weapon, and wielding it on the little girl's behalf would honour her memory, so he thought. Also, it was a pretty cute sword. Fashioned from a scrap piece of lime green, amusement park steel, Orleans' had wrapped the jagged piece of metal on the small end with neon shoelaces and bits of bright coloured fabric to make a comfort grip. She had woven a couple of beads into the wraps to add personality to it. Orleans had filed the blade to a keen edge, sharpening her blade almost daily, habitually like how her mother had made her brush her hair when she was really little.

Atlanta held the bright coloured sword in his hand. the weight was good. The balance too. He gave it a couple of practice swings.

"Let's go get them."

"Give me your hand." New Mexico was in the rafters above the hay loft, dangling his arm down to Tom because he wasn't quite tall enough to reach from the stack of bales like New Mexico was. "I'll pull you up." he said, although not really sure if he was strong enough to yank the kid up by himself.

The kid's reluctant dead-weight was a challenge for the underfed New Mexico to lift, but he was able to get him high enough to grab on to the rafter, and then New Mexico grabbed his one leg to help him get the rest of the way on. The aging wood structure creaked and groaned, almost in tune with the dry rasping groans of the undead gathered outside waiting for their tin can of victims to be opened.

The boys carefully crossed the beams like acrobats on tightropes, rounding the corner and shimmying along the front wall of the barn to reach the vent. It was about a twelve square inch grated hole in the wall with a dirty grimy old fan bolted in lace in front of it. The louvers on the outside of the vent squeaked as they swung gently in the breeze. Tom stuck his finger through to the other side to lift the louver and both boys peered through the tiny gap.

"Tom, Look at me!" New Mexico whispered to the panicking boy."Look at me. They're out there. We're in here. We are gonna figure out a way to get out of this. I promise you." From this position the horde was impossible to count. It was like the battle of Hems deep out there. between the horde that Mahmoud had gathered last night and all the rando' wanderers from the area their numbers were in the hundreds. Every available inch from the barn doors to the RV and out to the tree-line on each side was filled - packed with the walking dead. It was like a rock concert. The zeds were bumping into each other. Pushing, shoving, falling. It was like they were infighting with each other trying to all get closer to the prize.

New Mexico placed his hand on Tom's back, trying to calm him, reassure him, and maybe to make sure he didn't fall off the ledge.Mex had been here before, lots. This was nothing new. It wasn't good, but it wasn't surprising. They could get out of this, they just had to figure out how.

New Mexico had observed that zombies have short attention spans. He found that they go after whatever's easiest, and most available. They take the path of least resistance.  Sure, right now they were bashing into the side of a barn because they wanted to eat the people inside of it. But if they stayed quiet long enough (and didn't starve to death) all those biters would get bored and leave. Maybe they'd hear something else like how they heard the pump motor. Maybe a car might drive by. Something would grab their attention at some point and they'd wander off again.

It was only a matter of time...

It took Tom a moment to realize NM was talking to him, the gentle touch on his back helping to break his ramble, cutting off his concern about going "Bear Grills" and drinking their own piss. Ya...ya, right. He took several deep breaths to try and stop his shaking, focusing on the older teen. Sure they had limited food and water, a massive horde on all sides, a group of kids who could have been his friends after them... If it wasn't for the hurricane and everything since he'd probably be fine. He balled his fists up, anger washing out the fear. Anger at himself for letting NM see him like this, at Kaiden for putting them in this situation. He hadn't been completely lying when he said they'd been in similar situations, just not with such a large horde and not after the last couple days they'd had.

Um...can you not tell the others just now. Keep it between us? He asked quietly, shoulders slumping as he looked away, face flushing with embarrassment. His brother worried about him enough, the last thing Tom needed was this added to it. Plus he didn't need the others thinking he was just a kid cracking up. Taking another deep breath he looked back out the hole, something catching his eye. We should probably tell the others... He stopped as he saw something moving with too much dexterity to be among the undead, someone still alive. Is...is that...Wyoming? Despite the situation a small grin formed on his slightly sunken face. Sure if he made it out of Slaughter that meant some of the other Lost Boys probably had also. But he knew Wyoming wouldn't have wanted any of this, and if one didn't, there had to be others, right? Karen or Dom wouldn't think twice about killing him, would they? The question sent a chill down his spine.
This message was last edited by the player at 01:59, Tue 07 Feb 2017.

Coming alive with a quiet pop, Dominic adjusted the gases until the acetylene torch emitted a bright orange flame. He'd never been much of a welder, always preferring to leave what he viewed as a dark art to those more proficient in its ways, not that he hadn't picked up a little knowledge on the subject here and there though he’d always been more adept at burning holes into metal than he had fixing two pieces together.

Drawing the knife from out of it's leather sheath Dominic briefly paused to wonder why the hell he'd taken such a poignant reminder of what he'd done down at the canal, Jesus! Are those the kids initial's carved into the handle!? his mind exclaimed as he caught sight of a pair of letters scratched into the grip, wondering whether he'd really taken it because it'd be a waste of a good knife to leave it there with a corpse or whether he was currently holding what Criminal Profiler's referred to as a "Souvenir" Stop it! Focus on what you're doing god damn it! You can torture yourself later when this is all over he silently scolded himself before holding the blade over the torch so that the flames licked about the bare steel.

Hoping that the Cowboy, and everyone else for that matter, would simply assume that the deep breaths he was having to take was his way of psyching himself up to perform the horrific procedure as opposed to reality that their leader’s mind was slowly unravelling, Dominic would watch as the blade began to glow "Mahmoud, Luke, hold him down" Dominic quietly instructed as he fumbled the pair of gas lines off; extinguishing the torch with another pop before turning to look the Cowboy in the eyes "You sure you want to do this? Because if so you might want to find something to bite down onto" Dominic suggested with the medic preferring not to have to stitch the Cowboy's tongue back together even if it would shut him up for the next couple of weeks.

Once everything was in place and ready, Dominic would take a few moments to mentally prepare himself before then pressing the glowing blade against the other man's flesh oh god...that smell!

It was as Mahmoud jammed something between his teeth that the cowboy began having second thoughts. "Wait!" he tried in vain to yell as the hot metal seared closed the hole in his leg.

Suddenly Bohannon was in a black room, seated on an old wooden kitchen chair with an ass mark well-worn into the seat. He tried to stand but couldn't. Even here, his leg didn't work. "Benson Alexander Bohannon! What in God's name is the matter with you!?" His mother scolded him, standing in front of the kitchen window in the farm house he grew up in. "Whuhgurt.." He couldn't speak, whatever Mahmoud stuck in his mouth was still there. "Is that how I raised you to behave! Honestly." His mother stood there, in her apron, looking exactly like she had when he was a young boy.

"Son," His father said solemnly "your Mother's not happy with you." Old man Bohannon sat across the kitchen table from him, dressed in denim and plaid, just as he always had. His large seventies glasses hung far down his nose as the old man hung his head in disappointment. "Why'd you have to go an' do such a thing?"

Suddenly the two men were in an Atlanta hospital, Old man Bohannon in the bed, an oxygen mask loosely clinging to his face. "I'm proud of you my boy. I always have been. I always will be..." A bright light brought them back to the kitchen. "How're you goin' to explain this to your mother?" His old man asked him.

"He was just a baby! How could you!?" His Mother screamed at him, enraged. "He was my baby!" She turned and buried her face in her hands.

This time a shadow consumed the kitchen and Bohannon found himself in the wind and the rain, mud sloshing beneath his feet as he tried to stand, unsuccessfully. Brady was face down in the street, dark, dirty water rushing over him, tainted in red as it washed the blood from his wounds.

"Why'd you have to go an' do such a thing?" What in God's name is the matter with you!?" "He was just a baby! How could you!?" "How're you goin' to explain this to your mother?" "He was my baby!" "your Mother's not happy with you."

The voices played over and over and over. He stared at his brother's body lying there lifeless like garbage amongst the mud and the blood. "Benson!" Brady's voice screamed...

"No! No! No!" He tried with all his feeble might to wriggle free from Mahmoud's grasp. Dominic came back with the hot knife for round two. Bohannon kicked at him, shaking his head, pleading. Dominic pressed the hot knife to his skin one more time, closing the exit wound in his leg.

Glancing over at the sounds of another impromptu cauterizing Hank clenched the rope he had taken out of the bag. All over him. Where was the anger for Brady? I'm going to put down what happened at the house to emotions running high. He looked Karen in the eyes, But you're lucky Tom just got a bump and hit his funny bone. If he had landed wrong.. People died from getting pushed in fights even with hospitals and ambulances, now they had to deal with the possibility of having them come back. Leaving the implications unsaid he got up and headed for the ladder. I'm going to see how they're doing.

Making his way carefully to the teens he crouched on a sturdy looking beam. So, how we looking?

Um...there's a lot out there. Tom said slowly, glancing over. Like if they were alive we could crowd surf to the treeline... He turned back to look for Wyoming, biting his lip, unsure if he should mention the other teen had made it. It wasn't that he was worried about Hank doing anything, it was what the others would do.

But...? Hank looked between the two, wondering what Tom wasn't telling him.

The knife fell to the hard packed dirt floor with a clatter as Dominic tried his best not to gag at the smell of roasting flesh, or more accurately the smell of freshly roasted Cowboy.

Using what little clean dressing he still possessed within his dwindling supplies Dominic would quickly bind the leg in the vain hoping of fending off an infection, though somehow he suspected the Cowboy would have a more effective means of achieving that within his own private stash, before speaking to the man “So long as you don’t do anything stupid that should hold, also keep it clean and try not to reopen it as I really don’t want to have to do that again” he said using what he’d come to think of as his “doctor’s voice”.

Leaving the kids knife, no...it's my knife now, to cool and Bohannon to recover from his recent and very painful procedure Dominic would return to sitting next to Izzy with his arms automatically encircling the brunette's body as he pulled her close to him; wanting the security and comfort that having her near to him brought "I hate doing that...it's so... barbaric" he quietly spoke to her, though not before a snide whisper at the back of his mind asked What? More barbaric that hacking a teenage girl to death with a sword? prompting him to once again wonder what he had become as another wave of self-loathing and despair overtook him.

He felt like crying; all around him people were busy preparing meals, building barricades or looking for a way out  of this mess all the while waiting for him to come up with a plan that would save them all from dying an horrific death at the hands of either the dead or starvation, meanwhile all he wanted to do was curl up and sob in Izzy's arms "I don't think I can do this Izzy...I...I don't think I can get us out of this" he whispered in a miserable voice as he fought back the tears that threatened to spill down his cheeks "… we're all going to die in here and it's all my fault!"

In reply to Hank Lucion (msg # 112):

New Mexico leaned in close, keeping his voice low so only Tom and Hank could hear. "There's a problem..." That statement was obvious. "Like, other... than the horde." New Mexico looked to Tom for his approval. Tom's face was unsure, so New Mexico went ahead. "It's Wyoming. He followed us. We saw him in a tree spying on us." Mexico put a hand on Hank's shoulder. "Look you can't tell the others. You can't tell Dominic. You didn't see what he did at the canal before he got to you guys, but it was bad. Trust me, you CAN'T tell him." He pleaded with Hank not to give up Wyoming. He Knew he was risking the Lost Boy's life by even telling Hank but New Mexico couldn't hang on to this information by himself.

Maybe Wyoming left the Lost Boys and followed them here, right? Maybe he switched sides. Maybe. New Mexico moved over to the corner of the loft with Hank and Tom so they could discuss a plan for escape.

"We're gonna starve to death in here if we try to wait them out. What do you want to do?" he asked Hank, hoping he had something up his sleeve. Hank was resourceful like that.

In reply to Dominic Dubreton (msg # 113):

Isabelle wrapped her arms around Dominic, stroking the back of his head with a comforting hand. "We are going to get out of here. We've done the impossible before. We can do it again. I just don't want to lose any more people." Izzy was unsure. She was trying to be encouraging, but she barely believed it herself.

The couple was seated out of the way in a stall off to the one side of the main space. They sat in the loose hay, still in view of the others, but separated enough to give them some privacy.

"We just have to wait them out Dominic. That's all. Just wait long enough for them to wander off. Okay?" She nodded, already convinced that that was the best course. Isabelle wrapped her arms around Dominic once more, sensing the burning hole in his conscience but knowing that he did not want to be pressed.

In reply to New Mexico  (msg # 114):

Hank went through a couple emotions as NM, from joy that Wyoming had made it to dread at the thought he didn't come alone that only deepened when the canal was mentioned. The scream...he had hoped whoever had made it had either fled or at least succumbed to the horde. The idea that Dom was somehow involved was something he didn't want to consider, the concern only worsening at NM's warning. Don't worry. Sighing, he gave them a slight smile. I don't want anything happening to him either. From what I could gather he wanted this feud as much as we did. He indicated the three of them, the gun tampering making it obvious Karen and Dom's feeling on it.

We need to draw them away. As much as I hate to say it Benson was right, someone is going to have to get out of here. He looked past NM to the grate, imagining the horde and Wyoming on the other side. Tom, go on ahead and see if you can find any more rope, we should have enough but the more the better. He cut off Tom's questioning look with his own. Go.

Waiting till his brother was out of earshot he looked back to NM. I didn't get the chance before, but thank you, for earlier. I know I asked a lot, and it means more then you can imagine that you said yes. Turning slightly he watched Tom for a moment making his way back to ground level. He might not show it and would probably deny it but he looks up to you. Stands a little taller, acts a little tougher when you're around. Has since we first saw you at the fort. Facing NM the smile dropped a bit. I'm afraid I have another request. I don't think Tom's going to like my plan. Given their situation and his tone of voice it was obvious he was volunteering to try and distract the zombies.

Lying in the straw with Izzy's arms about him, it would be all too easy for Dominic to simply fall asleep and escape this hell in which he found himself if only for a little while. Though sadly if the last few nights were anything to go by, he feared that even such a fleeting escape as that would be denied him as the nightmares returned with their host of dead faces and vengeful eyes to torture his already fraying sanity.

With Izzy continuing to hold him; tenderly stroking his hair as she spoke to him about how they simply had to out wait the horde, Dominic almost found himself believing it possible before once again reality set "Oh cheri I'm sorry, but we simply can't do that...we'll all starve long before that happens...we need to draw them away… and the only way I can think of doing that is by someone going outside" he quietly spoke already knowing that he would have to send somebody out there on what would most likely be a one way trip. For even if they did manage to somehow sneak through the Zeds currently surrounding them and then either start a fire or turn on the pump that had started this whole mess in order to draw them away. They would then have to find a way of joining up with the rest of the group with a horde of Zeds heading straight for them and with their friends moving further and further away with which each passing moment. And what if they didn't succeed? How many more would he send out there to their deaths? I'd sacrifice as many of them as it would take! a feral voice in the back of his mind growled, a voice that had already led him to kill for the good of the group and would no doubt lead him to do so again.

But for now that could wait. They still had time in which to find another plan, a less fatal plan, and there were more pressing concerns on Dominic's mind, concerns that he needed to voice before they drove him mad or worse somebody else voiced on his behalf "Izzy there's...there's something I need to tell you..." he began in a faltering voice wishing that he didn't have to tell her about what he'd done and keep that horrific secret to himself all the while knowing that he had no choice but confess and hope the love of his life would understand. There were already two people that knew about what he'd done down by the canal and although Dominic felt he could trust Lorenzo to keep it to himself he couldn't say the same for Karen and it would be far better for Izzy to hear the truth from him than from the burnt out cop who's eyes had been so filled with disgust "…down at the canal there were a pair of…um…kids...Lost Boy's, they'd been sent to find us I think...anyway...I..." vision's of blood filled his mind, the girl's mangled face leering up at him, the spray of blood as his blade arced through the air, the pleading look in the boy's eyes as he drove that same blade into his chest without a single shred of pity oh God what kind of a monster am I!? She's never going to forgive this, oh please God don't let her leave me, I need her, She's the only thing that's keeping me alive! "...Izzy, I killed them"

In reply to Dominic Dubreton (msg # 117):

"...Izzy, I killed them"

Izzy froze, her blood turned cold and tingles ran up and down her spine. She blinked a few times, stunned. "Wh-why?" was all she stammered, backing away from Dominic slightly, not in fear, but to see him better, to see his face straight on.

Back in Slaughter during the gun fight Izzy too was firing upon these awful kids, there was no shame in it. They'd all killed people. But the way Dominic said it implied some guilt, some deep shame on his part. Whatever the circumstances were under which he killed these kids, Dominic was scared by it. And why was something worth asking.

In reply to Hank Lucion (msg # 116):

New Mexico put his hand on Hank's shoulder reassuringly. "You don't ever have to worry. Anything happens, I've got him, okay?" he said, looking Hank in the eye. In truth, making a promise to care for another human being, to be responsible for that person's safety and happiness and wellbeing was more terrifying than the dead.

"So, what exactly is your plan?" he asked, worried about what Hank was gonna do.

"I...I had to stop them, I couldn't risk them telling Kaidan and the others where we were, it...it w-would've been a massacre Izzy, they'd have killed us all! So...I...I murdered them" Dominic stammered out, pausing to cuff away the single tear running down his cheek. There was no revulsion on her face, no fear or angry words demanding that he got the hell away from her, instead there had been a look of genuine concern upon her face as she'd asked her solitary question that had prompted Dominic's guilt laden confession "...They never stood a chance...th-they were just kids! Not even old enough to drive and I...I hacked them to death with a sword, and worst of all I didn't pause to blink, I just did it and they were both dead before they even knew what was happening….w-what kind of a monster does that?" Dominic asked, with the haunted look in his eyes clearly showing that he was barely keeping it all together.

He didn't need Izzy to forgive him or condone his actions he just needed her to understand why he'd done it and to stand by him, oh god please don't let her look at me the way Karen did! I couldn't stand to see that look of disgust in her eyes, it'd destroy me! a voice in the back of his mind whimpered pitifully, not knowing what he’d do if his beautiful warrior woman was to leave him, though he couldn’t blame her if she did.

Lying within her arms Dominic would take a moment or two to try and calm himself down before speaking again in a steadier voice than he’d been using “The whole reason I became a paramedic was to help people…when I was about…nineteen maybe twenty, I was involved in this real bad motorcycle accident, a friend of mine misjudged a corner and bust himself up pretty bad, we all thought he was going to die but these guys just got out of the ambulance and patched him up like it was nothing and I just thought…wow, that’s what I want to do with my life…and then of course all this happened and…well…this place is changing me Izzy and I don’t like what I’m becoming”

In reply to New Mexico  (msg # 119):

Thanks. Hank said quietly, relief mixing with guilt at the teen's words. He didn't know how to truly thank him, or Joe for that matter. Though if just the first part of his plan worked even the chance to get out and find a better place wouldn't be enough.

Gathering himself he started to make his way back to the floor as he gave a brief outline of his plan. Keeping his voice low so it wouldn't reach the others as they got closer. We need to draw them away, but we can't do that from here, right? So we draw them to one side of the barn while I sneak out the other. I'll then get their attention and lead them away. If the Lost Boys are out there maybe the horde can distract them. He paused a moment. I'll try and get Wyoming, from what he said at the house I know he didn't like how it went down. Continuing on to the floor, Then I'll lose them and and make my way back.

