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.