This thread will describe the entire industrial park and surrounding areas including the "Big House," the grounds, the gate and perimeter, the canal, as well as the area around the compound from now to the end of chapter 4.

The Caravan will stay in one thread for the sake on continuity, even if you all are not directly occupying the same space.

Consider this a TIME BUMP: Middle of the night on the current day.

First came the winds. Then came the rain. The Caravan tried to hunker down in the Big House to ride out the storm. The old, frail steel structures creaked and groaned with the wind at their ancient backs. Rain water poured through joints and seams and cracks soaking the floors and the people huddled upon them, chilling the Caravan to the bone. The burnt orange and deep red skin of the rusted old buildings seemed to welcome the rain water as an old and familiar friend.

But once the flood waters surged down the canal the industrial complex was overwhelmed. It's tired old bones could hold out no longer against the elements, finally giving up the ghost once and for all, falling dead to the very thing that claimed its livelihood some years ago.

The first building fell somewhere off in the background, the sound resonating insignificantly against the howling of the wind. Then the roof of the Big House came crashing down on the second floor above the Caravan's heads as the structure below was was battered and beaten by the raging river now trying to flow through it.

The Caravan is faced with a sudden emergency evacuation as your once home quickly offers to become your watery grave. You'll be lucky to escape with your lives, let alone the clothes on your backs (and the weapons at your sides.) As a sea washes up around your knees, creeping higher and higher by the second your time to collect supplies is past. Debris and turbid waters are trying to claim your lives as they claimed you home.

What you do now will define you. Your actions will show your true colors. Will you band together as a family to survive this, or is it every man for himself?

It is time to escape the storm!

New Mexico had sought shelter with everyone else inside the Big House when the rains came, their coming foretold by the wind-chill that soon became a relentless howl. The shaggy haired teen, who had witnessed and been through so much tumult, huddled against several of the others survivors much like penguins in Antarctica while their world literally came crashing down atop of them.

Closing his eyes tightly, New Mexico tugged his soaked jacket around his slender frame, unable to help but distinguish the cries and screams of those around him as their erstwhile home gave out. Back home he'd never been through something like this. The odd tornado, yes, but the rains and flooding were overwhelming an already strung out group of people.

It was when water flowed in through what was left of the front windows and door that New Mexico knew he had to move. The dirty, debris-laden water filled his ratty boots, instantly chilling his pale feet. Eyes open, it was time to let survival instinct take the reins.

"We've got to get the hell out of here!" He called to no one, to everyone in particular, standing from where he'd been huddled, with barely anything to bring with him but the clothes on his back and his machete, securely sheathed along one thigh. Even if he made it out it would surely rust.

Through the howl of the wind, he was sure he heard Lizzie's crying out, but he wasn't able to catch a glimpse of her.

Water began to rise up along his calves, and going higher still, like a tsunami in those youtube videos from Indonesia and Japan. With other Carvaneers pushing past, all barely registering one another in the dark, NM pushed his way through a water logged door to the kitchen, where much but not all of the food was kept.

Reaching the cabinet, he was fornlorn to find it locked up with chains. For lack of a better option he withdrew his machete from its sheathe, raised up and struck the cabinet, his aim being to chop through it to get to the cans inside. There wasn't much time before he became trapped like some of the others were.

Sam had been through worse. Well, maybe not worse, but but about the same, roughly. He'd seen the signs coming and had set about preparing himself, not worrying about the fools he'd traveled with, as they could use some thinning of numbers to leave more for the real survivors like him. Like Cookie.

Ever since Cookie left camp the Southerner had been itching to get away and catch up with her, get her nice and alone before giving her the business end of his bowie blade. Before that, he needed some supplies, to be gathered up at the right time when the shit really hit the fan.

Through the destruction, Sam had made his way to the kitchen much like the teenager he found there. Decked out in raiding gear unlike the boy, Sam grinned wolfishly at the serendipitous nature coalescing before him. New Mexico had caused nothing but trouble for Sam.

Months back, the kid had interrupted Sam when he had dispatched a towel headed bitch's bastard from her belly with his fist. As far as Sam had been concerned, no foul, as the brat would likely have grown up into a terrorist anyway. The kindly Southern gentleman had even planned to replace the bastard in the woman's belly with one of his own, but New Mexico intervened.

Cookie and NM had then abandoned him in a shed on the property they'd holed up in. Left to die. They hadn't even the balls to kill him when they had the chance. They'd done in Sam's men, when they should have finished him right then and there.

Oh well, funny how life works out. Sam thought with sinister intent.
With the noise around them Sam was able to approach the preoccupied teen unawares..

When NM pulled back to swing against the cabinet again, Sam grabbed the boy's wrist, drawing the distracted teen's attention then. "A Beauregard always pays his debts, faggot. Time for a swim." Their gazes met briefly, or rather, their glares met and exchanged blows before Sam's grip caused New Mexico to lose his, causing the machete to fall into the waist deep water.

Sam's other hand took a fistful of NM's thick shaggy hair, and with firm force he shoved the teenager's head beneath the water, while New Mexico clawed with one free hand at Sam's lethal grip 'round his hair.

"Shh... Shush now, buoy, let it happen.. I need that food and you're acting yaself a damn fool."
This message was last edited by the player at 22:10, Fri 23 Oct 2015.

The sudden and not unexpected rush of water threw Cauldershore to the floor and washed him away from the group. Everything was black and cold. unfortunately, this was not the first time the New Orleans bar owner had lived through this. Katrina had tried to take his bar from him, but the community united to rebuild the neighbourhood. Now as the water pushed him to the floor he wondered if there was any such thing as community left.

This was just like before and Cauldershore wasn't sure he wanted to see how it ended this time. He began to let go. But when his back hit a wall his survival instinct took over and his arms shot up and out and he fought to find which way was up. His cold wet fingers wrapped around something protruding from the wall and he hefted his weight from the water, the overpowering sounds coming back once more as he tried to catch his breath and find his mates.

When he thought back about it later on, there had been steely grey clouds in the distance as Izzy and he had sat drinking the two cans of rather flat beer discussing potential new homes for the caravan. Had he realised what those clouds were heralding he would have done something about it even if it had only been to move the caravan and its meagre cache of supplies away from the river. But he hadn't and so on the very first night of him being in charge disaster had struck.

Swearing in loud fluent French, Dominic watched in horror as water surged through the building threatening to drown them all in a deluge of filthy storm water. His bag was gone, washed away into the darkness as had several people unlucky enough to be thrown off balance by the water surging around their legs. It was with this thought in his mind that Dom quickly searches the knot of people he had been sleeping in amongst for Izzy and finding the woman struggling to rise. Striding over to her Dominic wastes little time in lifting her up into his arms and out of the water that had been threatening to drown her "Its alright I've got you" he said, speaking directly into her ear so as to be heard over the rain hammering down onto the roof. With the woman that he very quietly cared for now safe, or rather as safe as the rest of them he then turns his attention to the rest of the people around him knowing that if something wasn’t done soon that they’d start panicking and it would be every man for himself "Ok people we need to get the hell out of here! Now stick together and follow me!" Dominic shouted before then slowly moving towards the fire escape on the other side of the building hoping that the others would have enough sense to follow him and more importantly that the door wasn’t chained shut "Gary! Lorenzo! I need you guys to grab whatever food and medical supplies you can find but don't get yourselves killed over it, we'll meet you outside ok?" Dominic shouted at two of the more resilient members of the group knowing that if they were to have any hope of survival that they needed that food and that they had the best chance of getting the job done. But first and foremost he needed to get these people out of this death trap of a building and so shouting yet more words of encouragement Dom slowly made his way towards the fire escape; holding on tightly to Izzy as he went so that she didn’t slip and fall. He'd be damned if he was going to let her drown because of what he'd done to her, not whilst he still had breath within his body.

The thing about throwing in with people that you weren't sure were about to slit your throat, rob you, or a combination of the two while you slept was that it got you into the habit of keeping very good track of your possessions. Especially weapons.

Lorenzo was already on his feet when Dominic called out to him and he paused from his very angry string of swearing just for him. Really, Dominic should be honoured. "Got it, doc," he snapped, then immediately resumed cursing under his breath. It made him feel better. Soon he was just too pissed to keep it under his breath, so he shouted and growled darkly, especially when the water started rising over the tops of his boots.

This was ridiculous. Lorenzo had seen flash-floods, but this was just bullshit. The SKS was easy to find, and the knife, he rarely took off. Everything else, he couldn't find beneath the rapidly rising waters, and he couldn't be assed. He kept his small flashlight trained in front of him and bobbed it over the surface of the water, looking for anyone who had been unfortunate enough to fall. The kid, that girl, he was especially worried about. And Sarah. Top priorities. If he saw Janice, he was liable to put his foot on her head and hold her there.

