Welcome to Slaughter
  Population 966
                        0

The Caravan has but few choices of towns to raid these days. St. Francisville had yielded some respectable supplies last time, but now lies barren. The next best choice had been selected as Slaughter, Louisiana. On foot, the journey to Slaughter took four hours.

Slaughter is a quaint little out-of-the-way town, boasting not of exotic attractions or scenic vistas, but of hard working, regular folk. The main drag as we enter town displays the local "mom & pop" grocery store & pharmacy, a corner gas station, a small sheriff's office, barber shop, hardware store, and the town pub. The outlying streets are home to low density residential, three churches, and some local industrial lots.

The door to the grocer bangs in the wind, one of the only sounds to be heard but for the chirping of birds. The windows are smashed and at a cursory glance, the shelves appear picked over. The gas station's pumps hang discarded on the ground but the convenience store may hold promise of snack foods, soda pop, and expired milk, should the Caravan be so lucky. The sheriff's office is small enough to make Bill's look like a New York Precinct. One white squad car is parked in front. The barber shop sports the classic red and white pole. The hardware store is a likely place to find soil, fertilizer and perhaps some spare tools not scavenged for weapons. The bar, the town's only, is a dive. The local's would have drank away their nights there for lack of absolutely anything better to do. The front doors of the place are heavily chained from the outside and the back door is bolted shut. The moans of the undead can be heard from inside. Someone put them in there...

THE RAIDING PARTY:
Ricky Robes
Dominic Dubreton
Hank Lucion
Gary Szymanski
Benson Bohannon
Sam
Bill
Karen
Luke
Lorenzo
Sarah Miller
This message was last edited by the GM at 04:31, Mon 27 Apr 2015.

The cowboy stopped in the middle of the road to take in his surroundings. He wasn't sure if the hike was going to end up being worth it or not. This place looked pretty picked over. Except the bar. "The Last Call" It was an ironic name, considering the situation. Bohannon broke off from the others without saying anything and walked slowly towards the front doors. The look on his face was grim. Benson rattled the chains on the door handles, causing the dead patrons inside to stir. The moaning and groaning was like a drunken orchestra of emphysema patients. Dry, lifeless hands and bodies pushed against the door, begging to be released and to consume flesh once more. Bohannon held the door handles tightly.

If he truly wanted a drink, all he had to do was break these chains. How many zombies could there be in there? If he opened the doors, he could give himself enough distance to lead them out and start taking them down one at a time. What if there were too many? He didn't want to pull the others into this. This wasn't their fight. What if he died? That wouldn't be the worst thing, but dying like that, torn to bits by zombies? No. That was not how Benson Bohannon would die. Not if he had any choice in the matter. But right now, he really was considering it. Maybe he was out looking for punishment. Maybe he wanted to suffer. He definitely wanted to die, but not like this.

Bohannon laid his head solemnly against the door, his thoughts going 'round in circles. Playing over and over. He just wanted a damn drink...

Karen watched as the cowboy crossed the road to the doors of the bar. The sudden uproar of the undead as he reached them sending chilling ripples though the silent air. She watched him linger there, doing whatever he was doing. She almost understood. She too found herself lost and alone in Zombieland, and having failed to keep her family together. Karen had burned so many bridges with the horrible things she'd done, she knew what it was like to feel alone. You didn't have to be alone to be lonely. In some strange way, Karen knew what Bohannon was thinking. Maybe she could help him.

Karen came up behind the cowboy and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Don't you think you could use a haircut more than a drink right now?" She asked, pointing at the barber shop. Bohannon laughed and strangely enough, agreed. The pair of them walked across the street to the barber shop. The glass door was painted in old timey white and gold letters "Vince's barbershop." Karen actually felt bad about smashing it with her nightstick. "After you." She told the cowboy.

The near-lifeless town was eerie to say the least. The vast emptiness of it all reminded Ricky of the few lonely months he endured before he found the Caravan. The quiet was soon broken by undead moans from the pub as Benson agitated the bar patrons/prisoners, only to be escorted away by Karen. Ricky glanced around at the surrounding buildings before turning his attention to Dom. "So what's the plan here? Split off and search in small groups or stay together and really scavenge anything useful from building to building? If it's the former, I suggest we meet back here in maybe fifteen minutes or something, get a general idea of overall supplies. Hell, maybe even clear out the bar and bring back some spoils of war, if we dare!"

In reply to Ricky Robes (msg # 4):

Sarah looked around this ghost town, well, there were zombies in place of those ghosts but the town was dead either way, literally. Listening to Ricky she thought of an idea suddenly "Hey Ricky, what if maybe before we do the dangerous things we can see if there is a wheel barrow or wagon in the hardware store. Besides the possible soils in there or hell even maybe seeds... we will have something to wheel out the booze."

----> Canal & Perimeter

Slaughter....who in their right mind would call a town slaughter!? it was just asking for trouble Dominic silently asked himself as he passed the town sign upon which somebody had helpfully painted the town’s current population in red spray paint along with his opinion of the local sheriff.
The town like most of the others they had seen was small with only a handful of shops and a bar on its main drag in order to serve the handful of people that lived in the surrounding houses. He somehow doubted they’d hit the mother lode here but anything was better than nothing and besides you never knew perhaps one of the churches had been doing a food drive when Z-Day hit?

As the raiders began filtering out into the main street Dominic watched as the Cowboy made straight for the chained up bar doors; his hand tightening about the hilt of his yet undrawn sword when he heard the moans of the dead locked within having been provoked by the Cowboy’s attempt to enter.  It wasn’t until he’d been safely led away from the doors by Karen than Dom was able to relax his grip upon the blade and answer Ricky’s question on how they were going to do this “We’ll just get under each other’s feet if we go in mob handed, No we’ll search the main drag in small groups and then move on once we’re finished, as for the booze…we’ll play that by ear” he replied unsure as to whether the risk of releasing a horde on the off chance that there may be a few warm beers inside was worth the risk. The other upside of them all staying roughly in the same area was that  they’d be able to come to each other’s aid should something go wrong which if they raided the bar unprepared was almost certain to happen.  Also having everyone in small groups would also serve his own purposes quite nicely considering the other problem he had to deal with “Luke! You’re with me!” he shouts over to the moustachioed young man as he headed for the grocery store, deciding that since it was him who had coerced Luke into coming then he’d better look after him.

With the sound of broken glass crunching beneath his boots Dominic scanned the gloomy interior of the near demolished and heavily looted shop for any sign of Zed’s before speaking to Luke who had presumably followed him inside “Luke me and you need to have a little chat” he said in a conversational tone of voice as slowly walked through the shop looking at the shelving for anything that may have been overlooked by the last group of people to have been here “...Mahmoud tells me that you’re the one that saw Cookie leave, Luke I need you to keep quiet and not tell anyone what you saw...If people learn that Cookie’s gone then all hell is liable to break loose so we need to keep a lid on it for the time being”  Dominic continued, speaking in the same conversational tone of voice so that anyone looking their way would just assume they were passing the time as they searched the shop. Though the deeper he got the clearer it became that they wouldn’t be finding anything but discarded packaging and rotten produce if the smell was anything to go by. Perhaps he’d have more luck in the pharmacy? assuming of course that it wasn’t locked up tight “So what do you say Luke? Can I trust you to keep this between ourselves?” 

Lorenzo stopped to look around the dumpy little town, seeming either bored or annoyed. It looked like the type of place that would have consisted of a bunch of hicks. He wondered momentarily where all the ghouls could be, and if they were going to pop out of some dark corner, when Benson approached the bar. The chained doors rattled and told Lorenzo what he needed to know, not that he was going to count on every one of the assholes being trapped in there. He didn't seem very concerned, or even interested, by the cowboy's defeated body language and so he turned away to peer down the street. Showing any kind of weakness was a great way to be eaten alive (and not just by zeds), and frankly it still wasn't clear if Lorenzo knew how to deal with emotions beyond flying off the handle.

He listened to Sarah and Ricky as they talked, fidgeting between looking at them and the buildings. "Wagon's a good idea. Booze is gonna be shattered all to fuck if it's trapped with those ghouls," he muttered to no one in particular. Once Dominic began to speak Lorenzo once again proved what a great team player he could be, and began to walk down the street away from the conversation, drawing his knife.

The gas station's convenience store is what he wanted to give a quick once-over before worrying about transporting soil. It likely wouldn't yield much, but he half entertained the idea of finding some sort of goody for that kid back at their "base." If he was her at that age, he'd be bored crazy. He approached the empty looking building and peered into the broken window. "Hello?" he called, waiting to see if there were any zeds drawn by the sound of his voice from the dim corners. "Anyone wanna come bite me?"

Bohannon dusted off the barber's chair with an old rag. "Sorry, I ain't go two bits for ya." He said with some humour back in his voice. Bohannon took a seat. Karen gave the room a quick once-over to find a pair of scissors, a comb, and an electric clipper that didn't have dead batteries. "Don't suppose you could gimmie a shampoo first, huh?" the cowboy asked, knowing there was no water. "Lord knows I could use a scrub..."  he added as he flicked the hair out of his face. His beard had grown to bushy over the winter, and his tangled hair hung about his shoulders. "Just a trim, don't you give me none of that "just a little of the top" and then hack the whole thing off nonsense. Y'hear me?" Karen nodded and smiled in agreement, laughing softly. Bohannon cringed but maintained his gruff persona as Karen drug the comb through his knots. "Ow! You don't gotta rip my damn scalp off, do ya?"

Karen giggled at the cowboy. It was like trying to brush a little girl's hair. "Stay still or I'm going to cut your ear off, okay?" She warned him as she started cutting. Bits of blonde hair fell to the floor like feathers on the wind. Small strands clung to the laces of her combat boots. Karen combed and trimmed and combed and trimmed. This was nice. It was simple. It was like real life, before the fall of man and the rise of Zombieland, also known as "Going to shit." Karen laughed. "You remember when we went to St. Louis? And Cookie had us go off into the city, and light that diversion fire? You remember that? We found that beautiful old bar, with the most fantastic woodwork inside. And we burned that fucker to the ground." Karen laughed casually as she recalled. "Why did we do that?" She was trimming the back of the cowboy's hair. He was looking down and laughing. "What a fucking waste of time! I mean, what is the point of a diversion if we were just going to smash through the front doors and start shooting anyways?" Karen stopped cutting and took a step back as she laughed. "It's like, did anybody even see the god damn smoke? Like what the hell?"

Ricky nodded in response to both Sarah's suggestion and Dom's reply before the groups started separating. He took note of Lorenzo wandering to the gas station but didn't say anything, trusting the man to keep himself safe. He turned back to Sarah, putting on a slight smile. "Let's go find us that cart." With hatchet in hand, he headed for the hardware store. Once at the door, he gave it a quick knock, listened for any noise inside, and readied himself should anything unfriendly or of the undead variety come at them.

Bohannon chuckled with Karen as he remembered. It was sort of the first time they had spent together. "Yeah. That whole thing was a gong show." The cowboy sighed. "Do you remember what I said to you that day? About Cookie?" He turned his head to look at Karen, causing her to spin his head right back around to keep cutting. "I told you she'd never forgive you for what you done." Bohannon turned his head again, this time stopping Karen's hand from turning it back, pausing for a second to look her in the eye. "I told you that when the time came, you had to be ready to do what you needed to do." Karen tried to turn his head back once more. "Now wait. I told you, that you had to be ready to kill Cookie. Karen, I was wrong. Cookie ain't never done nothin' to deserve that. She's tried her best to keep us together. She got us through St. Louis. She got us to the Fort. And she got us through the winter. Nobody else stepped up to do that and for that, well, Cookie's alright in my books." Benson turned back to let Karen continue cutting. "She might not be the best strategist I ever met, but Cookie got us through hell."

Karen started trimming the top of Bohannon's hair. "Cookie didn't do those things Bohannon. The Caravan did. The Caravan is a group. A strong group who will persist with or without Cookie. The Caravan doesn't need Cookie any more than any individual who's a part of it. Cookie's just as lost and scared and clueless as all the rest of us. It's not the leader that makes the Caravan, it's the people in it. People like you and me Benson." That was one of the first times Karen had ever identified herself as a member of the Caravan. She always felt like an outsider. Like her ploy to gain their trust and subsequent betrayal could never earn her a place among them, even if she traveled with them. Ate with them. Grieved with them. Frankly Karen was astonished that nobody had killed her after St. Louis. Maybe they all just felt sorry for her...

Karen brushed the hair off Benson's shoulders and traded the scissors for the clipper, taking a stool directly in front of the man. She ran the comb through the thick, curly hairs of Bohannon's beard, gliding the clipper over it with the other hand. Not too short, not too long. She didn't want to give him razor burn or anything. Karen asked a question over the buzzing of the clipper. "Why do you think they kept me around? Why didn't they send me away, or kill me?" Karen was looking Benson in the eyes now. She really wanted to know why. She stopped shaving him for a moment.

