In reply to Mahmoud (msg # 84):

Cookie tilted her head, giving Mahmoud the 1000 kilowatt stare, that could stop a man in his tracks, or at least inform him he'd stepped over a boundary.  Her voice was low; she was clearly considering the matter.  "This place is okay," she said, which was not the answer to the question, and once again flicked her gaze all round, unable to stop watching for any signs of trouble - dead or alive. "You'll be all right here, for a while, then you'll have to move fast, so don't forget how to run. Me - I want a few days away.  Scout ahead.  See what's going on."  The feeling that big trouble was brewing was bothering her, but she couldn't tell anymore if it was just nerves from everything that had happened suddenly coming home to roost, or a real 'storm sense'. With an unconscious motion, her fingers tapped the grip of her faithful Louisville slugger.  The relentless hazel eyes returned to Mahmoud's face; she could outstare a rattlesnake. "Will -you- be all right ?"   
This message was last edited by the player at 00:30, Mon 30 Mar 2015.

In reply to Lizzie Daniels (msg # 92):

The cowboy ran his fingers through his scruffy long hair and flopped his head backwards. He muttered to the sky "You gotta be kidding me" and rolled his eyes. Clearly his conversation with Gary, which had been far too candid anyways, had drawn to a close. Now there was something else to deal with. Bohannon outstretched his hand towards the little girl. Benson was unsure of himself around her. "Uh, come here. Stop crying. Come with me." He began walking away, beaconing her to follow, hand held out for her to take if she would. He walked briskly and without saying another word.

-----> Caravan Canal

The little girl takes the cowboys hand though shyly at first but then it grows a bit more confident as she follows along relaxing after her breakdown.

To Canal--------->

-in reply to Tom, Brady, New Mexico

Joe followed along after Brady by a few steps to join the younger fellows, Brady earning the wary ire of the archer as he watched the younger man snag a treat from New Mexico without asking. If he hadn't been curious in how the nominally laid back teenager would respond he might have slapped the food out of Brady's mouth before it reached his gullet.

The tall wiry Joe broke a weathered smile down to Tom, ignoring Brady's manners for the time being. "The forest, boy, going to practice with the bow a little while. You lot need to start using muscles you'll need for later.This.." Joe emphasized his point by reaching out and giving Tom's shoulder as slight squeeze; muscles that would be strong and lean after plenty of bow-shootin. Not anyone could fire a bow adeptly without the conditioning and training. Removing his hand he would tap his temple lightly , "..And this."

Turning to address NM, who had just arrived, the old fellow would shrug, "You come if ya want, Sante Fe." The grizzled survivor turned from the others, expecting them to follow as he gathered up the few things they needed. He had one extra bow he'd crafted besides his own, and two quivers of arrows. Joe carried both sets himself, unsure of who he wanted to give the weapons to first.

Before leaving he made sure to notify Luke of where they were going and why. The mustached millennial had been walking through their part of the compound on his way to the Big House.

->>> Homochitto National Forest, Ch.4
This message was last edited by the player at 06:44, Fri 03 Apr 2015.

In reply to Nevada (msg # 87):

Since first arriving with the Caravan, Cauldershore had always been intrigued by people's stories of survival, his own being rather uneventful. "See there, some say they've had nothing but bad run-ins with worse folk. But you're telling me that most people out there have been kind to you? Tell me, with supplies finite, such as they are, were people rather willing to share what little they had with you?"

In reply to Brady, Tom, and Joe:

New Mexico found himself getting caught up in an adventure out of the compound. He was a careful cat for the most part, yet he'd grown somewhat more relaxed over the course of the last month at the industrial park and with Joe and Brady they would likely be alright. His tentative thoughts were broken by Brady stealing a twizzler, promptly stuffing it in his dumb face. The shaggy teenager rolled his eyes and tucked the pack of candy deeper into his backpocket, making sure he was facing Brady as well to affect more security for his tasty treats. "Fuck off Brody." NM intentially messed up the guys name. He didn't have much against him personally, it was just that Benson's brother was a bit of an alpha male, big shot personality sometimes. Maybe in highschool Brady had been a football player, whereas Benson was a goth kid. The thought brought a knowing little grin to his face.

"Sure why not, I'm in."

>> To Homochitto National Forest


This message was last edited by the player at 22:29, Wed 22 Apr 2015.

