In reply to Roberta Johnson (msg # 37):

Rod looked back at the others, the only group of people he still trusted these days. Then Troy came up, jolting him out of his numbed stare, and he saw Roberta. Eyes streaming. For a second, he saw the girl he left behind, with her own tear stricken face.

He moved over to Roberta, gently touched her shoulders and turned her away from the grizzly sight. "It's cool. It's cool. I will take care of it...ok?" He said, trying to give her some comfort.

A boy of fifteen or so came running up to the church and the gathered diners. He was tall, sweating profusely, and panting hard. He ran up to the reverend and tried to speak but was too out of breath.

"Calm down, Jason, calm down." The Reverend was saying. It occurred to Troy right away, Jason was one of the older teens assigned to the lookout posts because he was fit enough to sprint back and warn others. This wasn't good.

"Hey, that's Ellen's kid. The athletic one." A woman was saying. "He was at one of the lookout things. I hope it ain't bad news."

Jason coughed and wheezed, but managed to blurt out, "That gunshot, they heard it. Coming down one-fifty-one now."

Jason dropped his hands to his knees and bent over sucking in great lungfuls of air. The Reverend stood upright and looked back in the direction the boy had approached from. The look on the holy man's face would have surprised any one who saw it; he was afraid.

"Wait, what did that kid say?" A man nearby asked. "Did he say them walking corpses heard Max shoot himself. Are they coming here? Now?"

"Oh, God!" Another man exclaimed. "Martha! Martha, where are you?"

The man dropped his plate and went immediately in search of the woman. others began to take notice, losing interest in Max now that Jason had reported to the Reverend.

"They were passing by, really close." Jason added. He stood and looked to be regaining his composure, then he saw Max. "Oh, shit! It was old Mad Max. He finally went of did it. They heard it, they heard the shot. Started coming this way. They're back at the overlook."

"How far is that?" Someone asked.

"A mile and a tenth." Another voice answered.

"How long do we have?" Someone shouted from the back.

Jason looked at a watch on his wrist, then said, "I left there just over eight minutes ago. I'd say with how they move, maybe twenty to twenty five minutes."

A general uproar of voices erupted in the parking lot. People talked of getting weapons. Others talked about warning those people still in the other buildings and homes. Still, there were those that were claiming the time had come to flee.

"Everybody!" The Reverend shouted over the tumult. "Everybody, listen to me, please. I'm going to get the Sheriff on the radio, he has a plan for this. A distraction to lead them away. He will probably have to ask for some volunteers to pull it off. So, you need to be calm and ready to do your part."

Troy moved back to the bench he had been sitting on and sat down next to where he had stacked his gear. He had just come back from scavenging out of town and the grey sweat striped where his pack straps crossed his t-shirt were barely dry.

He fished his best socks and his light weight mesh hiking shoes out of his bag and started putting them on.

While he did it he barked at a 12-13 year old boy nearby.

"Hey petey, you still got that air horn you got your ass beat for blowing? I know you didn't throw that shit away pete! I fu**in' know it!"

"So if you still got it you fu**in' go get it!"

The college girl now cursed under her breath. "I knew we should've left sooner. $h!t!" She was now instantly regretting staying put, and figured that with her luck, somebody have would place her in a situation she was least suited for.

"I'll do it," Roberta volunteered loudly as she raised a hand and wiped the tears from her face.  This was her fault after all.

In reply to Roberta Johnson (msg # 43):

Rod looked at her with some alarm. "You dont have to, ok? Dont put yourself through this." He whispered, trying to catch her gaze. The look of concern clear on his face.

OOC: Nice, got crush Rod? Developing a set of common values with her? New best friend syndrome or soldiers in the trenches closeness? good role play guys. Building bonds is cool stuff, all of you are welcome to do so as the game progresses, I am open to developing backstories and shared histories as well current relationship development.

Pete Summers stared at Troy for a moment, conflicted, looked his mom who seemed more concerned about the danger than the disobedience, then dropped his gunny sack and produced three survival type signalling devices more commonly known as air horns.