In reply to Dominic Dubreton (msg # 6):

Luke stayed within the thick of the group as they hiked out and then into Slaughter. He almost grinned but almost winced at the name of the place. Population zero? For fucks sakes.. When his dominant hand wasn't stroking and adjusting the the fine symetry of his mustache, it was resting ready on the hilt of the machete strapped to his thigh. He could tussle as good as any survivor still, well, surviving at this point, but he was human and rational enough to avoid all trouble, from human or not, when he could. When they split up he was split about whether it was the right call, as it was always safer in a herd of survivors but probably not as efficient as parting into groups. Seeing Ricky and Sarah go one way, Lorenzo with them at first, Benson and Karen another, while Gary and Sam and Bill deliberated, he didn't hesitate to follow with the natural choice; Dominic, who promptly invited him along.

When they neared the grocery store, Luke was a step or so behind Dominic, slowly sliding his machete out of the sheathe, not wanting to use, but wanting it ready just in case. He'd been holed up in the Fort for months before the Caravan came, besides the odd hunting excursion. Fort Dixie hadn't often gone on supply runs, they traded with the bandits. He'd felt powerless through much of those episodes, and so hadn't brought up troublesome and morally reprehensible past unless he had to. Who would? Peering through the windows from their position outside, his right hand gripped his machete tight, his ears practically perking and twitching through his curly dark hair for any sound of biters. Seems legit.. Once they entered and Dominic addressed him, he straighted his posture from the assassins-creed hunch he'd had. "A chat? What did I do this time?" The younger man replied in a guilty way but humorous way, wondering what Dom had on his mind that they had to be alone to talk about.

They slowly delved through the rest of the store, Luke eyeballing anything that might seem unplundered or unspoiled. "Well I guess.. But aren't people going to notice that she's gone by the time we get back?" The hip young fellow half-agreed as he approached the pharmacy door with Dominic, reaching out and trying the lever knob, which was locked. "Fuck. Maybe we can break the glass?' He glanced over to the thick glass separating the pharmacy from direct contact with the customer counter. "I don't see what the big deal, is, aren't we just going to wait for Cookie to get back? You think someone's gonna start shit?"
This message was last edited by the player at 03:08, Thu 30 Apr 2015.

In reply to Lorenzo (msg # 7):



There came no audible or visual response to Lorenzo's query, just silence like that that covered most of the town, minus the bar. The store interior seemed relatively intact, though dirty as it likely had been before Z-land, plus a year of built up grime and decay. An underlying unpleasant odor filled the place, like most of the buildings that held food that didn't put up well. There were bags of the usual (albeit expired and very questionably edible..) munchies along mostly organized displays, with the cheese dips, etc and the slurpee machine looking and smelling the most revolting. Any further observations of note would have to be done inside. The door was unlocked.
This message was last edited by the GM at 03:43, Thu 30 Apr 2015.

In reply to Ricky and Sarah:

There came no response to Ricky's knock that was noticeable. The door was locked, and most of the outer windows intact except for the very end of the front of the building, where the glass was already shattered. Inside the store still had many supplies of sorts along its many shelves going back at least a dozen rows. Some drivable lawn mowers sat on display near the front of the store. Beads of glass lay strewn across the part of the floor near the broken window, however.

"It's open" Gary said, trying the door. He had a habit of sneaking up on people, and he wasn't sure Lorenzo knew he was there. Following his deliberations with Bill and Sam, Gary had wandered after Lorenzo. The young man had the right idea, if there was food to be found here, it would be found in the small store he now entered.

The bell that hung above the door jingled as Gary slowly stepped through the doorway. "Seems OK in here." He said to Lorenzo, gesturing for him to follow.

The pungent smell if the rotting food met Gary's nostrils and he cringed. Looking around the store, he took stock of the contents; bags of snack foods hanging by the register, magazines, lottery tickets, bags of ice that had melted long ago when the power quit, disposable cell phones and melted chocolate bars. Not exactly the kind of supplies they were searcing for. "There must be some canned food or something else to eat other than Cheese Dips."

Looking around on the store, Gary saw the shelves stripped bare. All that was left were miscellaneous goods like air fresheners (which were doing nothing for the smell in here) and maps (which Gary already carried in his coat pocket). No canned goods, macaroni and cheese, cereal, or bread.
Gary looked at Lorenzo, confused. "There's nothing here!"

Four hours had past since the raiding group left the industrial enclosure. The sun had moved higher in the sky now, casting long shadows across the 'Main Street' town of Slaughter. It had, like the countless other small towns that dotted the American landscape, fallen on hard times long before Zombieland hit, battered by disasters both natural and financial.
The industrial plants that had once employed the residences of this depressed location had long since closed, and the families that had nowhere to escape to remained to suffer hurricane after hurricane. When the walkers came, these folks didn't stand a chance.

Standing in the middle of the street that the group had come in on, Bill stood talking with Sam, eyeing the town and sizing up it's potential. He clutched a fire axe in his hands, his weapon of choice since running out of bullets over the winter. "Sure was easy, gettin' here I mean." Bill said to Sam, perhaps being paranoid. Sam was a rascal, but he was someone you wanted on your side in a fight.
This message was last edited by the player at 05:33, Thu 30 Apr 2015.

“Well...yeah...obviously we can’t keep it a secret for long, but we can try and control how it gets out” Dominic replied, though in truth he was kind of hoping that by the time people realised that Cookie wasn’t coming back; if indeed that was the case, that he and Mahmoud would have gotten a new leadership structure in place and that nobody would notice. Failing that surely an announcement would go down better rather than having a rumour floating around? After all rumours and hearsay had a way of creating bad feelings and blowing situations all out of proportion which was something he’d rather avoid if possible.
Having found practically nothing of use upon the shelves other than a half crushed bar of soap and the mirror from a makeup compact which Dom hoped to use to shave with... assuming of course that could find a razor.  He cautiously approaches the pharmacy and peers through the dusty glass into the room beyond looking for any sign of life or un-life as it were before rapping his knuckles experimentally against it. The glass would break easily enough and considering the door was locked it would probably be worth the all noise it would make as it potentially meant that whatever stock the small town pharmacy had back there was still intact.
It was as he was looking for something suitably heavy to break the glass that Luke asked why they didn’t simply wait for Cookie to come back causing him to pause momentarily as he decided whether or not to give Luke the full story before deciding he already knew too much for him to come up with a convincing lie “Because from what Mahmoud has told me Cookie might not be back for quite some time in fact...she might not be coming back at all” he said in a quiet voice offering the young man a looked that said Now do you see why I want to keep it quiet?
With nothing suitably heavy close to hand Dominic draws his gun from its holster and ejects the magazine before then reversing his grip so that he was holding it by the barrel with safety firmly in place “you may want to take a step back...oh and keep a look out for Zed’s this liable to get loud” he said with a grin before striking the glass window with the butt of his gun, hoping that whatever was back there would be worth the effort.

In reply to Gary Szymanski (msg # 16):

Lorenzo had definitely not noticed Gary strolling up behind him, and from the way he whizzed around to look at the man it almost looked like he was going to stab him anyway, ghoul or no. Once the surprise tapered off, Lorenzo followed the lawyer dutifully before breaking off and examining the small, barren looking shelves. The health benefits of some of the food here had been a bit questionable even before the apocalypse, and now they weren't looking much better. Sunflower seeds and tomatoes for days were starting to sound a bit more appealing. Lorenzo quickly lost interest in the shelves and busied himself with scrounging for cigarettes by the counter until Gary spoke up.



"On the bright side, we could win up to twenty-five thousand big ones," Lorenzo replied dryly, looking at the lottery tickets as if they were responsible for the lack of supplies. "This is fuckin' stupid... You'd think there'd at least be a shitty can of tuna or something left in this dive." Annoyed, he glanced around the dim store, trying to discern if there was some kind of stock room the pair could investigate.

Sarah went with Ricky to inspect the hardware store. Thankfully there weren't any zombies in there... that they could see. "So, how do we get in here? You wanna go through that broken window or make our own broken way in?" She said, unsure how to proceed. The window that was already broken could be a good way in, but she knew breaking another one would give at least the security of making noise to attract whatever was in there.

The cowboy stared back at Karen, two thirds shaven and unsure what she wanted to hear. "Maybe because you're "just as lost and scared and clueless as all the rest of us." Maybe because the alternative wasn't an option, maybe we've never had that kind of hate and malice in our hearts. I don't know, can we get this over with?" His tone changed from serious and sincere back to light and playful. Karen trimmed the last third of Bohannon's beard and ran her finger tips slowly over her work, checking for evenness, but not being quick about it. Bohannon couldn't tell if his answer had satisfied Karen's curiosity or not, but she didn't press things. As Karen's finger tips ran across Benson's face, the cowboy outstretched his arm and placed a tender hand on Karen's leg, slowly, carefully sliding it upwards. Their eyes were locked on each other. Bohannon's heart was beating faster and harder. Karen's face came slowly closer to his own. Then Bohannon stood up suddenly, brushing the hair from the front of his shirt and taking a few steps away from Karen. He looked outside, trying to regain his focus before returning his gaze to Karen, who remained on the stool. "Uh, thanks. For the haircut." Bohannon pushed his way through the door and out on to the street. The bells that hung there jingled as the door swung shut.

Karen sat on the chair, embarrassed and vulnerable. She hung her head down between her knees and ran her fingers through her hair. She shook her head thinking how stupid she was and stood up. Karen turned her mind back to business, as she always did to avoid personal stuff. There had to be a few useful things here, right? Karen found a couple bags under the front counter. She loaded them up with shampoos and shaving soaps and razors from the front display and then went to the back to find some clean white towels to add to the collection back at camp. Karen stopped in the doorway and decided to let the Bohannon thing go, just forget it ever happened and go about things as usual with him. There was no reason to make it awkward, right? It wasn't like they actually kissed...

Hank wondered if he wasn't better off staying back at camp, given the distance to the town. Not that it was a problem but he didn't know when Tom would be getting back from wherever he had wandered off, presumably with Joe. Probably NM also, since he hadn't seen the birthday boy on his search. Mortimer would let them know what was going on, at least.

Looking around as the others started to spread he tried to figure out where to get the supplies to produce almighty electricity. Worst came to worst most of what he need could probably be taken from the houses, but that would have to wait till they all got back. Hoping for wire he followed after Ricky and Sarah, the idea of cutting and stripping electrical wiring from the vacant homes not something he wanted to think about. Well we don't want to make too much noise, there's no telling if any zombies made it out before all the others were locked up. Or if whoever did the locking is still around.

Sarah thought about it and Hank had the right of it. They didn't want to make noise after all, sound would travel well outside here and they didn't want to be stuck inside. "Alright then." Sarah looked around for something that could help them climb into the already broken window. Even though it was a busted pane of glass, she did not want to cut herself climbing in.

Sarah looked around for some time before finally realizing what was under their feet. A large welcome mat was there, well large enough for one person at a time to climb through a window and not get too cut up. "Think we could drape this over the window ledge and climb our way in?" She stepped off the frayed welcome mat, the words had been so weathered it may just as well said nothing at all. Its rubber on the bottom to prevent it from slipping would be perfect for the ledge.

"Shall we?" Sarah motioned to the window, wanting her group to agree on this before they get eaten on her decision.

"Well it doesn't sound like anything's in there." Ricky replied to Hank and Sarah's concern about noise. "But you guys are right, we don't want to attract any unwanted attention . . . Although, if we do find a cart or something we will have to get it through the front door. I really don't want to try to carry that thing through the window." He turned to Sarah at her suggestion of using the welcome mat to cover the broken glass of the window sill. "Yeah, I think that will work." He remarked with a slight grin before tugging the edges of the mat towards the broken window.

In reply to Lorenzo & Gary:

With nothing edible in the main area of the store, the only other places to check were the mens and women's washrooms. There was a tiny stockroom in the back, near some employee lockers, there was also a managers office, and despite being unlocked, the door seemed to be barricaded tightly shut from the inside, perhaps with a file cabinet or something similarly heavy. The air was still, peaceful yet ominous like so many of those empty places in the world of their present day.

In reply to Bill (msg # 17):

The toothpick that hung from the corner of Sam's mouth shifted as the Southerner gauged their surroundings, concealing his indifference, disappointment whatever it was. Even when his facial features were neutral he seemed to exude an perpetual grin by his very demeanor. Almost like nothing could be taken seriously anymore, though little humor seemed to remain for anyone else, as if he was privy to an inside joke.

Standing a few meters away from Bill, his gaze drifting over the bland features of the main street, one dirty hand maintaining a semi-loose grip on the handle of his long, viking-style fire axe as the rest of the group began to dissolve into the town, leaving them alone. Turning to Bill after the man put a voice to wariness, Sam was visibly relaxed by comparison. "Now that our chaperones are gone, what do you say we go to the pub for a drink?" Sam suggested, his tone allowing for one to assume humor and serious interchangeably. His wolfish eyes assessed his older search-companion for something or other, before slowly walking towards the sealed bar, holding up who knew how many biters.

