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.