An engine could be heard in the distance, a loudly rumbling V8, and then a flurry of gunshots rang out. More people cussed or screamed. Several people hustled off. A tall, lean man in his late thirties pointed and shouted something incoherent.

All heads turned to see green Chevy pickup truck come slewing in off the state spur and make a beeline for the church. A shambling horde was just coming into view in the dust of its passing.

"Damn it, Clark just led them right here." A voice said from the crowd.

"If they have a plan that will save all these people, I want to help," Roberta replied to Rod as she watched the truck coming toward them.  "Maybe someone stepped up to help my family when they needed it."

In reply to Roberta Johnson (msg # 46):

Rod looked at the truck, then back at Roberta. He frowned, not sure this was smart. Hell, if their group was really smart, they would all get into that medical truck of theirs and get the fuck out of town. However, he had needed to help Roberta at the airport when he had found her. He needed to help anyone after what went down in Miami. He had his own bloody debt to pay off...somehow.

"Ok...but we stick together, right? We are gonna get you back to your people."

Deciding to give herself a task before someone else did, she started springing up ideas. "Anyone know where I can find expired meat? Better they eat it than us. Should be a decent distraction."

"Thank Petey."

Troy stood up, took the air horns, and dropped two snickers bars in Pete's gunny sack while it was still open.

He quick steps over to the Reverend.

"Unless the Sheriff is ready to go with his plan right f...er I mean right now I need a vehicle!"

"..or I guess I could beat Clark's dumb ass and take his truck?"

"Stick together, right," Roberta agreed with Rod, eyes fixed on the truck.

"Reverend, what's the plan?" she asked.

"We need to." He stopped. It was obvious that he really was out of his depth here. But, then, who wasn't. "Troy here seems to have a plan, I trust his judgement even if his impulsiveness frightens the hell out of me. Pardon my French. Do you young people have a car, a vehicle, to help him out?"

Shots suddenly rang out, bit not along Killte Street from the north leading to the church this time. The shots came from the direction of Marilyn Court, to the east. And they were easily within a hundred yards by the sounds of it. People yelped and shouted as fear, anger, and frustration all collided within everyone.

"Reverend, it's bad." A man's deep voice came over the Motorola Walk-about the Reverend had clipped to his pocket. "The sheriff is down, those things are killing him. Bill Martin disappeared under a horde on them five minutes ago. Mary Hilton is dead, shot herself before they drug her down. It's going to hell, I need help up here."

The Reverend grabbed the radio from his pocket and looked at it for a second. He sighed and looked at the onlooking faces and said, "I don't know what to tell them. What do we do, everything we planned has failed."

It didn't take much of a leap of imagination to understand that the little communities defensive plans had simply been overwhelmed. People began to melt away to get their belongings, many simply took off running without gathering anything. Others stood around around waiting for someone to step up and lead them into action, they weren't cowards they just lacked an understanding of violent action.

In reply to GM (msg # 51):


"The truck! Let's go!" Rod said, making sure Roberta and the other members of his group where following. This place was doomed, and he was helpless to stop its fall.

All he could do was save his people and get them to safety. The needed to get out and then grab one of the local maps. They could figure out where to go from there...

"You get everybody moving East Reverend. I'm gonna make as much racket as possible and try to lead as many of 'em south as I can. Maybe we can cut the numbers down enough for some of our people to get clear!"

Troy stuck two of the air horns in his shorts' cargo pockets and turned to Rod and Roberta.

"You folks willin' ta help me? I grew up around here and I know the roads from runnin' from the cops."

"I plan to lead the horde south down the highway and then lose 'em on the secondary roads."

He wasn't sure if he could catch up with Clark if these folks weren't willing to help and doing it on foot was likely fatal.

Roberta let Rod carry her along toward the truck. It sounded as though there wasn't anything they could do right now except survive.

In reply to Troy Roberts (msg # 53):

Rod looks at Troy, and then back at Robetra. He frowns, and seems indecisive. "Ok, fine, but we are doing with the truck in case we need to bolt, and we need a map of town. Deal?" He asked the other man.