"Don't tell me you don't want a lil' swish, chief? We can tell the others the booze was for, ah, medical purposes, yes, yes that it." The tall, rugged and morally questionable man raised and rested the axe over his shoulder in a lackadaisical pose as he walked up the bar steps, causing the wood to creak as he put down his steel toed boot.

"Young bucks like us shouldn't have a problem clearing these snappy patrons out, should we? Lordee Lordee, we might even be hailed as bona-fide heroes. Especially if we can salvage some of the ol' be joyful." Sam continued, stopping at the door, grinning to himself ever so slightly as he knocked faintly on the door, eliciting some groans from behind it. followed by the sound of fingernails clawing at the door.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:49, Sat 02 May 2015.

In reply to Ricky, Sarah, Hank:

The group would successfully cushion their entry through the shattered entryway to gain access to the store. From this different vantage point, the glass of this window appeared to have been shattered from the inside, judging from the greater amount of glass on the outside of the building. A fragment of cloth, possibly clothing, hung on one of the glass shards attached to the still-framed window. Inside, the store was fairly lit from the natural lighting outdoors, though as the the aisles descended to the back of the deep building, darkness enveloped the recesses of the store, which, all taken into account, appeared undisturbed.

In reply to Dominic Dubreton (msg # 18):

Luke listened to Dominic's explanation as the other man tested the pharmacy glass with a rapping of the knuckles, his machete held aloft in his right hand as he watched his fellow survivor's back, especially with the noise of the glass tapping. Walkers weren't smart, but they had damn good hearing. When Dominic clarified his view on Cookie's leaving the group, that she might not return at all, Luke exchanged a look with the medic, trying to tell how serious the other was with that statement. The mustached young man didn't need to say anything to convey that he understood where Dominic was coming from.

Standing back from the glass, Luke prepared to wince, if one could do that, when Dominic swung the butt of his gun against it.

In reply to Dominic and Luke:

The glass strained into a cobweb splintering of cracks when Dominic struck it sound and firm, still bearing its shape and form but signaling that further action might finish the job. Inside, nothing/no one stirred as a result of their efforts. However, as far back from the entrance to the grocery store as they were, the pharmacy was quite dark, the gleam of faint light upon the glass barrier from the little light to get inside the building providing a sheen blocking a clear assessment of whatever supplies still adorned the shelves.

Sarah was the first to climb into the store, unsure how to approach this situation. The whole time she'd been with the caravan it was running away from enclosed places, not going into them. She simply took out her sharp spade ready for anything, save for helping up the other two. "Alright, so... which isle should we look first? Stay together." she said in hushed tones.

In reply to GM (msg # 26):

Lorenzo poked his head into each of the washrooms, squinting into the dim rooms. Not seeing much in the men's room, he walked inside the women's. In the women's room there were some rolls of toilet paper still trapped inside those weird-plastic doodads on the wall Lorenzo didn't know the English word for. They weren't edible, and therefore not super helpful, but Lorenzo still broke open the containers with little regard for the noise it caused and stowed the rolls away.

Not terribly surprised by the lack of treasure upturned in the washroom, he turned his attention to the small stockroom. "There's some better stuff in here," he proclaimed to Gary. "It's not as turned over."

He maneuvered to the back of the stock room, starting to rummage through the cardboard boxes. There were loads of tampons, which he was sure would make the girls happy, but not much in the way of food. He hoped Gary's search was going better, because all he'd managed to turn up was  cans of spaghetti sauce, beans, and some kind of soup. It was turning out to be a good find for one person, but it wouldn't make much of a dent in all the hungry people back at their little settlement. Pulling his face into a grumpy scowl, he continued to search.
This message was last edited by the player at 14:50, Sun 03 May 2015.

The glass hadn't broken but judging from the loud creaking sound the spider web of cracks gave when he applied a little pressure it wouldn't take much more. Carefully placing the gun butt within the centre of the cracks Dominic turns his head away before hitting it again. This time the glass shattered and it was only a matter of breaking off the jagged pieces before then placing his booted foot upon the ledge ready to slide himself in through the window and into the dark room beyond.
Appearing out of the darkness with a sudden snarl Dominic had just enough time to fall over backwards as the white coated zed lunged for him; a series of curses in angry French coming from the paramedic as he hit his head on the floor. It had been stupid, he should have known better than to have tried going through the window without checking and consequently should be grateful that all he got was a bang to the head.
With one hand clasped to the back of his head Dominic awkwardly got back onto his feet as Luke dealt with the former pharmacist inside "Well...that was stupid of me" he muttered sheepishly to Luke; trying his best not to look embarrassed and failing miserably. Although he was quietly glad that it wasn't Sam that had joined him as he would have had a field day with this one.
With no other Zeds currently clawing at the window Dominic approached it once again this time pausing long enough to see if anything else was inside before climbing through being careful to avoid the few remaining pieces of glass within the frame. Once inside he holsters the pistol and draws the sabre from its scabbard before then popping the lock on the door so that Luke didn't have to risk lacerations by climbing through the window after him "D'accord now let us see what goodies we have in here" he said to Luke with a smile. He doubted there would be anything seriously powerful in here after all it was only a small town pharmacy but anything would be better than nothing. With that in mind Dominic started emptying the shelves into his pack deciding that he'd worry about what he actually had once he not only had enough light to read the labels by, but also when he wasn't stood in a small dark room with only one exit. Oh the joys of confined spaces.

Bohannon stood on the street, broken glass crunching beneath his boots. He felt his pockets for a smoke that wasn't there, turning up only his lighter. Bohannon turned back to the barbershop for a moment, considering what would happen if he walked back in. Maybe not... Bohannon hiked up the gun belt that was slipping down his hips. The continued weight loss was taking it's toll on the cowboy.

He looked the street up and down, taking note of where the others had all run off to. Bohannon now had to decide where he was to go. He could turn around and march back inside and take Karen into his arms and see where that went. He could march back to the bar, break open the doors and take his deserved punishment. Or he could wander off and contribute to the raid meaningfully. As he weighed his options, his eye caught the Crown Victoria parked in front of the Sheriffs station.

Ricky climbed into the store after Sarah, hatchet ready as he peered into the darkness of the back of the store. *Really wish I had a working flashlight.* He turned to Sarah as she spoke, contemplating for a second before replying. "Doesn't really look like anything has been touched so I guess we can just go down each aisle. Look for one that says 'Outdoors' or 'Garden' or something." He turned towards the front of the store, glancing over the lightly stocked stands of various items. "Sometimes, they keep seeds and stuff on revolving stands or whatever near the front. Plus, we might get lucky and find a whole lot of candy and chips. Even places like these would keep junk food and snacks near the registers." He turned back to the group. "I say we grab what snacks we can find, fill our bags, then look for a wheelbarrow and other supplies. What do you guys think?"

Hank looked around the inside of the store, wondering if anyone would have thought about looting a place better known for tools instead of food. Nodding at Ricky's suggestion the strange feeling of not having Tom around to help search returned. Ya, food's probably the most important thing. We can always come back if we need to. He shrugged, slightly distracted. Besides, I doubt topsoil is high up on the loot list for most people. If you see any boxes of electrical wire, let me know.

Heading toward the front counter he kept an eye toward the back of the store, scanning for any signs of movement.

Sarah walked around the store slowly, and carefully. While a lot of the shelves were stocked well many of the useful things were taken such as axes or other items that could be used as weapons. Other stuff such as oil and grill gas were left, albeit a small stock it was still useful.

As she walked down the different names of the aisles her eyes rested on the one that displayed "Containers. Transports. Mobile Tools." it laid near the back end of the store. As she walked down the aisle there were some very dusty riding mowers that were small and compact enough to fit through the large window. A small smile crept on her face as she imagined trying to run away from zombies on a riding mower. Suddenly the humor of the moment was sucked away by a rustling the back of the aisle.

A toppled red wagon puller with the logo 'Roadmaster' blazed on the side was covered by two rows of shelves that had fallen previously atop it. The wagon started to move, it being about 3/4's the size of a grown man, the rest of it being covered by the shelves she knew it could only mean one thing. "Uhhh.. I think we got a live one here guys..." Sarah said loud enough for Ricky to hear a few aisles down but not loud enough to startle any other zeds that may be crawling around.

Looking around Sarah grabbed a pipe that was meant to be used as wrench for a car lift. It was about 3 feet in length and heavy duty. Looking behind her and all other entry ways into the aisle she slowly moved the wagon off of whatever was moving underneath...
This message was last edited by the player at 22:19, Wed 06 May 2015.

The Pharmacy was about the size of a large cupboard with a desk at one end with its long dead computer sat upon it, a small medical fridge and several shelves which even with the door locked and the windows intact were a little sparse. There was also a door almost adjacent to the desk labelled up as being a staff toilet, though the smell alone had told him that.
After emptying the shelves of everything he could find; knowing full well that half of it would probably end up being tossed into a ditch, after all who needed forty boxes of Hay fever tablets? He then turned his attention to the fridge a quick glance telling him what he had suspected; that it was full of useless meds that had gone bad shortly after the power had gone down.
It was just as he was about to shut the door that he caught sight of something lurking in the back a broad smile coming to his face as his hand closed around the pair cans. It would be warm, flat and Budweiser to boot but beer was beer “You crafty devil” Dominic said directing his comment at the long deceased pharmacist as he stuffed the cans into the bottom of his bag deciding there and then that these were definitely not for sharing.
After the success of finding the beer Dominic wasn’t at all surprised to find that neither the desk nor any of the cupboards held anything of use leaving only the foul smelling bathroom to check.
With his sword held ready to strike should he find any more Zeds within the tiny bathroom; though truth be told he didn’t think that likely after the noise he had made getting in. Dominic slowly opened the door grimacing at the stench that greeted him as he cautiously stepped inside; a single high, narrow window thankfully providing him with just enough light for him to see by and so step around the puddle of congealed blood that had collected around what had obviously been bedding at some point but was now nothing but a bloodstained mass. It didn’t take long for Dom to crack the mystery of “The undead pharmacist in the locked room” as he sorted through the bathroom’s contents, surmising that for whatever reason the man had decided to hole up in the pharmacy though for how long he had intended to stay wasn’t clear. However what was clear was that he hadn’t really known what he was doing, a fact made abundantly clear by the smell coming from the single toilet and compounded by Dom finding in amongst the man’s possessions; three tins of soup but no tin opener, a torch with no batteries and a camp stove with the wrong kind of gas canister. As he grabbed the soup and the gas canister figuring somebody would find a use for it. Dom idly wondered how the pharmacist had gotten the wound that had caused him to bleed out and turn before deciding that it didn’t really matter “Come on Luke, let’s get out of here...I think we’ve found all we’re going to find” Dom called to the other man as he headed for the door.

Bohannon walked cautiously down the road towards the cop shop. The cruiser parked out front was in surprisingly good condition, compared to the decay that plagued the rest of Slaughter. As the cowboy reached the car, he gave it a once over, looking for anything suspicious. He placed a hand on the hood, checking for warmth. Being cold, it clearly hadn't freshly arrived. Bohannon peered inside. The officer's shotgun was sat on the floor in the front seat. It was a miracle nobody had taken it. This whole thing was starting to feel all a little off. Another lap around the car proved unhelpful as Bohannon found each of the doors locked. So now the question was whether to bust out the window or not. If the battery was still live, the alarm would alert every zombie and raider for miles around. Maybe Bohannon would look inside the station for the keys.

The door opened easily enough. The station was small and cozy, nineteen-seventies wood paneling coated the walls, and matching parquet floors ran throughout. The wall opposing the front entrance and behind the receptionist's desk sported a laughably small little emblem for the East Feliciana Parish Sheriff's Department. And the ceiling fan in the centre of the room sported a noose that held the Sheriff.

The man wore his dress uniform, tie and everything. His stetson hat lay toppled on the floor off to the side. And Bohannon stood, staring at the face of a once proud man who took the easy way out. The coward's way out.

It was in that moment that Bohannon decided he'd never let it come to that.

It was as Benson Bohannon was standing in front of the hanged Sheriff, deciding suicide was not for him, that he was presented with his next existential question. If dying wasn't an option, what did that leave? Living. But Bohannon couldn't simply survive, he had to deserve to survive. And he had to want it. He needed something to survive for. Family was out. He'd wanted to kill his own brother for the better part of five (or was it six?) months. There was a sort of '"common good" or "good of the group" mentality that kept some people going. But Bohannon had always been an "every man for himself" kinda guy. So that wasn't it. It was like Bohannon was searching for an excuse to keep living.

So what would be the thing Bohannon could fight for? Maybe the only thing he had left as a viable option was sitting in that barber shop by herself.