There didn't look like there was anyone. Which meant the short time frame he had spent looking for survivors was up. Worried the rising water may effect his cigarettes, he moved them up to the front pocket of his flannel workshirt.

"Aha, cojeme! Qué chingados!" he half-laughed, half-shouted, slapping a hand to his forehead. "No me jodas."

He braced a hand against the wall and grabbed his own bag from the floor, and a mostly empty sportsbag. He dumped the scant contents unceremoniously into the water. It was junk. If he had anything to say about it, they'd be getting out of this crapshack with assloads of supplies.

"Me cago en la leche..." he muttered. The water was steadily reaching his knees, which made walking... Not so much scary as it was annoying, but feeling any small amount of fear usually made him become unreasonably frustrated- mostly with himself.

Very stubbornly, he forced himself to where the bulk of the supplies were kept and clutched onto the doorway. He panned his light over the dim room, and raised his eyebrows when he saw Sam already by the cabinets.

"Look at that!" he jeered. "The old bastard's makin' himself usef-"

Lorenzo broke off very abruptly when he saw what the man was actually doing. Now, he had little understanding of the situation. His homelife had been abnormal to say the least, so it wasn't the fact that a full-grown guy was manhandling one of the smaller members of the caravan that disturbed him. It was that the middle of a flood seemed to be an odd time to do it.

"Back off the fuckin' kid," he demanded in a snarl, pushing himself into the room. The SKS had been empty for weeks. He clutched the hilt of his hunting knife and advanced toward the struggling pair, staggering slightly in the water. "Now, Sam, or I'm gonna cut your belly wide fucking open."

As soon as the wind and rain started he knew he wouldn't be getting any more sleep. Packing their sleeping bags away he listened to the storm with an arm around Tom, missing the questionable forecasts from the news. When the water started pouring under the door he shook Tom to get his attention and help with the tarps. The only thing not in their backpacks was the one he took on the raid earlier, which went over his stomach.

Pulling the door to their room open he instinctively ducked at the crashing of the roof above. Shit. Tom. He looked to his brother. We need to grab what food we can and head for higher ground, ok. Come on.  Taking Tom's hand, crowbar in the other, guided them to the pantry, figuring Lola would be taking care of the medical supplies. If they had time they could swing by but food was of a more important concern. Even those two cans of dog food would be worth something. Almost stomping his way forward through the rising water he saw some of the others getting their stuff together further in the building.

Stopping by the door to the pantry he turned to Tom again, taking him by the shoulders. We get in, grab what we can, get out. We'll meet the others after the storms over. After making sure the kid understood he headed in to the room, stopping as he saw Lorenzo with his knife drawn and Sam. Though it wasn't just those two, an arm bursting out of the water indicating a forth person. Making sure Tom was behind him Hank took a step forward so he was behind and to the side of Lorenzo. Sam, let him up. He didn't have the same snarl as the other man, just the cold certainty any other course of action would be foolish.

Karen and the Bohannon brothers followed Dominic's lead towards the fire escape, the trio bringing up the rear of the escaping Caravan as the group approached the door. Karen broke off to catch Cauldershore and help him to the exit, much to Benson's chagrin. After the sort of post apocalyptic booty-call the two shared earlier this evening, he'd kind of grown attached.

"Did you hit that?" Brady asked his brother with a laugh, shouting over the immense noise of the environment. Brady was always the one to take things lightly, even in a situation as dark as this, and even if it all was bullshit.

"Shut up and move!" Benson deflected the question as Karen rejoined the herd of escapees with the Limey in tow.

The surge of water had delivered a mortal blow to the Big House's support structure. The roof had already fallen in on itself, landing on the upper level of the place. The unrelenting river joined forces with the wind to ensure the demise of the industrial building as the second floor began to give way. Sections of the ceiling structure, furniture and equipment, and the rafters themselves began slamming down into the water the Caravan was wading through. Time to escape the Big House was running out.

A section of the roof came down between the Bohannons & Karen and the rest of the Caravan. With the water level rising dramatically, now hitting around the cowboy's waist there was no time to move the debris. "Dominic!! Get these folks out of here! Brady n' I will get Karen out on the Falcon!" Benson smirked, pleased to be the pop-culture reference guy, as he turned to get his small family to safety.

The roof was coming down on the Caravan as fast as the rain itself. The first section separated Karen and the southern boys from the main group and blocked anyone who wasn't with Dominic from getting out the fire escape. Karen took note of New Mexico and Lorenzo heading for the pantry on the opposite side of the Big House when the whole thing started moments ago. Thank God the roof was stable above the pantry for now. "Mex and Lorenzo went that way!" Karen informed her companions. "There's another exit down the hall from the pantry! Let's go there!" She ordered the two men to follow.

Taking the lead, Karen was the first to enter the corridor that lead to the pantry and the other exit. Unfortunately, being first down the hall meant that it was she who bore the brunt of the jagged piece of metal that protruded from the damaged wall outside the pantry. Warm red blood spurted into cold black water as the current swept Karen sideways into the sharp stake. Karen's movement jolted awkwardly to a halt as the spike tore through her side. A scream escaped her mouth, loud enough to pierce the violent noise and reach Hank and Tom at the pantry door.

Brady, demonstrating his nature, shoved past the wounded Karen with flagrant disregard for her wellbeing. "Hey c'mon, lets get the fuck outta here!!!" he shouted into the pantry on his way by, taking no notice of the standoff unfolding inside. Brady arrived at the back door to the Big House.

Benson's stomach jumped into his throat with Karen's scream. Benson had no idea what happened to her right there, but it was definitely not good. Benson came to her aid watching scornfully as his brother shoved past her to save his own ass. "Hey! You ain't quitting that easy." Benson looked into Karen's eyes as he placed his hand on top of hers to apply pressure to the wound. "I'm gonna get you out of here. Okay?" He reassured Karen as the pain welled up in her eyes and he could see some of the fight slipping out of her. Bohannon gently guided Karen towards the pantry.

Brady slammed his body against the fire door. It was one of those "alarm will sound" kind of doors that should be perfect in an emergency like this one. Except that the raging force of the water on the outside of the door was doing its best to keep the door right exactly where it was. It was like how when a car drives off a bridge and hits the water, you can't open the door until the pressure inside the car equilibrates with the the pressure outside. But in this case, the water level inside the Big House would never reach that high. It wasn't like the industrial park was sinking like the Titanic. So, the solution would be simply to force the door open by pushing hard enough against the current to over come the pressure. "Help me get this fuckin' thing open! C'mon! There's no time!!" Brady called out to his companions, totally oblivious to Karen's injury and the threat facing New Mexico and Sam simultaneously.

In reply to Dominic Dubreton (msg # 6):

When the roof fell Cauldershore had already moved to Dominic's side and successfully avoided being crushed. "Oh God almighty! Please see us through this!" He cried out, holding his hands to the sky. The Brit surveyed the group of people around him were making for the fire escape. "Dominic! Dominic!" Cauldershore grabbed Dominic's sleeve. "Where's Nevada!?! She's not here! She wasn't with Bohannon! Where is She!?" Cauldershore was hysterical. "We can't leave without her!!"

Hearing the screech of tearing metal, Dom barely made it out of the way as a large section of the factories roof came guillotining down; The medic holding the woman he was currently supporting in the now knee high water protectively close, not that his body would have proved much of a shield if they’d been hit by half a ton of galv steel.
A quick glance told him that thankfully nobody had been injured or more likely killed by the falling roof, but it had resulted in Karen and the Bohannon Brothers being cut off from the rest of the group “Get out of here mes amis, we’ll meet you by the gate...if not we’ll find you in the morning” Dom shouted after the brothers as they disappeared into the night.
Although the electrics had long since died they were still able to see the running man sign using what little light they had with them; the push bar on the door below thankfully devoid of the chains that would have  spelled their doom.  It was as he was moving to open the door that he felt someone take hold of his arm; the man he eventually recognised as being Cauldershore asking him in a hysterical where Nevada was with a note of panic in his voice.
Turning his head to look back the way they’d came Dominic searched the darkness for any sign of the girl come on Nevada...if you’re going to scream for help now’s the time to do it He silently pleaded before accepting that the black maths was right and that they had to go on without her “I am sorry Mon ami, we’ve got to get out of here before the whole place falls on top us…we’re no good to her dead!” he shouted so as to be heard over the hammering rain and the thunderous crashing of yet more falling steelwork “...She’s probably already outside waiting for us, Now help me get this damn door open before we all drown” he said hoping that he was right and that the girl really was outside waiting for them somewhere but not holding out much hope. The group was already scattered enough as it was and he couldn’t send somebody out into that hell looking for a girl that could already be dead, it had been bad enough sending Lorenzo to get the food let alone sending someone on what could be a suicide mission.
Moving Izzy so that she could lean against the wall Dominic moved over to the fire escape and bracing his feet the best he could against the slick concrete floor beneath him started to push against the door hoping that the others would come to his aid and help him get the damn thing open before it was too late.