Tom made his way to the ground level, unsure how to process the look Hank had given him. He knew his brother didn't want the fight with the Lost Boys, and had even blocked Karen's way back in the house with Wyoming. Looking around he started exploring, something he would have done right away had they not almost died right before arriving. Though this time he had a mission, find as much rope as possible. What Hank had in mind he didn't know, but something about the way he had been shushed off had him uneasy.

Once Lorenzo finished helping with the barricade, he meandered away from the door and sat on an old, upturned milk crate. He watched the barn door, trying to gague his handiwork against the undead milling around out there. He could not think of another way to make himself useful. As always, he was not the plan guy. Beside waiting this out the only other things he could think to do was to brute force his way out, or try to kill the dead guys one by one. Right. That would be time consuming.

Where the fuck did they all come from, he wondered sourly.

He rested his elbow on his knee, propped his head up by the chin and looked around the barn. His other arm, in the makeshift cast, was tucked close to his belly. He had the good old SKS on his back and the machete at his feet. He puffed up his cheeks and blew out. He jigged his leg up and down, up and down. The muscle in his jaw was working.

His eyes panned curiously over Tom, but then he was back to staring at the door. He ran a hand over his face, went to rest his chin again, then just sort of jammed the heel of his palm to his eye like he had a headache and stayed that way, listening to the moans outside.

In reply to Dominic Dubreton (msg # 120):

"People don't change Dominic. You are who you've always been, and always will be. And that's who I love." She paused, taking a moment to collect the words she needed to reassure him.

"If Atlanta and the Lost Boys were our age would you be feeling this way? We've killed before. We had to. The only difference between now and what happened in St. Louis is age Dominic. They made a choice. They chose to fight and when you choose to fight sometimes you die. I shot that boy that stood in front of Atlanta. We're at war, it's them or us and I choose us."

"I know, I've killed people too but I've never murdered anyone before...those kids they...merde...I don't know...With everything that's happened since Cookie left I just feel like I'm falling apart" Dominic quietly replied to his girlfriend's logic. She was right, they had both killed people before and he hadn't been shy about firing upon those kids yesterday and they had most certainly fired back, the scar on his cheek being ample proof of that. So why did he feel so damn guilty about killing a pair of teenagers who wouldn't have thought twice about stabbing him in the back? He didn't know and doubted that anyone but a shrink would know the answer to that particular question either, the important thing however was that Isabelle still loved him and that alone was far more important to him than anything else.

With his head gently resting on Izzy's shoulder, the former paramedic would quietly contemplate going to sleep for a little while, only to catch sight of Tom as he started to search in amongst the various sacks and boxes within the barn; clearly looking for something though what he couldn't really guess "Hey Tom" Dominic called in order to grab the boy's attention before continuing to speak from where he lay in amongst the hay "What’s it like out there? Any chance that somebody could sneak out of here?" he asked eager to hear about the situation outside and their chances of escape. If someone could just draw the horde away we'd be able to make a break for it! Sure it'd make for an uncomfortable and most likely sleepless night but anything had to be better than starving to death, right?

If there wasn't a horde of zombies trying to break in Tom would have been a happy camper at the stuff he was finding. As it was he was rummaging around in one area before moving to the next without really looking at what was there, focusing on finding rope. It took him a moment to realize Dom had called him, and briefly NM's warning flashed through his mind. Shaking it out of his head he focused on the question as he turned and headed over to the two. Well...if they were groupies we could probably body surf to the tree line. There was a bit of hesitation as he spoke, unsure what Hank had planned and how Wyoming would factor into this situation. Hank asked for more rope, and he and NM are talking about something.

In reply to Dominic Dubreton (msg # 125):

Karen jolted awake from her drug-induced nap and crossed the floor of the barn to meet Dominic. Her composure was calm and collected and mellow.

"Dominic, we need to talk." she stated simply. Isabelle gave her a certain look. "Alone?" she added.

Izzy
"Whatever you want to say, you can say it in front of me, and everybody else."

Karen sighed. "Fine." She pulled a pail over to sit on in front of Dominic and leaned down to meet him eye to eye. "I wanna make the case one more time for my son..."

"Look, after what I saw today, I know that given the chance you'd kill my boy. But I want you to understand why he's doing what he's doing before you make that decision."

"Dominic, Kaidan is sick. He's too young to diagnose but he's not alright. He lost his dad when he was little. Suicide... He was never the same after. I was hurt in Iraq and my parents didn't know what to do with him so they put him in a mental institution. We failed that little boy, over and over. his Dad left him, I left him, his grandparents left him. So... When he went missing and we left the Fort he felt abandoned again. Like we'd all left him. Again. Dominic, Kaidan is a child throwing a tantrum. The others follow him, but they probably don't know the real reason he's doing this."

"Dominic, when we find him, let me take him. I'll grab him and I'll take him away. Far away from here. I think I can save him." Karen's eyes filled with tears. "Maybe I can't, but I have to try. Let me try? Without Kaidan those other kids will fall in line, leave you alone. You don't have to do what you did this morning... again."

"I don't want to be out there without the Caravan. I don't know if we'd survive. But, I'll take my chances if it means Kaidan might survive. Please Dominic. He's my baby."

"Gee Tom, you really know how to cheer a guy up don't you?" Dominic muttered; the news that they were effectively surrounded by a sea of Zed’s doing little to improve his already subdued mood, despite the boy's claim that Hank was working on something.

Perhaps we could crack open the doors and kill them one by one?...and perhaps I could take my gun from out of my jacket and blow my brains out Dominic's mind unhelpfully supplied, discarding the plan as being moronic within seconds of its inception. There had to be a way out of this he just had to find it!

Before he was able to come up with anything even vaguely better however, Karen chose this moment to plead for her son's life again, using the sob story of his short and tragic life to add weight to her argument. During which Dominic would simply sit beside Izzy, silently listening to what she had to say before making a response of his own in a cool voice "Karen, did I ever tell you how Sierra died?" he asked, shifting himself to a sitting position so as to be on the same level as the former cop "...we had landed the chopper on the roof of that building in St Louis, we were supposed to pose as CDC or some shit, either way it didn't work...well there was this guard on the roof and instead of killing him I knocked him out, or at least I thought I had because a few moments later he shot Sierra right between the eyes" Dominic grimly spoke; tapping the spot on his head where the bullet had entered the blonde girl's skull "...you see because I was too soft to pull the trigger someone I cared for died...and I'm not making that mistake again, so if I see your boy I'm going to put him and anyone  else who gets in my way into the ground, am I making myself clear?" he asked in a low, menacing voice; the look in his eyes making it clear that this was no macho bullshit he was spinning and that he meant every word "If you want your boy to live in this fairy tale you've created for yourself then get to him first, and get him the hell out of my sight for good!" Dominic growled as his fear, anger and frustration finally found a suitable target vent itself upon “Karen, you have caused us nothing but trouble since the day we met, so perhaps it would be for the best if you and your boy were to disappear”

Tom didn't know any other way to say they were practically screwed. Though Dom's utterance told him the attempt to lightly deliver the news failed. He shrugged, not sure what the man had expected as his eyes found their way to floor. They would make it out of this, just like NM had said. Who knew, maybe if he was lucky Wyoming would join them. Dom and Karen would just have to deal with it. He didn't know what drove the other Lost Boys but he could see Wyoming wasn't happy.

When Karen came over he clenched his fists as the incident at the house replayed itself. Turning before she started talking he went back to his search. As he made his way through the junk he spotted Joe, a smile half forming. Hey Joe! He was genuinely glad the older man had been made it through the storm, though out of everyone Joe was the only one he wasn't sure about how they would to any of the Lost Boys besides Kaidan.

The night spent in the barn was one of the longest ever. Longer even than the night of the hurricane. At least that night was an adrenaline fuelled harrowing escape. But this night, was sitting around and waiting.

It wasn't until mid-morning the next day that Hank's plan started to work. He'd climbed out from the loft and used the telephone wires to cross over to one of the other buildings and drop down in a thin patch of zombies. From there the others weren't sure what Hank did to lure the Zombies away. (Or that he'd ran into Wyoming and enlisted his help in saving the Caravan. It seemed Wyoming was turning out to be a useful ally and that all the Lost Boys may not be totally in support of Atlanta's war.)

Bohannon was in and out all night. The pain in his cauterized leg wound made it hard to sleep, but exhaustion and hunger made it hard to stay awake. So, he just laid there all night, grumpy.

New Mexico stayed on look-out with Tom all night. The kid never left the window except for when he nodded off for a few minutes. He could tell Tom was worried than Hank would never come back.

Isabelle and Dominic talked all through the night, cuddled close together deliberating on their future and the future of the caravan.

Joe slept like a log (with one eye open.) Luke slept, but awoke to every sound like a dog in a thunderstorm. And Mahmoud stayed by the door, patiently waiting for results.

After exchanging words with Dominic Karen stormed off back to her corner to try to cook up a scenario in which she and her boy survived the coming war and Dominic couldn't get his filthy, murdering hands on him. It was probably a fantasy. Kaidan didn't want to see her, never mind go back out on the road together again. Karen's mind went to some dark places in her plotting.


Once morning came and Hank returned safely the Caravan made ready the RV for a long trip. It had been decided that four "Hunters" would set out together to find a new home for The Caravan. It seemed the safer thing to do since half the Caravan was hurt and week. They found a quiet little out-of-the way farmhouse with good site-lines and water at their backs for the Caravan to camp out in. There was a modest amount of food in the pantry. Enough to buy the Hunters some time to find a more permanent home and food supply.

Parked in the long winding driveway in front of the new farm house, the four Hunters said their goodbyes to the others and prepared to depart on an uncertain journey to find the Caravan a new home.
This message was last edited by the GM at 14:59, Mon 08 May 2017.

After surviving what had to be the longest night of his life Dominic was reluctant to leave Isabelle behind and had voiced as much to her only for his reasons to be shot down by the woman in question as she pointed out the brutal fact that she would only slow them down. It had also been this factor that had prevented the Cowboy; much to his disgust, from joining the group of hunters currently standing on the gravel driveway.

It had been during those long, agonising hours of waiting to see if Hank’s daring plan to draw away the Zeds would work that Dominic and Izzy would quietly discuss the future of the group, not to mention their own future together with Dominic’s desire to help her find her missing kids causing him to search ever northward for possible locations for the caravan’s new home. He knew the chances of finding them after so long were nearly impossible but he had to do something to help her. Besides which with the Lost Boys now gunning for them it wouldn’t be safe for them to remain in the area without first dealing with them, and they were simply in no position to fight a war, meaning that they had no choice but to get the hell out of dodge whilst they still could.

“We’ll be back before you know it cheri, you’ll see” Dominic quietly murmured into the brunette’s ear before gently kissing her cheek. It felt good holding her in his arms; the feel of her body against his and the taste of her skin upon his lips as he kissed her again. He was going to miss having her so close to him.

Reluctantly pulling away from the woman he’d come to care for far more than he’d ever dreamed, he’d offer her one final smile before addressing the group “D’accord…lets get this show on the road, you take good care of them Cowboy, if any trouble comes your way then leave, we’ll find you” Dominic said, placing more than a little bit of trust in Bohannon’s leadership skills, though he was confident that Izzy and Mahmoud would stop things from getting too out of hand.

Pulling the tattered map from out of his jacket pocket, Dominic would silently search out the first of the circled locations that he and Izzy had selected during the night, before speaking to his fellow hunters “there’s a High School a few miles north of here; tall fences, a canteen, nurses office, chem lab, its got to be worth a look, right?” even if they decided not to stay there the scavenging prospects were simply too good to pass up, assuming of course that it hadn’t already been picked clean like so many other places, though Dominic was quietly confident that they would find something of use there.

Upon reaching the RV’s door Dominic would pause so as to look at the other three members as he asked the inevitable and rather obvious question “So…who wants to drive?”

Lorenzo spent the night completely conked out, windbreaker folded under his head for an impromptu pillow. Probably for the best. The guy had looked exhausted and broody, and glared daggers at anyone who had the gall to glance in his direction. The next morning he was in better spirits. Meaning he didn't look primed to flip out at the slightest provocation. With the dead cleared out, he spent his time getting the RV to work; it seemed functional now but he didn't fully trust it.

He leaned his back against the vehicle's side, waiting for the others to come out. His fingers were dark and grimy from oil. He shrugged at Dominic. He glanced at he map in his hands but didn't move over to study it. "Sure. Why not."

The doc's next question did prompt him into action. "You?" he suggested, passing the key to Dominic. With only one mobile arm, he'd be doing no fancy steering. "Give me the map. I've got a compass. I'll be the GPS. I can do the robot voice and everything."

I'll be ok. Hank spoke into his brother's hair, the kid having been glued to him since he returned. It's not like I'll be alone this time. Of course he hadn't liked the plan last night, practically having to tie him to a post just to get up to the window again. Plus NM had told him about how the night had gone in his absence, and now here he was leaving again.

But why you? His tone had finally gone from angry to resigned. Hank knew what last night had done to him, or at least most of it. At this point he was past caring what the others thought, if things kept going at this rate he'd lose his only family sooner rather then later. You just got back.

Hank sighed, running a hand through Tom's hair. We shouldn't be that long, and with the RV we'll be able to just mow down any hordes that get in our way. Now... He managed to pry the kid off enough to be able to look him in the eyes. I want you to look after NM till we get back, ok. Looking over to the other teen he grinned. Keep him out of trouble.

Ok. Tom tried to keep from smiling despite the situation, mostly succeeding. If you don't come back I'm going to kick your ass. He took a deep breath and brought his hands to his sides, fighting the urge to reach out again.

You can try. Hank smiled, bending down to whisper something in his ear, eliciting an actual smile. Ruffling his hair he headed over to NM, smile fading slightly. I'm sorry about this, with any luck one of the spots Dom picked out will be good for a while. Glancing around to make sure the others were out of earshot he pulled the other teen in close, Wyoming says not all the Lost Boys are fully behind Kadian on the feud. If you run into any of them the calls "The crow caws at midnight" and "the cat spoils the milk" will be the signal they aren't looking for a fight. He'd gotten the idea from an old TV show he used to watch. Hopefully Wyoming would be able to convince enough kids that a war was the last thing they needed. Though Dom's actions weren't exactly going to make that easy.

Stepping back he put a hand on NM's shoulder. We should be back before night. Assuming they didn't run into another horde or the Lost Boys. Heading to the RV Tom came over to stand by NM. How long till we get to the first spot? He could use a power nap, sleeping in a tree wasn't exactly the best way to rest.

Oh...brilliant, Dominic wryly thought to himself as he took the proffered keys from out of Lorenzo's one good hand, something that should have been a clear indicator to him that he wouldn't be driving.

The idea of driving the plodding RV was far from his idea of fun and he'd been hoping to put it off for a little while though it would seem he wouldn't be that lucky, especially with Hank looking dead on his feet and Karen…well he wouldn’t trust Karen with anything more complex than a can opener at the moment.

Glancing down at the map in his hand, Dominic would do some quick maths before answering Hank's question in a non-committal voice "hmm...about an hour, hour and a half, assuming that the roads are passable" he said knowing that a rough estimate was the best he could do; roads weren't exactly the most reliable of thing these days and weaving around traffic jams wasn't really an option in an RV.

Climbing into the driver’s seat, Dominic would wait until everyone was inside before passing the map over to his very own personal sat-nav and starting the engine, which after a few spluttering coughs came to life followed by the previously dormant CD player only to be promptly switched off; the  few seconds of country music being more than enough for Dominic, I need to find myself some real music if I'm going to be driving, Dom thought to himself as he carefully pulled away and turned down the narrow country lane that would take them away from the farm house and on their way to the High school and hopefully the caravans new home.

Better then nothing. Then if you'll excuse me, I think I'm going to take a nap. The smile he had with the two teens faded as he climbed into the RV, Wyoming and NM's warning about Dom's actions making him uneasy. Plus Karen...the less he had to interact with those two at the moment was probably for the better especially running on his current lack of sleep. Anyone disturbs me before we reach our destination or a life/death situation I'm liable to wake up swinging. Tapping his crowbar along the way to the bedroom he closed the door behind him, locking the door behind him before flopping on the bed. He was out before they turned onto the road.

Boh sat rocking in the porch swing, watching The Breaking of the Fellowship unfold. He didn't like the leaving, but he understood why it had to happen. He tried to look uninterested so as to hide his feelings.

Smoke rose from his lips and from the end of a lucky-scavenged cigar. It was stale, of course, but good enough for the times. He gave the second one to Lorenzo. The smoke would have billowed out from under the brim of his hat, casting him in a cool, mysterious shadow. But the hurricane had seen to it that his hat had become one with the Mississippi River. He missed it.

"If trouble comes knockin' our way Doc only choice'll be to stand our ground. Let's hope it don't come to that, aw-right?" he said, cigar perched in his teeth in a Clint Eastwood sort of way. He ran a rag diligently over the dull nickel plate of his Colt revolver.

"There's a picture of Jesus on the wall in here, you want us to pray for y'all's safe return? " He asked in jest with a chuckle. "After e'rrything's happened I doubt the big man upstairs is even lookin' down anymore, maybe you'd best try your own luck out there, huh?"

Bohannon gave the RV the thousand-yard-stare as it rolled down the lane and out of sight.

Karen sat at the RV's small table with her head in her hands like a sullen teen being dragged along on a horrible family vacation. She knew that the only reason she was here was because Dominic didn't trust her enough to let her leave his sight. So, along she came...

She had her gun taken apart and spread out on the table. She was done cleaning it but instead of putting it back together she was zoned out watching the world move slowly past the windows of the RV. Dominic was driving. Hank was in the bunk napping (supposedly) and Lorenzo was riding shotgun.

Karen slowly eased her forehead onto the cool glass of the window letting the chill spread through her. The part of the window she was staring through fogged up and she dragged her hand across the table and up to the window with as much enthusiasm as the dead and drew a small, sad face in the corner of the fog.

The RV slowed to a stop at a crossroads in the highway. A T-intersection marked by two signs and each one with its own obstacles.

THE LEFT:

It was a big green metal sign with the name of a town and the distance to it, but it had been spray-painted over in red with the words LONG LIVE PETER PAN

About a quarter mile down the road was a large felled tree and the resultant traffic jam. It wasn't impossible to get around, but the RV was not going to like the soft, uneven earth beside the road.

THE RIGHT:

It was one of those black magnetic temporary advertisement signs. It was a little weathered but it read:

-> SAFE ZONE THIS WAY ->
FOOD - WATER - FUEL
 - AMMO - SUPPLIES -
- REFUGE -

A half a mile down the road was a gaggle of about a dozen or so zombies walking in aimless circles having finished eating some manner of livestock.

Lorenzo took the map and rode shotgun. Most of the journey so far had been pretty straight-forward, and he'd only needed to give minor instructions. He wished radio stations were still a thing. It was pretty quiet other than the RV's engine. He looked out the window, watching the post-apocalyptic scenery roll by. When was the last time he'd been in a car? Even his old crew didn't have one. They'd stayed by busy areas where all the roads had been congested.

He perked up a bit when he noticed the sign ahead. "Ay. You think that safe zone is still a thing?" he asked Dominic, pointing at the sign. "Or are all those dudes just too dead to take down the sign now. Maybe there's at least stockpiled stuff we could take?"

He studied the undead with an annoyed expression. It looked like both paths had their own unique issues.