Ricky had glanced over a few aisles when he heard Sarah call him over. Her voice was slightly hushed but definitely urgent in its own sense, prompting Ricky to respond with the same quiet urgentness. He jogged down an aisle filled with lighting fixtures, noting the potential use of the items as he tried to quietly hurry towards Sarah. He arrived, hatchet in hand, as Sarah removed the wagon from whatever was moving underneath. "Careful." He warned as he readied himself for a fight.

In reply to Dominic Dubreton (msg # 33):

Luke was prompt with assisting to dispatch the pharmacist when it lunged after Dominic, used to such things by now, but his mustached features still contorting in disgust at the smell puncturing the air from where Dominic had cracked the glass case open. "I think I'm gonna be sick.." He commented with a sigh, though he managed not to puke, perhaps motivated to hold it back by the knowledge it might contaminate his perfect facial hair.

While Dominic rummaged inside the pharmacy, a wary Luke kept watch out front, feeling the eeriness of the area creep over him, though hearing no familiar sounds such as the gasps and groans of the undead. Back at Fort Dixie such sounds were regular fare, as the biters had often punctured themselves upon the spikes adorning the outer wall, writhing in pseudo-agony until dispatched by the 'clean up' crew.

When Dominic returned Luke was all too ready to move on, though there was something on his own list that he'd wanted besides any food they could find. "Hey can we stop by the grooming department quick? I want to see if there is any Dapper Dan for my mustache." As he finished his comment, glancing down further near the back of the store towards the department in question, the sound of boxes falling off of a shelf bounced off the walls. It was coming from the grooming department.
This message was last edited by the player at 03:20, Mon 11 May 2015.

In reply to Sam (msg # 27):

Following Sam through the middle of the street to the sealed doors of the bar, Bill looked at the deserted town. First left, then right. No one was to be seen here.

Bill listened to Sam's words, but his attention floated past them to the bar itself. He thought about the liquor inside, thought about the last time he had a drink, the last night at Fort Dixie. Bill wanted a drink, but he knew he couldn't.
 Not now.
He missed those days at the Fort. Everything seemed a lot simpler only a few months ago. Here they were now, in this deserted town with it's unfortunate name. Looking for scraps of food to take back to the industrial park they called home. Where they slept on the floor. Bill wanted a drink, but-
"I-" he hesitated. "I don't think that's a good idea." It had been four months, as far a Bill could tell. The draw of the liquor was strong, but the fear of slipping down that path again was stronger. "Don't cause more trouble than we need Sam. Leave those walkers in there."

Gary finished searching the store front, finding nothing. As Lorenzo checked the washrooms and the stockroom, Gary rooted around behind the front counter. There was money, of course, the one thing nobody really needed anymore. Gary found cigarettes too, and pocketed a package, even though he didn't smoke. They were a more valuable currency than the money, Gary thought.

He walked though the store towards the back where Lorenzo was searching. He poked his head in the stockroom doors "How's it going Lorenzo? Find anything?" he called out.

Turning around, Gary noticed the door to the managers office. I wonder what's in there, Gary thought. He stepped toward it, and clutching the door handle, he opened it. It was unlocked, but the door didn't budge, as if it was blocked by something on the other side.

Stepping back, Gary grabbed the handle again and opened it, this time applying his full weight against the door.

In reply to Gary Szymanski (msg # 44):

"Eh, it's going. There's some shit, but you know. I'd always like more," Lorenzo replies to Gary, continuing to search through and organize the stuff in the boxes. He sorts through them with surprising care given his brash nature, trying to get as much stuff as he could within as few boxes as possible. It'd take a couple people to carry all of the containers back.

There isn't enough to last everyone at the camp very long but it's better than nothing. Still, that doesn't stop Lorenzo from looking over his shoulder and slinging his bag off. He sits down on the floor and piles what he sees as his share of the supplies into his bag. Finders keepers and all that. Compared to how life had been with his old group, he was being downright generous.

Hearing Gary thump on the office's door, Lorenzo tilts his head toward the sound and listens. "Caaaareful, quequito," he calls in a slightly sing-song, teasing tone.

Sarah removed the large wagon, of which could still be used as it looked nearly pristine save for the dust, underneath a decayed body laid underneath. It was a zombie, with a naked torso that had been hacked at the stomach, likely from the fallen shelves around him. Its eyes looked up at them in an anger that can not be described, its left eye had rotten or fallen out and its jaw completely removed likely from the shelves and debris as well. It clawed helpless towards Ricky and Sarah.

It was like shooting fish in a barrel Sarah thought. With a heave of the heavy metal rod Sarah smashed the prone zombie's head, its half body falling lifeless. She backed up again next to Ricky, hoping it would give her some form of protection "Well, I guess we have some sort of wagon --" Sarah was going to continue but suddenly there was more rustling between the fallen shelves, in what created a sort of triangular tunnel.

The stirring grew louder and louder still. One by one 3 zombies crawled out from underneath. These zombies all were slightly immobilized quite like the first. However unlike the first, these had legs slightly broken or torn off. The three zombies shambled towards them in a death filled stair eager for their skulls. "Oh fuck.." Sarah said with a whimper. Had she just doomed them? They should be able to handle them right?
This message was last edited by the player at 03:13, Tue 12 May 2015.

Upon hearing Luke’s request that they check out the toiletries section to see if there was any Moustache wax Dominic was about to ask whether he was joking before remembering who he was speaking to; instead  shrugging his shoulders and saying “sure...why not” in a tone of voice that said they had nothing better to do at the moment. Once upon a time he’d spiked his hair up using Brylcreem and the like but his hair had gotten too long and shaggy for it to be of any use now. Long hair and beards was the in thing for the Zombieland male or at least for those that couldn’t find a razor.
Scratching his chin at as if reminded of his own stubble Dominic had taken all two steps when he heard something falling over near the back of the store. Dominic’s blood froze. There’s something back there, but how!? It’s like we’ve even been quiet! He silently exclaimed, wondering how in the hell they had managed to miss finding whoever or more likely whatever was back there.
Silently signalling for Luke to follow him Dominic raises his sword up to about level to his cheek; poised ready to strike with the point the moment he caught sight of his target.
With the lights overhead long since dead and the windows too far away for sunlight to reach, it was dark in this part of the store with the strong smell of lavender and passion flower and all those other exotic sounding things you get on shampoo bottles. The sticky, squelching sound beneath his boots telling Dominic that he’d trodden in at least one puddle of fragrant goop as he’d advanced down the aisle; his eyes searching the shadows for Zeds. A glimpse of movement out the corner of his eye Causes Dom to suddenly lunge with the sabre; spearing the thing chipboard display and narrowly avoid the large black rat that darted away from its hiding place in amongst the bottles, its beady little eyes seeming to mock him as it sped away.
Muttering angrily about what he’d do to the rat if he ever saw it again, Dominic wrenched his sword free of the chipboard “help yourself to whatever you can find, there’s bound to be someone back at the compound willing to trade for it” he spoke absently as he checked the swords tip for any damage, deciding he’d let Luke search this section of the store whilst he kept watch “so Luke, how is life after the fort treating you?” Dom asked trying to strike up a conversation with the younger man if only so it wasn’t so quiet in here. That and it wouldn’t hurt to get to get to know the guy a little better.

While the others went down the aisles Hank hit the front counter further down. It seemed the broken window had let more then just them in, judging by what seemed to be a bird's nest in he process of being built on top of the long dead neon "open" sign hanging next to an intact window. Picking a small display off the ground he sighed. Ricky had been right about the snacks, they had been there. Sighing he dropped the empty Slim Jim dispenser and looked around, wondering if maybe the store had a break room or something. His gaze stopped on a hanging picture, probably the owner and family in front of the store. A man and woman, late thirties and two children younger then Tom in their arms. Next to them a large dog with it's tongue sticking out. They were either long gone or in the bar at this point, hopefully the latter. Out of curiosity he peeked around the counter, spotting what he hoped he would see. A dog bed in the corner. Grinning he went behind the counter, hoping luck would be on his side. Pulling the sliding door aside the grin widened. Two cans of dog food greeted him, not exactly what they were looking for but beggars couldn't be choosers. Throw it some soup, no one would know the difference.

Gritting her teeth she decided Sarah decided she would swing at the first one, ahead of the rest. Its feet were slightly narled from the shelves, so were its hands and arms. She swung with gusto at its head as hard as her small arms could swing. While muscular from working in her field and the past few months of running, she was still small in stature so the swing of the heavy pipe was enough to throw her off balance.

The pipe smashed clean through the first of the three zombies and it fell to the ground like a sack of bricks. Sarah fell to the side on the right of the aisle from her swing, tripping over her swing.

The second zombie moved on top of her. Its teeth rattling for her head. With her butt on the floor and her back to one of the shelves, she shoved the pipe in the creature mouth to get it away from her. It was heavy and she was just keeping it off her "Help... Ricky get the other one..." she grimaced out the words struggling with the decomposing zombie, she knew she couldn't take both.

The sight of the helpless zombie was strangely depressing. Here lay the great antagonist of their new generation; the thing that decimated their planet, ruined cities, overthrew every major government; here lay the thing that goes bump in the night, staring blankly with one eye and missing jaw. It mindlessly clawed at them, trying but failing to fulfill its only program. Ricky watched as Sarah caved in the thing's skull. *Tragic, almost Shakespearean.* This fleeting thought made Ricky relax, a definite mistake on his part as three more ghouls arose from the toppled shelves. Lucky for him, Sarah reacted quickly, taking out the first ghoul but tumbling over and struggling with the second. Her scream for help attracted the last one as well and Ricky rushed to assist his fallen comrade. He slammed his hatchet into the back of the last one's skull, pulling the body away from Sarah before repeating the process on the second ghoul. He helped Sarah back to her feet before double tapping both bodies, just to make sure. "You okay?" He asks with a sigh.

In reply to Dominic Dubreton (msg # 47):

Luke was sure anyone listening could hear his heart pounding through his ribcage as the two survivors carefully approached the sound that they had heard. If Luke had been alone there was the potential he would have ran out of the place, just to play it safe. But with Dominic he knew better, but stayed close, machete aloft in one hand, while keen to avoid any wayward swipe of the sword that his companion carried. His dirty but designer boots stuck briefly to the dried, goopy floors of the department much like Dominic's preceding him, letting the other man take the lead while he tried to suck in his breath.

The relief on the younger man when they found their culprit was palpable, even more so when Dominic let the rat live. "Cute lil bugger, eh?" He commented, his disposition shifting suddenly to one of cheeriness, his eyes brows lifting, his mustache almost following suit. "I had a pet rat once upon a time. Super smart. On a sinking ship they say to always follow the rats." Sliding his machete into the scabbard harnessed to his right leg, the millennial took to the shelves, eyes narrowing as he tried to make out the dusty labels as he very choosily went through the collection to find his proper vintage/s.

"Oh ah its alright I guess.. Well as good as anyone can expect. Real hungry all the time, but I was like that even before things changed. I'm just glad we haven't really lost anyone since, well, since that lady from your crew, Aishe." He replied casually, his back to Dominic as he tossed one bottle back onto the shelf to grab another. Soon he was collecting some of the items into his bag; wax for himself, shampoo for the ladies (and the fashionable men, for Zombieland anyway). "Things sometimes get a bit much back at the compound. Janice gets everyone all wound up, and people are worried about big H up on watch all the time. When people start to isolate themselves within the group it could mean trouble. Saito was mentioning that Hector wouldn't trade off of watch duty with him yesterday even when he insisted." Luke gave a shrug as he continued his search, moving up the aisle a bit further, his shoes making that sticky sound on the ground as he did so. "People just need to lighten up. If we found an electric keyboard I could show everyone my skills. I was in a band before. We were 'dece."
This message was last edited by the player at 03:33, Mon 18 May 2015.

Sam seemed displeased with Bill's replied, making a 'tsk' sound as he shook his head feigning disappointment. "What happened to you, geezer? You used to be so jolly. Staggerin around the Fort, tripping over yourself and your words. A real piece of work." The bearded Southerner chuckled to himself then, glancing to the chained door where the undead were desperately clawing from the inside to try and get at the sweet human voices outside. "Then again, you were our piece of work, now ya belong to Cookie Jar and her Temperance League." Sam might've been taking a stab at being sentimental as he looked back towards the former Sheriff.

The large man stepped away from the bar door as if to heed Bill's warning. Then, on the turn of a heel, Sam's body shifted and he gave a solid booted kick to the lower end of the door, giving it a terrible rattle and eliciting greater noise from within the building. It would seem that even more of the undead were focusing upon that entryway then.

"Oops, I slipped." Sam commented dryly before descending the steps to the street, rejoining Bill, seeming to pay no mind to the bar anymore. "How about we head to the old Sheriff's Office, chief? MIght be we find some ammo, guns, cuffs, maybe a lil outfit for you to wear and play make believe." Sam teased the older man, always walking that line between ribbing and insulting.

Leading the more timid raider along down the street, the bar was left alone, though the undead continued to try and follow them long after they had gone beyond an audible distance.