The young woman kept close to Rod and Roberta and listened in. Her eyes kept darting between Troy and the truck, but other than that, she seemed to be holding together well considering the situation.

Troy paused for a moment as Ivy approached, blinked a couple of times, and then stuck out his right hand to Rod.

"That is a deal!"

He followed Rod, Roberta, and Ivy to their vehicle.

"We need to run right along the front of the horde and then turn south on the first road going that way."
This message was last edited by the player at 22:27, Wed 05 Feb 2020.

A four wheeler skidded to halt just ahead of the group, a tall, young woman stood astride the seat and looked at them. She wore a long sleeved t-shirt, cargo pants, boots, cap, and bandana all in the same Mossy Oak camo print. Standing astride the camo painted four wheeler that had a 'F**k Taylor Swift' tag mounted up front she looked every bit the rural redhead hottie every magazine ad boasted to sell everything from bullets an firearms to hunting clothing and outdoor gear.

"You guys think you can pull this off?" Mindy Carver said flatly. There wasn't any questioning in her voice despite how she phrased her words. "Look if you can't back around at the Tunnel Hill exit, cut through Cohutta and come into town the back way to my Granddad's place and I'll let you in. I'll set you up with whatever you need for doing this."

Troy's interest peaked, that sixteen year old had inherited her grandfather's estate, otherwise known as the Ringgold World War II Memorial Museum and Memorabilia Center. According to his Uncle Earl, one of the last WWII vet to pass away in the US, believed that there were more weapons and ammunition stored there than in all the homes of northwestern Georgia. Only nobody ventures in there without permission. Old Cyrus was a former frogman with a flare for the use an 'explosive' security system.

OOC: Need everyone to make a Perception roll, their is a clue in front of you all. Any questions about making the roll just hit me up in the chat thread.

Roberta looked around while the others were fascinated by the young woman.

OOC: Roberta Johnson rolled 7 using 3d4+1 ((2,2,2)).

"Hell yeah we can do it! Bet yer ass if I want to piss somebody off and make 'em chase me being dead sure as f*** ain't gonna be enough to stop 'em!"

"We'll see ya at yer grandaddy's place."



23:38, Today: Troy Roberts rolled 7 using 3d4+1.  Perception.

In reply to GM (msg # 58):

Rod was more worried about getting said map. He was convinced the town was doomed, and thier efforts would help much, if at all. They may just have to drive away...

ooc-07:24, Today: Rodrigo Rod Duma rolled 6 using 3d4.  Perception.

Ivy couldn't help but laugh at the four-wheeler. "Damn right, 'f**k Taylor Swift'. Nothing but a whiny little tart." However, she was becoming more and more partial to just leaving with every second. After all, things weren't looking too good for Ringgold.


OOC: 12:46, Today: Ivy Talbot rolled 8 using 3d4+1.  Perception Check

An older man with obvious cataracts forming in his eyes approached Rod and Roberta. He smiled despite the obvious fear he felt. Reaching out he placed a surprisingly firm grip on Rod's forearm as he reached into an old map case hanging under his arm.

"You boys will need this." The man said. He pulled out a gallon sized Ziplock bag that held a 48-state road atlas, several folded maps, and what appeared to be one of those USGS survey maps. He thrust the bag into Roberts's hand with such force that his knuckles came to rest against her breast. The realization struck the older man like lightning and he yanked his hand away leaving her to fumble with the bag of maps. "So sorry, young lady. I can't see all to well most days with these cataracts. I hope you'll forgive me."

A boy, tall and skinny and all of fourteen maybe, stepped up to the old man and sort of laughed despite his own fears, "Geesh, pop-pop, you got to be more careful. You can't be hitting girls there, they won't ever kiss you if you do."

The old man laughed and turned his face nearly directly inline with Rod's, "Take my grandson with you. He has my old carbine and ammo. He's a good shot and a good boy. He understands what this is."

With that the older man simply turned and stalked off into the parking lot as he drew a revolver from a pocket. The boy said nothing as tears rolled down his cheeks. He was wearing clothes that fit loosely, too big for his young frame, and had a school style backpack on his back with a scarred up M1 Carbine on his shoulder.