In reply to Lorenzo (msg # 7):

"Fuck off, beaner, this isn't any of your concern." Sam remarked, then gritting his teeth, annoyed with Lorenzo's interruption. If he'd had fangs he would have bared them such was his territorial disposition. The large Southerner's attention turned to the younger man, eyes remorseless yet with a glint of amusement.

New Mexico continued to struggle beneath Sam's grip, the underwater struggle intensifying as the teen's supply of air dissipated further. Sam's own bowie knife rested in its sheathe, unbuttoned for ease of access, the heavy metal slung at his waist.  "You think you have the balls? Fuckin' Spic." The surly Southern gentry spat a discolored wad of saliva mixed with what was hopefully chewing tobacco right in Lorenzo's direction.

"Why don't you go fuck your little friend Lizzie. HA!" Sam spat with his words once more, laughing dryly. "Your little girlfriend is getting his just deserves."
This message was last edited by the player at 02:07, Tue 27 Oct 2015.

In reply to Dominic Dubreton (msg # 13):

Isabelle had been in need of Dominic's assistance, and was grateful for his speedy efforts to whisk her away from debris and the elements. She had her wits about her, but could not move apace with everyone else. When Dominic set her down to push open the door, she even lent a hand, setting her one good foot into the concrete like her rescuer and putting whatever grit she could summon into the effort to free the lot of them.

Mahmoud strode through the rising water towards the group at the doorway, emerging from the darkness, rifle slung over his back with a soaked through pack of whatever he could gather before it was time to make a break for the exit. His features were contorted with worry though there was no panic in them, rather that focus he'd been developing over the many months since joining the group way back when.

A knowing look to their new de facto leader the good doctor and Mahmoud was about to join his weight to the heavy door, weighed by the rush of water. It was hard to miss Cauldershore's outburst of hysteria, and seeing as Dominic was having enough on his plate, duly assisted in this matter.

Raising his right hand Mahmoud delivered a sharp slap to Cauldershore's grizzled face, "If you don't help get this door open then she'll be as dead as we are. Now move it!"

Shocked by the swift strike to the face, Cauldershore moved into action. He added his weight to the force acting against the fire door. Surely the combined effort would be enough to spring the door. His heart was breaking for the friends surely lost to the flood, but there was nothing left to do for them now. Staying would only secure the Caravan's demise.

The raging flood water outside the Big House engulfed the entire area. It was a flowing river and the Caravan was right in it. When the door is opened, the fleeing Caravan shall have to find safety, and each other.

[Bill and Gary join the effort to push open the door. Spring the door whenever you're ready and "take 'er away."]

In reply to Sam (msg # 14):

While Sam tossed out his insults, Lorenzo simply passed the flashlight back to Hank- which was a strangely calm, methodical motion given the ugly knot of anger that had worked its way up into his chest. "Keep this on him," he muttered and drew his hunting knife in full. "Don't be scared to go for his eyes."

It had been a little while since he'd been in a fight. The Caravan was a lot more stable than his last group, and they tended to stop Lorenzo before he was actually able to launch himself at somebody, rather than cheering him on. This time he wouldn't be having that. His heart felt like it was hammering louder in his ears than the torrent of rain, or even the crumbling support beams, but he wasn't afraid. He was goddamn livid. For the moment he even forgot why he had entered the kitchen in the first place, and he couldn't focus on anything else other than wanting very badly to carve Sam up.

First priority was getting the old cocksucker off New Mexico. After that, Lorenzo would improvise- hopefully by bleeding Sam completely dry. It was a bad sign if Lorenzo was even too pissed to spit out any trash-talk. Without a word he stormed toward the older man, barely even noticing how icy the water was.

He kept his left forearm braced defensively in front of himself. The water was too deep to dodge or backstep properly in, and Lorenzo didn't exactly have a tactical mind- the idea was just to get stabbed where he blocked and try to push through whatever happened. Better than nothing. He didn't even hesitate to assess the situation upon reaching Sam. He just spat out a string of angry cursing and lunged.

To Dominic, opening that door felt like pushing a granite slab, with every inch they gained being a struggle until all of a sudden the water outside caught it and ripped it wide open with such force that it very nearly sent them all toppling over. Under other circumstances it would have been comical but Dominic didn’t fancy his or anybody else’s chances of standing back up once they fell into that water.
The compound in which they had spent the winter was gone; replaced by a surging river that they were currently trapped in the middle of. Looping one arm back around Izzy’s waist; holding her tight against him Dominic reaches out with his other hand and blindly takes hold of the hand of whoever was behind him “Everyone is to stay together!” he shouts hoping that he sounded far more confident than he felt; the prospect of wading out into the maelstrom before him was absolutely terrifying let alone leading everyone else into it “...we’re heading for the gate, Look out for the person next to you and do not get separated as we can’t go back for you!” Dominic continued, flashing Izzy a single nervous glance before beginning to move.
How long were they out there with the pouring rain lashing against their skin, blinded by the icy cold water and with every step they took a battle to stay upright. A trip that would have normally taken no more than a minute or two even for someone like Izzy took what felt like hours with the medic gripping on so tightly to the girl’s waist and the hand of whoever was behind him that he was scared he was going start breaking bones.
After reaching the relative calm and shelter afforded by the concrete walls that were either side of the gate Dominic took the opportunity to catch his breath before he even contemplated leading his bedraggled group of survivors into the outside world. Just to the left of them stood the gateway; the gates themselves were now long gone having been torn off their hinges but the way out was clear of obstruction which was something at least.
None of the others seemed to be here yet and so Dominic quietly started counting beneath his breath in order to give them time to catch up just as he’d promised them he would, but there was only so long that they could wait here.
With his teeth already beginning to chatter with cold Dominic once again gives Izzy another one of those nervous glances before staring back out into the darkness, counting down the seconds to when he’d have no choice but to abandon his friends to the storm.

Just make sure he can't come back as a zombie. Hank murmured, not taking his eyes off NM's flailing limbs as he took the flashlight. He didn't know if the other could hear him over the sounds of their shelter breaking apart and the storm, or if Lorenzo could hear anything over the anger. Sure he had seen Lorenzo angry before but this was a whole new level. A level Hank didn't want to get in the way of, even if taking his crowbar to Sam's head had raced it's way past the need to get supplies. Bringing the beam of light up he kept it aimed at Sam's face.

Sam reacted reflexively to the sudden charge his way, by necessity releasing New Mexico's thick wet mop of hair so he could fight more freely minus the water logged around his long legs. Quickly his hand moved to his bowie knife, pulling it free from its unbuttoned sheathe, about to slash out at Lorenzo when the beam from Hank's flashlight filled his gaze, making him pause, briefly blinded.

He came to his senses when Lorenzo's smaller yet compact form slammed into his own, causing him to step back in the water, his bowie knife falling from his fingers into the murky water at their feet. Sam's back brushed up against the food cabinet, the Southerner garnering some of his swagger back as he seized upon Lorenzo's shield-forearm. Sam's grip was vicelike as he twisted the other man's arm at an unnatural, uncomfortable angle, a snap of bone ringing out amongst all of the noise. The Southerner's second hand darted out to grapple Lorenzo's knife-wielding hand around the wrist before the younger man could get a stab in.

"Time to take the long sleep, ya sumbitch." Sam cursed, one of his heavy feet weighing down on one of Lorenzo's to keep the man pinned close, accenting his venom laced words with a solid headbutt into Lorenzo.
This message was last edited by the player at 04:50, Thu 29 Oct 2015.

New Mexico felt his life slipping away with his breath as he had struggled under the dark, dirty water. Not like this.. He thought despairingly, his mind racing at the pointlessness of getting this far only to die at the hands of Sam, a monster they'd been dangling along all this time despite the awful history that followed the Southerner.

NM had come close to drowning once before, many years ago when he was a boy. One of his younger sisters had nearly drowned herself, out at the lake one summer. New Mexico swam out to her, retrieving her but at the cost of using his own body as a life preserver. He'd almost drowned himself, his sister's lighter, but in water, heavy form pushing him into the deep dark.

His fingers clawed desperately at Sam's seemingly enormous fingers that had entangled his thick long hair.. Probably should have cut it. It was a gift to walkers' wayward, rotting fingers as it was. Another grim observation as he began to lose the fight. Bubbles and water churned as the youth tossed about, unable to get up, one his hands searching hurriedly along the flooded floor, finding useless objects that would avail him little help.