Once Sam and Bill were out of sight, the angst of the living dead seemed to become even more remorseful, ever more agitated, the only signs of actual life that the creatures had heard and smelt slowly dissipating before their rotting, primitive senses. The large amount of undead 'pub-goers' concentrated on that chained front door, where the survivors had attracted their focus. Over the next while, the battering continued.
While the door was securely chained as to prevent conventional access or exit, the same could not be said for the rusted door hinges, that, while heavy, were no match to restless, relentless siege.

And then the door finally gave. Creaking and snapping, the hinges gave way and timber splintered out onto the porch and street. The heavy door fell down flat, bringing with it an overflow of walkers in various states of decay and a variety of demographics befitting the US of A. Heavy breathing and groans began to bring life to the main street, decimated by economics, weather, and now the scourge of the dead. At a loss of where to find their new friends, the herd of walkers began to file into every direction, groping across the landscape.

*Note: you may encounter greater levels of undead activity at this time.
This message was last edited by the GM at 03:50, Mon 18 May 2015.

Sarah was glad Ricky was there, if he hadn't she'd be... well she didn't want to think on that too much. "Thanks Ricky" she said to him but not while looking at him. Rather her attention was on the make shift tunnel where the undead crawled out from. Looking into the darkness she found something. It would seem that there were a pack of large batteries and a flash light.

Also, there appeared to be several cans of nuts and some bags of beef jerky, of which may or may not have been expired. "Oh wow, I guess it wasn't a total loss! Makes sense why this stuff was around huh?" she said kneeling down and picking up the snacks with both hands. In total there were 4 small jars of peanuts and 6 bags of beef jerky. She loaded the very large cart and smiled big "Ok, lets go to the other aisle's and see if we can't find soil and perhaps seeds. I doubt there will be seeds, but who knows."

With that she wheeled the large cart, of which had a small semi-broken wheel, out of that aisle and pursued the Outdoors section.

Having gathered as many of the edible or otherwise useful findings into boxes, Lorenzo was feeling pretty pleased with himself. Teamwork and cooperation was still something he was trying to adapt to in a healthy matter, and given the stolen supplies in his bag it could be going better, but he was trying. He stacked the boxes up to under his chin and made three more trips in this fashion until all the boxes were settled outside of the store. He'd leave it to the big brains on what was useful enough to take but he thought he did an alright job of it.

It was on the third and final trip outside that Lorenzo met him. As he tried to step out of the convenience store's door he found himself uncomfortably close to a stranger who was undoubtedly dead. Lorenzo's eyes went wide and a loud swear bubbled up in his throat and stayed there. Instead of shouting, he took a deep breath and slowly lowered the final box without breaking his eyes from the rotten figure before him. Yelling would just make it notice him. The stench was something out of this world, but something he was used to.

Once the box was settled securely to the ground, Lorenzo wasted no time. He took a quick step toward the dead man, one the dead heard and turned to investigate. However it was too late for the squishy creature, and after several violent hacks the top of the man's head was on the ground. Lorenzo glanced around the street, seeing the bar door open and several more of the creatures milling about.

Upon seeing this new development most people would have gravitated toward one of the group's impromptu leaders. Not Lorenzo. He'd told himself he'd keep an eye on Sarah if things got messy, and it looked like they were going to. Wiping the gore from his cheek (or just smearing it), he quickly made his way to the gardening store with his knife in hand. He stumbled in through the broken window walked down through the aisles, looking for the others.

Once he found them the apprehension was dutifully wiped from his face, replaced with a deceivingly relaxed appearance. He approached Sarah who was wheeling a rather squeaky cart and spoke up. "How we doing in here? Almost done?" he asked with a terse smile. The words came out a lot faster than intended, and he glanced over his shoulder, half expecting to see one of those dead things trailing behind them.

“I never really had a pet, spent too much time going back and forth between here and Rouen to really look after one, though my sister...sorry, Half-sister had a rabbit” and said in a tone of voice that hinted that he’d had a better relationship with the rabbit than her.
Keeping a look out for any sign of lurking Zeds or “cute” little rats as the case may be Cute! The damn thing was huge! Dom listened as Luke spoke; completely ignoring the part where he said he was hungry. They were all hungry hence why they were all in this back water town scavenging for scraps.
As Luke moved on to his other issues he wasn’t surprised to find Janice in amongst them “She’s always been a pain in the ass, why no one has beaten her to death yet is a mystery to me...It might be time to put her in her place especially with food as low as it is” if I am going to inherit the caravans leadership the least I can do is put an end to her sponging if not her tongue, let’s see how quick she is to bad mouth the rest of us when she’s out on a raid.
When his concern over Hector was brought to light Dominic couldn’t help but be surprised. He’d known that Aishe’s death had hit him hard and that he’d spent a lot of time on sentry duty but he hadn’t realised exactly how much time he spent up there “There’s not a lot we can do other than keep an eye on him...it’s not like we have a shrink or anything within the group...the closest we’ve got is a barman and a priest” and that’s assuming of course that he could get Hector to talk to either of them.  The good old days where a judge could make him see a psychiatrist or section him were long gone, all they could do was keep an eye on him and hope that he didn’t lose it completely.
Somewhere outside Dominic could just about hear the sound of a crash causing him to momentarily glance towards the shops front door before shrugging it off as nothing to worry about. Just one of the group kicking down a locked door, he just hoped that it wasn’t the Cowboy trying to get into that Zed infested bar again “Well if you’re done here Father Mortimer asked if I could keep an eye open for some Bibles so I’d like to check out the church at the end of the road, If we’re lucky it might also have the leftovers of a can drive or something  we can use” he said hoping that that would be the case. Sppiritual guidance was all well and good but it didn't put food on tables.
Once Luke had finished Dom made his way out of the store and back into the street his eyes instantly falling upon the mob of undead milling around in front of the open bar doors causing him to simply give his head an incredulous shake as he muttered "oh for the love of god, who let them out!"

Surprise stew, anyone. Hank murmured tossing his bag on the counter and dropping the two cans in. He knew dog foods were damn near people quality, the only thing giving it away the labeling. Pausing he considered that, pulling them out and ripping the labels off and tossing them back under the counter along with all the other now useless papers needed to run the store. He thought heard one of the other two call out, but figured if they ran into anything they couldn't handle they would make a lot more noise.

At the sound of cracking and sliding glass near the window they had come in through his hand went for the crowbar, grip relaxing when he saw it was only Lorenzo. Letting out a sigh of relief he turned to the window behind him, wondering if the others were done with their searches also. The sight of what had no doubt been the contents of the bar roaming free froze him. Shit. Quickly zipping his bag he grabbed his stuff and headed to the back of the store, any thought of looking for supplies gone. We've got a slight problem. His tone suggested it was anything but. I'd ah, leave that for now. He added, sliding his bag back over his shoulders.

Sarah picks up 4 bags of soil. Heavy as hell, she puts her weight into it and assists the group getting more items. All in all she was able to find what she needed for gardening and then some. But no seeds.

"Yeah I think we're done here. We can go, we have all the tools and stuff to grow what seeds I have. Maybe we can find other things in the wild and take seeds from them." Sarah said, clearly finished for what she came for.

With new found resolve, Benson Bohannon was determined to find the keys to the cop car and see if it had a snowball's chance in Hell on running. It would be great if they could haul their loot back home in it. Bohannon started with the first most logical place; the Sheriff's pants. Bohannon patted down the cops pockets just a many cops had patted down his when he was a teenager.

Unfortunately, all that was in the guy's pockets was some old family photo and a wad of paper that was probably a suicide note.

The cowboy next moved to the drawers. The secretary's desk yielded the usual office crap, nothing helpful there. The Sheriff's office was pretty bare. The gun rack was just a couple of hooks on the wall. And the desk and file cabinets were just more of the same. Paper clips and highlighter pens. Old case files and folders littered the floor of the place like fallen autumn leaves.

Bohannon searched the bottoms and backs of drawers looking for some emergency stash of bullets or booze. If someone ever ended up snooping through Benson's office back at the farm, they'd be in for a sweet payload. The back of the left hand desk drawer was home to the blue collar Bourbon. The underside of the middle drawer was home to the Detective Special. He hadn't grabbed either during the evacuation. Damn shame. But it seemed the Sheriff wasn't of the same mindset. Or someone beat Bohannon to it. Whichever was the case, this place was a dud. It wasn't until the cowboy was on his way out that he saw the secretary's key cabinet. A firmly planted boot dislodged the door. There were two sets of Ford keys and a bunch of other keys to things that didn't matter any more. Bingo he thought to himself as he headed to the door.

Ricky had been helping Sarah fill the cart when Lorenzo and Hank arrived. He could tell by their body language that something was up and Hank's mention of a "slight problem" could only mean one thing, zed. "How many?" The question was semi-rhetorical as he took a few steps to the front of the store. As he got closer, he could see most of the town roaming the streets, shuffling their feet and aimlessly patrolling. *Well that's . . . bad. But not impossible.* He backed away slowly, looking back at the cart and the rest of the group, sizing up their chances of getting the cart and supplies out. " . . . We've got a good haul here, really don't want to leave it behind. I don't know if the others have noticed the ghouls yet but those things haven't noticed us . . . So, we have that. Don't want to do anything rash yet that could endanger the rest of the group. I say two of us bring the cart near the front, slowly, maybe lift the squeaky wheel side a bit so it doesn't squeak. The other two can finish looking around here for seeds and anything else we need, maybe find another way out. We meet back at the front in five minutes, see what the others do? We have to play this one by ear; don't want to attract the dead's attention, but if the others get in trouble we need to move." He pulled off the pack from his back, digging through for the small crowbar within. He handed it to Sarah, assuming she would be one of the two wheeling the cart to the front. "If shit hits the fan, use this to break through the front door and get that cart back to the others." He turned to Lorenzo and Hank. "Who's helping her in the front and who's going with me to look through the rest of the store?"

Flashback - FEMA Shelter, Nashville Tennesee - Three months after the fall of Atlanta

FEMA set up shop in Nashville and several other cities after the fall of Atlanta. And so did the Bohannon boys. Benson Bohannon sat at a table near the centre of the football stadium that housed the refugees. Tents and some campers sat in rows filling the immense building. Brady stood at his right hand. A man was seated across from them, he was regular trailer trash. White tank and everything. "You got my stuff Charlie?" He asked demandingly. "Well..." The man was nervous. "There's a problem." Charlie didn't want to tell Bohannon. "Tucker's boys undercut us. They took the score. We got away with less than half of what we were promised."

Benson picked dirt out from under his fingernails with a knife while the other man told his tale. "Son of a bitch. We're gonna have to make a move against Tucker then, Ain't we?" He said, plunging the knife into the wood of the table.

Present Day - Slaughter Louisianna

Bohannon cowered behind the cop car as far too many zeds shuffled by. He couldn't figure out whether to clutch his gun or his machete for comfort, each one being equally as ineffective.The dead must have caught his scent or something because a group moved in his direction. Bohannon had to move, and now. He stood, brandishing the machete instead of his gun, (a move cookie would be proud to see.) Overwhelmed, Bohannon went for the only place he could reach. He shoved the key into the cop car's lock. It turned thank God. The cowboy pulled open the door, dove inside and slammed it shut behind him. The hands of the dead scrapped and pounded against the windows on all sides. Bohannon was screwed...

As the Zeds shambled around in front of the bar, Dominic tried to figure out if there was a way around them. There were far too many for him and Luke to deal with by themselves and he really didn’t want to expend the energy in doing so. It was just as he was about to suggest they cut down the side of the shop they’d just left and head for the hardware stores back door that he noticed a figure moving around in front of the sheriff’s office; the lone figure diving into the old police car upon realising that he’d been spotted by the mob of hungry zeds.
With no one else in sight it quickly became apparent that if they didn’t do something to help whoever it was trapped within the car then no one would or at least not in time to stop whoever it was from being dragged out and torn limb from limb. Drawing the gun from his belt Dom takes aim at one of the Zeds hoping that the noise would draw them away from the car before swearing loudly and stuffing the weapon back into its holster. At best he had half a magazine left in his trusty Berretta and he didn’t want to waste a round using it as a glorified noise maker “We’ve got to draw some of those Zeds away from that car...Luke when they start heading our way if it’s more than we can handle, we run got it?” with any luck they’d be able to lose them by cutting through a house or something and then circle back and rejoin the others who by then should be aware of the situation.
Placing his fingers between his lips Dominic gives a single high pitched whistle. If it didn’t draw the Zeds attention away from the car then at least it should draw the attention of the rest of the group so that they could come and assist...or at least that was how theory went.

In reply to Ricky Robes (msg # 60):



"I got the front, boss!" Lorenzo chirps with a cheesy smile, however his finger is drumming nervously, or restlessly, against the hilt of his machete. He was glad Ricky was here, because the guy was a lot more even tempered than him and had plans beyond just trying to smash their way through things. Lorenzo definitely was more of a point and I'll do it kind of guy. "There's a couple of boxes in front of the station too, I figured we could all help carry them back, or wheel them... Or some shit. But that's going to be annoying with those dead guys fuckin' around."