"Do whatever you need to do Cowboy, just keep them safe"

Dominic's final words to Bohannon had slowly rolled about his head for most of the trip. He hoped that the Cowboy would prove to be right and that trouble wouldn't come knocking but all the same he wanted to get back to Izzy and the others as quickly as possible, preferably with news of a place for them all to call home.

For the most part the drive was rather dull and un-enjoyable; possessing none of the speed or thrill that riding a fast bike down the narrow country roads would, coupled with the fact that other than Lorenzo giving directions it was completely silent.

Bringing the RV to a stop at the intersection Dominic would take a moment to examine the pair of signs before quietly responding to Lorenzo’s query “it feels like a trap to me…one road practically blocked and an offer that’s almost too good to be true…” it was possible that he was simply being paranoid and that recent events and a lack of sleep were playing on his mind but then again…”Karen, go and make yourself useful and wake Hank up” he called over his shoulder to the sulking blonde before taking the right hand turning “lets go and check it out, maybe we’ll get lucky” he said to Lorenzo in a voice that didn’t sound particularly hopeful as he took his gun from out of his jacket and placed it within a cup holder for easy access.

With the RV pointing directly at the gaggle of zeds he’d then put his foot down in the hope of picking up enough speed to mow them all down.

"Hank, wake up." Karen whispered softly to the sleeping man. Her face was level with his on the top bunk at the back of the RV. Her gentle approach was interrupted by the RV bouncing over a couple squishy speed bumps. "We found something. Our day is either about to get really good, or really bad. Wanna come see?"

She came up to the front of the RV, stooping to look through the front windshield. It was definitely kind of a "you're going into the asteroid field" kind of scene.

They made it past the walkers without too much hassle and continued down the highway until they reached a dirt road turn off and a hand painted wooden sign that said


Indicating that the Safe Zone was just a little bit further down this dirt trail. "Are you sure about this?" Karen questioned as she ran back to reassemble her weapon.
This message was last edited by the player at 01:59, Sun 21 May 2017.

At the end of the dirt trail was NATE'S SELF STORAGE. Before the apocalypse, Nate's was a sizeable container yard with a small mobile office and an open lot for RV and boat storage. Now, as the Hunters in their RV approached it, Nate's had become a fortress. He'd moved all the shipping containers to the perimeter, stacking them three-high, interlocked like bricks. The Gate was one container rotated ninety degrees to the others so there was both an inner and outer door. An additional container was placed on each side of the gate to create a bottleneck. All around it was a pretty sturdy defence.

Armed guards could be seen patrolling on top of the container wall as the sun began to set behind them. A banner was draped above the gate that said:

TRADING POST
- SAFE ZONE -
FOOD - WATER - FUEL
 - AMMO - SUPPLIES -
- REFUGE -
FOR BARTER

Had the drive home always taken this long? Glancing down Hank shook his head, easing his foot a fraction off the gas. No use in adding another accident to the night. His blood had almost boiled when his brother's frantic voice was replaced by the man's, quickly turning ice cold when he introduced himself as a police officer. Outside the storm intensified to the point it was pushing the car all over the road. He blinked as a lightning bolt lit up the sky, faces of those lost to the storm lingering a moment longer then they should have. "Hank, wake up." Did the thunder always talk?

His eyes snapped open as the RV bumped, hand gripping the crowbar. Suppressing a sigh as he saw Karen walking back toward the front. Between the activities of last night, his general lack of sleep, the gentle rocking of the vehicle, and the fact the RV's mattress was like a cloud at the moment he'd had his best sleep of the last couple months. Cheap ass lock. he muttered to himself as he swung himself out of the bunk. Stretching he followed Karen, raising an eyebrow at impromptu trading post. Well, we either just hit the jackpot or this is one hell of a trap.

"No...Not really" Dominic quietly spoke as he slowly eased the RV past the second sign and down the narrow dirt track knowing that if they were about to spring an ambush then there would be little they could do about it other than to start shooting and hope for the best.

After a short drive however it quickly became clear that there was no trap and that they had in fact located a trading post of some kind. A pretty successful one too judging by the armed guards patrolling the walls "looks like they've had a change of management" Dominic noted wryly as he pointed out the altered wording on the banner. That or it had been a trick right from the beginning so as to draw people in and trade away their hard earned salvage.

Pulling the RV to one side of the track Dominic would shut off the engine before turning to speak with the rest of the group "So what do you reckon? Should we go in and see what they're offering? I mean I doubt we can afford any of it, but it wouldn't hurt to know what's available" also if whoever ran the place proved to be friendly they could always look at setting up some kind of trade deal once the caravan was set up somewhere a little more permanent.

Returning his gun to its holster Dominic would patiently wait to see what the others thought about setting foot inside the trading post and meeting those inside and more importantly see what they had to offer and how much they were asking.

Lorenzo leaned forward and peered at the shipping containers. Damn. That was actually a decent idea. Dead would have a bad time trying to ram their way through metal. The guns, he thought, were more for flexing at the living than anything. He wasn't worried about being gunned down. A fortress was cool and all, but less so when a horde of dead surrounded it and starved you out. Probably wouldn't shoot unless something really bad happened.

He blinked and looked over to Dominic. He folded up the map while the doc spoke.

"Don't let them know that," Lorenzo said sharply. "We look pretty fucked up but they don't gotta know how bad off we are. Or they'll try to squeeze us. So no one look desperate."

He shot Karen a not-so-subtle look of annoyance. If she was going to act batshit she should just wait in the RV.

"If we're lucky they might be willing to trade labour for refuge. Or point us somewheres else. I'd like to see those punk ass little shits get at us in there though."

Lorenzo had clearly made up his mind already. He hopped out of the RV and approached the gate. His rifle was slung over his back, but wouldn't be much use with his bummed arm, and a knife was sheathed at his hip. He paused, looking up and waited for acknowledgement from the guards before going all the way over.

The trading post stirred with excitement as four people and an RV approached the gates. The snipers up on top of the wall relayed news of the arrival down the line and then watched and waited for the ambassador.

A young lady, twenty-something, dark hair, short-shorts, black frilly shirt, and very big sunglasses came up to the top of the wall, nearly tripping on her black cowboy boots with her excitement. She waved down at Dominic and Hank and Lorenzo and Karen enthusiastically.

"Heyy y'all! How y'all doin' t'night?" The young lady shouted down to them with a great big smile. She looked genuinely happy to see them. "Welcome to Nate's Tradin' Post! Now we gonna get y'all inside just as soon as we can but first we gotta go over some of the ground rules, Okay? So y'all can park that RV over there by the other RV's. Then, one at a time y'all can come through the gate. The nurse's gonna take your temperature, anyone with a fever goes into quarantine to get checked over for signs of bein' a zombie and anybody don't got a fever can come right on in! Y'all can keep your guns on account of everybody needs to be ready for trouble in case of an emergency, but the only place we don't allow weapons is in the bar. If anybody points a gun at somebody else or starts any manner of trouble inside the walls one of these fine, straight shootin' boys up here is gonna shoot ya. Now, everything we got in the store is available for barter. If you ain't got nothin' to trade we can accept work for trade. Once y'all are signed in come and see me at the Sunset."

With that Shaela disappeared back behind the walls.

DESCRIPTION OF NATE'S:

The gatehouse was a single shipping container with a reinforced door on either end. One by one, people were let in and checked out by "the nurse" - a cranky old librarian type lady with a scowl and two guards armed with shotguns. She stuck a thermometer in people's mouths, read the temperature out loud and wrote it down in a notebook. "Name?" she'd bark. "For the registry. Name?" It was like it was all she knew how to say.

Once through the harrowing check-up, people were welcomed inside the fortress. The interior of Nate's was a literal maze or shipping containers. It seemed like they were built in concentric squares or "rings" leading further and further inside. A flipped over road sign posted right in font of the gate read "Sunset Saloon -->" among other things. Some of the containers were just structural - part of the wall or a pass-through to another section. Some containers were modified into living quarters - fully furnished and decorated. Some of the others looked to actually be storage - locked up tight and labeled with names of people. A few containers actually had ladders on them that led up to a whole other level of Nate's that housed God only knows.

Signage was sufficient to guide visitors to the highlight of Nate's - The Sunset Saloon. An open-air bar with a plywood floor, string lighting (How was this powered?) and a beautiful antique bar. There were no bottles visible behind the bar, so it wasn't clear where the alcohol came from. Maybe they were making it themselves. A stage was set up beside the bar with a drum kit and a couple guitars. There was a buffet table on the opposite end of the bar where people were beginning to line up for dinner.

A man outside the Sunset took care of the guns. He was a quiet bald man with dark glasses named Rachis and he had a small shipping container with a booth cut through the side of it where folks dropped of their guns before entering the bar. He gave out numbers like coat-check.

The Store was through another gate on the far side of the bar. The gate was closed for the evening.

Shaela reappeared on the stage, picked up a guitar and addressed the room.

"Good evenin' everybody. I'm Shaela Murphy and this is the Shaela Murphy Band from Nashville Tennesee. We are the only band that plays The Sunset, and The Sunset is the only place we play. We're gonna get started with tune called "Walkin' After Midnight..." and they began to play and the bar came to life.

In reply to Shaela (msg # 146):

After the southern belle's "orientation" the consensus of the group was to get in and feel the place out, then regroup and talk options. Karen was third in through the gate.


The nurse frowned down at Karen, screwing up her nose as she read the thermometer and wrote down "Karen" and "Fever" in her little book. "We have a hot one." was all she said as the two brutes rushed over. The one of them was very kind to Karen. "I need you to submit to a medical examination. If you endanger the Nurse you will be shot. If you do not consent to the medical, there's the door. Do you understand your options as I have explained them to you ma'am?" Karen complied and allowed the Nurse to look her over. She showed the old woman her seeping chest-woud, and the big bruise on her back. It satisfied her. The open wound was clearly infected, but not Zombie-infected.

Karen emerged from quarantine holding her jacket in her hand and wearing only her tank-top. (Which was particularly low-cut.) Gathering information was the name of the game, and Karen knew more than one way to play that game.

She left her gun-belt with Rachis at the front door of the Sunset Saloon and found the others at the bar's entrance. "The ambassador said she wanted to meet with us... I guess we have to wait until after the show... What do you guys want to do?"

Taking on board Lorenzo's surprisingly sound advice about not broadcasting their current string of bad luck in front of the trading post's inhabitants, Dominic stepped out of the RV to follow him to the gates. Though it was at this point however that they would be greeted from the walls by a cowgirl of all things who then went on to deliver an orientation in a cheerful and clearly excitable voice.

With the orientation finished Dominic would give the girl a thumbs up to show that he'd understood her before moving the RV  to the parking area and leaving it with the collection of vehicles gathered there before getting out and walking towards the gate.

It was as they were approaching the main gates that Dominic would drop his voice to speak with the rest of the group in a low voice so as not to be overheard by the guards patrolling up above them "If anyone asks we're a part of a bigger group that knows where we are and for the love of god don't call me Doc, I'm just a pilot ok?" Dominic said, not wanting to advertise the fact that he was the group’s doctor. It was probably just paranoia on his part but he didn't want to risk being taken hostage due to his rather rare skill set.

Stepping into the container Dominic would quietly submit to the brief medical examination with the woman peering closely at the gash on his cheek before waving him through once he’d supplied his name; A single glance at her telling him that no amount of charm on his part would get her to impart any information on the trading post.

As he waited for the others to pass through the gate Dominic took the opportunity to study the trading post and it’s maze of containers. The place was by far the most organised settlement he’d ever set foot in complete with lighting and signage pointing the way to the various hot spots the trading post had to offer including several shops and the Sunset bar.

It was towards the latter that Dominic would slowly make his way, figuring that they ought to meet the cowgirl and see what she had to say to the group of dishevelled travellers. After all she had seemed friendly enough so would probably be a good source of information about the place; what it had to offer and more importantly what it would cost them.

After handing in his trusty Beretta, though not his sword strangely enough, Dominic would find them a corner with a good view of the stage as the band set up the last of their gear “I say we get ourselves a drink and something to eat while we wait for Shaela here to finish her set” Dominic said in response to Karen’s question as to what to do next, figuring that he should have enough surplus stuff in his pack to afford something off of the buffet, how long had it been since he’d last properly eaten? He didn’t know but this was the first time he’d seen real food on offer since leaving the fort and wasn’t about to pass up the opportunity of a meal.

In reply to Dominic Dubreton (msg # 148):

"First Time?" He seemed to have come out of nowhere, suddenly appearing behind the Caravan of Four with a bottle of welcoming caramel-coloured liquid and a stack of glasses.

Emerson Lake had watched from the shadows as the quartet entered the Sunset and lingered by the door with Shaela and her mediocre country band starting to play their irritating music. Now, standing behind them he continued. "The Ambassador probably told you you had to talk to her before you did anything, right? She just likes a captive audience... Get something to eat and come si'down in the corner there." He pointed with the bottle to his table in the dark corner of the Sunset. He waived the glasses at them as he walked away to make sure he had their interest.

Lorenzo stared up at the sunny southern girl that shouted down from the gate. Her cheerful smile was met with a look of incredulity from the stocky fighter. Or was it disbelief? He wasn't sure what sort of greeting he'd been expecting, but it hadn't been that. A curt state your business and drop your weapons tended to be the trend these days.

He waited for Dominic to come back from the RV. He didn't follow the guy but wasn't going in without the whole group either. He acknowledged their medic's request with a nod and sardonic "gotcha Ace" and headed inside.

The medical exam was humoured by Lorenzo barely. He immediately didn't like the old bitch wearing the snarl on her face. Reminded him of Janice. But he knew better than to run his mouth. Something to eat was worth putting up with a little indignity. So he gave her his name and scowled right back, which in hindsight hadn't exactly secured a gentle touch with his bummed arm.

He gathered with Karen and Dominic, the pissed off expression easing slightly off his face. He always looked a little annoyed, honestly. Now it bordered more on confusion. His dark eyes were shifting around the room nearly nonstop, like he couldn't fully process it. This place was weird. When was the last time he heard live music? Lights, a bar? There was even food, and dudes just lining up all orderly like to get some. His stomach was twisting into knots and he didn't understand why.

"Drinks sound good," he said to Dominic. "Does anyone else feel like we just walked into fucking bizarro-"

He cut himself short when the guy popped out of nowhere, causing Lorenzo to tense up just from the suddenness of it before he adopted a poker face. He nodded to the guy's query, barely perceptibly, and seemed to be eying the bottle. "Sure man."

He waited for the guy to leave then looked back to his companions. "Alright, there's gotta be a catch with the food situation. Are we gonna be waking up somewhere missing kidneys eight hours from now?"

Hank followed the others out of the RV, the set up even out here impressive. The double stacking was a nice touch something the fort could have used. Nothing to burn. The morose thought was interrupted by what could only be described by Hank as an angel in cowboy boots. Her introduction was mostly lost on the young man, feelings he'd thought lost when the dead had risen rising themselves. It took him a moment to realize the others had already gone ahead toward the screening after she disappeared and hurried after them.

The screening process was a lot less awkward then at the one at Dixie, making him wonder if they had thought of using thermometers but didn't have the supply. At least he didn't have to strip in front of the sign in lady. That would have killed the slight buzz he still had from seeing the cowgirl. Walking out to the others he took in the full scope of the post they found themselves in. Definitely need to mark this place on the map.

He didn't know what to expect from the bar, but actual lights wasn't one of them. They must have scavenged solar panels. It was said mostly to himself as he ran through the hardware involved in lighting what he assumed was a large portion of the camp. When Shaela came back the question about the camp's power suddenly seemed less important. He tried to watch without being creepy, mostly pulling it off.

When Shaela finishes her set, the young woman playing backup guitar puts her instrument down and descends the mediocre venue.  Her long straight black hair hangs down to her shoulders, clothes matching in color.  A small silver cross around her neck breaks up the dark ensemble.  She hangs back against the wall for a few minutes watching the exchange between the newcomers before quietly approaching.

"Excuse me."  She breaks in to get the group's attention and waits a moment before sitting down at the table.  Her hands are folded on top of one another and her face shows concern.  "I don't mean to interrupt you, but Shaela asked you here to help with Susie, right?  She promised me she would.  And here you are, it must be a sign."

"Addie, it isn't time for that yet." Emerson held out his hand frustratedly. The newcomers were just collecting their food and joining him at his table when Adalaide stormed over. "They haven't even eaten yet. Why don't you grab your dinner and then maybe ask Shaela to come see us when she's free?" it was phrased as a question, but it wasn't. Emerson was getting rid of her.

As Adalaide protested but then gave in and left to Shaela, Emerson poured five drinks, passed them out to Dominic, Hank, Lorenzo and Karen with annoyance in his eyes. "Sorry about that folks." Emerson had a deep voice. Very American accent, whatever that meant. "Addie's a bit shaken up after the storm. She's forgotten her manners. Did you guys get caught up in it at all?"

Emerson drank his drink quickly and shovelled some food into his mouth. "Sorry, my name's Emerson. Emerson Lake. What are your names?" They didn't look like they were totally comfortable with all this. With the trading post, the bar, the meal. Maybe this was all a bit too much for them to take in all at once. "Where do you guys come from?"
This message was last edited by the player at 05:33, Sun 11 June 2017.

In reply to Emerson Lake (msg # 153):

Karen was the first to give up on suspicion and eat the food. Maybe these people were cannibals and eating the food meant they were all dead, but they were locked in, so... game over anyhow she figured. The food was amazing. Shockingly amazing. Fresh vegetables. Real meat. (What kind of meat was that? Rabbit?) She piled food into her face until she had too much to chew and then felt embarrassed and tried to contend with the wad in her mouth subtly. Sensing the others' hesitance Karen engaged the strange traveler's conversation.

"We're from everywhere really. There's a whole bunch of us in a Caravan together." She didn't want to address the storm or give him any real details about the group, so she changed the subject. Noticing Emerson's dog tags around his neck she asked "Did you serve?"

"Hundred and First Airborne. Afghanistan and Iraq. You?" Emerson replied, with interest.

Karen turned sideways in her chair and showed Emerson the tattoo on her arm. It was a US Army tattoo with the image of a Purple Heart below it, and the ribbon entwining around the logo. "Third Infantry. I was in Baghdad in '03." She shared, excitedly.

"Well no shit, Third Infan- We were like right behind you guys." He looked closer at the rest of the tattoo. "I got one of those too."

Emerson and Karen both did another shot of whiskey. Emerson stuck his leg out from under the table and knocked on his calf with a smile. It was a prosthetic.

"Oh yeah?" Karen stood up really fast. She pulled her shirt up a little and the waist of her pants down slightly and knocked on her hip. "This... Titanium." The scaring was evident.

The wound-one-upmanship continued for a minute or two with laughter and more whiskey until they both ran out of injuries. "This one..." Karen said, a little more solemnly, showing her bandage. "I took a piece of metal in the chest during the storm."

Emerson nodded understandingly. "So you were caught in it. We took some damage in the storm, but we got though it. Haven't heard from all of our trading partners yet though. Still hoping they all made out okay, you know? Say, What brings you folks our way anyhow?" Emerson turned his attention to the others now.