Tom frowned slightly when Brady stole one of his punches and one of NM's Twizzlers. He was sure the man could have just asked for one, but the punches were his alone. Though it seemed like the other teen had it under control. He'd just count Brady's stolen punch as the "one to grow on"...or live on, given the circumstances.

The frown turned upside down as Joe elaborated on the plan. Resisting the urge to squirm under the poking and prodding he nodded. Sure. Taking a step he remembered his pile to arrows to be. Turning he scooped up the branches and the pipe he found to replace his bat. They went next to the tire so hopefully no one turned them into fire wood. Seeing Joe talk to Luke he ran over and asked the man to tell Hank where he was going, not wanting his brother to worry.

--->To National Forest

Cookie nodded a farewell to Mahmoud.  It was completely out of keeping for her to give any displays of affection, especially lately; she went to the supplies, drew out her essentials - two bottles of water and some rather stale crackers, with a can of something the label had worn off, but she expected it to have green beans or perhaps fruit cocktail, if she was lucky, inside.  Then she shouldered her bat, slung the shotgun and bedroll over her shoulder with a coil of rope, a small tarpaulin, and her handbag, and set off on foot.

It was time to find some wheels, for one thing.  It simply was not done that a Jersey Girl had to WALK places.  Whew, the idea !

Luke saw the group of would-be archers off, stroking one tip of his somehow well-maintained mustache in a thoughtful gesture as Joe and Tom left him with some messages for the others. The mustachioed millennial saw no problem with the excursion based on what he knew Brady and Joe were capable of. "No problemo Tom, I'll let him know." he assured the youngest before they were entirely off.

As they disappeared out of sight behind some buildings he turned away, planning on letting Cookie and Hank know of the respective messages. No sooner had he walked a dozen steps when he got sight of the fearless leader-apparent heading off on her own with telltale supplies in tow.

"Yo Mahmoud, should she be goin on a walkabout alone like that?" He asked the brown skinned dude Cookie had just walked away from. Mahmoud was becoming the equivalent of a Caravan uncle to him and some others, and since the Fort had come to casual terms.

Mahmoud knew how Cookie was and obliged her exit as she went away with little more than a nod as a farewell. It was often better that way, as making a big fuss about someone going on excursions was almost a bad omen. Better to assume that the other person would come back in one piece even if they usually didn't.

Luke's approach earned a nod from Mahmoud and a modest smile, as he stood leaning on his steel golf club with both hands propped upon the top of the leather grip. "Cookie can handle herself I'm sure. She needs some time alone anyway." He spoke casually, glancing to Cookie's retreating form one last time before turning more fully to the young former Fort-member.

"So what's up? I see Joe took some people off somewhere there." Mahmoud hoped that New Mexico wouldn't be too taken aback when he returned to find that Cookie was no longer with the group, even if the intention wasn't long term. Despite Cookie's beliefs that NM was giving her the cold shoulder, he knew for a fact that NM was quite close with their erstwhile leader.

"Come on, lets let Dominic know whats up."

-to Caravan Canal and Perimeter.

Luke shrugged off his own question when Mahmoud easily brushed off any concerns. No matter what Luke thought, he was happy to ease off any misgivings. Those who could relax despite the world they were in were better off. "Oh well Joe is taking Brady, Mexico and Tom out for archery lessons in the forest. Didn't say when they'd be back but they were traveling light so back later today I reckon." The hipster crossed his arms over his chest, his shirt some dirty apparel with a witty saying on the front. He was unarmed except for a machete which rested in a sheathe, strapped to the side of his right thigh.

"Alright lead the way boss."

-to Caravan Canal/Perimeter

Isabelle took a few steps with the one leg she had left, one crutch under an arm to supplement the part of her where she was missing below the knee. Stopping and leaning against the outside wall of the Big House she caught sight of the raiding part out near the perimeter, and couldn't help but feel powerless. She'd been a fighter, a raider, and valued member of the group and now she felt like a simple cripple. Izzy couldn't blame the others for leaving her out, for she was indeed a liability on raid, yet she held out hope that somehow she could overcome her obstacles and become valuable once again.