He turns to Sarah and grins again, motioning for her to scoot aside so he could assist with the whole squeaky wheel situation. "Whenever you're ready, lady. I'll make sure your hands don't get dirty," he postured, appearing to be pretty excited with this new development. His dark eyes dart toward the front of the store and his grin widens, however this time it seems to be carrying a hint of malice.
This message was last edited by the player at 14:50, Sat 30 May 2015.

Bohannon crawled through the small sliding portion of the cop car's prisoner cage, closing it behind him. Surely this would be the most secure part of the car. Police cars had bullet-proof windows, right? Zombies pounded on the car's windows by the dozen, all trying their damnedest to break through. Bohannon pulled his colt from the holster; three rounds. Only enough to shoot himself if they did manage to get in. The cowboy cussed loudly at his circumstance, hoping against hope that someone had seen him climb in here, and that they would be kind enough to try to rescue him...

In reply to Dominic Dubreton (msg # 62):

Luke hung close to Dominic when they ran into the company of walkers trolling through the streets, his hand clutching his machete handle until his knuckles were white, anxiety playing out on his mustached face. He could fight, but wasn't one that would leap into pitched battle with a tremendous amount of confidence. If the doc hadn't been there he would have ran already.

Seeing one of their own seek refuge within an old cop car's cage, Luke gave an affirmative nod in response to Dominic's order. "Fuck! Okay!"Despite his shaky commitment, he knew they couldn't just leave someone behind.
Dominic's whistle seemed to draw attention towards them, while some of the biters still pounded upon the police car. Half-measures aside, he prepared his swinging arm and distanced himself just enough from Dominic so as to avoid getting sliced on a backstroke. The first walker to approach him was a dried out female corpse, light brown tanned from the Southern sun, throat long and thin and parched. The eyes were sunken in to the point of being nothing but a skeletal frame, and Luke almost hesitated when it came close, arms outstretched. Forgetting the proper method at first, he instinctively struck out his machete at the arms, slicing one hand off, sending it a couple meters back when he pulled his weapon back a second time. This time his machete blade found purchase in the walker's forehead, causing it to go instantly limp. Having been in this particular circumstance before, he was quick to prop his heel against the sinking body, wringing his machete free, particulate and larger pieces of bone sprinkling his face and clothes as he did so.

-near Dominic and Luke
-in reply to Benson

Sam had led Bill along through the town feeling more like a babysitter than anything, but at least he was with a fellow Southern son and not one of the limp-wristed Northerners. As for Dominic, the man could swing a sword, even if it wasn't his in origin, despite being from the land of cheese-eating surrender monkeys. The big, broad shouldered survivor knew how to loot, and knew from almost first glance when a place was picked clean of of the good stuff. Sure they might find a couple cans, but Sam had always been an outdoorsman, and when alone in Zombieland had fished or hunted to find his protein, while others kept on trying Mickey D's to see if the freezers still worked. Amateurs.

When walkers began filing into the streets, he showed no expression that he knew if he'd been the one to motivate their entrance from the pub. Rather he quietly and quickly grabbed Bill by the scruff of the shoulder of his shirt and man-handled him into a tiny side alley while the biters walked by. Holding a finger to his lips to indicate silence, the bearded Sam waited for the group to pass before looking to Bill.

"Much obliged for the cooperation, old timer. I thought your ears might not hear what they used to, was easier to move ya then tell ya." He gave a grizzled grin, seemingly more curious about the sudden presence of walkers than disturbed. "Wonder where they're off to in such a hurry.." Stepping away from Bill, Sam peeped around the corner of the building, watching the undead join a gathering down the road that were assaulting yet-to-be-surrounded Dominic and Luke, while also amalgamating around a police car. The way it was positioned, Sam could see that the other grizzled member of their entourage was inside; Bohannon.

"C'mon and make yerself useful, old timer." Sam half-ordered, half-suggested to his elder companion before moving out of the alley and striding towards the rear of the group of walkers. Dominic and Luke would see him and Bill coming along.

With half the walkers splitting towards Dom and Luke, Sam and Bill moved in on those at the police car. Once within range Sam was quick and to the point. Using the spikey end of his viking fireaxe, he swung down into the top of the skull of the first biter, a formerly-large fella in a faded plaid shirt. The impact caused goo and blood to fire from the creature's ears, nearly collapsing the entire head. Lifting the axe, it fell to the ground, and Sam stepped forward into the fray.

Lifting one boot, he propelled a female biter backwards into a couple of others, sending the group temporarily to the ground before he swung his axe sideways, decapitating another biter who'd now noticed his presence, the head bouncing across the hood of the police car. "Howdy Bo!"  Sam yelled with a smile unsuitable to the situation.

Upon hearing his shrill whistle the dead turned and slowly began shambling towards him leaving only half of their number to continue clawing at the car’s windshield. As Luke stepped forward to deal with the first of the dead to reach them Dom moved to engage the next and with a move that would have made D’Artagnan proud removed its head with a single blow that sent it pin wheeling away into the approaching mob.
With ammunition growing increasingly scarce Dominic had quickly learnt how to use the cavalry sabre he’d inherited. He wouldn’t be winning any duels anytime soon but he was now competent enough not to maim the person next to him. Also ever since his little piece of surgery within the woods the blade had been religiously sharpened every night by the former paramedic until it was razor sharp.
 Side stepping the freshly decapitated body as it fell towards him he thrust the blade out to spear the skull of another; its eyes rolling up to stare stupidly at the sword in its forehead before it too collapsed like a ragdoll.

Beyond the approaching mob Dominic watched as Sam and Bill appeared from out of an alley; the large southerner carving his way through the Zeds surrounding the police car with his fire axe. Bon, now with any luck whoever is trapped in there can escape! Dominic thought to himself; removing the grasping fingers of the zed to his left as it tried to grab his jacket's sleeve.
Keeping half an eye on the police car and its occupant Dominic started to back away from the approaching zeds knowing all too well how much danger he and Luke were in of being surrounded by them “Back it up Luke, let them come to us and watch they don’t surround you” he said calmly before spearing the fingerless zed between the eyes.  The last thing he wanted was for him and Luke to become the next people to require saving.

Sarah looks towards the front door and starts wheeling her wagon behind her as she approaches it. Waiting for a good moment to open the front, she pushes it open carefully and quietly, pulling the squeaky wagon through it. "Ok, Lorenzo. Feel free to kill at will. Just don't get killed yourself."

As they move along the front of the store three zombies approach. Slow and lethargic. Sarah drops the puller of the wagon and picks up her heavy pipe. With a smash she destroys one of them on the left in the head. Bits of bones and a lot of blood fly out everywhere "To bad we can't use these guys for fertilizer!" she shouts jokingly.

In reply to Sarah Mills (msg # 68):

"Ah! Y-yeah!" Lorenzo stammered out in reply, his face the perfect picture of shock. He hadn't expected Sarah to put the first ghoul down so efficiently, let alone joke about it. In his old crew the girls hadn't really been much use in a fight, and the guys had only kept them around for one reason... His surprised expression quickly melts into a broad, toothy grin and he lets out an approving hoot as Sarah's target keels over on the ground.

The cocky smirk never leaves Lorenzo's face as he circles around his own target brandishing his machete, his dark eyebrows furrowed as he prepares to attack. It wasn't as precise as Sarah's attack, but what he lacks in accuracy he makes up for in pure viciousness. He drives the machete deep into the creature's skull with several violent, rapid hacks, causing himself to stumble to the side slightly from the weight he was putting into the movement.

During this time the last remaining walker had bumbled uncomfortably close, and Lorenzo lets out a startled shout as he tries to maneuver away from it, not having enough time to position himself to attack.

In reply to Lorenzo (msg # 69):

"Watch out!" Sarah yelled to Lorenzo. With a swing that can only be compared to a baseball batter, she smashed the zombie bound for him in the back of the knee. A loud crack could be heard that sounded like unreparable bone being smashed. The zombie fell to its knees. Sarah lifted the pipe around, its weight still a bit too heavy for her, and came down hard on the beasts head. Bits of bone and dead brain flew several directions.

Sarah smiled at Lorenzo "Really? You're going to let it sneak up on you like that?" she joked. She put her pipe back in the wagon and continued to walk and talk with Lorenzo.

In reply to Sarah Mills (msg # 70):

"It was under control!" Lorenzo insists, letting out a soft scoff. He throws Sarah a thankful smile regardless, which was probably as close as the stocky man would ever get to directly thanking someone. He lifts his arm to deliver a firm high-five and his grin widens. "Teamwork, pichoncita!" His tone is teasing, but it's assumed whatever pichoncita means can't be bad.

As the pair continue down the street, with Lorenzo darting slightly ahead to deal with any oncoming ghouls, the man abruptly freezes with his gaze locked onto the commotion by the car. He emits a harsh, barking laugh at the sight of the cowboy trapped within. It wasn't so much he was happy to see Benson trapped as it was him not having the capacity to express himself beyond shouting or teasing.

"Poor bastard!" he exclaims to Sarah, making an animated gesture toward the ongoing scuffle, almost jumping up and down as he pointed. "Come, come! If we don't help there will be no one left to help carry all the boxes!" he proclaimed dramatically.

He began to stride down the street, spreading out his arms briefly as if to implore the ghouls to target him rather than those currently fighting. "Come now, you chickenshits! Come to me!" he called to the creatures.

A handful of the creatures notice the noise he is creating and break off from their journey to Dom and Luke in order to target him instead. It's a help, but the current fighters aren't in the clear yet.
This message was last edited by the player at 16:26, Thu 04 June 2015.

Hank watched the other two head off. Looks like we're on supplies. Too bad we don't have any fireworks or something, draw them away from town. Turning to Ricky he had a thought. If we can't find soil or it's too much of a hassle what about just grabbing some shovels? We could dig outside the compound and increase our weapon supply. He shrugged, Your call, but we'd be able to make better time if we had to run. More likely when, but some things didn't need to be said out loud.

"Don't know how many tools we'll actually find, but it's worth a shot." Ricky replied as he glanced around the aisle they were currently in. "This place has only been lightly looted but someone has definitely been through here. You go ahead and try to find some tools; shovels, axes, hatchets, anything useful that's left. I'll look for the seeds and maybe an emergency exit . . . Oh, there's an interior lighting aisle a few rows down. You might be able to find some extra electrical wire there or just scavenge some from the lights." With a nod, he was off to the opposite side of the store.

The back of the store was definitely still dark, but Ricky's eyes had begun to adjust slightly. He was on high alert, his heart thumped in his chest like a drum, his hatchet was in hand ready to strike, and his eyes darted around, scanning his surroundings for any hint of movement. His own soft footsteps were the only noise he could hear nearby so that seemed to settle him slightly. He took a few steady breaths as he scanned the nearby aisles. *Nothing. Not what I need. More nothing. Paint. Fuck, c'mon.* After a few more aisles, Ricky finally hit the end of the line. He found an emergency exit door, the kind with a warning sign about alarms blaring upon opening the door. He needed the light but he hesitated, not sure if the alarm would still sound. *It shouldn't sound, right? I mean it has been almost a year since the power was cut, maybe six months in the least . . . Fuck it.* He pushed the door open, almost going blind for a second as light flooded the nearby area.

Bill, having shorter legs than Sam's, followed a few paces behind. His red-headed fire axe swung from side to side like his shoulders. Sam made it to the Sheriff's car as Bill was waylaid by the approaching walkers. He stood his ground.

This was the first time Bill had faced off against this many monsters since the incident in the woods, and the very first encounter Bill had without his Lauderdale County Sheriff's department pistol. During the winter, the last of the ammo had been used, and Bill left it behind to lighten his load. This fire axe he had found at the industrial camp would serve as its replacement.

Swinging the axe through the crowd of walkers, Bill got used to it. On the first strike, he could incapacitate them. Then, he could pull the axe out from wherever it landed and finish them off with a blow to the head, splitting their rotten skulls like a Halloween pumpkin. Bill noticed what Sam was doing, and tried to copy that, with relative success.
He cut down three or four more before joining Sam behind the cruiser. He only noticed Benson in the Sheriff's car when Sam said hello. "Hells Bells! Where did they come from? Hello Benson!" He waved to the cowboy, and look at Sam "It was clear a minute ago!"

Bill's eyes fixed on the scene in front of them. The Sherriff's department had a pretty good view of the main intersection the group had split from. Only a few of the Caravaneers were visible, and Bill wondered if they would all get out of this together.
This message was last edited by the player at 04:57, Sat 06 June 2015.

"Damn it." The door didn't budge.
Gary looked confused at the door that was probably an office but also maybe a broom closet. He heard the sound of the store's front door opening, Lorenzo leaving. Gary stepped away from the door to follow, but paused. His curiosity got the better of him.