"That obvious huh?" Dominic spoke, wondering where the hell the guy had come from, nodding his head in acceptance to the guy's offer of a drink "I doubt it Mon Ami, the locals are all eating it and there can't be much call for organ transplants...we're in the dark ages here, you need a kidney you die simple as" Dominic quietly responded to Lorenzo's query. He too was wondering if there was a catch but on the other hand food was food and he hadn't eaten in what felt like forever.

After collecting a plate of simple yet wholesome food, Dominic sat down beside Karen; marvelling how something as simple as corn bread could taste so freaking good after surviving on nothing but scraps for so long.

Finding just enough restraint within himself to use the cutlery he'd picked up as opposed to cramming it into his mouth with his fingers, Dominic barely registered the exchange that took place between their host; Emerson Lake, and the dark haired rhythm player as he tore into his meal.

Although he was happy enough to let Karen do the talking and swap war stories as he ate his meal Dominic still kept half an ear on the conversation lest he needed to stamp on her foot should she be foolish enough to say something she shouldn’t do.

In the time it took Emerson and Karen to finish comparing old wounds Dominic had all but demolished his meal and was taking his first tentative mouthful of whiskey. It’d been a long time since he’d had a real drink and didn’t want to get plastered and say something he shouldn’t “Oui…we were in the storm” Dominic quietly responded in a voice that said it hadn’t been good even if he wasn’t willing to go into details “…we’re currently scouting out a new home for our group, our last one was a little too close to the river if you get my drift” Dominic continued; leaning back in his chair as he took another drink, enjoying the warm sensation of the whiskey as it made its way down his throat “some information on the local area would be much appreciated, you know…no go area’s and so on, I'd rather we didn't stumble into any raiders as bullets are hard to come by these days” Dominic said, figuring that it wouldn't hurt to ask, though it probably would cost him. Nothing in life was free and that was especially true of Zombieland.

Hank frowned when the song ended and Shaela walked off. Sighing he consoled himself with the fact they'd be talking to her soon. He looked over as the woman came over and asked them about someone named Susie. Hopefully she wouldn't be too disappointed when she found out they had no idea who Susie was. Luckily that little bump was avoided as Emerson shushed her away.

As the vets talked Hank turned his attention back to the bar and lights now that Shaela was backstage somewhere. The sight of real food had his mouth watering, though he resisted the urge to shovel it down. He didn't quiet trust what it'd do to his gut after so many months of canned meals and the occasional game brought in by Joe. Instead he picked at it, dividing it out of habit. I wonder how many batteries they're using?

Catching talk of the storm he refocused on the conversation at hand, pausing mid-stab at the memory of what they lost. Almost lost. If they hadn't run across Sam and NM when they did...he didn't want to think about that. Even with The Lost Boys finding Ricky and Joe ending the way it who knows if they would have been able to reunited with them in the first place. Shaking the thought away he tried to refocus on the energy issue.

Kat walked into the bar with a smaller group of scavengers, part of the group by association but seemingly not close. She dropped off her weapons at the front like everyone else, the sight of a 15 year old girl with an empty pistol holster on her hip almost looking normal in this world. She lined up for food like everyone else, noticing the new faces of the Caravan but dismissing her curiosity in favor of the buffet. After grabbing her meal and some water, she took a seat near enough the Caravaners that her curiosity would be sated through eavesdropping and line of sight although she tried her best to hide this fact. She ate in silence, eyes glancing towards the Caravan on occasion and then darting back away as she attempted to look nonchalant.

Lorenzo sat quietly and left the socializing to the others, listening but not really saying much. He was just happy to have food. He wondered what the catch was. There had to be a catch. No one just took in strangers and fed them.

He noticed the kid come in. He seemed to watch the door behind her, as if looking for more people. When they didn't come he went back to eating and minding his own business. However to end up not dead, he had been conditioned to notice things. So he definitely noticed the kid not so subtly checking out their table.

What? Was she going to steal? The fuck did she want?

He waited until she glanced over again and deliberately caught her eye. He leaned back in his seat and shot her a trademark Lorenzo scowl, then pointed two fingers to his eyes, back to her, the universal I'm watching you gesticulation.

Inside he was laughing. He took a drink and smiled into the glass. He didn't really give a shit if the kid had sticky fingers. He waited while Dominic talked then glanced around. "I'm gonna go see what that chick was on about," he told their interim leader. He was curious as to why Emerson shooed the musician away.

He got up without waiting for an interjections, took his drink in his one good hand, and meandered over to Addie.

In reply to Dominic Dubreton (msg # 155):

Emerson shot back a big mouthful of whiskey. "Ah, good question my friend." He leaned in, elbows on the table. "Are you French? Were you over there when this all started? Is Europe doing better than we are?" Emerson curiosity got the better of him, but he moved on. "So... Don't go south. New Orleans is a death trap. Rival gangs just keep fighting over the same scraps. Don't get involved. There's a big section between here and there that's Washington's territory. He's a good guy. Young, but his group are good earners. We trade with a lot of different factions you see. Um. the North route is Resistance territory. Have you run in to them? They still think they're fighting the war against the living dead. They won't trade. The east road towards Texas is sort of no man's land, but I haven't really been out that way. And of course the West road is ours. It's been a hard sector to crack. Thick with the dead, but we're making progress."

Another drink.

"How many of you did you say there were? In this caravan?" Emerson finished his diner and slid his plate away from himself.

Addie is staring down at a plate of food on the table in front of her, most of it uneaten.  When Lorenzo sits down she looks up and smiles.  "Hello there!  I'm sorry I interrupted, Emerson is right.  It wasn't the right time to ask."

The young woman has the look of a high school goth girl but her manner of speaking clashes with her look as she enthusiastically greets Lorenzo.  She has a slight accent that has been mostly overcome, most likely from time spent in the north.

Lorenzo shrugged. "Eh. I don't think anyone minded but him."

He glanced back to the man in question, but it didn't seem the guy was concerned with him, admittedly, snooping around.

"Addie, right?" He waited for some sort of confirmation then introduced himself. "I'm Lorenzo."

He spoke with a slight Mexican accent. He wore an open, navy blue windbreaker, only one arm through the sleeve. The other was in a crappy makeshift sling. Knuckles were rough and scarred from being busted open so much, and it looked like he had full sleeves of tattoos from what little was visible of his arms.

"We're not the dudes Shaela sent for," he explained, sort of bluntly. "We just saw the sign outside. You are waiting for another group, right? 'Cause some kid just wandered in..."

With a slight smile touching his lips Dominic would cheerfully answer the question he always got asked upon first meeting a stranger, or at least the friendly kind "Oui, half...French father, American mother...Last time I spoke with my father they were getting the same weird rumours as we were back at the beginning so..." Dominic shrugged his shoulders in a helpless manner having long since become resigned to the fact that he was never going to see France, his father or his step siblings again "I just hope my step brother Pierre was home when this all went down and not in some army base…I’d hate to think he was trapped by himself in the Middle East somewhere" he finished before letting Emerson give him the lay of the land and the people who occupied it.

From what he could gather Orleans was a hell hole and to be a avoided, with existing factions already controlling both the North, South and West leaving them with the East road to Texas, which had been lovingly described as a "No-mans land" as the last thing Dom wanted to do was to get embroiled in territorial disputes with an already established faction.

It was as their host was pouring them all another drink, or at least those that hadn't wandered away, that Dominic was asked the probing question concerning their numbers "Enough Mon Ami...Don't worry we're not looking for trouble...we've had more than our fair share of that already, no, we’re just looking for somewhere to call home" Dominic replied with that same slight smile touching his lips, quietly wondering whether it had simply been an innocent question or something a little more sinister. However with a full belly and a drink in his system he decided to let it slide for the time being with him moving back to the topic of the outside world "So what makes the Texas road a no-mans land? Trouble? Or has no one simply tried to settle there?"

The pale, dark-haired girl smiled at Lorenzo.  "Nice to meet you Lorenzo.  Yes, my name is Adalaide, but most people call me Addie."

She looks nervously around the bar.  "I don't know that she talked to anyone yet, but she promised she would.  Maybe they're all just telling me what I want to hear, but the squeaky wheel gets the grease.  I can't just sit and wait forever.  It's Susie.  She's out there, and she's all alone.  And it's my fault.  I have to...  I have to find her."  Addie starts to choke up a bit as her eyes well up.  She stops speaking trying to compose herself.  The long sleeved black shirt with makeshift thumb holes near the bottom Addie wears quickly becomes an improvised handkerchief.
This message was last edited by the player at 13:26, Thu 06 July 2017.

In reply to Emerson Lake (msg # 159):

Young? Looking up at the mention of Washington and his group Hank thought back to the house and what Tom had said. What did Washington's group call themselves? When did you last see Washington? If Kaiden had taken over the Lost Boys from Washington, and there were enough kids who were only following him out of fear...He put his fork down as a thought took the place of food, the camp's electricity, even Shaela.

Emerson leaned back in his chair, finishing another swig of whiskey. "From here East as far as I've ever been is anybody's game really. I know the dead roam, and so do the living. But nobody's really made their presence known, not like here anyway. The road to Texas seems abandoned..."

Another quick whiskey.

"Washington's guy made a delivery..." He rolled his eyes up, thinking hard. "...about a week... or more before the storm. I think. I only ever met Washington and the other kid who made deliveries. I can't remember the name, sorry. Do you know Washington? I'm beginning to wonder how those kids did in the storm. They were living pretty close to New Orleans, so I'd imagine they probably took the brunt of it."

At this time Miss Shaela made her approach from out of nowhere and wound up standing beside the table. "That's my cue to leave. Its been a pleasure." and Emerson excused himself from the group with a slight (tipsy) bow and disappeared.

Shaela joined the Caravan at the table, taking Emerson's chair, bidding him adieu as he passed her. Karen took up the bottle and poured a glass for Shaela. She looked at the amber liquid "Oh I shouldn't. Well, I won't tell if you don't" and she knocked it back like a champ. "Now if y'all had tequila!" She trailed off with a smile, batting her eyelashes at Hank; the youngest, and by far the prettiest of the boys at the table.

"So the way things work 'round here are pretty simple." Straight to the point. "Y'all have something of value you can trade it in the store. If not, we can put you to work. We have accommodations available for travellers such as yourselves. That plus two meals (Dinner tonight and breakfast in the morning) and our standard stock up package (food, water & ammo for the road) means we could put you to work for about a day or two. We have some standard job tasks that people can sign up for on a job board over there. You know, accompanying supply runs, crowd control, night watch. Those sorts of things, But, I do have something specific in mind, if y'all are up for it?"

Someone from the front of the bar shouted for Shaela's attention and the band began to assemble once more on stage.

"Oh, that's me. Long story short: Addie there..." she turned in her chair and pointed out the girl speaking with Lorenzo at the moment. "...lost a friend of hers, sweet little thing named Suzie. We're puttin together a search party for her in the morning. If y'all could join, that'd more than cover your tab. Think it over, alright?"

Shaela stood, without really concluding the conversation and returned to the stage. She grabbed up her guitar and the band jumped right into an upbeat tune. "I'm gonna marry me, a sentimental cowboy..." Her hips swayed as the music played and Shaela's eyes once more found Hank.

Karen slid the nearly empty bottle into the middle of the table. "You guys talk about it. I'm going to find the bathroom." She stood up, a little  and steadied herself with a hand on Dominic's shoulder. he giggled, patted him once, and then walked off into the bar.


Karen wasn't sure how she'd gotten so turned around. She walked out of the bathroom and turned left, as the hand-painted sign had indicated, but after that... It seemed she was lost. The ground under her feet wouldn't stop tilting either. It made walking in any direction not seem quite right.

"Where are you going?" A familiar echoed. Emerson was leaned up against the wall, looking all cool and masculine, like a shining knight here to rescue the distressed maiden. Only in reality he was a stranger an she was drunk. Karen laughed. "I haven't had anything to drink in like, a really... really... long time." She too took a position against the wall. The cold steel felt good on her back. It settled her a little.

"Come on." Emerson said invitingly. Karen followed him. The two made their way around a couple corners of the container maze, Emerson supporting the tipsy Karen as the two walked together. To be clear, they were both drunk.

Emerson brought Karen to his apartment. Or rather his compartment. It was a part of the outer wall. A modified contained with a decorated interior. There was enough room for a small table along the one wall, a couch along the other, and a bed in the far back. Emerson had a clutter of boxes stacked where he could find room for them and the place was lit by the soft glow of a lantern hung from the ceiling.

They made themselves comfy on the couch, chatting goofily and awkwardly for a while, swapping war stories and pretending that Iraq was fun for both of them. Emerson brought out a bottle of wine and a couple coffee cups to drink out of. It was dry tasting, not nearly sweet enough for Karan's tastes, but she drank it, and she pretended to like it too.

She casually brought up Washington's group, having the same inkling as Hank that they were dealing with the Lost Boys. She tried to press him for information, but he simply had none to give.

As the bottle of wine dwindled and the evening wore on things took a turn. Emerson leaned in and kissed Karen. She resisted at first, but then didn't. She was having fun, so why not. They made out for a minute and then stopped. Emerson alluded to how the wine was good and all but that the thing that got him through coming home from Iraq, and that which made the end of the world seem not so bad was a little bit stronger.

Karen, a drug addict who'd been popping pain pills for the last two days was intrigued. Emerson dug in the box adjacent to the couch and produced a little bag of Heroine and the whole nine yards.


Karen awoke suddenly and with a pounding headache. She sat up in the bed. Early morning sunshine crept through a crack in the container's door casting a long, slender line of pale light. The narrow beam crawled across the floor, bumping up and over Karen's scattered clothes. The beam of light climbed the side of the bed and stretched out over the rumpled blankets and her naked body and landed in the crook of her arm where last night she had shot heroine for the very first time.

Seeing Shaela get back on stage Addie knew she needed to get back to the band.  "I'm sorry, I need to get back on stage.  I know a sweet boy like you will do the right thing.  Suzie's so young, she needs us."  Addie gives one last look of desperation before returning to the band.  Shaela is a few bars into the song before Addie picks up her guitar.  She gives the singer an apologetic look and mouths a silent 'sorry'.

Must not have told them about the change in leadership. Hank thought grimly, figuring they were likely the Lost Boys based on Emerson's description of the groups in the area. He took a sip of water to hide the slight frown that followed the lack of confirmation he had hoped for.

He paused Shaela materialized and sent Emerson off, putting the glass down as she downed the drink with a slightly raised eyebrow. Even before having to worry about people coming back from the dead he hadn't been much of a drinker. A hard cider here and there, maybe more if Tom had been at a friend's house and he wanted to forget. Now...he'd rather wake up in sweat then risk being attacked while seeing double. But he guessed this place was as safe a place to get wasted as any, given Karen's deteriorating state. Returning her smile with his own slightly awkward he looked briefly toward the job board she mentioned, feeling like he was 15 again and was caught staring in the lunch room.

Watching Shaela walk back to the stage Hank got up and moved to a better spot at the table to view the stage now that Lorenzo and Karen had moved. Um, we should probably grab the others. He tried keep his eyes from wandering as she swayed, settling on keeping them locked on his glass with only the occasional glance up. Even with the extra people we should be able to do enough for a couple nights stay at least. He kept his tone low, At the very least they'd be safer here as we looked for someplace else. We can be back before night, get some actual sleep, and help with the search in the morning. Or so he hoped, he had no idea what route they took and Dom had the keys.

Offering Hank and incredulous look, Dominic burst out laughing at the younger man's suggestion that they drive back and pick up the others tonight and return in time to join the hunt for the missing girl in the morning "No chance mon ami!" Dominic said, draining his second glass of whiskey before snagging the bottle from the centre of the table to pour himself a third "Un, I don't fancy driving down those narrow roads in the dark after drinking this stuff, Deux Karen's disappeared...not that that's bad thing et trois, I somehow doubt these guys are going to let us walk out of here without paying up first" Dominic explained, holding up a finger for each of his, what he felt to be valid points, with not only his voice beginning to slur but his accent growing stronger by the minute.

Leaning back in his chair Dominic would watch the band for a short while, in the vain hope that they'd play something he recognised before speaking again to Hank "Non Mon Ami, we're here for the night...though you're right, leaving the others here whilst we check out the East road would be a good idea...it'd also give me chance to murder that putain de bâtard Atlanta without worrying about Izzy...Mon dieu, elle est belle" Dom drunkenly slurred wishing that Isabelle was here with him. It'd be so nice for the two of them to have a night out together and just be a normal couple without having to worry about the others or being attacked by the dead and the living alike, maybe we could spend an evening here before heading out again...

Realising that he was drifting off into his own little world, Dominic would take another sip of his drink before returning to the point he'd originally been trying to make "Try and enjoy yourself Hank, you don’t have Tom here to worry about, there's a bottle...well...part of a bottle of whiskey left and judging by the looks she keeps giving you I think you may have pulled" Dom said with a smile, then again that could just be the whiskey talking.

Shaela Murphy and the Shaela Murphy Band sang a few more Country love songs before winding down for the evening. "Thank you kind, kind folks that's all we got for t'night!" The dinner crowd dispersed and the hardcore, rougher looking folks stayed to drink. The sun was well on its way down, setting perfectly, beautifully behind the Sunset Stage, peering into the bar with its warm, soft glow before slowly kissing the horizon. Cool Darkness descended upon the Saloon as the home-brew liquor began to flow a plenty.

Shaela made her way back to the Caravan's table with a bottle in hand after thenking and hugging each of the band members individually for another amazin' show. She invited Addie to join, since she was the subject of conversation...

The bottle clunked onto the table along with a handful of shot glasses. The clear glass bottle with a pale brown liquid in it was labeled with a # and scrawled handwritten underneath that were the words "Tic Tack Tequila"

Shaela took the chair next to Hank, scooting her seat just a little closer to his and pouring the first round of drinks and sliding them across the table. "Soooo, Y'all give any thought to what I said?" Shaela crossed her arms and her legs too. Her right leg went up over her left, and her fancy cowboy boot dangled playfully next to Hank, gently swaying back and forth to some unheard rhythm and finding its way closer and closer to Hank's foot. She shot his a quick and shy smile every time her eyes wound up his way before quickly darting her gaze away.

Addie packed up her guitar after the set, although it wasn't really her guitar.  More of a loaner to whoever was capable of playing backup for Shaela.  Addie happened to be the lucky one who had just enough prior practice to keep up most of the time with a few chords in the background.

After Shaela sat down at the table of newcomers Addie took her drink over.  The glass was barely filled.  Unless squinting it was hard to tell if there was even any liquid in it.  She held it in both hands like an infant holding a sippy cup most of the time, silently listening to Shaela speak to the others.

Hank frowned at his glass as Dom rattled, well, slurred off why they wouldn't be leaving tonight. A quick glance outside and he was surprised at how much time had passed. Even if Dom wasn't sauced they'd need to use the headlights, which would probably draw more attention then driving during the day. Hopefully Tom wouldn't be too mad at him. The only good thing was Joe and NM had stayed back with him and would be able to keep him from wandering off. Pulling his plate over to him he continued picking at his food.

He couldn't help but snort at the mention of murdering Atlanta, murmuring between bites Somehow I think Karen will be the bigger issue. He just hoped he'd be able to get to Wyoming before anything major went down, try and get the kid out of there. If Dom or any of the others had an issue with it, well they'd just have to deal.

