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.