Gary charged the door, even lifting off the ground a little. The door burst open, knocking over a metal filing cabinet with a loud smash. Gary fell on the floor, but was glad he got the door open. He knew right away it was an office, but at his angle on the floor, the sunlight coming in from the blind covered windows washed out much of the details.

Gary stood up as his eyes once again adjusted to the dark room. He looked around, avoiding the filing cabinet on the floor. There were the expected office furnishings, shelves, what have you. Gary saw a desk in the middle of the room, and as his eyes reached the correct dilation to account for the dim light, he saw a body of a man slouched in the desk chair. There was a hole on the side of his head, a small one on one side and a very big one on the other side where the bullet came out. The gun, a small black handgun, was in the man's hands.

There were no rations in the room. Gary was a lawyer, not a forensic whatever, so he couldn't tell how long the man had been dead for, but it didn't look fresh. The guy thought he'd be safe in here. He was, for the most part. Gary looked around the room. He saw pictures. A woman, some kids. Probably his family. Gary wondered if they were alive somewhere. Gary thought of his own kids. His wife. He wondered about them too.
Gary looked around the office. On the wall behind the dead man, there was a signed photo of him and a former President. It read "To my pal Gary- always keep your eye on the prize - B"


"Jesus." He looked down at the dead man named Gary. Without thinking he grabbed the gun from the cold hands of the former convenience store manager, stuffed it in the back of his pants like people did in movies, and walked quickly out of the office, then quickly out of the store.

Once out on the street, Gary saw the walkers approaching. Not knowing the ammo situation of the gun he just picked up, Gary grabbed the window washer from the window washing bucket outside the convenience store, the best weapon he could find, and made his way down the street with the few items he had grabbed, looking for his group members.

In reply to Lorenzo (msg # 71):

The ones that didn't follow Lorenzo, Sarah tried to smash. With her heavy pipe she lifted a swing here and a swirl there. Each time putting her weight into it and each time being sure not to fall over as she did in the store. She made good work of the creatures.

With their combined effort it would seems Sarah and Lorenzo took a decent amount of threat away from the situation.

When she was done with those zombies she chased after Lorenzo, hitting the beasts from behind "Thought you could use the help" she said as she smashed the legs of one of the ghouls "I think we did quite a bit back there, lets go clean up."

Karen had been trying to take zombies out quietly and carefully in an attempt to avoid the predicament pretty much everyone else found themselves in. But alas, she too found herself soon overwhelmed by the horde. Carefully calculated swings of her nightstick soon gave way to panicked flailing, just trying to make enough room to move. Karen's eyes went to the police car, an item reminding her of the past, giving her almost a moment of nostalgia had she not been preoccupied as she was. It was a symbol to her of safety, authority, and pride. But there was no time now for such pangs of days gone by. Now she landed a strike square into the jawbone of one nasty walker, dislodging the thing in a grotesque flapping charade. Karen swung again to land a blow on the head of another, but carelessly exposed her back. Cold claws clamped her flannel covered shoulder, jerking her off balance and towards the fangs of a monster. The horridly off coloured teeth pinched down upon the soft fleshy part of Karen's left shoulder, just above her deltoid muscle. The pain was tremendous. Karen screamed in both pain and terror, a scream shrill and loud enough to alert those around her, both living and dead. With all the adrenaline induced might she could summon, Karen whipped the baton backwards with her right arm to loose the teeth clamped upon her.

In reply to Sam (msg # 66):

Sam And Bill and whoever else was out there cleared the area around the car leaving a mound of twice dead bodies. All the while Bohannon sat uselessly inside the car, watching. As the others were completing their work, Bohannon came to the sudden and crushing conclusion that he was stuck. The Sheriff's keys were in the front of the car, the cowboy was in the back, and all the doors were once again locked. "Howdy yerself! I hate to be a bother, but if y'all got a minute, you wanna let me outta here?" He asked of the other men in the least sincere polite tone he could muster.

Quickly scanning the aisles Hank realized the tool selection available wasn't what he was hoping. Most of the large tools were taken, though there were a couple "child" sized ones left. They may not have been the best but they were better then nothing. Grabbing two small shovels, one with a plastic head, a full sized branch clipper, and a metal rake he glanced back as Ricky opened the rear door and light spilled in. Squinting slightly he continued on to the lighting aisle.

Luckily in a world overrun by zombies lighting fell next to survival. Given the situation outside he grabbed a box of electrical wire, the other stuff he had in mind could hopefully be scavenged but the less wire cutting the better. Heading back to Ricky he gave a slight shrug at his haul. Hopefully we'll be able to hit the houses at some point, they're probably better stocked then this place by now.

There were too many of them and despite Dominic’s best efforts to cut them down and Lorenzo’s attempt to draw them away more and more were heading towards Luke and himself; threatening to cut them off from the others. Backing away from a pair of rotting Zed’s clad in the remains of a green uniform the hardware store down the road perhaps? Dom could just about make out Bill and Sam at the police car talking to whoever was inside, and Lorenzo and the Asian chick whose name currently escaped him outside of the hardware store making up the much needed support. Unfortunately for Dom there was a small horde of Zed’s between him and them meaning that he would have to either find a way through or around them. Quickly opting for the latter of the two options he quickly seeks out an escape route; finding an alley down the side of the store he’d just raided “Bill! Get the group together, we’ll meet you at the hardware store...if we’re not with you in ten, get the hell out of here and head home!” Dominic shouted at the top of his lungs no longer caring about attracting the Zed’s attention as it was already too late for that “Come on Luke let’s get the hell out of here!” he called to the younger man as he turned and headed for the alley: using his sword to cut down one of the green clad zombies as he silently prayed that it wouldn’t be a dead end.
Even in his weakened state Dominic was still able to outpace the shambling dead but they would be hot on his trail. The thought prompting him to move faster still as he dived down the narrow litter strewn alleyway; vaulting a fallen dustbin before then breaking out into the small employees car park at the rear of the store.
Pausing long enough to make sure that there were no dead lurking nearby Dominic heads in the direction of the hardware store where with any luck the rest of the group would be waiting. Once he’d rejoined the others he’d come up with a plan of action but until then he had a lot more running to do.

In reply to Sarah Mills (msg # 76):

There was a metric assload of ghouls, but at least they were slow. Slow and dumb. Lorenzo managed to down a few, swearing under his breath all the while. It annoyed him to see his efforts weren't making much of a dent in the sheer amount of them. Was everyone who lived in this hick town shambling around right now? It was ridiculous. He was going to collapse from the exertion of cracking so many of the beasts without any proper nutrition in him before one actually got the jump on him. Or so he told himself. He wasn't gonna end up ripped to shreds like Cruz had been. He wrenched his machete from one of the beast's skulls with a sickly squelching noise and stumbled back, taking a stance, his dark eyes darting over the undead crowd in something that almost resembled panic. He had a temporary breather to choose his next target. Or tuck tail and run. Which wasn't going to happen.



Lorenzo's head whipped toward the sound of Sarah's voice, his body still poised to attack. For a second it looked like he actually was going to. His gaze flicked over the small woman, looking very much like a gory, pissed off animal stuck between fight or flight. Then his posture relaxed slightly and he scoffed when he realized Sarah wasn't some corpse that had snuck up on him.

"Doctor Love's still having some trouble," he said and spat on the ground, nodding to Dom and Luke in the distance. He took a deep breath and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, scanning the impromptu killing floor. "Sarah, we hafta-"

A shrill scream emits from Karen, and Lorenzo turns to see her struggling with one of those dead assholes. There was no way he could reach her without piling through a mess of those creatures, but if there was one thing Lorenzo was, it was a dumb, stubborn, angry son of a bitch. He didn't know Karen well at all, and to be frank she seemed like a mopey drag, but he had to at least try to help her. Any loss they had today, he viewed as a personal defeat between himself and those dead freaks, and they could be damn sure he was keeping score.

"Goddamn, this is fucking retarded!" he snapped, the familiar feeling of plain, blind anger tightening his chest. Effectively, it made him zero in on Karen, and he doesn't notice Dom darting off down the alleyway. He shouldered past Sarah, hoping he'd be able to hack his way to Karen in time.
This message was last edited by the player at 16:54, Tue 23 June 2015.

When Lorenzo passed Sarah due to Karen's scream for help a million thoughts swam through her mind. Most of them revolved around never seeing someone get bit, personally. She didn't know if this was a sickness, hell she never thought to ask if getting bitten gets you.. gets you turned into one of those things. It was something that gave her pause, but only briefly as she fought more fiercely when she realized she had no idea if a bite would turn her.

She mentally berated herself for being so dumb. How careless she was before.

She started swinging her pipe, which by now was caked in blood and tissue. Her smaller arms getting tired from swinging such a large weapon. Sarah wanted to move to Karen and follow Lorenzo, but she was lagging behind. While Sarah was safe, she couldn't get to Karen quickly.

Finally she reached Karen, or the zombies around her at least, she trailed behind Lorenzo but she swung at them with just as much zeal as she could muster.

"Karen, we got you!" Sarah yelled to her hoping Karen could get the creatures off of herself whilst they fought their way to her.

In reply to Benson Bohannon (msg # 78):

Sam was able to clear out a small area for himself next to the vehicle, with Bill fighting by his side though the southerner wasn't about to put his faith in an old drunk. The grizzly survivor kicked one small(compared to Sam) biter to the asphalt, a withered femur snapping, leaving the walker down but not out. One long stride forward and Sam raised a knee and slammed his heavy boot down on the..possibly blonde walker's head. "Cover me you old sonofabitch." Sam ordered to his elderly companion as he turned back to the police car. Benson's words earned a stream of what may or might not have been tobacco juice from Sam's mouth, the dark saliva splattering the car window so he didn't have to look at Benson for a moment.

Right then he heard Dominic's call, a little peeved that the guy assumed Bill was in charge of the operation. After a quick glance to the mass of walkers all around them, Sam made quick on getting himself, and, if he had time, the other two out as well.

"Get clear of the glass, Eastwood!" Sam exclaimed, raising his viking axe and swinging it solidly into the back passenger side window. The glass bent inward, smashing but not breaking, the sharp blade clear on Benson's end, if he hadn't hit the guy. Placing one foot on the side of the cruiser, Sam pulled the weapon back with a mighty jerk, yanking the entire plane of cobwebbed glass right out of the window frame, giving Benson a way out.

"You owe me now." Sam stated strangely serious rather than the usual sarcastic.

In reply to Dominic Dubreton (msg # 80):

Luke was quick after Dominic once they decided to break off, unable to help much from where they were. As they ran Luke sweated profusely, anxious and afraid, even after all the months since the beginning. Back at Fort Dixie he hadn't had to come close to the walkers except on patrol, he'd rarely been a raider. Times changed.

As they darted down an alleyway, moving to meet the others, Luke would bump into a trashcan, making a loud racket before cursing under his breath, and reinvigorating his escape.
Glad that Dominic knew which way to go despite the danger and stress, Luke was able to focus on just putting one foot in front of the other. No doubt Dominic's experience as a medic had him trained to such decisive action. "Game over man, game over! Who let those things out of the bar!?" Luke exclaimed none too calmly, looking a bit out of sorts, his eyes panicky.

Spinning around Dominic seized the panicking young man by his shirt collar; twisting the fabric tight about his throat and dragging him close so that he was mere inches from the Frenchman's face and staring directly into his "It doesn't matter! Now keep it together or I swear to God I will drop you, you understand me!" he growled angrily. The last thing he needed was for Luke to start panicking, he needed him to watch his back, not bolt like a startled rabbit at the first sign of trouble. Releasing his grip on Luke’s shirt and taking a step back Dominic continues speaking to him but in a much calmer and more reassuring tone of voice "we're going to be ok, just stay calm and we'll both get out of here alive" with his pep talk finished Dominic turns his attention back to the task at hand; escaping the undead.
The parking lot was small and contained only an old Buick, which if they got the chance could be worth checking out, but was useless for the time being.
Straight ahead of him there was a tall brick wall whilst to his left there was the car parks entrance that would lead straight back onto the main street they'd just fled. So it was the narrow alleyway to the right that he headed for; signalling for Luke to follow him as he went.
Dark, cramped and stinking of refuse Dominic hoped that the alley would lead him to the rear of the hardware store like he thought it would and not a dead end as he doubted the dead would allow them to double back and try again if it was.
In the distance, muffled by the walls of the alley he could hear the others still hacking away at the dead. He hoped that they would be alright, he'd promised Mahmoud that he would bring them all back and although he knew no real blame would be given if he didn't he didn't want to go there if he could help it, they'd already lost too many people over the past couple of months and he didn't want to lose anymore.
Breaking out into what looked like the stores loading bay Dominic wasted no time in racing up to the door at the back of the building; swearing loudly when he found it locked.
There was no way out of here, the gate was chained shut and topped with razor wire and the roller shutter door would be far too heavy for them to lift, assuming of course that the security conscious owners hadn't bolted it shut.
With no other options and the Zed's closing in he takes a step back and kicks the door with all his might.