Then he felt release from Sam's cold fingers, and was able to rise above the water in one quick movement, an audible intake of air coming from the soaked, disoriented teenager. He could see other bodies in the room, the stream of light coming from one, while another dark figure tussled with who could only be Sam the Beast.

As he'd been released he'd finally found something useless under the water that would have been his resting place; his machete. Long wet strands of hair covered New Mexico's face, but no matter, he could see just enough. After Sam spoke and leveraged his skull against Lorenzo, New Mexico's slight form lunged forward, his machete dropped down in a by-now-practiced arc to strike Sam's hand, chopping it off where it gripped Lorenzo's knife-wielding wrist.
This message was last edited by the player at 05:01, Thu 29 Oct 2015.

The brawl unfolded quickly. Lorenzo didn't have much in his mind other than to plow Sam right over on his sorry ass, but the old dickhead ostensibly had some fight left in him after all. Lorenzo was somewhat aware of something in his arm snapping as Sam yanked it to the side, in a way he knew for a damn fact it wasn't supposed to bend. It didn't hurt yet. Which meant he could still try to push through this.

Well, fuck me silly, I guess I broke my fucking arm, was Lorenzo's only thought on the matter. He hissed in frustration and tried to get a better hold on Sam, but his armed hand was restrained, and he found his left hand no longer worked how he would like it to. It was hard to even make a fist. Even with his limited medical knowledge, he knew that wasn't good.

For a second he could only glower at Sam, his dark eyes wide, and admittedly a little crazed looking. He heard Sam say something that he didn't give a shit about, spat in his face, then felt something hit his head. Hard. Everything went dim and swimmy briefly and he blinked, trying to chase the darkness away.

Despite being dazed, he still stubbornly tried to force himself free. New Mexico was up. That was good. The kid had cut Sam's hand clean off, though Lorenzo was too woozy to marvel at the fact. All that mattered was he could move again. He jerked the blade up toward the older man's throat, plunged it in, and dragged it through in a practiced motion like he had done to chickens and pigs back home.

Blood gushed out. Lorenzo could feel it on his hand, warm and sticky, and most people would have took a step back and stopped there. Well, Lorenzo was a bit more unhinged than most people.

"Mother fucker, fuck you!" he bellowed. "Break my goddamn arm, huh, pedazo de mierda?"

He kept his hold on Sam, despite his barely functional arm, and each word was punctuated by a stab to the abdomen. He didn't stop, almost couldn't stop, until the man went limp. The only further action he took was putting one right in the old twat's temple so he couldn't reanimate, then Lorenzo stepped back and sheathed his knife.

"Fucking fuck," he breathed. His voice was trembling. He cradled his arm against his stomach and closed his eyes, letting out a slow hiss of pain. "Fuck that guy," he grumbled. He glanced over at the others.

"Mex, that was some solid goddamn work! Old ass bitch couldn't keep you down more than a second! Hah!" Lorenzo gloated, a big shit-eating-grin spreading across his face. "Atta boy!"

He waded over to the cupboards, giving New Mexico a rough pat on the shoulder, and started haphazardly throwing whatever he could into his bag. The movements caused stabs of pain to jolt all through his arm up to his shoulder. He winced, swore under his breath, and tried to ignore it.

"Grab what we can and get the hell outta here before this whole rat-trap comes down on us. Real quick-like," he muttered. He raised his voice, trying not to sound too concerned. "Everyone's alright?"

Luke felt like he was in the movie Titanic and was one of the third class passengers who'd fallen asleep and missed the rush to the lifeboats. Although he could hear the wind wailing as well as other sporadic cries of survivors who struggled under debris or as they burst out of various points of the building, he found himself alone.

Cradled in his arms were his various hair and mustache grooming products, the only part of him partially dry being his precious mustache which he'd covered with one hand until gathering his belongings. His eyes were wide and anxious as he trudged as quick as possible down the hallway, trying to follow the sounds of his comrades up near the front door.

He passed by the kitchen on the way, making no effort to stop for food like others had done. Luke had what he needed. But he realized upon taking a few steps forward that there were people still inside like himself. Taking a step back he looked in, watching Lorenzo and Sam roughing it up, and New Mexico and Hank standing by until the youngest of the lot took a piece off of Sam. Lorenzo finished the job.

"Wh-" He spoke up, well, almost spoke up before throwing up his rations into the water, though without dropping any of his hair products, still clutched tight to his chest.

It was strange, letting Lorenzo's anger loose instead of trying to calm him down. Though his rage was something Hank was familiar with, Joe's arrow and the knife on Tom's throat the only things that had kept it from being unleashed. Watching the fight he let out a brief sigh of relief as NM surfaced. With Sam occupied it seemed he had forgotten about the teen, much to his misfortune. If he hadn't seen what Sam had been trying to do earlier Hank may reacted in much the same way as Luke.

As it was he waded forward as the body dropped, handing the crowbar to Tom. Take care of this.

Making his way to the other two he put a hand on NM's shoulder. Dude... A crash somewhere deeper in the building cut him off. Glad you're still here. We'll celebrate later. Turning he started tossing what he could into his bag. If he tripped he knew he'd be in trouble, but there was no guarantee they'd be able to come back and salvage anything after the storm.

Bohannon pressed his large hand against the hole torn in Karen's side. The warmth gushing from her wound contrasted the icy cold of the river water they were all belly-button deep in. The color was beginning to drain from the woman's face as Bohannon guided her towards the door. "Hey!" the cowboy called out. "Hey!" He yelled again, louder. "Somebody help me! She's bleeding!" Karen simply gave Benson a look of it's okay. He snapped back at her "You don't get to quit. You're getting out of here, same as all of us."
The group from the kitchen had to be moving to the exit by now, Brady thought as he uselessly tried to kick out the door. "Come help me push this open! I can't get it on my own!" He pleaded for help from the group as the water level threatened to reach his nipples.

The door to the outside burst open as Brady slammed against it one last time. The diverted water flushed down the hallway and into the kitchen, washing Sam's corpse into a far corner and signalling it was tome to leave.

The wind howled outside and the rain seemed to be coming down sideways. The path from here to the gate was mostly unimpeded, besides the river now flowing through the industrial park. It was foolish really, to have erected the place on a flood plane.

Dominic's group could only hold out for a little while longer at the front gate, what with the hurricane bearing down on them. One way or another, they'd have to move soon.

First Joe, then the storm. This was one of Tom's top ten bad days since the outbreak. He had just managed to get some sort of semblance of sleep, probably no more then 3 or 4 hours, when the wind snapped him awake. Turning over he saw Hank had woken too and was watching him. I'm sorry. He mumbled, sitting up as his brother put his sleeping bag away. Leaning against his brother Tom waited for the storm to stop.

"Eat my rocket." Tom grinned, taking aim and shooting the massive boss. The grin faded slightly as the boss's shields regenerated just before impact. "Damnit Wheaton, you were supposed to keep him suppressed...then tell me you're out of ammo so I don't waste mine." A flash lit up the sky, the sound of rain hitting the window drowned out a moment later by the boom of thunder. Glancing out the window he saw the flashing of police lights a couple streets away. "Ya, I wish Hank was on too, he said something about needing to work on a project." The lights went out with the next flash. "Motherfucker." The lights from the police car suddenly flashed through his window, followed by a knock on the front door.

Hank's shaking snapped Tom out of the memory. What followed next was mostly a blur, the sounds of the building collapsing drowning out the wind and rain from outside. When they got to the kitchen he was only vaguely aware of what was going on at first as Hank moved in front of him, though he caught sight of Sam doing something other then grabbing food out of the brief glimpse he had. Taking his brother's crowbar he felt a chill that was more then just the water as he saw NM standing and Sam floating. Turning as Luke lost it he saw others moving past to the door outside. Looking down he realized how fast the water was rising. Pushing toward the others he grabbed hold of Hank's back and took NM's hand. Come on, we can always come back later. He tried to sound less scared then he was, but the day's events on top of this were starting to take a toll.

The sharp piece of metal that protruded from the wall at the mouth of the hallway had torn a jagged hole in Karen's side. Blood was leaking out of her and into the icy, dirty water. The cowboy's hand was pressing into the wound, sending searing hot pain all through her body. The only solace she took in this feeling was that it slowed the lightheaded dizziness that she thought would surely drag her down into the water.

"You don't get to quit. You're getting out of here, same as all of us." The words seeped into her brain slowly, absorbing into her psyche slowly like a stiff sponge soaks up water. She gave Bohannon kind of a half nod at first, then followed it with a "kay" as she placed her hand over his.

