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.