In reply to Sam (msg # 83):

The strike to the window had not in fact set off the alarm, a series of events once and for all confirming not only that the car was dead and useless, but also that the windows were not bullet proof, as Bohannon had hoped. The cowboy climbed out the window only a third as gracefully as a Nascar driver, falling on his ass and then standing back up. He dusted himself off, sending tiny bits of tempered glass every which way.

"Thanks Hoss." He said to his fellow Southerners, surveying the gruesome scene. "Well Captain Kidd, where to? Back to ship or back to jail?" Bohannon asked as he scooped his machete up off the ground.

In reply to Sarah Mills (msg # 82):

Karen was now in full panic. she had freed herself from the zombie's mouth, but fear of what damage had been done overcame her. Kicking one walker in the gut, Karen made enough room to bolt down the street towards Sarah and Lorenzo. A very big part of her wanted to run the other way. to lose control of herself, succumb to fear and panic and rage and hide in some alley way and wait to die alone. But Karen didn't want to die alone. So straight to Sarah's arms she ran, not for comfort, but for a place to check her wounds. Karen reached Sarah and Lorenzo, taking cover behind a parked truck, trusting Lorenzo would offer some safety. Karen dropped to her knees beside Sarah, peeling off her flannel shirt and pulling her tank top down under her arm. Blood soaked both layers, both spatter from the fight, and from the monster's mouth.

"AM I BIT???" Karen demanded from Sarah as she herself tried to look at the back of her own shoulder. What Sarah would find is a very large and rapidly darkening blood blister under and on either side of Karen's bra strap. The three layers between teeth and skin seemed to have stopped the thing's teeth from piercing Karen's skin.

Crouched by the police car, Bill clutched his red fire axe with both hands. His shoulder still hurt from swinging the axe into the walkers, but there was nothing he could do. Play through the pain, that's what his High School coach used to tell him.
He heard Dominic's call and surveyed the scene. Bill saw Lorenzo, Sarah, and Ricky down by the hardware store. He saw Gary wandering on the other side of the street by the convenience store. Walkers crowded the street between them. Getting this group together would not be easy.

Sam smashed the window of the police cruiser, and Bill fended off a lone walker that had marched up behind the trio of Southerners. "I don't know about fighting through that hoard, why don't we go up a block and try to go around them. We can't stay here."

Around the corner of the store, a pair of walkers emerged, and Gary began to wonder about his choice of weapon. He glanced at the window washer in his hand. He hadn't been thinking when he came out of the store. He was distracted, and now he was in a two on one fight with a pair of walkers armed with a window washer.

Gary swung the washer into the rotten skull of the walker on the right. The head, the part with the sponge, broke from the handle as the undead body recoiled from the relatively serious blow. Oh shit , Gary thought. This was worse than he imagined.

The walker on the left leaned in to bite Gary. He he stuck the handle, relatively sharp, through it's open mouth, and the walker was paralysed. Gary jerked the little black handle out, breaking the walker's skull. One down.

Turning around Gary saw Luke and Dominic running down the ally behind the hardware store the kids had just come out of. Gary charged the last walker, stabbed him through the skull like the first, and ran toward the hardware store. He wasn't sure who too follow, but he had to move.
Behind him, walkers tripped over each other heading toward them.

"Get back inside! Get inside!" He shouted to the younger Caravan members, waving his arms in the direction of the store.

Lorenzo only granted Karen a cursory glance as the woman pushed by him, followed by one of the ghouls that had been at risk of surrounding her. He was much too focused on wanting to pummel the infected, and it wasn't quite clear whether that was due to an inherent bloodlust or from the desire to protect the two women crouched behind him. A tight knot of anger had worked its way into the man's gut, and if there was no one around to tell him what to do, or to base his actions on what he thought they'd want him to do, he might have continued to pick fights regardless of his exhaustion.

Wiping a combination of sweat and dark gore from his brow, the stocky man waited for the creature to close the distance toward him before driving the machete deep into the former-woman's head with two rapid hacks. He wrenched the blade free and took a stance by the truck, vaguely aware of Karen shouting. Lorenzo didn't turn to face the woman, though in ordinary circumstances would have been thrilled to gawk at her stripping down, and instead continued to watch the infected shambling about the street, reminiscent of a very angry, very protective dog.

"Hurry it up, ladies," he growled, still surveying the street. He glanced back to the gas station, noting the crates of supplies he had moved outside. "Everyone's splitting, and we gotta grab those boxes and gardening shit or this whole trip was fuckin' pointless."

For them to come all this way, for Karen to get bit, only to come back to the rest of their group empty-handed wasn't something Lorenzo could handle. His stubbornness and pride wouldn't allow for it. He wasn't sure where Doctor Love and that fucking moustache guy had scampered away to, but when he found them he had half the mind to knock their two heads together for taking off. Risk assessment was obviously not his strong suit, which is why he had never been the plan guy.

In reply to Dominic Dubreton (msg # 85):

Luke froze up as Dominic grabbed him about the shirt, pulling the material from its tucked in state on the trimly (if dirtily) dressed young man. Their raid leader's strong words distracted him from his frantic thoughts, his own dark brown eyes unblinkingly staring back at Dominic, believing everything the medic was saying. Despite the flight response wracking his rattled form, his survival instinct told him to obey lest he be left behind. Dominic would get him through this. When the doc released him, they shared a quiet moment and tone, and Luke finally seemed to regain his composure, if just a little. "O-Okay, okay.. I get it."

The mustached millennial was close behind Dominic as they hurled themselves along, trying to find a way out of the area. The sounds of their companions fighting for their lives and supplies bounced off of the walls of the narrow alleyway, with shadows casting large, grotesque figures along the cavernous bricks surrounding them.

Keeping a look out as Dominic tried to find a way past some locks, spotting some of the undead beginning to follow them from the alleyway they had just departed. Stay calm stay calm stay calm.. Luke tried to rally, backing up closer to Dominic as the other booted in the door. If unsuccessful, Luke would add his own foot to the cause.

In reply to Benson Bohannon (msg # 86):
In reply to Bill (msg # 88):

"Funny guy says funny things." Sam replied dryly to Benson's words, spitting dark juice-like saliva at the corpse of a walker near the three. They had earned some breathing room, but they were still blocked from the others by a swell of biters that were collecting around their allies, as well as edging closer to the three sons of the South.

Gauging the situation with the wherewithal of a soldier, Sam snorted in part disdain for the threat to his mortality, and because it was part of his usual countenance. It was a quasi-answer to Bill's suggestion. "Lets get a move on, meet the other's back at the compound, if they survive that is.. They're on their own."

Holding his long viking style axe aloft in both hands, Sam turned away from the ongoing skirmish, nodding Benson and Bill along with him. Though large, Sam could move quick with his long legged strides, and they were soon disappearing from the police car and sheriff's office, with a few slow walkers in cold pursuit.

-Escape from A Town Called Slaughter

Dominic’s foot slammed into the door rattling it in its frame prompting him to kick it again to much the same effect. Obviously realising that their lives depended on opening this door Luke joined him at this point; the blows they rained on the door punctuating the groans of the Zed’s as they neared the end of the alleyway, effectively trapping their prey within the fenced off loading area.
Could they fight them off and double back? Dominic considered the idea for all of three seconds before turning round and booting the door again this time producing a loud splintering noise. A further two blows sent it crashing against the back wall as the lock finally gave up under the onslaught. Without even looking over his shoulder Dominic knew that the Zeds would be close and so wasted no time bursting through the now open door and running as quickly as fatigue would allow him through storeroom and into the main part of the store; waiting just long enough for Luke to follow him in before slamming the door shut behind him “Merde...that was close” he breathed heavily as he leant against the door in a effort to catch his breath If I’d realised this going to happen I’d have never started smoking he thought to himself as he heard the scratching of fingernails against the door behind him. Then again if he’d realised if this going to happen he would have also bought himself a shotgun and a whole heap of survival gear too.
Out of breath and with his heart threatening to burst out of his chest in a manner reminiscent to a certain alien film Dominic leant against the door and looked out across the ransacked hardware store to see if any of the others were around before offering Luke a weary smile “see mon ami...I told you we’d be alright” he said as he waited for his adrenaline high to wear off a touch before moving on.
With the zeds no longer hot on his trail Dominic moved through the store at more cautious pace not wanting to use up what little energy he had by pointlessly dashing through the store and no doubt into the waiting arms of any undead lurking within the dark shadowy aisles.
Upon reaching the front of the store he found the scene out front much the same as he’d left it, with Lorenzo and Sarah fighting the Zeds in front of the barbers and Gary a short distance away doing much the same. Sam, Bill and whoever has been the police car; Bohannon at a guess meanwhile were gone and he had no idea where Ricky and Hank were “Leave them alone Lorenzo!” Dominic shouted hoping to stop the guy from wading into another mob of Zeds “...grab your stuff it’s time to get the hell out of here!” he said as he moved over to join the others; pausing long enough to remove the head from a zed that had been threatening to get in the way before continuing on “Is everyone alright? Where’s Hank and Ricky?”

Hank took a step back as Gary came running into the store. Here. He held out the metal shovel to the older man. They would need everyone equipped with something better then a knife if they were going to get out the town. Moving to the side of the doorway he put his loot down and brought his crowbar up, waiting for the first of Gary's followers to show. We need to find a way to funnel these things.

Ricky could hear Dominic shouting inside the hardware store. He made his way towards the voice, calling out in reply. "I found a side exit, some kind of emergency door. Leads to an alley, fences still up but it doesn't really give us much wiggle room to dodge the dead. I think the front might be our best bet. Looks like you guys cleared out enough for us to run."

No sooner had Dom asked the question, he heard Ricky's voice shouting out from within the shop. Rushing over to the doorway so as to be heard better he quickly shouts back in reply "No! the alley is crawling with Zeds, grab your stuff and meet us out front we'll hold them off" they should be able to hold out long enough for Hank and Ricky to reach them now that they were all together again; his sword making short work of yet another walking cadaver.
As soon as Ricky and Hank had joined them, Dominic signalled for them all to get moving, pausing long enough to grab one of the boxes that Lorenzo had found before then heading down the street and out of town. What idiot thought it'd be a good idea to call a town Slaughter anyway?

----> Industrial park compound

Luke managed to make it through the ordeal with enough drive to avoid literally being pulled along. Dominic's words earlier had snapped him to action yet he was running on fumes from the stress of this event, combined with the lack of nutrition for the last many weeks. Before they were able to break free of the clog of undead in the streets the mustachioed youth would bloody his machete much more.

Once relatively clear of the town the blood-splattered hipster was silent, with a vacant stare, but alive.

-to Industrial Park Compound

Lorenzo waited until Sarah and Karen were in the clear before trudging away from the women, having put down two more infected in the time he spent waiting. "Soil. Get the soil," he spat out through his teeth, without looking at them again. Instead he started to wander toward a particularly annoying looking clump of undead, his hand clenching the machete so hard it began to shake. He was mad and he didn't even know why, all he knew was these dead assholes were ruining what was supposed to be a good thing and he was going to make them pay the only way he knew how.

However, he was called off by the sound of the good doctor instructing him to do otherwise. The previous thoughts of wanting to knock the guy's head off a wall subsided after Lorenzo realized he hadn't abandoned them, and the stocky man instead gravitated toward the convenience store. His dark eyes darted in a panic over the dilapidated building, but after a moment he saw the cart pushed unceremoniously aside. He took a staggering amount of the crates in his ropey arms, a feat mostly credited to the adrenaline coursing through him, and piled them carelessly into the cart, repeating the action until he had all he could fit.

Well, the loading job didn't look pretty. And one thought kept running through his mind. This isn't enough. But his forearms were slick with dark gore, as was the front of his shirt, and it seemed the crates were now being given a similar treatment. He wasn't feeling the fatigue yet, but he was ready to leave. Grimacing, he began to push the barely functional cart on his lonesome away from Slaughter- though if he saw anyone straggling he'd wade right back into the fray unless instructed otherwise.

---

Spoiler text: (Highlight or hover over the text to view)
---> Industrial Compound (probably)

---

Waiting for the two undead to make it through the door Hank crushed the first one's head in as it came through. The second was dispatched as it tried to get up from being tangled in the other's limbs. Following the others he tossed his haul into a relatively empty crate he wondered how much luck they'd have when/if they came back for the houses. Taking a last look back he shook his head. Maybe it's a good thing Tom didn't come.

--->To compound

"Don't need to ask me twice." Ricky muttered back as Dom ordered the group to ready their leave. With hatchet in hand and a pack only slightly heavier than when they first arrived, Ricky was more than eager enough to leave the dead town. *Not the greatest haul, but it's better than nothing.* He followed close behind the others, taking out the stray dead here and there.

>> To: Industrial Park Compound >>