Crossing her arms over her chest, she remained propped up against the wall with her good leg, her stump was concealed by pinned fabric, and she left her crutch to the side, glad to be rid of it for the moment. Dominic had chopped her leg off when it had been caught in a bear trap four months before during a raid. He'd saved her, but sometimes she wondered if she'd have been better off dead. Spotting Dominic amongst the gathering of raiders, she couldn't help but but hypothesize if Dom would make the same decision if an accident happened again. The deceased Christopher's cavalry sword that Dominic carried was a constant reminder.

In reply to Isabelle (msg # 104):

---> The Big House

Karen came out to stand by Isabelle, all suited up and ready to go. With her thumbs hooked into her duty belt she said "hey..." After having cried to Izzy earlier, she wasn't sure what to say now. She felt now was in inopportune time to rehash what she asked before, but didn't think cheap small talk was appropriate either. Karen could ask about the leg, and how she was doing, but the forlorn look on the woman's face told that story plainly enough. At this particular moment, "hey" was all she could manage. But Karen lingered none the less, wanting to offer Isabelle her support in some small way.

Isabelle didn't outright acknowledge Karen's presence as she came to stand near her. They were both women of dignity but only one of them had the ability to enforce the fact. Izzy had been part of the original Caravan, and had carried with her the memory of how Karen had betrayed them all, but it had been to save her boy, Kaidan, and while he was now lost, at least Karen had a fighting chance. For her own part, Isabelle's children were in parts unknown, and she was even more unable to find them then she had been before. The only reason she'd stayed with the Caravan so long, she told herself, was to angle them in the direction she felt her kids were. The Colony..

"I wish I could go with you on the raid. Instead I'm stuck here, trying to figure out if being left alive like this.." She lifted her stumped leg for emphasis, glancing down at it in disdain but silent contemplation, "..Was a mercy or a punishment." She knew she was clearly feeling sorry for herself, and managed a faint smile to put Karen hopefully somewhat at ease. Looking to the other woman, who was hobbled in a way different than her own, there was some kindred spirit underlying the both of them together. "All I ever wanted was to find my kids. When I last spoke with them, I sent them away to the Colony, or at least where we thought the Colony was.. I should have stayed with them, but I was selfish." Isabelle continued, sorrow in her words, but her features were neutral and almost eerily vacant, like she felt like an apparition nowadays. "What the hell are we doing out here Karen?"
This message was last edited by the player at 03:58, Sun 26 Apr 2015.

Karen pulled her hair back and shook her head. "I don't even know. I like to think we're just doing our best. But we both know our best isn't good enough. Never was. Otherwise our kids would be here with us." The words left a bad taste in Karen's mouth. Was this place really a home for Kaidan? It was barely a home for her. No, Karen had failed as a mother her whole life. None of the decisions she'd made seemed to be the right ones. She always pretended she was doing her best, but what good was that? It was all bullshit. When Kaidan's dad died, she joined the army and went to Iraq. That was certainly not "her best." Karen really had a long history of her best never being good enough. She lost Kaidan when she went to Iraq, she almost lost him when Atlanta fell, she lost him to that bastard Ferguson back in St. Louis and massacred the Caravan to get him back, and then she lost him to Lyle when they disappeared from Fort Dixie. Karen punched the door frame they were standing by. "Not fucking good enough..." She repeated as her mind filled with failures.

Isabelle watched Karen closely as the other woman tried to keep her composure and only partly succeeded, her fist lashing out and punching the rotten door frame of the entrance to the Big House. She didn't know how to make it better that Kaidan had up and gone and never came back. Maybe it was worse that Karen had done what she'd done to protect her boy and then he'd never returned from a raid. Izzy had a separate story with her kin, also traumatic but with more distance from the present. "Karen; we don't know what happened to Kaidan, so whatever you think has happened, you don't know for sure. Neither do I with my own.. We need to focus on what's going on right now, right here. I always tried to keep the group moving, it didn't matter which direction." The broken-winged survivor would have kicked idly at the dirt below her had she had the foot to spare. In her heart her aims had never changed, yet she had been hobbled in her efforts to find her loves ones. Sure it was a big country, but somehow she knew that if she kept at it, she'd find what she was looking for.

"We need vehicles and fuel for them, bottom line. I don't mean to tell you what you should do, but I can't do it myself. We need to get out of here as soon as we can. Moving is living." She added, her thoughts a mix of varying doubts and dreams, her eyes drifting down to where her right leg should have been as she mentioned that 'moving was living'. "Just do what you think is best. We both want the same thing, I think.."