Another snort met the idea he didn't have to worry about Tom just because he wasn't here. That fact just made him worry more. At least if he was here the teen could try and find some others his age that they didn't have to worry about Dom going slash happy. Glancing toward the stage he shook his head at his drink. It's just because we're new. She can have her pick of any guy here, someone who depending on their supply lines can probably get more then the opportunistic sponge bath. Taking another sip he briefly wondered how much work each glass of water was. The booze the others could settle.

Despite his earlier words he couldn't help but revert back to the awkward teen as Shaela rejoined them, her overt flirting not helping. Well, I think we're here for the night. As for tomorrow, that's up to the people who actually know where we are. He stifled a yawn, the brief ride to the outpost not nearly enough I don't have any problem helping with the search if we can get the rest of our people here before heading out.

"Hmm maybe, all I know is she keeps smiling at you so there’s obviously something about you she likes...Besides women can be weird, I mean I never dreamt Izzy would want anything to do with me...especially after I cut her foot off with this bloody thing" Dominic replied, tapping the sword at his waist with his free hand with a guilty look passing across his face at the memory of that day in the woods "...and yet we're together... just talk to her Mon Ami, I mean what’s the worst that can happen?" Dominic finished with a shrug, moments before the girl in question came and joined them with a bottle of her own. Quietly wondering whether the trading post was actually going out of their way to get them all completely wasted Dominic would listen as Shaela asked them about her earlier offer with Hank replying that he'd be happy to help so long as they could bring the rest of the group here first, prompting Dominic to step in "What Hank here is trying to say, is that we're currently looking for somewhere to settle down for a while and if you're willing to take on a large group, we'd like to leave our people here where it's safe whilst we go about finding a suitable place of our own...they'd pitch in of course, and we'd be more than happy to help look for your missing girl come morning" Dominic said, figuring that they had little option but to agree to help if they wanted to get out of here anytime soon. As nice as this place was it would be all too easy to become trapped here by an ever growing debt “So how old is this girl? And how long has she been missing?”

Addie slides over to the table with the others before jumping into the conversation.  She tries to hide a hopeful smile but fails.  "Susie turned nine last month.  She was my neighbor's daughter before everything changed.  It's my fault, I should have been able to keep her safe.  We got caught in the storm.  The wind picked up and something hit me in the back of the head.  I think it was a branch."  Addie slides her hand up under her long black hair at the back of her head, checking to see if the bump was still there.

"When I came to Susie was gone.  No sign of her body, so I think she ran to find cover.  We were headed out to an old farm.  I was hoping to find some berries out in the woods near the fields.  I can show you the way, it shouldn't take more than a few hours to walk there.  Thank you so much.  You have no idea how grateful I am for the help.  Susie doesn't have anyone left, just me, and we were only neighbors.  She must be so scared."  Addie's eyes start to water but she fight back the tears.

The look of hope on Addie's face was heart breaking as she told them her story of how she'd become separated from the young girl during the storm with the cynical part of Dom's mind maliciously whispering that they'd be searching for a body come morning...or a nine year old Zed.

With the dark haired girl on the verge of tears as she continued to blame herself for the situation Dom reached out and gently placed a hand atop of hers and using his best "everything's going to be alright voice" tried to calm her down "Hey, it's not your fault, that storm was a nightmare...she's probably just holed up in an outbuilding or something, don't worry we'll find her" one way or another Dominic silently added as he offered her a reassuring smile that was only slightly spoiled by the amount of alcohol he'd drunk. For as much as he wanted to believe that everything would turn out for the best recent events meant that he was holding out much hope for the missing nine year old.

With the evening winding to a close and the morning's plan discussed, Shaela showed the visitors to their accommodations. It was a simple, bare-bones, crowded container. It was dark, only the light through the crack in the door slipped in. Bunk beds lined the walls all the way front to back, floor to ceiling. It was packed tight. Though, only about two thirds of the beds were filled.

Shaela lingered at the door with Hank.

"Would they notice if you didn't come in?" Her body swayed back and forth playfully yet awkwardly. She looked up at him. "I mean, do you wanna come back to my place?"

Hank followed Shaela and the others to their assigned container. Minus Karen, who seemed to have gotten lost on her route to the bathroom. Leaning against the container he looked up and hid the smirk that threatened at her offer in a yawn. To be honest I should probably get to sleep. Trees don't make the best beds. Looking back to her he smiled, Though I do have some things I'd like to pick your brain about. He assumed since she was the camp's "ambassador" she would know about the various groups that traded here. If anyone knew if Washington was the leader of the Lost Boys it'd be her. Any extra time he got to spend with Shaela before exhaustion took him would be a bonus.

In reply to Hank Lucion (msg # 178):

Shaela reached out and ran her fingers gently and flirtatiously down Hank's arm. "Sure you can pick my brain" Shaela stepped in closer. "You can pick whatever you like."

Maybe she was a little drunk. Maybe she was really bad at reading signals, but Shaela was not getting that Hank was not interested.

After a few more drinks and a bit of small talk with the two girls, Dom would follow Shaella a touch unsteadily to one of the shipping containers within the trading post where upon opening the door he would find that every piece of available space inside had been filled with bunk beds. No doubt for the purpose of housing any passers-by for the night.

Staggering inside Dom would find an available bed before stripping out of his jacket and boots and climbing onto the threadbare mattress; slipping his gun under his pillow before then settling down for the night. It was as he was making himself comfortable, a task not helped by the hard angular shape of a gun beneath his head, but hey that was the joy of paranoia, Dom would notice Hank lingering by the open container door with the lovely Shaella still smiling at him as she gently swayed back and forth. If Dom was a betting man he'd wager that Hank wouldn't sleeping in here tonight...or at least not if he had any sense he wouldn't.

Hank sputtered as Shaela's flirting went from not so subtle to proverbial bull in a china shop. Um...ya... With her earlier actions this shouldn't have come as a surprise, hell he had dreams like this. Running a hand through his hair he was acutely aware of how greasy and mangled it was. Let's just...ah...see how far we get, ok? Wiping it on his jeans he pushed off from the container with another yawn and let the tipsy woman lead the way. So, Emerson was telling us about someone named Washington?

Dawn, the Following Morning

A small group is gathered at the front gates of the storage fortress. The members of the Caravan along with Addie and guide Katherine Reed are preparing to embark on a search party to find the small girl lost in the storm.

It was a late night last night, and everyone is feeling the side effects, Karen most visibly. Karen stood with the others, but she wasn't really there. She wore a pair of dark aviator sunglasses, her hair was a tangled mess and she wouldn't uncross her arms.
This message was last edited by the GM at 16:46, Mon 21 Aug 2017.

Hank had found his way back to the guest container after Shaela had fallen asleep. If he had been drunk things might have turned out differently, and while zombies were certainly high on the list of things to drink about he could imagine better uses for the booze. As it was he found a cot and promptly passed out from exhaustion after the novel experience of a bathroom break without having to worry about being jumped by a crawler. She had all but confirmed the Lost Boys had gone through a leadership change which combined with Wyoming's info had given him some ideas.

Stretching while they waited to head out he felt back to the his new post zombie normal. Physically at least, he couldn't help but notice Shaela's 180 when they had run across each other earlier that morning. Maybe after they picked up the others and found the lost girl he could see if there was any chance of finishing what she had wanted to start. For now he was focused on the mission at hand, fidgeting with his crowbar.

Addie helps Katherine prepare for the trip.  As each of the members of the group shows up Addie stops what she's doing to thank them again for helping to search for Susie.  It's hard to tell from the dark makeup she wears, and somehow hasn't run out of yet, but it looks like sleep hasn't been a priority judging from the dark circles under her eyes.  Unlike many of the others, Addie did not carry a firearm.  At least nowhere in plain view if she did.

With a set of Aviators to match Karen's, a rather pale Dominic stood in the early morning sunlight feeling like death warmed up, ah hangovers...yes I'd forgotten all about them he grimaced, glad to see that he wasn't the only one suffering this morning as a result of last nights drinking session, though unlike the others Dominic had ready access to paracetamol and so was confident that his head wouldn't be bothering him for too much longer at least; one of the few perks of being the groups doctor.

Moving to stand in front of the young Goth chick, Dominic would make a half-hearted attempt to smile before speaking to her with a voice roughened by too much alcohol with the Frenchman quietly wishing that he still smoked "D'accord...I think we're all here, Addie why don't you take us to the spot where you last saw Susie and we can take it from there" Dom suggested, figuring that that would be a good place to start their search from. He still wasn't overly confident that they would find the girl but a promise was a promise and so he would do his best to help the girl, if only so she could get some closure and a bit of sleep at night. Which judging by the bags under her eyes she hadn’t been getting much of as of late “you know it’s not your fault right? We lost a lot of people in that storm so trust me when I say you’re not to blame for what happened, you’re lucky you didn’t die out there yourself” Dominic said in a low voice, knowing from personal experience what it was like to blame yourself for something out of your control.

More serious than upset this morning, perhaps ready to finally get help searching, Addie listens to Dominic.  She takes in his advice on the matter.  "Sure.  Do you want to drive or walk?  We walked there ourselves."  Before anyone can respond she comments on Dominic's well-meaning bit of mental doctoring.  "Everything happens for a reason.  She may be lost, but she's not lost.  She was placed in my care the moment I found her.  Of course it's my fault, but here you all are in my hour of need.  Someone watched over me that day to keep me safe.  I'm certain Susie is being watched over until we bring her back."  The silver cross around Addie's neck dangles in the sunlight.  For the first time since meeting she gives off a sense there is more to the jewelry than just another piece in her goth getup.

Raising a single eyebrow in response to Addie's comment about them arriving during her hour of need, Dominic briefly glances down at the crucifix hanging about the girl’s neck. His step-mother had spoken like that on occasion...his half sister Marie too come to think of it. They had both bought into the whole Christianity thing whilst Dominic had fervently held onto his own rather agnostic beliefs that had steadily waned with every passing day within Zombieland, She has her beliefs, I have mine...lets leave it at that Dominic quietly mused before addressing her first question "we'll walk, the fresh air will do us good and we're less likely to miss something this way" he stated; raising his arm to signal the others to follow him as he started walking down track that would lead to the crossroads where they'd seen the sign the previous day.

Once they reached the crossroad he’d await further direction from Addie before continuing on, his eyes scanning the countryside for any signs of Susie, the Lost Boys or the walking dead.

Katherine mostly kept to herself as the members of the Caravan arrived. She didn't have much to say to the group, she didn't know them but Addie seemed to trust them and that had to be good enough for now. Kat shouldered her gear, keeping her rifle accessible, and was ready to help the group search for Susie.

Looking around at their search party Hank was surprised Dom hadn't taken a swing at the girl who had joined them. She seemed about Tom's age, which probably put her in the range the it sounded like made up the Lost Boys. Well, if she was one of them nobody else seemed to know or at least hadn't mentioned it. Either way he had no doubt they'd have need of her formidable arsenal before the end of the day.

Taking a final look he hoped she'd stay around long enough for them to pick up the others. Aside from Wyoming and whoever in the Lost Boys was only following Kaiden out of fear kids around Tom's age were scarce nowadays. Heading up the line he caught up to Dom. So, how's the hangover? He kept his tone light, making sure none of the outpost people were within earshot before he'd bring up the Lost Boys.

With a head that felt like it had taken a few good hits from a bat and his mouth tasting like it had been swilled out with the contents of a drain, despite the amount of water he'd drunk this morning, Dominic paused for several moments as he tried to figure out whether Hank was taking the piss or not.

After deciding that the guys question was genuine he'd shrug his shoulders before responding "The drugs should be kicking in soon so I'll live...so how was the lovely Shaella?" he responded in an equally low voice, a mischievous smile briefly touching his lips as he asked his own question, just daring the other guy to deny that he'd not gone off with her last night. He may have been drunk but he hadn't been that drunk.

The search for Susie was underway. the search party set out from their base on foot, traveling down the road and off the trail to the last place Susie was seen. Here, they turned to both their guide Kat, and Susie's guardian Addie for guidance and familiarity.

"Where to now?"

Karen was the last to catch up. She lagged behind the whole time. It was clear to see even through her dark glasses that she was struggling. Maybe last night had been rough on her as well.

Her hair was glued to her face with sweat. (It wasn't really that warm this morning.)

(out of breath) "What happened here, when she went missing? Go over it one more time for us?"

In reply to Dominic Dubreton (msg # 190):

About as clueless as the rest of the group about the change in leadership among the Lost Boys. Hank sighed, fighting to roll his eyes at the other man's smile. That or Kaiden's just bouncing between names. He barely gave the bodies they must have rolled over yesterday a glance, just enough to make sure there wasn't any residual twitches. Though she had met Kentucky and a blond girl, my guess the same one from the town. His tone quieted even more at the last part. Think what you will of them, but I bet if they weren't led by a psychopath, I think we could work with the Lost Boys, like these people have. It wasn't that he was particularly afraid of Karen overhearing him call her son a psychopath given how far back she was, or the fact she had basically called him out earlier, but they didn't need her overreacting at the moment in her most likely drugged out state.

Once the group seemed to be all together, Addie thought she heard them say yesterday that more were in the RV, she started to explain.  "There's an old farm, maybe two miles, down the road."  She points down one of the routes.  "Wild bushes took over the land behind the farmhouse.  You can't see it from the road."

Addie began to walk along the edge of the road.  With no one to maintain yards and plantlife the sides of the road had become overtaken with grass and weeds.  She kept to the center of the road.  "I'm not sure if it has a name.  I'm actually not from around here.  Susie and I just found our way north."  Her slight hidden accent gave this information away already, maybe a touch of southern creole.  "Susie was my parent's neighbors daughter.  When the world stopped I headed home to check on mama and daddy.  There were already gone, but I found Susie home."

She pauses, remembering something she'd rather not.  "Some men had found her.  People from up north might call them good ol' boys.  Their intentions were not good.  Susie's guardian angel must've been watching over her.  A gator snatched one and distracted the other two long enough for me to grab Susie and get back to my old junker."

Addie continued to ramble on as the group walked, most of it had no real importance.  About a mile and a half later a faded red barn came into view.  Past the barn sat an old rusting silo and a large farmhouse of newer construction.  It looked like the farmers had upgraded the home shortly before the world stopped turning.  A metal rooster weather vane topped the house like a hat.  An old TV satellite dish was still attached to the side by half the bolts.  "She got so excited about that weather vane."  Addie mumbled to herself.  "Must've remembered her chickens back home."

"Well unfortunately they are, so working with them isn't an option" Dominic responded rather irritably, wondering why the guy was so intent on bringing them up at every opportunity "...also I have a score to settle with that blonde " he added, gingerly touching the long horizontal scar upon his cheek, another inch or so to the side and I'd be a dead man he thought to himself Maybe there really is somebody looking out for me? or just as likely the girl just a really bad shot, not that it would stop him from evening the score next time they met.

With Addie now telling her tale of how she came to be Susie's guardian, Dominic turned his attention away from Hank for the time being; though he'd resume speaking to the guy should he decide to continue talking.

By the time the red painted barn and farmhouse came into view Dom's head had all but cleared with only a slight twinge reminding him to take it steady next time alcohol was on offer.

After checking that his gun was cocked and loaded Dominic would draw his sabre from out of its scabbard; the curved blade flashing in the early morning sun as he did so "D'accord...we split into two groups, one searches the house, the other checks out the barn and silo, Karen your with me" Dominic said in a firm commanding voice, making it clear that his instruction for Karen to follow him wasn't a suggestion. As much as he thought the woman was a liability he wasn't about to inflict her on either of their guides, especially in her current state causing him to wonder whether her infection was getting worse again.

Beckoning for Karen to follow, Dominic would start heading towards the barn figuring that Addie would prefer to check the house "Karen do you need something for your head? Because you're looking seriously rough" Dominic quietly asked wondering if it might not be better for all concerned if she sat on the grass and rested whilst the rest of them looked for the missing girl, and I thought I’d drunk too much!

In reply to Dominic Dubreton (msg # 194):

Karen followed Dominic, as requested. The two approached the barn perhaps not as stealthily as they should.

"Have you seen yourself Dominic? You look like horse shit too." She turned up her middle finger at him and produced her club, hand shaking noticeably.

They approached the door, now focused on the task at hand. Dominic pulled the door open, Karen slipped inside, him following. They cleared the barn quickly then paused to search for any signs of the girl.

"I fucked up last night..." Karen's words were reluctant, like they were fighting not to come out. But, like it or not, Dominic was basically her doctor, and she needed help. "Emerson gave me heroine last night... and I don't remember what happened after that... but I woke up in his bed... my clothes were on the floor... and I can't find my pills... So I'm gonna go through withdrawals here pretty quick."

She avoided eye contact with Dominic, kicking at the straw on the floor.

Addie nodded at Dominic's instructions.  She seemed comfortable following orders.  Part of it was her upbringing, part of it her former vocation.  Strong male personalities often filled the leader role in Addie's life.

With little experience trying to be stealthy Addie looked the part in her black attire, but certainly didn't succeed in keeping quiet as she approached the house.  She glanced back to see who else would come with her.

"Well luckily for me the apocalypse is short on mirrors" Dom replied with a grin as Karen pointed out that he wasn't exactly looking his best either.

Taking a firm hold of one of the large barn doors Dominic silently counted down from three with his free hand before hauling the door open and following Karen inside, however with the large doors being the only easy way into the barn it was thankfully devoid of zombies with a quick sweep by the pair of them confirming as much.

With much of the ground floor filled with the rusting remains of some kind of farm machinery along with several sacks and boxes it was clear that unless she was hiding up in the hayloft that the girl wasn't inside. Before he was able to voice as much though Dominic was interrupted by Karen's reluctant confession as to what had happened to her last night along with the fact that she was an addict and was in serious trouble.

Part of him said that he should be furious at her, especially after all of the trouble that she had caused them since joining the caravan, and yet he couldn't find it in him to scream at her, to tell her how stupid she'd been and generally vent his anger and frustration upon her. Instead, with a heavy sigh Dominic sheathed his blade and sat down upon a pile of what he assumed were old sacks of grain or fertiliser or...something, indicating that Karen should do likewise "how long?" he asked in a low, calm voice before deciding that it didn't really matter when Karen's addiction had actually started, only that she had a problem and he needed to find a way of dealing with it "I haven't got anything to give you Karen, Bohannon's got all of the serious meds...though you know that already don't you?" he said, waiting to see if she would confirm his suspicion that the Cowboy was the source of her previous stash before pressing on "Right...well...we need to head back and get your stash off of Emerson, unless you have a better idea?" he asked already figuring that unless the farm had a very well stocked medicine cabinet that it was their only option, and that he had to deal with Emerson. One way or another.
This message was last edited by the GM at 00:58, Sun 08 Oct 2017.

Karen joined Dominic on the fertilizer sack sofa. "I've been an addict for years. But this relapse... Since just after the hurricane. Also, that was the first time I tried heroine, for the record." Karen was surprisingly nonchalant about discussing her addiction. "Bohannon stole the pain meds from the DEA van. I stole them from him. Emerson stole them from me. But we can't kick down the door to his container and go looking for drugs. We just meet these people, and I still don't know what happened last night. If he... y'know..." Karen didn't want to say the words. "Just, we don't know. Okay? We need to press on, find out about the little girl and go from there. I'll be alright. I just won't be happy about it.

Let's join the others in the house?"
This message was last edited by the player at 15:39, Tue 10 Oct 2017.