Benson Bohannon unbuttoned his shirt, gazing into Karen's eyes. He pulled it off and wrapped it around Karen's body, fixing it tight around her wound. "I'm gonna get you to Dominic." He told her as the door burst open and the water rushed in.

Karen moved tentatively behind the cowboy as he lead the way into the raging storm water. His hand was entwined with hers as they took each step together.

...

Brady, ignored by his brother and his brother's new girlfriend followed behind as they all walked out into hell together, looking back to ensure the others were making their way too. "Make for the gates! We rendezvous with Dominic there! C'mon move!"

The pain in his arm was making collecting things difficult. Carrying them even more so. Try as he might, Lorenzo found he still couldn't bend his fingers all the way let alone make a fist. Any attempt at the movement was stiff, clumsy, and agonizingly painful. Nonetheless, he gathered what he could and staggered out into the flooded hall behind the others two big, bulky bags hanging off his right shoulder.

He stumbled out like he was drunk. Annoyingly enough, he wasn't. He took up the rear and clutched his presumably broken arm to his stomach. Now he was really feeling it. The pain made his eyes prickle. Every breath was ragged and uneven. Admittedly smoking since he was fourteen could be a contributor as well. Pain wasn't for pussies, but getting stinging eyes from it definitely was. What, you're going to cry? Could practically hear his old man yelling. Used to get right up in his face. Old bastard. Lorenzo clenched his jaw so tightly he could hear his own teeth grinding.

Fuck this stupid place. Fuck Sam, fuck the rinky-dink building falling to shit, fuck the rain, fuck the greenhouse, fuck whatever had made Karen bleed, and- well, just fuck it all, basically.

The mantra of internal fuck this, and fuck that at least gave him something focus on. It wasn't something productive or healthy but he at least didn't have to wonder who else had made it out, if anyone had. Not that he particularly cared for most anyone in the group. Sure, they were fine. Didn't steal from him or try to beat on him at least. But he was sure they saw him as just dumb muscle. A nice pitbull to keep around for dirty work. Sic him on whoever, send him to get whatever, but keep him at arm's length. Whatever. He couldn't give less of a shit. That was just the niche he'd always fallen into and it suited him fine.

By the time he reached the door he'd worked up a good, angry steam. It didn't drown the pain but it diluted it a bit. Like rum in coke. Goddamn he was getting a drink after this. He didn't greet any of the others, nor did he make any smart ass remark like usual. He just tried to get to the gate, trailing behind slow enough so he could help anyone who might fall ahead of him.

Sam hardly reacted at first when his dominant hand was chopped clean off. His adrenaline had already been running and while his eyes widened in shock and his face paled, he continued to struggle with Lorenzo. One hand continued to grip uselessly at Lorenzo while blood spurted out of veins and arteries in the stump of the other, spraying both men in the face and upper body.

For once Sam was at a loss for words, his wolfish eyes, now bloodshot and delirious, staring int Lorenzo as the other man stuck him over and over again with cold steel. Sam coughed blood, his one hand tightening grip before releasing for the final time when Lorenzo sunk the knife through Sam's temple, putting his lights out for good.

When the action subsided, the big Southerner fell beneath the water, a dark pool forming about his disfigured body.

N'Mexico was a bit out of it after striking Sam's offending hand from the rest of the enormous man-animal. Peculiar, I-was-almost-murdered fascination followed regarding Lorenzo's immediate slaying of the group's tormentor. After so long, they would finally be rid of that dark presence, and it only happened once Cookie had left. Why their recent leader had not dispatched the bastard sooner, NM knew not.

His slim frame thoroughly soaked, New Mexico snapped back into reality when Hank clapped him on the shoulder, tentatively nodding to the older of the brothers, but taking little initiative to move himself. Thankfully for Tom, NM had a guide and with his hand being taken by the younger teen, went along in the completion of the escape. Did he walk through Luke's vomit floating in the water? At this point he cared little.

-assuming the peoples in the Kitchen make it outside with Lorenzo

Luke tried to keep up with Lorenzo, periodically glancing back through wet, messy hair to make sure they were all relatively close together. He hadn't seen Dominic or most of the others, but surely they could patch everyone together once they were out of the storm on higher ground. Despite having lived at the compound, like everyone else, for some weeks now, he was essentially useless as a guide and merely followed behind Lorenzo, hoping that the warrior of a survivor would run into Dominic.

(The Caravan united)

The cold, shirtless cowboy stepped cautiously, trying harder and harder with every step not to succumb to the current. Karen trailed behind him and she grew weaker and slower with every step. "C'mon, I ain't leavin' you." He picked the injured woman up in his arms and carried her the last hundred feet to the gates where Dominic and his group awaited. "Doc!!" Bohannon screamed as he came within earshot. "She's hurt, Doc. You gotta help her!" Benson waded through the flowing water coming to a stop next to Dominic with Karen flopped in his arms, pale and chilled, the cowboy's shirt wrapped around her middle.
Brady Bohannon joined the group at the industrial park gates taking a few steps out on to the roadway. "We can't fuckin' stay here!" he hollered to the gathered Caravan. "We need to move out, we need to find shelter!" Brady tried to scan the horizon, unable to make anything out through the howling wind and rain. The sky and the earth were black.

“Quatre-vingt quinze, quatre-vingt seize, quatre vingt dix sept“ come on guys where the hell are you!? Dominic silently screamed as he stared out into the driving rain; searching vainly for any sign of the others as filthy river water continued to seep through his boots and jacket to soak him to the skin, the wall offering little in the way of shelter to those hunkered down behind it from the driving rain “quatre vingt dix huit, quatre vingt dix neuf...” He couldn’t wait any longer, they were already flirting with hypothermia as it was, he had to get his people out of here and just hope that Bohannon and the others were alright.
It was just as he was turning to tell the group that they were leaving that he caught sight of something moving within the darkness closely followed by the sound of Bohannon’s voice shouting his name “Jesus Cowboy you took you’re...Holy crap what the hell happened to her!” Dominic shouted as he caught sight of the blood stained shirt pressed against Karen’s side. Being sure that she was stable first Dominic removes his arm from about Izzy’s waist in order to rush over to the whey faced blonde in the cowboy’s arms.
Carefully pulling back the blood soaked shirt Dominic grimaces at the ragged hole in her side before pushing it back in place “It’s not too deep but we’ll need to stop the bleeding once we find somewhere dry ...oh and try and keep that wound the hell away from this water” because unless one of you thought to retrieve some medical supplies I have no antibiotics to fight an infection Dominic silently added to the end of his explanation to Benson. Truth be told that bleeding needed to be stopped immediately as she’d already lost a lot of blood judging by how pale her skin was, but there was nothing he could do about it whilst they were all knee deep in water in the middle of a raging storm “Ok everyone stick together and watch each other’s backs, now let’s move!" Dominic shouted to the group as he put his arm back around Izzy and headed through the shatterd remains of the gate.
With the entire town built on a flood plain there was little in the way of high ground but Dom figured that by travelling away from the river that at least the water level should drop, or so he hoped.

He wasn’t sure how long they had spent trudging through the darkness before they found the abandoned office building on the edge of town. Like everywhere else the ground floor was flooded but the second floor should be dry and the roof should be intact.
It would be by no means an ideal place to stay but it’d give them somewhere to deal with Karen and Lorenzo’s injuries before they went search of somewhere better.
No sooner had they entered the upper floor that Dominic turned his attention to Karen’s wound; shouting instructions as he went “Brady get me a knife and a light so I can see what I am doing, Benson I need you to hold her down...I am afraid that this is going to hurt” Dom said throwing Karen an apologetic look as he produced his Zippo lighter and brought it to life.

Hank focused on the canned goods, not good for weight considering he'd be fighting their diet and the storm. Good in the sense they lasted and wouldn't be ruined if/when they got soaked. Looking at his haul when Tom called out he hoped there would be something to come back to. Zipping the bag he turned as best he could, taking the crowbar back with a slight nod. Seeing Lorenzo stumble he stayed close, unsure if the other fell he'd be able to get back up between the bags and his arm. Not that he'd much help but he could at least keep him from getting swept away in the freezing water. Keeping the flashlight pointed ahead he gave a wary sigh of relief as they reached the others.

By the time they made it to the office building he had switched to autopilot, merely moving one foot in front of the other. He was only vaguely aware of the others wading through the water. Did it take this long last time? The thought slowly formed it's way through the fog that was his consciousness. Almost stumbling as he climbed the stairs he made his way to the corner of the upstairs room, slowly sinking to the floor. Leaning his head against his bag the need for sleep was almost overpowering, the adrenaline from the flight fading as the cold took over.

