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.