Karen sighed a very large sigh. A sigh of complete and utter frustration. "That's what I try to do. It's like every time I stop moving, even for a second, it all comes back. I go out on the road every time there's a raid. I dunno, maybe I'm hoping to bump into him. Like, maybe he's out there, just around the corner, and all I have to do is be in the right place, at the right time. Is that stupid?" Her opportunity for an answer was cut off by Dominic's signal. At least he waited for me. "Talk again another time?" Karen liked feeling like someone understood what she was going through. It made here feel like she wasn't alone in this Caravan.

Karen ran to catch up with Dominic and the raiding crew.

----> To Perimeter

-----> From Big House

Lizzie looks around the courtyard as she moves to go see Hector and waves to him before she climbs toward the roof he occupied. Hector was someone she trusted and considered a friend even though he was closed off more often than not. Most times she would sit near him with Mortimer and watch things. Sometimes they would talk and she felt like he may need that today so she stands by him, "Hey Hector. I found a dead rat today and was wondering if we could eat it." She was still curious about it and wanted to give Mortimer something to make up for taking his food.

In reply to Lizzie Daniels (msg # 110):

Hector stood up top of the Big House with a hunting rifle slung over his shoulder. It had few if any bullets, but it had the scope for viewing, and it looked dangerous enough. He leaned over the stone edge of the rooftop as the raiding party departed, the tall former SWAT member dark against the sparsely clouded spring sky. His eyes were caught by Lizzie down below, one of those left over when a large contingent of their group disappeared behind the outer edge of the ramshackle buildings dotting their perimeter. He remained resolutely at his post, though the stoic watchman heard her assent as she neared the roof top from the precariously stable staircase below.

"Hi Liz." Hector's voice was deep and strong yet conveyed an introspection. Shifting his body to more fully face Lizzie, yet remaining at his post at the corner of the rooftop, ever vigilant, he would tilt his head slightly as he considered her question. "Probably not a good idea. If a rat dies out here then it might have eaten or drank something bad. Rats can always find food, and rarely die of old age." The tall, dark man answered, glancing out to the perimeter again before his gaze shifted back to his young friend. "Good thinking though. If only we could find something bigger. One rat wouldn't feed anyone very much, anyway, not even you, Liz."

Lizzie looks to Hector and then follows his routine by looking around. She considered his words and nods at his comment, "I never thought about diseases and stuff like that. That's really smart." She thought a little bit before pulling the rat out and holding it. "Do you think we could use it's blood and guts on our bullets? Wouldn't that spread the disease the rat had into the things we shoot at?"

Lizzie always was as curious as her mom and liked thinking about things which didn't end with that as she faces Hector to ask another question, "Why are you always up here all the time Hector? Other people can keep watch you know. Like Bill or Benson or maybe Joe. Why are you keeping watch by yourself? Doesn't it get lonely?" She was more concerned about him than anything and it showed.

Hector may or may not have grinned a little at Lizzie's reply to his advice, his countenance on the whole stable and attentive, not giving too much away. "I like how your mind works, but such a thing is more likely to cause a misfire in the chamber of the gun, and hurt whomever is holding it. Though you might want to run that idea by Joe. It would be more practical to coat an arrowhead, as it cannot explode in your hand." Was it an attempt at humor mixed in with the suggestion? "You should put that thing down, you are more likely to get sick from touching it, and we don't want to stress out Loa and Dominic if they catch you playing with such things." He understood she was bored at times, so such risks were expected. They would not be able to conceal the true nature of the world from Lizzie much longer, in that she would soon have to learn how to defend herself, and not just be protected.

With her next question he glanced to her again, back from the perimeter, noting the concern on her features and in her young voice. He was silent for a moment, assessing what words to use, especially given his company. Though he'd been trained to be quiet and strong with enemies, he also knew that children needed to be spoken to like adults, especially these days.

"Because I am sad, Lizzie. My best friend died."

Lizzie listened to Hector's advice and put the rat back into her back pocket watching it hang out there. Satisfied it wasn't falling out looks back to the big man, "I'll ask Joe then. You're pretty smart Hector."