Christ, they must have waded through the flood waters for two hours by the time they reached the office building. Bohannon certainly couldn't tell where they were exactly, or how far from the industrial complex they had traveled. But all that mattered now was that the water here was only deep enough to keep your boots soaked, and that the building was withstanding the hurricane. This place looked like some boring office space with big clunky computers, most of which were still securely in place, and desks and paper and boardrooms. Probably nothing useful here at all, but who knew... It didn't really look like this place had seen the apocalypse.

The cowboy swept everything off a desk in the centre of the main bullpen on the (dry) second floor, gently laying Karen down on the workspace. By now, he was so cold, he couldn't even feel how cold he was. But he would not let that stop him from saving her.

"Brady get me a knife and a light so I can see what I am doing, Benson I need you to hold her down...I am afraid that this is going to hurt”

Bohannon combed the hair our of Karen's face with a finger, observing how faint she now looked. He placed one arm over her and held her tight.

...

Brady drew his big bowie knife and plunged it into the wood surface of the desk Karen was plopped on. "Let 'er go Dom. It ain't worth it. If the rip in 'er side don't do 'er the infection will. It's kinder to just do 'er now." With his two cents given, Brady walked off to check on the safety and integrity of the office building. As some of the other folks reported back that the building was all clear of the living and the dead Brady stepped into the manager's office and closed the door behind him.

The wind was still howling and the rain was still driving down. The sound was so intensely inescapable it overwhelmed Brady for a moment. He collapsed into the chair at the desk with his head in his hands and sobbed, only for a minute, before returning to his feet and regaining his composure.

Brady stripped off his clothes and wrung them out in a trash bin and hung his shirt and pants to dry on the file cabinets. Wearing only his soggy boots and his boxer-briefs Brady walked back into the main room and addressed those gathered there.. "We need to take stock of what we made off with. And somebody needs to get a fire goin'. It's fuckin' cold!" He laughed. "Can we start a fire in a trash can or somethin'?"

After hearing Brady’s words of wisdom, Dominic glared at the southerners back as the man in question headed off towards the offices before then returning his attention back to Karen “Your brother’s an ass, and he’s needs to remember that it could be him on the table one day” Dominic growled quietly to the other Bohannon brother as he carefully rolled up Karen’s shirt; moving the Zippo in close to her wounded side in order to remove any fragments of shirt still stuck inside. Personally he’d have preferred to have used tweezers rather than his fingers for such a task but then again he’d have preferred to hand her over to a qualified surgeon in a fully equipped hospital, but hey that’s Zombieland for you.
Confidant that he had removed all of the shirt fragments that he could see using the meagre light of his Zippo, Dominic gets Benson to once again apply pressure to the wound whilst he fished the metal waste paper basket out from under the desk and set about setting the trash inside ablaze, moments after a semi-naked Brady had entered the room asking to do the same thing “oui...just don’t set the place on fire” he called absently over his shoulder as he carefully placed the Bowie knife point first into the fire.
Brady was right, her chances of survival weren’t too good and yet here he was again like an idiot trying to save someone’s life using medical procedures that had been abandoned not long after the civil war. Was he doing the right thing? Or was he just causing the poor woman more pain before she then died anyway just so he could sooth his own conscience? No! She’ll live; I am not going to give up on her not whilst there’s still a chance! he silently raged whilst wondering not for the first time whether or not this was the symptom of some growing psychosis The Mad Doctor of Zombieland! he thought to himself with a smile forming on his face.
Stopping himself just short of laughing out loud in a manner that would do little to instil confidence in his patient. Dominic carefully lifts the knife from out of the fire to examine the now glowing tip “Hank! Come and hold her legs down for me and somebody get me a goddamn light!” he shouted at the huddle of waterlogged survivors within the room. Couldn’t they see what he was trying to do here? Anyone would think he was doing a damn crossword!
With Karen firmly held in place by two pairs of hands and with a torch trained upon her wounded side Dominic takes a deep before then placing the red hot knife tip upon the wound; gritting his teeth against the hiss and smell of burning flesh, and the inevitable scream that followed.

Tom kept a hold of NM's hand during the trek, partly to not get separated and partly to help take his mind off the fact they were now outside in the storm. Without everyone. The last thought he tried not to linger on instead focusing on following the people in front of him. He almost smiled as the building came into view, the promise of shelter giving him a little extra pep in his step despite his shaking frame and the extra weight of his wet pack.

Once out of the wind and rain he felt a little better, loosening his grip on NM's hand slightly as they headed through the first floor. Reaching the stairs he looked down as if realizing what he was doing. Letting go he gave the older teen a slightly embarrassed smile. Hearing Hank slump against the corner after they got upstairs he went over and pulled the supply pack off, earning him a slightly exhausted smile. Did somebody fire? Turning his eyes locked on the warming flame already started. Going around he grabbed a couple waste bins and put them in the middle of the room, not sure how long Dom would need the one he started.

Hank smiled as he felt the weight of the pack coming off, pulling his arms out the other one as his brother moved off. Looking around he became aware how few of them made it to the building. Just because they aren't here doesn't mean they didn't head off in another direction. Besides, Joe's going outlive us all. The SOB probably decided to swim out the storm. Dom's call snapped him out of his thoughts. Using the wall to stand he grabbed the flashlight and went over to where Karen was laid out. Here's the flashlight. After handing it over, or holding it out at an angle if needed, he draped himself over Karen's legs, trusting his weight more then strength at this point.

It even hurt to shiver at this point.

As soon as he had entered the office building Lorenzo shrugged his gear off onto the nearest desk possible, then just stood by it and watched the others. Admittedly not much was registering with the stocky man. His teeth were chattering. The clothes on his body were wet and heavy, like they were stuck to him. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been this cold. Though some of the shivering could be credited to his broken arm, which had gone from a sort of numb tingling to full on jarring, searing pins and needles stabbing all through it.

After a few moments of shivering in a sort of cloudy feeling haze he dragged a chair over to the window. He watched Dominic from his seat, wondering if cauterizing a wound was something that was still in practice. Lorenzo didn't know shit about medicine so he didn't question it. Instead, he watched with a detached, almost bored expression and patted the front of his shirt and produced his cigarettes.

It was a bit surprising to see the front of his shirt was spattered with gore- amazing, the things you can miss while stabbing a guy. He tried to take it off but only got one tattooed arm free. The other one hurt too much for him to be assed with. Holding a cigarette between his lips, he ran the lighter up and down it until it was dried, then immediately braced a hand against his injured arm again. It didn't help much.

Lorenzo leaned his head back against the wall. He'd just have to wait for his turn. The only indication he was actually awake was the shivering and the orange ember of his cigarette lighting up his face when he took a drag. He jogged his leg up and down. His dark eyes glittered in the light, which at least showed he was watching the impromptu medical procedure, but he seemed more or less unmoved.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:57, Wed 11 Nov 2015.

Luke held the flashlight for Dominic's procedure, managing to keep himself from shaking or vomiting somehow. Perhaps seeing NM literally dis-arm Sam then watching Lorenzo stab him to death had emptied him out of whatever he'd had in his stomach already.

When the hot steel hissed against Karen's flesh the mustachioed man winced violently as if the horrid procedure were being done to him. "Ah fuck!" He sputtered, one forearm covering part of his face as if it would spare him entirely from sight, sound and smell. The other held out the flashlight in place, though it trembled a bit.

Isabelle didn't want to be a burden and when Dominic relieved her of his assistance to help those more critically wounded she moved out of the way, situating against a wall, standing up. She tried not to appear too affected by the whole ordeal, and she knew it wouldn't end with Karen, as Lorenzo appeared seriously wounded as well.

Using the window's edge for balance, she shuffled past the action near the fire, feeling both relieved to have Dominic but also worried for the burden her own personal savior was going to take on.

Izzy, through her surprisingly graceful movement, ended up in front of Lorenzo. She could see the grotesque angle at which one of his arms hung, and that he was in overall rough shape despite the disaffected, aloof disposition the man tended to take on.

"What happened, Lorenzo? I know its a stupid question, but are you okay?" She almost asked him if she could get him something, but they didn't have anything, not really anything dry, either.

Mahmoud had managed to make it out with the group with his rifle not dry but not completely spoiled. When they placed themselves inside the office building's upper floors he placed his rifle against the wall, barrel up, and tried to help without encumbering the process.
Seeing Tom make himself crucially useful, Mahmoud joined the boy in collecting anything that was dry and would burn in the spare bins that Tom had gathered. "Hey, way to go, kiddo. I'm glad you and your brother are here with us." Mahmoud used to be the frazzled, awkward member of the group, but over the year he'd become increasingly self-assured, but without losing the caution needed to survive. He summoned a gentle smile towards Tom. "I'm sure once this storm has passed we can find the others." It felt like the right thing to say, whether or not Tom believed such a thing, Mahmoud liked to think the young man still had some innocence in him that was becoming so rare in them all.