Reluctantly admitting that she was right about kicking down Emerson's door being bad idea, especially considering their current predicament Dominic would give Karen a level look as he continued speaking to her in a low, calm voice "D'accord, we'll keep this between the two of us, but if you start feeling really bad you need to tell me ok?" he stated, not liking the idea of her suffering from withdrawal symptoms whilst they were in Zombieland but knowing that they had little choice in the matter "oh and Karen...Emerson will be dealt with...no one fucks with my group and gets away with it" he quietly snarled before getting up and heading for the open barn door with his hand once again gripping his sword as he strode outside.

Upon finding a reluctant and rather uncertain looking Addie still standing outside the front door, Dom would clear his throat so as to attract her attention from a safe distance, because after all the last thing he wanted was to spook someone and wind up getting himself stabbed, he would offer the girl a questioning look before asking "Is there a problem Addie?" in what he hoped was a friendly voice, though after Karen's little piece of news could you really blame him for feeling just a little pissed off?

In reply to Adalaide Legrande (msg # 196):

Hank let Dom and Karen deal with whatever was going on as they went toward the barn. Following their guide to the house, her relative lack of stealth only an issue if there were living laying in wait, though any one lasting this long should have spotted them from upstairs by now. I'm going to take a look around the house, see if there's any sign we aren't the first ones here. He told her, looking over the side of the house as they approached. Most of the time if it was a supply raid people only cared about getting in as quickly as possible and you'd find smashed doors and windows. If the house was being used as a shelter...things could get tricky.

Keeping to the side of the house he ignored windows with the curtains closed. Finding a kitchen window he could look into he rubbed a spot as clean as he could get. His gaze stopped at the bodies sitting at the table. Giving the window a slight tap he waited a moment for any sign of movement. That's something, at least. He murmured after they didn't rush the window. Continuing on he looked for any more glimpses into the house.

The search party gathered around the house. Splitting up, they were able to make their way inside.

Once inside they cleared the main floor finding there were no signs of zombies there. Kitchen cupboards contained an abundance of spoiled food, with a maybe a couple of items possibly still edible.

The stairway was discovered to be barricaded. The living room couch had been pushed in front of the stairs, and the coffee table, lamps, end tables, even the throw rug were tossed in behind it. The door leading to the basement was found sealed. The searchers could open it only a crack, just wide enough to see an orange extension cord wrapped around the knob and the railing, tying it shut.

Suddenly, a noise is heard upstairs.

Receiving a mute shaking of the head in response to his question Dominic would cautiously open the farmhouse's front door and step inside with the two women hopefully following him.

The interior was pretty much like every other farmhouse they had encountered; thick layers of dust and litter, and a kitchen full of what looked to be mostly spoiled food judging by the ghastly smell "Someone have a quick poke around in the kitchen and see if there's anything worth having whilst I check upstairs" Dominic said as he headed for the stairs only find that they had been blocked by the couch.

It was just as Dominic was considering how best to dismantle the barricade so that he could get across that he heard a noise coming from upstairs. Crouching down low behind the couch he would hold his sword ready to strike "Susie? Is that you up there?" he called deciding that even if it was a Zed up there that it would be easier to dispatch from behind the barricade "Susie, I've got Addie with me...she's come to get you" Dominic continued, bracing himself to meet whatever came down those stairs.

Making his way back around to the front of the house without any further incident Hank gave a small frown at the open door. If it had been unlocked then anyone could be waiting inside, for good or ill. Following the others inside the level of fortification seemed to confirm his suspicion they weren't the first ones to have shown up at the house.

Turning at the noise and Dom heading up stairs he decided to try the other locked route. I'll check the basement. Whoever tied the door may think we want to hurt them. Not that he didn't trust Dom's fatherly instincts but he didn't need him or Karen getting stab happy if whoever was down there looked pubescent.

Standing to the side of the cellar door he used his crowbar to push the door, just in case someone took a couple pot shots. Hello? We're just looking for someone, her name's Susie. She got separated from her friend during the storm. We came from the trading post to help find her.

Taking note of the level of fortification Karen pocketed her club and drew her pistol. Hank and Dom had the "front lines" as it were, so if a decomposing face jumped out of any one of the barricaded spaced they'd have first crack at it. If shit got seriously dangerous, Karen could lay down suppressing fire to buy one of the boys an opening to withdraw.

Karen, in tactical fashion, silently directed Addie to stay put near the front door, and for the quiet "guide" Katherine to watch Hank's six.

Karen joined Dominic at the side of the couch, placing a hand on his back to let him know she was there.

Suddenly the noise upstairs grew closer. It was definitely movement. The old wood creaked and groaned under the shifting weight of a person walking. Karen moved around the back of the couch, leaving Dominic in his striking position. She popped her head out of cover briefly, trying to determine if the person upstairs was dead or alive. Thankfully, there was no loud pop of a gunshot as she did so. Karen stood and moved backwards, gun aimed.

"He's dead Doc. When he gets down here, start swinging."

Karen started whistling. and becoming the zombie to come down the steps.

The walking corpse managed the stairs surprisingly gracefully, for a corpse. He steadily planted each foot on the steps and used the wall to support his unsteady upper body. It was the slowest descent in the world, but eventually the zombie found the barricade and stood in Dominic's kill zone, trying to figure out how to get around.

***

Meanwhile, at the basement door, Hank was greeted by the relatively safe sound of silence from the basement. Either whomever was down there was keeping quiet, or the basement was empty. But why was it wired shut?

The zombie took an age to slowly descend the stairs, one faltering step at a time causing Dominic to wonder whether he'd be better off climbing the barricade to meet it, then again why make things difficult? And so he waited until the thing was at the barricade before springing from behind it to spear its head with a well placed lunge. A quick twist and a pull followed the move as he ripped his blade free with a repulsive sucking noise causing a part of his brain to note how much easier it was to kill the dead than it was the living, with the other part feeling mildly disgusted that he was capable of such thoughts "D'accord...let's go check upstairs" Dominic quietly stated as he wiped the gore from his blade onto the couches worn upholstery, deciding to leave the rest of the building to Hank and their silent guide.

It would take a few minutes to dismantle enough of the barricade for them safely cross; with Dominic signalling for Karen to watch his back as he cautiously ascended the creaking wooden stairs.

Something told him that they wouldn't find Susie up here, not with a Zed roaming around anyway, but it wouldn't hurt to see if there was anything worth taking with him placing especially high hopes on the medicine cabinet as he still wasn't sure how he was going to deal with Karen's addiction at this point in time, Jesus, If i'd known sooner I could have beaten some pills out of the Cowboy or traded for a few in town! But he hadn't known and so he would have to deal with the situation the best he could.

Once they had reached the top of the stairs Dominic would point to the nearest door with the tip of his sword "Let's check this one first, then we'll move to the next one ok?"

Kat drew her pistol as she walked behind Hank towards the locked basement, keeping her finger off the trigger but ready to shoot if something proved aggressive. With Hank's call out receiving silence, Kat drew her knife in her off hand and cut the extension cord, pistol still aimed down the basement steps. Once cut, she kicked the door aside and stepped with the swinging wood, bracing herself against the wall opposite Hank so the now open basement was between them. "We're just a couple of kids trying to find our friend. We don't mean you any harm. If anybody's down there, now would be a good time to say something before you startle us. Don't want to mistake you for one of those dead creeps shambling about." Her voice sounded innocent despite her drawn weapons.

Hank didn't know what to make of the silence that greeted them from the locked basement. He just hoped it was fear that kept whoever tied the now cut cord quiet. When the girl who came with them kicked the door he finally had a chance to see her close up. About the same age as Tom to have lasted this long he didn't doubt she could handle herself in a scrap. Which with any luck wouldn't be needed in this situation.


He'd give anyone a couple moments to respond to her before steeling himself to go down. Cover me. He whispered, ducking slightly to reduce his outline and give her a better line of sight. Each step was deliberate as old horror movie clips flashed through his head of hands reaching out from behind the stairs to trip him. One hand held his crowbar ready, the other just brushed the railing ready to grip it if he had to hit the deck.
This message was last edited by the GM at 05:19, Thu 30 Nov 2017.

The basement was cool and dusty. the only light was that that came through a small basement window with a well. the glass was shattered, from the inside out. A teddy bear hung snagged on one of the jagged pieces of glass.

There were obvious signs that a person had been hiding down here for a while, but that person was now certainly gone.

***

Meanwhile, the upstairs was clear. the zombie that haunted the top floor of the house was dead. Someone trapped the dead man upstairs and then sealed off the basement door to hide down there.

Now as the hunters re-grouped the question was "Was it Suzie?"

When shown the teddy bear and asked the question at hand Addie simply nodded and began to cry.

Now the hunters needed to figure out which direction she headed and pursue her, hoping against hop to find her alive.

Dominic's hopes of finding the cache of a long dead dooms day prepper were once again dashed as he opened the door leading into the master bedroom with a quick search failing to reveal the piles of food and automatic weaponry the heroes from those old Zombie movies always seemed to find with him instead having to settle on some relatively clean clothing and an old Stephen King paperback that he hadn't read, though seeing as the dead roamed the earth did he really need another horror story?

The next room along would provide just as slim a pickings as the previous one, this one appearing to be some kind of an office with the desk and computer covered in a thick layer of dust and cobwebs that even he was reluctant to disturb. The stationery was useless as was the stack of CD's, the guys taste in music had been terrible anyway, though the half bottle of Bourbon and battered packet of cigarettes in the bottom drawer however were a welcome find "would this do anything to help?" Dominic asked holding up the bottle for Karen to see whilst stuffing the cigarettes into his top pocket, though whether these were to trade or personal use was anyone's guess, and in the event that Karen didn't want the Bourbon then Dom knew a certain brunette that he'd be more that happy to share it with.

The final door was located at the end of the hall and was unsurprisingly the bathroom, with the old cast iron tub half filled with stagnant water that the previous occupant had no doubt been drinking up until his demise and subsequent zombification. The small bathroom cabinet was mostly empty with a full bottle of shampoo being the only thing of any worth, granted it would be useless to him but the Trading post had working showers so no doubt someone would be willing to trade for the luxury of silky dandruff free hair! It was only as he was retrieving this wonder of a bygone age that Dominic would catch sight of the small orange container that had been lurking behind it, revealing the find that he'd been hoping for “And we have a winner!” Dominic called excitedly, snatching the small pill bottle from out of the cabinet so as to examine the label “it would appear out friend Mr Carter suffered from Migraines…now can I trust you not to knock them back like sweets or do you need me to look after these?” Dominic asked, giving Karen a level look that said that if she did indeed knock them all back like sweets then things would go very badly for her.

In reply to Dominic Dubreton (msg # 209):

Karen took the orange bottle and shook out four pills into her hand. This migraine medicine wasn't exactly the kind of narcotic painkiller that had caused an opiate crisis to sweep across the nation, but, it might just take the edge off...

Karen swallowed the pills with a quick swig of Dominic's bourbon. According to the label on the pill bottle, this was a bad idea, but considering that Karen had shot heroine into her arm last night, a little bit of whiskey and headache medicine was probably not a big deal. She took another swig and gave both bottles back to Dominic.

"Little girl wasn't hiding up here..." that was obvious. "What's your take on the babysitter?" Karen posed to Dominic, her days as a cop coming back to her. "I remember this one time, I responded to a missing persons. The parents were devastated, but the neighbour, he was way too interested. He volunteered to coordinate the search party and everything, only he knew we wouldn't find her since he had the body in his shed."

When he made it to the bottom of the stairs in one piece Hank let out a small sigh of relief. Relaxing a little he looked around, taking in the ruffled blanket and discarded food wrappers. When he saw the bear in the window his hand tightened. Damn it. Walking over he gently removed the lost toy and looked out the window, wondering how he could have missed such an opening. Taking it back upstairs he reached out and gently put a hand on Addie's shoulder when she started to cry. We'll find her. She can't have gone too far. Giving a gentle squeeze he looked toward where the window would have let her out, hoping she went straight after getting out of the basement.

Stuffing the pill bottle into the same top pocket as the cigarettes he'd found, and the Bourbon into his now rather battered rucksack, Dominic would consider Karen's question concerning Addie "She seems nice enough, perhaps a little too nice to have survived out here for this long...why? You reckon she's killed her?" Dominic asked, raising a single questioning eyebrow at the former cop. He'd quickly run her story through his head again; of how she'd been knocked out during the storm and woken up to find the girl gone "hmm her story is a little thin now that you mention it but...I dunno, why bother? I mean there are no cops, no forensics she could murder her and leave the body in the middle of the street and no one would come looking for either of them, unless..." Dominic paused as a thought slowly materialised from the back of his mind, the same part of his mind that had led him to murder those two Lost Boy kids down by the canal, but there was just something about the way that it insisted that something wasn't quite right that meant he couldn't quite let it go "...unless she's leading us into some kind of a trap?" Dominic quietly suggested having finally succumbed to his minds paranoid mutterings.

He had to admit that it did make some kind of twisted sense; a pretty young girl with a tearful story of a missing child was almost the perfect lure to attract a group of well meaning people into an ambush. After all if Addie had been knocked out by a falling branch then why had Suzie left her to wander off alone into the storm? Alternatively if someone had hit her and taken the girl then why hadn't they taken her too or simply killed her and removed the loose end entirely? "there are too many holes" Dominic muttered to himself, wishing that Izzy was here to help him make sense of the paranoid mess he'd found himself tangled in "Karen I think you and I need to have a serious word with Addie...we'd need to get rid of Hank though, the guy's too nice he'd try to interfere, Katherine too" Merde! Could she be in on it too? She's about the right age to be a Lost Boy! "Oh god, I can't believe we've gone and wandered into this, it's so bleeding obvious!" Dominic said in an agonised voice as he went to peer through the tiny bathroom window, almost expecting to see a band of armed men or Lost Boys coming to kill them as every part of his body started to scream that they should leave this house right this instant and run before it was too late.

Kat covered Hank as he descended the stairs to the basement, following once he reached the bottom of the stairs. She noticed the same things he did, signs someone had stayed there, a broken window used as an escape, the teddy bear. When he grabbed the toy to bring back upstairs, Kat looked for the most obvious route someone would take from the window, noting the treeline and road. She quickly followed him back upstairs, glad he was there to console Addie as she wasn't good at that sort of thing. Instead, she placed her pistol on the kitchen counter and pulled out a map from her bag. The map had notes and other markings on it, obviously added after it was printed. Neighborhoods and buildings of interest were marked in colors like green or blue depending on what supplies they held, a small key in the corner defining which color meant what. Other areas had red "X"s over them. It took her a minute to orient her location on the map, but once she did, she trailed her finger over the road she believed Susie would have taken.

"If it was me, I would have taken to the forest, but I doubt Susie would have done that. With you injured" she nods towards Addie, "she would have probably tried to find someone to help or medical supplies. Following the road, the first big structure she would hit would be . . . this church here." Kat looks up from her map, pointing to the church in question on the map. "It would make sense, all things considered."

Handing the bear over to Addie Hank moved to the table where the map was set up, giving her room to grieve and hoping the discussion would be a good distraction for her. Looking over the map he nodded, using Katherine's finger and the street names to figure roughly where they were. Before this churches were meant to be safe places. He tried to imagine himself in Suzy's shoes, running scared, looking for somebody who could help. She must have bolted soon after the storm passed. Which meant there was a good chance she was still there or close to it. As long as it hadn't been taken over by some crazy cult, but he didn't mention that horror trop out loud. When the others come down we can head out.

"What do you want to do?" Karen paced the room anxiously. "We could try to figure out Addie and see where this thing goes, or we could just blow this whole thing and get out of here. Do you want to bail?"

Karen sat on the bed.

"If the trading post wants us dead, why not do it last night? They had more than enough opportunity. What would they get out of leading us out here first?" the story kept spinning in her brain. "They said they worked with the Lost Boys, maybe they struck a deal? maybe they're leading us to them. Maybe Kat is one of them? Dominic, if this whole thing isn't true, then the alternative is so fucked up that whatever it is is bad for us. If it is true, do we get enough out of it to be worth the risk?

Should we just turn back?"

"Non, we can't bail...if this is genuine then we'll alienate the only friendly group in the area" Dominic replied as he took a seat on the bed beside her. It wasn't the trading post of that much he was certain because like Karen said why lead them out here to do it? Why not simply shoot or enslave them during the night, though from the way that place was set up it wasn't really in their interest to do that. A deal with the Lost Boys was possible but they must have worked really quickly to set that up as they'd only arrived last night and it wasn't like there was phone network anymore which meant that they were either unlucky enough to have been found by the only Lost Boys in the place or Addie was working for a third party.

Shrugging his shoulders in response to the question of whether this whole venture was worth the risk, though truth be told they'd had no choice but to accept else they'd have been trapped there trying to pay off their debt, Dominic would then listen as Karen suggested turning back "Non, me and you are going to get Addie to tell us the entire story, beat it out of her if we have to, and if it checks out we'll just have to keep our eyes open if it's a trap...we cut her throat and go back, Katherine's too if she's in on it...not our fault if they were jumped by Zeds" Dominic said in a low voice, not wanting any of what they were saying to drift downstairs to the others.

Upon returning to the others Dominic would see a tearful Addie clutching a teddy bear as Hank and Katherine looked over a map "I take it the bear belonged to Suzie then?" Dominic asked, quirking a quizzical eyebrow at Hank "Why don't you and Katherine take a look around outside and make sure we haven't missed anything...we'd look like a right bunch of idiots if we overlooked a set of footprints" he suggested with an amused smile, all the while planning how he would get Addie to talk.
This message was last edited by the player at 23:14, Wed 24 Jan 2018.

Ya, she must of left it behind after she broke the window downstairs to get out. Hank agreed as the other two returned from upstairs. Katherine's map says there's a church nearby. If Suzie was going for help that'd be the first place she'd hit after this place. He tapped the map. We move now, there's a chance she's still around there. One way or another he thought grimly, picking up the crowbar with his other hand. Sighing he looked to Addie. Did you two pass the church before you found this place? If they did then it was all the more likely she ran back to it.

Moving to look at Katherine's map his eyes would follow the road from their current location down to the church much the same way that Katherine had with him noting that it was the only discernible landmark in the area making it an obvious place to head towards...or to use as prearranged location for a trap "You sure this is where she's headed? because it's a long way to go if we're wrong" Dominic asked, looking about the three of them in search of a definite answer before then shrugging his shoulders "D'accord, if you're sure that's where she's headed then lets get moving"

"I'm sure it makes the most sense. Otherwise she would get lost in the woods." Kat replies, folding the map and shoving it back into her bag. "As far as I'm aware, the other scavengers from the outpost haven't checked that church on any of their runs. Then again, it's not really my sector, I'm assigned more south." The statement was matter-of-fact, small talk as she picked up her pistol from the counter top and holstered it, ready to leave for the church.

Despite the fact that she was almost half his age, Dominic would find himself agreeing with Katherine's logic that the church made the most sense, besides which if Suzie had become lost in the woods then they'd probably never find her anyway, and so it was with a single nod of agreement that Dom would then head for the door.

The walk to the church would prove to be an easy one, consisting mainly of muddy fields dotted with the remains of the long dead cattle that had once grazed here.