When he answers her question though about why he stays away she can't help but go to the man and hug him, "I'm so sorry your friend died. You must have been close. If Mortimer died I would be sad too. What happened to your friend?"

"Well, I'm not sure I ever quite said that. Just that it was back when I left Reno." The scrawny brunette offered in a playful retort, flashing him a slight smirk as between the fold of the ragged dress shirt she was hanging up on the line. She took a silent moment to consider her explanation, as she shuffled on her toes to work on the next wet article draped on the shoulders of her sweatshirt. "Mind you, this was early in our new phase of contemporary life, just a couple of weeks after the major outbreaks, and maybe a week after the overtaking of Reno. There were still a number of people who were cautiously optimistic about their chances. Power was still available, and the famine hadn't really been realized yet"

"I happened upon a group of them...." She explained, as she furthered into a task, pausing a moment as a distracted, somewhat sarcastic smirk arose on her features, one that seemed not to be aimed at the curious Brit, so much as to herself. "...Well, I suppose it's more like they came upon me. I was holding out in an abandoned rest stop motel off the interstate, when they came in from a break from the road. A sorry sight I must had made. Just a fifteen year old girl, scared out of her mind, half-starved, wearing dirty clothes, and desperately threatening them off with a broken broomstick. Maybe that's why they pitied me as much as they did." A half-muffled soft chuckle escaped her lips, resonating with a bit of reservation over her disclosure, finally peaking down a moment at Cauldershore. "They shared their food with me, talked to me, even offered me a place in their vehicle. I was always told not to take rides from strangers, but I think I was just too weak to reject such a kindness at this time. They took me as far as they could. I was very fortunate, even by those early standards."

Her story was interrupted by the rather distracting sight and sound of a number of people making for the exits. The bulk of which were the able-bodied men, both young and matured, adorned in their roughest gear, much of which they wouldn't bother for just another lazy day in the Compound. Most of them carried their firearms in sight, if they had any, or their hand-to-hand weapon of choice fitted on their bodies or packs. It would had been enough to be concerned, especially for a day that began with a bit of excitement, but there was no real sense of emergency in the way they carried themselves. To the accustomed, it appeared like they were gearing up for another scavenging run. Nevada watched them quietly as they passed by in loose groups, chatting amongst themselves in the distance, while she continued her work setting up the lines quietly. Her features seemed a bit distracted with a private thought as they passed, though she managed a small polite smile at those who were leaving, as well as for her laundry companion.
This message was last edited by the player at 19:57, Fri 08 May 2015.

In reply to Lizzie Daniels (msg # 114):

If Hector had any qualms about the rat going into Lizzie's pocket he did not show it. When complimented on his intelligence, he stoically, or modestly, downplayed the comment with a respectful nod as if he were talking with another adult. When she moved to hug him he was slightly surprised, his tall lean form shifting as the young one wrapped her arms around his midsection, unsure of how to respond at first before he slowly returned the hug with his own long arms returning the affection. "The cold, starvation, we don't know. She went in her sleep, and never woke up." he replied quietly, his voice still even and neutral, no tremble or change in his tone, a far-away look in his dark brown eyes as he stared nowhere in particular.

In reply to Nevada (msg # 115):

Cauldershore managed a friendly wave as the raiding party left sight of the park. He sighed as he returned to the scrubbing, listening to Nevada. "I traveled up to see my father when news broke of the spreading epidemic." The Brit paused a moment, inexplicably. "He had always feared some horrid fate would befall America. And in hindsight, we both know how right he was. He built a shelter, below his basement. He stocked it with food and weapons and supplies of all kinds. But he had only enough for a couple people for one year." The seated man handed a flannel shirt up to the girl to drape on the line. "We never really got along, my father and I. There was respect of course. We were civil mostly for my mother's sake. But when the dead rose he took me in. I was his own, regardless of our lifetime of squabbling." Cauldershore paused again, taking a long, slow breath in. "When the food ran out, he simply up and left. Took some weapons with him. He disappeared without a word. And with no food to eat, So did I. But I wasn't like you. I hadn't spent a year on the road, as you all say. All this still feels pretty new to me. I feel like I'm behind, you know? I don't have the skills you all have picked up, and I certainly have not acquired the cold heart or strong stomach that most of you have, that gets you through the things we have to do to survive."