Inside the office N'Mexico was not of immediate use to anyone. He was grateful for Tom's assistance in getting to the building, and did not interfere with Tom's helping in getting everyone comfortable along with help from Mahmoud.
After his near drowning he was in a bit of a neutral, complex state, perhaps akin to Lorenzo's, his principal rescuer.

Slumped against of the four stained walls, the youth reminded himself to thank Lorenzo when things had quieted down. Sam was finally gone, after such a long time following the lot of them, like Death himself. Cookie hadn't been around to help him, or anyone, and he wasn't sure how he felt about that. Dominic, Mahmoud, Izzy, they all provided continuity, but looking around at their diminished numbers NM wondered if they would be the same again.

He heard Mahmoud assure Tom they'd find the others after the storm. NM wanted it to be true. Raising two dirty hands to his face he covered up, hanging his head in his hands, trying to be anywhere but there.

In reply to Isabelle (msg # 44):

Lorenzo was glad Izzy admitted she asked a stupid question, because that saved him some time. He gave the woman a long look. His face was blank, almost slack, and it wasn't quite clear what the look was supposed to mean, if anything. He exhaled slowly through his nose, the expelled smoke making his eyes prickle. He couldn't clearly see what Dominic was doing to Karen, but he could hear well enough. Didn't sound nice.

"Yup," Lorenzo finally responded, glancing away from Izzy.

Despite drying the cigarette with the lighter, the damage was done. It tasted like crap. Granted, the age probably didn't help. He took another drag, either trying to delay talking or just really savouring the crumpled looking smoke. Every breath felt short and jittery. Watching the others, he couldn't help but think Luke seriously needed to nut the fuck up or at least quiet down, because the sight of him whimpering and whining was making Lorenzo unreasonably annoyed.

"I think my arm's broke," he continued slowly. For the first time he looked down at it and raised his eyebrows, as though mildly surprised to see the new and exciting angle Sam had rearranged it in. He let out a short, sharp laugh, and flashed a self-satisfied grin at Izzy. "You should see the other guy."

It felt like his knees were trying to lock but he rose stiffly from his chair. Honestly, it had been pretty stupid of Dominic to drag along a one-legged woman, but the guy struck Lorenzo as overly idealistic. Without a stable base they were just delaying the inevitable. Someone who couldn't rely on themselves was a liability "out there." For every person willing to tote you along, kicking and screaming, there were three ready to shoot you and kick your body into a ditch.

Opportunistic little fuckers.

He pressed his back against the wall, as though he could physically distance himself from everyone else, and inclined his head to the chair, indicating Izzy should sit. Even though he didn't talk, the look on his face made it clear the gesticulation was more of a demand and less of a request. He glanced over at Mex and let out a low, drawn out sigh.

If there was more light Tom might have tried to read some of the papers he was consigning to a fiery demise. As it was he could just imagine what was on them, contracts worth millions of dollars or just someone's doodles and notes while they were on hold. Could he have been jailed for what he was about to do? Or would he be rewarded, depending on the company. One thing he was sure of was that whoever worked here never would have thought all their hard work would one day be burned to keep a small group of survivors alive during a storm during the zombie apocalypse.

Lost in thought it took Tom a moment to realize Mahmoud was talking to him. Uh, ya. Thanks. Now that they were starting to settle in, if what was going on with Karen and a half naked Brady was anything to go by, he needed to keep his mind occupied. The others would have seen the slightly withdrawn demeanor the teen got when it stormed. Me too, I'd hate to think what winter would have been like with just the two of us. Looking out the window in the other room as a flash lit up the sky he managed a half smile, more of a twitch that could have just been from the cold, Joe probably lead them to the other trail. He sighed, stuffing a thick file into the basket he had kept with him. I wonder if this place has any wooden desks. The comment was more to change the subject then anything, but they would need more then just paper if they wanted to dry off and keep warm.

Karen was faint as the cowboy brought her up the stairs and placed her on the desk. She kept trying to speak but she wasn't sure the words were coming out. "Kaidan? Where's Kaidan? Where's my boy?" The feeling of cold rain and wind was gone from the surface of her skin. Why? Were they saved? "Kaid?"
FLASHBACK - The Fall of Atlanta
Karen and Kaidan sat in the police SUV as it meandered its way through abandoned traffic on the road out of Atlanta. Kaidan was sitting on the seat with his knees up, almost fetal. "What happened back there? I need you to talk to me Kaid, you can't shut down on me again. You can't make this go away." Karen stared out the window as she had to drive through the ditch for a couple hundred meters to make it around a pile of cars and rotting bodies. "You killed him Kaid. There won't be a day in your life where that doesn't hurt you. Believe me, I know. I've been there. And I also know that it doesn't go away by pretending it doesn't exist. Talking about it somehow makes it feel a little lighter, like you can carry it. So please, talk to me..."
“Hank! Come and hold her legs down for me and somebody get me a goddamn light!” Karen looked up, the shouting catching her attention. "What? What are you doing to me?" Karen flung her head back and forth and tried to sit up, pain ripping through her side. It felt like she'd been shot. "No, stop! Please! Please don't hurt me!" Karen fought against the two men gripping her, holding her down. "Please don't do this to me Dominic! Please!!!" The red hot knife tip pressed against the wound in her side and burnt her flesh. She yelped and passed out.
FLASHBACK - Iraq War
A United States Marine convoy raced across the desert. Karen sat in the rear of the humvee, her CO sat beside her. "You didn't kill him Karen. There won't be a day in your life where his death doesn't hurt you. Believe me, I know. I've been there. And I also know that it doesn't go away by pretending it doesn't exist. Talking about it somehow makes it feel a little ligh..." The car in front of them blew to pieces, raining down bits of sand and rock and metal, and the people formerly inside it. Karen's vehicle took the brunt of the resulting shockwave and lifted up off the road, tumbling over backwards before coming to a halt upside down.

Bohannon cringed as Dominic seared Karen's wound closed. He'd branded probably a million cattle in his life and the fact that the smell wasn't far off made him queasy. He wasn't sure he had the stomach for civil war era medicine, but that wasn't the only thing churning his gut. His own brother, the very man who shot him and left him for dead in Nashville was now telling Dominic to let Karen die. Benson wasn't the kind of guy to open up and give his heart to just anybody, but he had feelings for Karen for sure. And now Brady wanted her dead.

That's two strikes, and this ain't baseball.

The shirtless Benson released the unconscious Karen and turned to the half naked Brady. "You son of a bitch!" Benson approached him aggressively. "You tried to kill me! And Now you want to kill her!" Benson took a swing, connecting hard with Brady's nose. Blood sprayed out, catching the dim light as it hung in the air. Brady reeled back catching himself on a desk and lifting his head back to face Benson. "Fuck you! I saved you at Fort Dix, an' I saved you again today, asshole!" Brady stood. "So fuck off, we're even!" Benson swung hard again with a left hook, striking Brady in the eye, sending him flat onto the desktop, his arms braced outward on either side of him. "Fuck you Benso-" Benson hit him again, and again, and again, ruthlessly, until Brady fell to the floor like a sack of potatoes, blood seeping from every part of his face.

Mr. Cauldershore, not wanting to become involved in the many unpleasantnesses outbreaking around the office, turned to Bill and Gary for a distraction. He'd become quite fond of the two men over the month or so past and felt he was perhaps of the same mind as them in regards to the young Brady.

"Well gents, shall we slip out back to the car park and see if there are anything of use in the cars?" Bill and Gary agreed and the trio set off toward the stairs. "Oh, and would someone be so kind as to search the rest of the building with the thoroughest of eyes. There might be portions of the old employees lunches and snacks stashed away someplace. And I wouldn't be ever so surprised to find a vending machine on the premises."

[Bill, Gary and Cauldershore have faded to the background for the time being]

Dominic knew that he’d never get used to the smell of burning flesh. The first time he’d smelt it had been at a rather nasty accident on the freeway and just like that time he found himself battling to stop himself from being sick.
Dropping the now rapidly cooling knife onto the table beside the now thankfully unconscious Karen, Dominic took a moment to compose himself, fully intending to go and deal with Lorenzo’s arm. However it was at this point that the Bohannon brothers decided to have a very public falling out with the older sibling proceeding to beat the tar out of the younger one “Hey! Knock it off we don’t have the time or resources for this shit!” Dominic shouted at the pair. However when it rapidly became clear that shouting at them would have absolutely no effect he quickly moved to intervene before Brady was beaten to death “I said knock it off! Leave him Cowboy he’s down!” he shouted, trying his best to haul Benson off of his brother which considering that even an emaciated Benson was bigger than he was, was one hell of a task “...God damn it Benson Leave him! Go to Karen, she’s going to need you when she wakes up!” he continued, hoping that if he used Karen’s name that he’d be able to snap him out of it, or failing that that somebody would come and help him pull the berserk cowboy from off of his brother and preferably before Dominic got his nose broken.