It was also during this time that he and Karen would drop back to quietly interrogate Addie concerning her story, though it quickly became clear that short of torturing her that they wouldn't learn anything new from her and perhaps not even then leading Dom to believe that she probably was telling the truth...or at least what she believed to be the truth in any case.

After about an hour or so of walking they would finally reach St Andrew's church with the modest, white painted timber building having seemingly taken a battering during the storm with a pair broken windows, several sections of collapsed fencing and the weather vane wedged in a nearby tree being all the evidence needed to support that particular theory "huh...has anyone ever proved that Zeds don't rise from out of graves?" Dom asked, eyeing the small, debris littered cemetery that out the back. At times it was hard to remember which parts of the old zombie stories were still fiction and which were liable to bite you in the ass.

Hank let out a quiet sigh of relief as they followed Dom out, glad they a destination and they hadn't had an argument about it. The longer they waited the further a lead Suzie could gain on them, and the longer it'd take them to get back the others. He and Wyoming had bought some time by drawing the hoard to the Lost Boys truck, but by now there was a chance they would have lost the undead and circled back.

Finding himself out front with Katherine he tried to keep focused on the mission at hand. So, how long have you been with the Trading Post? He asked her, keeping an eye out for any shambling figures or crawlers closing in. Though it seemed their only dead company they had were the former cows decaying where they fell. Swallowing he shook the thought of a cheeseburger out of his mind.

Looking the church over Hank shrugged. If they do and the storm didn't bring them up, we should be fine. He glanced to Dom with a humorless smile, Too bad we don't have Benson to try and stir them up.

Katherine kept her head on a swivel during their walk to the church, not even batting an eye at the field of dead cattle. She turned to face Hank when the man asked his question. "I haven't really kept track of the days, but I'd guess a little over a week. They don't usually take in people for more than a couple of days but it's hard to throw a 'little girl' out to the streets, especially alone." She continued scanning their surroundings as she talked. "They started me out working the garden, I had to practically beg them to let me join scavenger runs. I guess they were worried about my safety, even after I told them I've been out here alone for the past few months." Her head tilted down slightly as the last words left her lips, her footsteps slowing briefly.

Kat literally shook away whatever dark thought plagued her mind as her attention went back to their present situation. The church had seen better days, that was clear, but it did look deserted. She drew her pistol with the quickness of someone familiar with their weapon. "Let's just get this over with." She sighed, approaching the church with caution.

"Benson would be charging by the hour for this little rescue mission" Dominic said with a snort of laughter as he followed Katherine towards the front doors of the church, searching the nearby countryside for any sign of trouble as he went.

From the angle that they approached the wind beaten church they would be able to see that the cemetery was thankfully devoid of dead hands clawing their way out of graves and nor were there any lurking in amongst the trio of abandoned cars sitting within the small, overgrown parking area "Those cars might be worth checking out...maybe we could even get one started and save ourselves the walk" Dominic said as he drew his sword.

Placing a hand upon the handle, he would wait long enough to make sure that everyone was armed and ready before giving it a turn pushing open one half of the double doors; the hinges squealing far louder than he would have liked.

Before the door was even fully open he could smell the stench of decay coming from within the church. Sprawled around the neatly arranged pews in amongst the branches, leaves and assorted rubbish blown in through the broken windows were  the remains or roughly half a dozen dead parishioners…or what he hoped were dead parishioners as he watched a trio of Zeds lurch towards them; seemingly abandoning the closed door at the far end of the church, though in fairness that may have just been his imagination.

With no way of knowing how many more Zeds were hiding in amongst the pews or even up in the gallery overhead, Dominic would take few steps into the church before standing his ground and waiting for the dead to come to him.

Hank nodded at Katherine's answer, the advantages of being a lone kid not always apparent. Much like with the Lost Boys he briefly wondered how he and Tom would have turned out if they had run into the Trading Post instead of the Caravan. He paused when he realized she had fallen a little behind. Alone for a couple months? She was definitely someone not to underestimate.

While he knew it would take more then a few surprise hands to bring Benson down, the probable look on his face would have to be enough for Hank. Following the others to the church he wondered how many people had fled there in the beginning, and how long they stayed before seeking "safer" havens. The brothers had run across several churches before finding Dom and the others, and he hoped this hadn't turned into a "Jonestown" scenario.

Ignoring the odor that accompanied any closed space holding dead bodies Hank prepared himself for the worst and hoped for the best. Luckily it was mixture of the two that greeted them, no Suzie jumping with joy but also no Suzie trying to eat them, yet. Taking a couple steps to Dom's left he turned briefly to Addy, Stay here, keep the door open. Not only would it help air out the place but if for some reason it looked like they were going to be overwhelmed it'd save precious seconds in getting out. Facing the three obvious threats again he quickly scanned the other bodies, hoping these were the only ones that decided they didn't like staying dead.

Taking two quick steps forward, Dominic swung his sword at the rightmost Zed, the blade crashing through it's jaws to sever its head in a spray of gore. However it was as he was in the process of pivoting so as to drive his blade into his next target, figuring that Hank would be taking out the one to the left, that a pair of hands would snake out from beneath one of the pews and grab hold of his ankle, pulling him off-balance.

With his fumbled shot doing little more than scratching the Zed's already tattered cheek, he'd quickly turn to look down and watch as the crawler sunk it's teeth into the sturdy leather of his boots prompting him to give a single shocked cry as he stamped down on the things head, crushing it between the sole of his boot and the dusty stone floor just as the hand from the other Zed grasp his collar. A look of horror spreading across the former medics face as he braced himself for the teeth that would be sinking into his neck any second now.

Karen was too proud to sit this one out. Too bad though...

She joined the others in the fight to liberate the holy place from the grip of the dead. She readied her police baton, raised it, waited for the third zed to reach for her and SMASH.

Karen's blunt instrument caught the zombie in the side of the neck. The thing's head craned and crinkled over weird as bile suddenly exploded up and out of Karen's esophagus. The zombie spun out of view as Karen's head dropped downwards. vomit erupted forth from her mouth like a geyser. What little food she had eaten in a long time, the delicious meal from container town, splattered all over the floor. She doubled over, clutching her stomach.

The zombie, with broken-neck head-flapping grace, lurched for her back. It tried to get a mouthful of her jacket, but its mouth was not where it was supposed to be. The zombie kept up the attack however, flopping its head around trying to learn the new angles as Karen heaved two to three more times. She stumbled a few steps away, the zombie matched each one. it was like a trying to run away from a bee... while puking.

She needed help.

Karen clumsily fended the mouth of the zombie off as she backed into a corned and puked again. Two more zombies suddenly appeared from the pew area. one wearing her Sunday best, the other half naked and missing its entire front. He was just a face, an empty rib-cage with arms, and pants. What was even keeping him together?

They had faced worst odds then this. Though they would see what toll a night of drinking would take soon enough. Taking his target he swung for the head, no time to disable before finishing it off. A sickening crunch greeted the connection of solid iron utility tool and skull. It took a moment for the zombie to realize it had pieces of skull in it's brain as it staggered another step or two before tipping over sideways.

Cursing under his breath as he saw Dom go down and Karen erupt Hank scrambled over the pews to get behind the one going for their medic. Help Karen, I've got this one. He called to Katherine, pulling Dom's attacker back.

Feeling the pressure on his collar being suddenly removed as Hank pulled the Zed off of him, Dominic wasted little time in regaining his balance so that he could turn to face his attacker. Drawing the buck knife he'd taken from the Lost Boy he'd killed by the canal, Dom would slam the blade down to it's hilt into the things skull, knowing that had he tried to kill the thing using his sword that he'd probably have hit Hank as well, assuming of course that he'd found enough space to swing the Civil war era sabre he carried.

With a seriously ill Karen backed into a corner and surrounded by three Zeds, it was clear that things were going horribly wrong for them as another pair of Zeds stumbled into view from somewhere in the vicinity of the altar.

After wrenching the knife free of the Zeds skull Dominic would quickly sheath the blade and move in to finish the job Karen had started by severing the dead man's lolling head with his sword before grabbing the collar of Karen's jacket and hauling her towards the open doors "Deal with them while I get her the hell out of here!" Dominic shouted as he continued to drag the puke stained blonde out of the way.

When the smell of death hit her from the open church doors, Kat couldn't help but lose her composure and start gagging, almost dry heaving. She had faced the smell of rot before with little problem, but her body seemed to be more sensitive to it today. When everyone sprung to action, she was trying not to waste her previous meal. Hank's urging for her to help Karen pulled her back to the current situation, drawing her attention to the puking blonde and three zeds. Her right hand went instinctively for her pistol but she decided against using the weapon that would draw more dead to their location, opting for her hatchet instead.

Kat rushed the half-naked zed, pulling her tiny frame towards her target, wielding the hatchet with both hands to get more force behind it. She jumped at the near skeletal zed as she closed the distance, using the momentum of her run to carry the hatchet cleanly into the skull of her target with a quite audible crunch of bone and squelch of soft brain tissue, forcing the now limp body roughly to the ground with a definitive thud. As the near skeletal body dropped, Kat saw Dom eliminate the zed with the hanging head, leaving the Sunday-best zed as her immediate target.

"Over here, asshole!" Kat called out to gain the zed's attention as Dom got Karen to safety. She easily pulled her hatchet from her last target's mess-of-a-skull, still wielding it with both hands. She held her weapon like a baseball bat, closing the distance to her target before sidestepping it and kicking in it's right knee. The sudden loss of support forced it on it's belly for an easy dispatch with a downward swing by the petite survivor, splitting the zed's skull open about a third of the way down.

Hank let Katherine go to town on her targets as Dom dragged Karen away, impressed at her zeal. Moving around to the other side of the pews he headed to the alter, giving the approaching zeds a closer target and putting the wall behind him. As they turned and started trying to shuffle through a row he risked a glance to the door at the end where the original cluster had been when they entered. There had to be someone in there, or at least recently if there was a way out of wherever it led, otherwise the zeds would have lost interest. Right?

The feeling of hands smacking into his ankle as the lead zed tripped on the corner of the pew snapped him back to the situation at hand. Smashing the crowbar down to break the grip he took a step toward the alter. A downward swing finished the job. Keeping the other one's attention Hank slowly made his way back toward the door, risking quick glances backward to make sure he didn't get surrounded.

Karen and Dominic stumbled out of the church. Karen made her way to the flower pots that adorned the church steps and puked into one. Stomach sufficiently empty and all dry-heaving aside, Karen slumped down to the ground.

vomit clung to her chin, her hair stuck to her face, and a tear rolled down her cheek. "I can't do this, Dominic..." She said as she ran her hand up and down her thigh, firmly massaging her aching muscle.

"I have fucked up everything I have ever tried to do. School, the army, relationships... Kaidan, even you guys. What did I do to the universe to deserve this karmic fucking punishment?"

The sounds of grunting and the heaving of mushy flesh emanated from inside the church, eerily scoring Karen's self-reflective moment.

Hauling Karen outside and into the fresh air, Dominic would turn to watch as Hank and Katherine dealt with the Zeds within the church, leaving Karen to puke in peace before turning to half-heartedly listen as she bemoaned her life up until this point and how she had failed at everything she’d ever attempted “Karen look around, none of us are doing particularly well out here…since I took charge of the group we have done nothing but stumble from one disaster to another with more people dying as a result than I care to think about” Dominic stated  in a tired voice as he fished around the inside of his backpack “…now the way I see it, I can either keep on going, learn from my mistakes and do whatever it takes to keep myself and the group alive, or I can go behind that shed and blow my brains out” he said pulling out a threadbare T-shirt that had been destined for bandages and held it out to her so that she could clean herself up a bit as he fixed her with a stern look “now you listen to me Karen, you’re a pain in the arse liability with more than a few strikes against your name, however if I thought you to be a lost cause I’d have killed you a long time ago, So I need you to man up, put your big girl pants on and stop crying, ok?...now are you up to helping us inside? Or would you prefer to stay out here and keep watch?” Dominic asked, more than a little aware of the fact that the others were still inside and that he really should be helping them clear out the rest of the Zeds so that they could search for the missing girl.

Reaching into his bag he’d produce a bottle of water and hold it out for her to take with his expression softening to a weary smile “it’s not a trick question Karen, if you honestly don’t feel well enough to fight I’d sooner you say so…I’m not going to hold it against you, I promise”

Backing to wall Hank waited for the zed to get close enough before lashing out, his first swing knocking it to the floor while the second finished it off with a cracking of skull. Stepping next to the door he gave a knock. Suzie, or whoever's in there, we'll have this place cleared out in a little. He looked over the former congregation, "Or at least enough to make a run for it. And if you are Suzie, Addie looking for you with us, she's outside.

Lorenzo had been quiet all morning. Which wasn't all that unusual. Surly, pissed off silences were very Lorenzo-like. But this time felt different. He didn't look mad. Other than the usual, vague look of annoyance that seemed to manifest every time someone looked at him for more than three seconds. He was just... Quiet. Goddamn, even bordering on solemn. Not even prospective jabs at Dom pulled him out of his funk.

He lumbered on after the group as they went on their wild goose chase in Bumfuck Nowhere with no interjection. He stayed toward the back, watching their flanks. And having breakfast, which was apparently nips of whiskey he'd squirreled into his flask the night before. Why they brought along a little kid was beyond him. They were bringing a kid along to find what he assumed was an incredibly dead kid. Or whatever passed for dead in Zombieland. With the Caravan's remarkable string of luck, they would probably just end up with more dead kids than they started with. More dead fucking kids.

When they got to the church he swore he could smell something reeking. He eyed the cars in the lot. Might be able to rig something up. That was neither here nor there yet, first they had to check for the kid and for things that could bite him in the ass while he worked. "Gonna check outside," he said to the group's back, and went off on his own without waiting for acknowledgement; he wasn't even sure if they heard him.

It was a super cursory look around the perimeter of the church. He cut through the little graveyard and checked the borders of the little trees lining the property. He wondered what made the dead buried here different from the dead who could walk around. His grandmother's influence told him because the grounds were sanctified. Maybe there were people in there, clawing at their coffins. Well, good. They could stay there. It's what they deserved, the dead fuckers. He flipped off one of the gravestones just in case.

By the time he finished the survey and returned to the front, Dom was outside with a somehow even worse looking Karen. Now that was a feat. His pace slowed a bit, dark eyes narrowing at the pair, which knowing Lorenzo looked very judgemental, but he honestly was just thinking, wondering if they'd just found something really bad or if Karen's instability just made her constitution shitty. More dead kids, maybe.

"Good shit," he snarked at the pair. "Move it."

They weren't even in the way. He brushed by, machete out, taking the little steps two at a time. He moved into the church and split the skull of the first zed he saw from behind.

"Hey, Papi's home!" he sang as he wrenched the blade out. The force made him stagger a bit, he didn't have the use of his other hand to brace himself. The corpse fell. "Who wants some! I'm real scared, real loud, and reaaaal tasty!"

The church had great acoustics so he kept calling out to get the zeds' attention. They were dumb as rocks and tended to prioritize whatever was loud, moving, or alive. Lorenzo was all three. He moved up further, using the pews on his side to kind of coral the stragglers that took interest in him, and worked to systematically do what he did best. Kill a lot of shit. The church was getting cleared faster with him on the scene. With his bum arm he probably wouldn't last in a real fight but zeds were easy. This was the most cheerful he looked all day, really, in a sort of blood-thirsty, psychotic way.

"Yo, just make them dance around the benches," he instructed Hank, ignorant as to why he was posted up by the door. Then he seemed to notice the kid over the dead zed and something close to alarm came into his tone. He already wasn't happy about her being there and now she was in the way trying to kill shit? "And- you, fuck, get out! You trying to get bit, stupid?"

Damn it. He hoped the lack of response was just whoever was on the other side being scared. As it was it looked like they would have to clear the church instead of just leaving a path to escape from and closing the doors. With Dom taking care of Karen it looked to be an up hill battle with just Katherine and him.

At Lorenzo's grand entrance Hank gave a sigh of relief. Even with just one arm the other man was worth more then his weight in a fight. Bout time you showed up, I was getting worried you'd miss all the fun. And I'd be careful to stay on her good side, she's got a vicious side to her. He called, moving up to the pews. Taking the opposite side of the pews as Lorenzo he bounced in and out, keeping the remaining zombies' attention split between the two of them. It was a tactic that had served the group well before. While not the fastest way to take out those of the congregation that decided not to stay dead, one or two falling with each pass, it kept them from being overwhelmed. Of course if Dom and Karen were here the whole process would have gone a lot faster but they made good time.

Anything useful out there? Hank asked, grunting as he smashed a skull and sent the body sprawling sideways. With two real meals behind him clearing the church was one certainly easier, but months of rationing and poor nutrition still had an effect.

Kat couldn't help but take note of Lorenzo's loud and abrupt entrance. She was glad for the help, assuming by the look of the man that he was more than capable to hold his own against the dead, but all his shouting was a bit of a distraction. Hank and the rest of his group must have been used to it by now as Hank hardly seemed fazed, but Kat was used to a lonesome silence. She seemed a bit annoyed as she pulled her hatchet from the skull of the zed she was standing over, but she held her tongue.

Another glance at the other survivors revealed a more cheerful looking Lorenzo, something that didn't sit well for Kat. And then, of course, came the man's orders for her to get out of the way. That, being underestimated, she couldn't tolerate. Whether or not the man was still paying her any attention, she flipped Lorenzo off before quickly turning her attention to the nearest undead, her grip on her hatchet tightening. She ran at the shambling zed which seemed fixated on Lorenzo, its arms outstretched in true zombie fashion, before hacking into its skull. As the body dropped, she followed the other survivors' lead of maneuvering the dead around the pews for easy dispatch.

When Katherine joined in the rest of the walking dead were quickly returned to their proper state of existence. Depending on how long they stayed at the trading post she definitely made it on to Hank's list of people he wouldn't mind working with. As the last one fell Hank leaned against a pew to catch his breath. Surveying the mess of busted bodies weaved through the benches he sighed.  I really hope whoever was in that room is still in there. After another moment he used the crowbar to push himself up and headed to the back door again, stepping over several bodies that littered the main aisle. Addy, we may need you now. He called over his shoulder, figuring Suzie, if it was her, probably wouldn't respond to a guy based on what they had been told.

Stepping to the side of the door he knocked with the crowbar. The zombies are gone now. It's safe to come out.

Nothing but silence answered Hank. Addy wandered over to the back door with the others as they prepared to pry it open. "Susie, honey?" she asked hopelessly. Addy got choked up.

The door splintered when Hank pried it open. the door was solid wood, fairly strong, but the jam was flimsy. the strip of wood crashed to the ground and the door creaked open.

Inside the room:

The back office, the preacher's office, was dark. the windows were boarded up. There was a messy desk in the corner directly across from the door. And at the desk was the preacher... about ninety severn percent of the preacher. A small portion of the man was splattered across the floor of the room and the little revolver clasped in his fingers explained why.

The other side of the room held an army cot and a scratchy wool blanket. Wrapped in it was a small, child-sized corpse. Addy shakily ran into the room and cradled Susie's dead body, sobbing hard into her chest.

Close observation would reveal that Susie bore a zombie bite on the back of her calf, which had been tended to by the preacher. unfortunately neither basic first aide nor the lord almighty could stop the infection from spreading, and the preacher was forced to cut down the poor girl as the died and then rose again. there was a small, gentle incision in Susie's temple. He had done it mercifully and with great compassion.