After Karen became subdued a fight broke out between the remaining Southerners of the Caravan. He wasn't eager to get into harm's way but he had a personal loyalty to Dominic after the other man got him out of the town of Slaughter in one piece. Turning off the flashlight he tucked it into his pocket for the moment and jumped in when Dominic began grappling with the Brothers' Bohannon.

With Dominic seizing one of Benson's arms, Luke clamped on to the other, assisting in prying the winner off before they had a murder in their dry space.

"What the fuck!"
This message was last edited by the player at 03:09, Sat 14 Nov 2015.

Benson was pulled off his brother by the two men. "Get off of me! Get off!" he fought against their grip as hard as he could, not wanting to be held, but he didn't go back for Brady, who lay on the floor, moaning and wiping blood off his face. Benson switched his focus to Dominic. "You remember the day back at the air base you patched up my shoulder? This..." He jabbed his finger towards Brady. "...Is the son of a bitch who shot me! Have you ever been shot Doc?" The question was rhetorical. "It ain't nice. But the worst part is that my own brother tried to kill me. My own blood!" Bohannon was shouting. "Brady stopped being my brother in that moment. I spent so long hunting him down. And when I found him, I was with you guys. I tired to change, to be better, to let all that go, but I can't!" Benson sat on the desk top. "Every time I see his face, all I see is that gun going off..." His voice trailed off.

Brady rose to his feet, spitting blood off to the side. "It's not my fault that I shot you! You were being a dick!" He rebutted, kind of without thinking. He paused and recalculated, spitting blood once more. "Ever since Dad died you were given everything. You got the farm, you got our family. I was pretty much fuckin' exiled. And then when the world goes to shit, I get stuck with you, and all of that smug, entitled bullshit gets drug up all over again. By the time you an' I got to Nashville I had had enough. I'm sorry I shot you, but you kinda deserved it." Brady finished feeling like "you deserved it" was a valid point.

Between him and Luke the pair of them finally managed to haul the cowboy from off of his brother before he had chance to beat him to death. Though from what he was told he had good cause to want the other man dead after all he had been shot by his own brother "Brady if you don't shut up and make yourself scarce in the next thirty seconds I'll give him the damn gun myself!" Dominic snapped angrily, turning on Brady as he heard what he felt were rather pathetic reasons for shooting his own brother. Hell he didn't exactly get along with most of his own family but he wouldn't start shooting them, though admittedly any family he still had would be currently in Europe meaning that he didn’t have to put that theory to the test.
Turning his attention back to Benson, Dominic drops his voice to a low growl as he spoke to him "Listen to me Benson, I cannot and will not let you commit cold blooded murder, not here with everybody watching, you understand me?” He said, asking what he felt to be a rhetorical question though no doubt the cowboy wouldn’t see it that way “We’ve already lost too many people this night, people we’re going to need if we’re ever going to find a place of our own and survive another winter, so for now at least he lives…Now unless there is anything else I have a broken arm to deal with” Dominic finishes with a questioning look on his face. He would wait long enough to see if there was anything else that Benson wanted to say and if there wasn’t he’d then head over to where Izzy and Lorenzo were currently sat.

Sorry. Hank said apologetically before turning as Dom applied the heated blade. While not the worst thing he'd smelled, it would be hard to beat the zombie that got trapped under a port-a-potty a month before they got to the fort, the sound and struggling didn't make it any better. When Karen went quiet he gave a sight of relief. Releasing Karen he turned with a start as Benson started wailing on Brady. Like most of the Caravan members he didn't know too much about the Bohannons' histories. What he did know was Brady had taken a shotgun blast for Tom, and that was enough to not let him get walloped out of nowhere. Taking a step toward Brady as Dom and Luke pulled Benson off he shot a look to Tom to stay out of it.

He was surprised to hear the reason for the fight, the idea of him or Tom doing something like that never having crossed his mind. Sure they'd had their fights, cursed each other off, occasionally getting a little physical, but he'd never been mad enough to go that far. Seeing Dom had Benson and the threat of violence had died down for the moment he moved to his brother. So, what are you up to?

Bohannon did understand. Perhaps it wasn't quite the meaning Dominic had wanted him to take from it, or maybe it was. Either way those cold words sank in to Benson Bohannon's soul. With Dom and Luke's blessing Benson moved forward towards Brady, placing a hand on his shoulder. He looked his brother in the eye. "You and I ain't been on the same page since Dad died. I think we need to talk."

Brady nodded, and went off to grab his clothes from the office. As he reentered the room he saw Benson follow Dominic towards Lorenzo and Izzy's corner.

"Doc." The cowboy said, catching up to him. As Dominic turned, Benson slipped his gun from his holster and tossed it at the medic. "Brady n' I need to work things out. I won't be needin' that." He took a step away before returning. "Thanks for helping her. I know that must have been hard for you after St. Louis an' all, but... Thanks Doc." With his gesture of good intention completed, the Bohannon brothers ventured downstairs and disappeared into the storm.

[See you in Chapter 5!]

While Tom was far enough away to avoid the worst of the smell it didn't do anything to diminish Karen's scream. Turning away he put his hands to his ears and closed his eyes. She needs it, she needs it, she needs it... Using the mantra to try and drown it out the abrupt change from scream to silence to fighting took a moment to register. Opening his eyes he turned to see Brady on the ground with Luke and Dom holding Benson back. His confusion only grew at Benson's explanation, sure Brady could be selfish but shooting Benson? There had to be a better reason then "he deserved it." After all, who just shoots their own brother?

Um...I was thinking about looking for wood chairs or tables. Stuff to burn besides paper. He had the shivering mostly under control, keeping the larger ones to a minimum.

Hank looked around as Tom spoke, watching the Bohannon brothers head out. The lack of a gun on Benson's part was only partially comforting. I'll take Luke and look. Putting an arm over the kid's shoulders he leaned in. Stay with NM, ok. We don't need him getting lost in what happened earlier. Planting a kiss on the top of his head he gave Tom slight push, stalling any complaints. Bring a basket, a little fire will do you both good. Heading to his bag he grabbed his crowbar. Luke, care to join me in firewood duty?

When it became apparent that Benson wasn't going kill his brother, or at least not right this minute, Dominic released his hold on him, signalling for Luke to do the same. After making sure that Benson and Brady were talking and nothing more he walked over to where Lorenzo was sat beside Izzy. A single glance telling him all he needed to know about the man’s injury. His arm was broken pretty badly judging from its current angle and was causing him a world of pain if his lack of colour was anything to go by.
It was at this point that Benson briefly interrupted in order to pass him his gun, Thanking him for helping Karen despite their past differences before then saying that he and Brady needed a long talk in order to clear the air "sure, it'll be here waiting for when you get back" Dominic said tucking the revolver into his waistband and watching the two brothers leave the building; suspecting that despite the lack of a firearm that only one of them would be coming back.
Stripping out of his soaking wet and now extremely heavy jacket, Dominic sets to work ram raiding the drawers in search of the items that he would need to fix Lorenzo's arm, after leaving his jacket hang on the back of a chair.
He would eventually return with a roll of parcel tape, two wooden chair legs, having smashed one of the meeting room chairs against the wall until it had shattered, and a single packet of paracetamol tablets he'd found lurking in a drawer "here take these, they probably won't do a lot but I am afraid its all I've got" Dominic said rather apologetically as he handed Lorenzo a pair of the tablets before proceeding to explain the situation to him "D'accord...the good news is it looks to be a clean break and the bone hasn't punctured the skin, bad news is that I am going to need to realign the bone" and that’s going to hurt he silently added, not that Lorenzo would need to be told that particular piece of information as he had no doubt reached that conclusion already "Izzy be a dear and hold his hand for me will you" Dominic asked, not so much to provide Lorenzo with any form of comfort but to stop him from punching him once he’d finished.
Taking a firm hold of Lorenzo’s arm Dominic gives him a look that silently asked if he was ready to go before then working the arm back into place as quickly and as painlessly as he could manage. Once the arm was back in the right position Dominic would put a splint on the arm using the tape and chair legs he'd found, fully intending to find somewhere quiet to sit down for a while once this was all over. He'd had enough stress for one night.

Scene concludes, all characters please post, when ready, in the new thread Chapter 5 - The Caravan - "And After the Storm"

There you start out with the storm's aftermath, leaving the office building. It is up to you as a group or under the direction of a leader to decide where to go from here.

OOC: Great work everyone ;)
This message was last edited by the GM at 03:20, Fri 20 Nov 2015.