Compassion so great that in his sorrow, the preacher had taken his own life. There was nothing else for the Caravan here. The sombre hunting party carried Susie's body to the grave yard for an impromptu funeral.

In the graveyard:

A couple of the travellers dug the grave in the empty corner of the cemetery beside a dead tree. "At least she's got some shade." Addy remarked as she cried once more. Susie was laid to rest wrapped in the scratchy blanket. Addy placed the girl's stuffed bear on her chest, and wrapped Susie's hands around it. "I don't want her to be alone in there." she said, tossing a handful of soil into the grave.

Addy walked away from the group to sit on the church steps to cry as they set about filling in the grave.

"Uh-huh," Lorenzo replied to Hank, dryly, giving him a dubious look when warned about the girl's "vicious side." He continued to prowl around the pews, encouraging the dead to file toward him in a manageable way. To Hank's question he shook his head. "Not sure. Haven't got to check those vehicles outside yet."

He didn't notice Kat's defiant flipping of the bird, the dead taking up most of his focus. He did notice something coming up on his side, the one with the bum arm, too late, and was surprised to see the kid dispatching an adult-sized zed. It had been creeping up on him. Grouchy and stubborn as he was, he didn't thank her. He'd said to stay out of the way. "I had him," he huffed. He didn't take anymore actions to remove her from the church though. That had to count for something. Or maybe not. He might've decided it was too much of a pain in the ass. It was hard to get a read on Lorenzo sometimes.

Once all the undead were dead-dead, Lorenzo wiped the worst of the gore and skull chunks stuck to his machete off on a corpse's back. He didn't speak anymore, just watched Hank messing around by the door until they managed to ease it open. Addy and Hank were closest. He lingered behind them, trying to peer inside for signs of trouble.

Didn't take long, but turns out it wasn't the type of trouble he could do anything about. Just more dead fucking kids.

He looked hesitant to enter, but followed after Addy. He checked over the priest's body to make sure he wasn't going to jump out and take a bite out of anyone. Someone else could deal with Addy. He took the revolver from the dead man, checked the pockets, gave the desk a cursory look and left.

He went to the church's door and waited there for everyone to get their shit together, watching the outside and leaning into the door-frame. His jaw was clenched tight. The muscle jumped as he ground his teeth.

With his arm the way it was, he couldn't help carry the body or fill the hole. "I'm gonna check the cars, if anyone wants to help once you're done back there," he told the others when they went by. Once they continued on he sat on the church steps and opened his flask.

Apparently Addy had a similar idea, because she came back to sit after a bit. Lorenzo had hoped for a quiet moment, but there was now a grieving woman crying in his ear. The fact the kid had died didn't surprise him. He'd been expecting this result all morning. Still, the rightness of his cynicism brought no comfort. He would have liked to be wrong. He wordlessly offered her a drink, giving the flask a little shake. He couldn't really think of anything comforting to say. It had been long ago established he was shitty at these things. The first things to come into his head weren't the right things. Well, what were you expecting. And people die all the time.

"Well," he said. There was a long, awkward pause. It seemed like that's all he was going to say for a moment. "That was pretty fucked. Least you know."

He got up and went to check the cars, to see if they could run or if they had any salvageable parts, but mostly because he didn't want to be around Addy. Least she did know though. There wasn't going to be a lifetime of sitting around and agonizing over if the kid was alive or not for her.

He hadn't wanted to break in the door. While it was possible the other person was too scared or mistrustful to answer, it also meant they could be too late. Something that was unfortunately confirmed when they finally got into the room. Watching Addy his grip tightened on the crowbar, numbness spreading through his veins. They had been so close. Though maybe it was better they hadn't found her sooner, Addy not having to witness Suzie's rebirth. It wouldn't have been the first time they had to deal with kid zombies but it didn't get any easier and he couldn't imagine knowing them. Didn't want to, turning his attention elsewhere as he crushed the image of it being Tom on the cot instead.

As perverse as it was there was one small consolidation to Suzie being a kid. It saved a little time on the burial. Thankfully the ground was still soft enough to dig with some pieces of the church broken off from the storm. Not the classic "six foot under" but not a shallow grave either. Leaving the others to handle filling in the grave he made his way over to where Lorenzo was looking over the cars.

Any idea how far we are from where we left the others? Hank asked, slightly distracted as he walked over. He still couldn't fully shake the earlier image of his brother on the cot. It'd be great if we could grab them before going back to the trading post. He started trying door handles on the chance someone forgot to lock their door.

For the most part Dom let Lorenzo and Kat do most of the work where dispatching the dead was concerned, the medic prowling up and down the central aisle watching for any hint of movement beneath the pews. However it would appear that the dead would remain dead on this occasion allowing Hank the opportunity to pry open the door with the loud splintering crack of the aged timber jambs, that normally would have been rather alarming had they not already dealt with the churches undead problem.

Stepping into the doorway it quickly became apparent to all involved that the happy ending they had been striving for wasn't going to happen "Well...that was a fucking waste of time" Dominic growled irritably as his eyes fell upon the remains of the dead girl and priest. Perhaps not the most tactful thing to say all things considered but he struggling to find the energy to care about the dead girl or anything else for that matter.

With Lorenzo relieving the dead priest of his revolver Dominic would quickly ransack the rooms sole cupboard and finding nothing but stacks of bibles and hymn books inside that were of no use to anyone. With the room now thoroughly searched all that was left was for Dom to wrap the dead girl up in the blanket and carry her outside to be buried.

With the ground being mercifully soft it didn't take long to dig a suitable hole using one of the spades he'd retrieved from the small and thankfully unlocked tool shed at the bottom of the cemetery "so...what are you planning on doing now this little debacle is over?" Dominic asked Kat as he filled in the hole "we could use a girl of your talents in our group, granted we're nowhere near as wells set up as the Trading post...but we wouldn't treat you like a little kid either...just give it some thought ok?" he said before continuing to silently work on filling Suzies grave.

The somewhat solemn impromptu funeral had wrapped up. Addie, grieving and in shock, moved like a zombie and said as much.

Karen decided to sit out on the burial of the child, fearing the same fate was approaching her own son if she didn't find a way to save him. She remained on the steps of the church alone, her aching muscles throbbing and cramping as she watched Lorenzo prowl the nearby parked cars.

Karen's body was gripped with withdrawal symptoms. She had nothing left to puke up, but that didn't stop her stomach from trying. Karen had vomited bile into the church's flower pots the entire time the hole was being dug. As the girl was being lowered into the grave, Karen had excused herself around the back of the church to relive herself as the effects of opiate withdrawal attacked the other end.

As the Caravan congregated in front of the church preparing to head back to camp they were greeted by the sound of a car driving on gravel. The dirt road snaked through the overgrown countryside a few hundred meters away from the front of the church. the signature column of dust rose up from behind the car as it neared, at considerable speed.

Guys? Are they coming this way? Karen asked through gritted teeth. She slipped her pistol from the holster on her hip. Karen's shaking hand tried to tug backwards on the slide but her grip was weak. She dropped the gun and it clattered down the church steps.

The car was now less than a kilometre away, and approaching fast.

With Addie being the only one who'd actually known Suzie, the funeral such as it was, was blessedly short and comprised mainly of Addie sobbing and Dominic filling in the hole once the dead girl had been placed inside.

It was only when they were all gathered out front and contemplating the journey back to either the trading post or the farm where they'd left the others that things started to get interesting. Hearing Karen's warning Dominic would turn to look at the approaching plume of dust and the accompanying sound of an engine working it's way down the gravel road towards them, followed by the clattering of Karen's Glock as it fell down the church steps.

Retrieving the weapon from where it lay on the gravel path, Dominic would quickly work the slide before handing the weapon to Hank, as the last thing he needed was someone getting shot because Karen had the shakes "well we have no idea whether they're friendly or not so I say we get back inside the church, close the doors and wait for them to pass, or failing that sneak out the back way" he said, though should the driver prove to be Kaiden then there may well be a hasty change of plans as he put a hole in Karen's psychotic offspring's head "if anyone has any better idea's now's the time to share them" he said, chambering a round into his own weapon as he watched the dust cloud looming ever closer.

Lorenzo was turning over the cars when Hank came over. He looked a little undignified, crawling over the backseat of a station wagon in search of anything useful under the seats. Nada. Unless an empty water bottle could be considered useful but God knew they could find crappy, empty plastic just about anywhere.

"Guess so, huh," he answered Hank in his customary grumble. It's not like it was his decision or something. He sidled out from the back seat and then, in a slightly softer tone, "bet you wanna get back to Tom."

He waved a hand, open palmed, indicating his search of the cars had been fruitlessly shitty so far.

"And I've got no fucking clue how far we are exactly. I'd have to see the map. You're better off asking Doc."

Lorenzo did smell strongly of alcohol, so he might not be the best to ask much of anything at the moment. He moved over to the front, popped the hood, and rounded the car. He hoped everything wasn't rusted to shit or gutted already.

"Y'know," he started again, voice low and conspiratorial. "Once we get everyone back together, maybe we can make something of that trading post. Would be nice to get the run of the joint. Haven't seen something that well put together in awhile."

It had taken him a few months to get acclimated to being bossed around by the Caravan. Progress at the trading post would, most likely, be just as slow and begrudging. He didn't like the idea of doing menial tasks, for pennies, for a bunch of dickhead strangers, but it probably beat their current living situation. Which was technically homeless, even more homeless than most people these days.

The train of thought was interrupted by the approach of the strange car shortly there after. Lorenzo sighed heavily and tilted his head for Hank to come over with the others. He agreed hunkering down in the church was probably the best course of action. He loaded up the revolver as he headed inside, noting it still had the priest's brain on the nose. Least with a small arm like this he could be somewhat useful in a gun-fight.

"For their sake, I hope it's not those Children of the Corn," he growled.

Kat didn't know how to react when they found Suzie's body. She didn't have much hope when they left the trading post, she had expected Suzie to be dead but she wanted so badly to be wrong. The body didn't seem to phase her much, but then again she was a quiet girl.

Despite being from the same trading post as Addie, Kat didn't try to comfort her, she didn't know what to say. She silently helped Dom bury the body, seemingly lost in thought. When asked about joining the Caravan, she simply nodded her head when told to give it some thought. But her daze was broken by the approaching car. She followed the others' lead, drawing her pistol and making sure it was ready to shoot. "We could hold here in the church if they try to attack. Unless these guys are territorial or really desperate for supplies, a few gunshots to show them we're serious should be enough to scare them off. Most people don't stick around when shot at. Worst case scenario, we try to lose them in the forest and cut back towards the neighborhood we were in earlier. Regroup from there."

It seemed to take Kat a moment to register what Lorenzo had growled. "What do you mean by Children of the Corn?"

Hank gave a small sigh when Lorenzo mentioned getting back to Tom. It's that obvious? Tossing a book ruined by an old spill and dropped candy back into the car he found it in he hoped the zombie horde Wyoming and he had turned toward the Lost Boy's truck had driven them far enough off the Caravan's trail. If they caught up...

Shaking his at Lorenzo's suggestion of taking over the Trading Post he joined the other at the car's front. Hard to figure out if he was joking even in the best of times, let alone coming off a night of drinking, Hank decided to take the comment at face value. Sure. He murmured, And if that doesn't work out then we have two groups who don't like us and we lose the closest thing to a safe haven we've found so far.

Any other conversation was cut off by the unexpected sound of the approaching car. Just what we need. Having already mentally taken Karen out of any sort of fighting Hank wasn't too surprised when he ended up with her gun, though he was far from the best shot around. Sure he'd practiced a little when they'd managed to get the extra ammo and found a basement to help reduce how far the noise traveled but he'd just never taken to it.

He frowned slightly at Lorenzo's reference, though it was slightly apt. The Lost Boys. To say they're leader doesn't like us...would be a bit of an understatement. He didn't know what dealings Katherine had with the other group before, for all he knew whatever was going on was just between them and the Caravan.

As Hank and Lorenzo brought up the possibility that the owner's of the car could be Lost Boys, Dominic would tighten his grip upon the battered automatic pistol he'd been carrying since this whole thing began "if it is them, they're dead" he spoke in a flat emotionless voice and a murderous glint in his eyes that said he was serious.

Backing up into the church Dominic would wait until they were all inside before closing the large wooden double doors; leaving just enough of a crack for them to see through without being seen themselves.Standing ready to push open the doors and start firing should they be required to do so, Dominic would snap his fingers at Karen to get her attention before then pointing at one of the dusty pews "sit there and don't make a sound" he hissed at the blonde addict before turning his attention back to the crack in the door. Judging by the sound of the engine the car and it's driver would be arriving any second now.

Of course, the driver of the oncoming car was WYOMING. The teenage boy sped into what couldn't really be called a "town." Wyoming's car slowed as it approached the T intersection the church lived on, and the boy's panicked face was clear to see.

Wyoming crawled through the intersection, poking his head out the window to see if there was any sign of movement in, or around, the church. It was as Wyoming was about to give up that a shovel in the graveyard on the side of the church toppled over. Wyoming slammed on the breaks and put the car in park in the middle of the road, a couple of meters passed the front door of the church.

Wyoming just stared out the car window at the cemetery with fear spelled all over his face.

As the battered pickup came to a stop a short distance from the front of the church Dominic was able to get a good look at the driver, easily recognising him as the boy they'd held hostage during the ill fated exchange in the town of Slaughter. The fact that the boy was alone and looked to be half scared o death meant nothing to Dom, the only thing that mattered to him was that the boy was one of them and was in his sights.

Opening the church door Dominic would take a pair of brisk steps out into the open before raising his pistol and squeezing the trigger, producing a hole in the windshield about two inches to the left of the boys head. Swearing under his breath Dominic would continue to advance on Wyoming firing another shot that forced him to throw himself across the passenger seat less he catch the round in his chest "there's no escape Mon Ami, you and the rest of you're murderous friends are zombie food!" Dominic shouted as he continued to advance of the pickup. Once he reached the drivers side door there would be no escape and the boy would die.

Hank frowned and cast a glance to Dom at the proclamation. If Kaiden had stumbled upon them then maybe by following through on his promise Dom could save a lot of trouble and lives later. Anyone else...could just make things worst. While he wanted justice for Ricky and what happened to Joe blindly killing anyone who might belong to the other group wasn't the way to go about it. Now wasn't the time to argue about it though as the car pulled up and they took their places around the doors.

When Dom pushed open the doors and started firing Hank looked out and felt his heart skip a beat. This was the opposite of a best case scenario he had in mind. Waitwaitwaitwait... Racing after the enraged man he pushed the gun up, hopefully throwing off any follow up shots and placing himself between them. Flicking he safety on he placed his own gun into his pocket and put out his hands. Dom, please, think about this for a moment. Kaiden's the one you want. You want to know where Kaiden is and what's going on with him... slowly he reached back and pointed to the car and its passenger, we need him alive. Let me talk to him, please. He could be escaping for all we know. Swallowing he met the other man's gaze. I owe him that much, at least. He hadn't told any of the others the role Wyoming had played in getting them out of the barn, only Tom and NM knew.

Snatching his arm free of Hank's restraining grip, Dominic would step out of easy reach but would make no move to continue firing...or at least not yet "what the hell is wrong with you? He's one of those asshole Lost Boy's that tried to kill us!" he snarled, pointing the gun in the direction of the pickup before letting it drop to his side once again "...and the way I see it one less of them in the world is a damn good start!" however it would appear that Hank not only felt that the boy should live but could also prove instrumental in finding and killing the groups psychotic leader; Kaidan.

He had to admit, however reluctantly, that using the kid to find Kaidan and the rest of the Lost Boys so that he could wipe the lot of them out in one hit made far more sense that killing them off piecemeal as and when he found them "what makes you think that we can trust him? Their track record on that front his pretty damn crap" he asked, losing some of the heat from his voice if not all of it.

It would be all too easy for the kid to walk them into an ambush, but then again perhaps Hank was right and the kid was running? after all he was out here all by himself "Fine...you have five minutes to convince him that it's in his best interest to tell us what we need to know or I'll cut his damn head off" Dominic coolly spoke as he holstered his gun, his hand moving to rest upon the hilt of his sword.

Lorenzo didn't have as good of a look at the driver. He'd followed behind Hank, pretty slow on the draw, and was still lingering by the church's door as things seemingly calmed down for the moment. He recognized Wyoming of course. He'd helped watch him while he was their captive, and had felt a little bad for the kid way back when. Course that was before his guys killed Ricky. Still, he seemed scared of the Lost Boys' leader, and just about everything, and honestly struck Lorenzo as a weak link. It was that obvious weakness that made him hone in on the kid in the first place. He wondered if he'd finally split of from the rest of the gang.

He leaned against the doorway with a grumble and rolled his shoulder. "Doc means it, real big on head cutting," he said as an aside to Kat. "Think it's a French thing. Might wanna look away."

For now he watched for signs of more company. If either Hank or Wyoming looked to him for support he'd chime in, but for now he just observed- which was unlike him. He was usually mouthing off or being disruptive in some way or the other but seemed a little subdued today in general. He was in the camp Wyoming was more use alive than dead but he understood why Dom was so pissed. Even if the kid was such a pussy he couldn't be a threat, his associates were gigantic assholes.

Hank could feel his heart pounding, half expecting his plea to fall on deaf ears and another shot to punch into the kid in the car. I'll...explain later. He managed, backing away, unsure how Dom would react to the full truth of their escape from the barn. Making his way to the car he tried to calm his breathing and heart rate. At least the other's anger had threw off his aim though it was sure to be little consolation to the youth. Passenger seat, now. If Tom was around he'd recognize the tone in Hank's voice as "don't argue if you know what's good for you". Taking a quick glance in the back seat to be sure the other was alone he unlocked the door and took the drivers seat. Even though he had five minutes it couldn't hurt if it looked like he had some sort of control in this situation.

Hand shaking slightly he rolled up the windows and pulled the key out of the ignition. The crow caws at midnight. He kept his eyes forward, gripping the wheel to steady his hands.

Kat didn't flinch when Dom started shooting at Wyoming. She covered his approach but stayed by the church doors, glancing up the road to make sure no more vehicles were approaching. When it seemed the shooting was over, she holstered her pistol and used the scope of her rifle to scan the road and treeline Wyoming came from. She didn't know what the Caravan had been through with the Lost Boys, but Dom's anger could only be caused by loss.

At Lorenzo's comment she replied, "I've killed a bandit with a molotov, decapitation sounds better than burning alive . . . How many did you guys lose to these Lost Boys?"
This message was last edited by the player at 02:00, Fri 24 Aug 2018.

Lorenzo gave the girl a bit of a funny look, like he couldn't tell if she was joking about the bandit or not. From the church, it did seem she could actually fight. "Since I been here," he held up a finger. "One. They caught one of our guys too, after that crazy ass storm rolled through. Roughed him up pretty good. We've had some kinda issues with 'em before I got here too, but I dunno all of it. I'm just along for whatever."

There was a finality to his tone that suggested that's all he knew, or at least cared to say, on the matter.

"Who taught you to make it out here?" he asked. "You kill a lot of dead dudes before? You can shoot guns?"

She was quite literally the first kid he met who could actually hold her own. Mortimer had taught Lizzie fuck all from what he'd gathered and he didn't know where his own sisters were.