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Post by safroka on Mar 1, 2015 21:42:46 GMT
At least they couldn’t climb. In the safety of her birch tree, Naomi leafed through a Playboy magazine, her head falling to one side as she rotated the magazine to see the images that spread across both pages.
“Wonder what she looks like now, as a gobbler.”
She draped a leg off the sturdy cluster of branches she sat on and swung it back and forth, whistling, exciting the gobblers below.
“Y’all are so desperate, I swear. You’re not getting a lick of this.” She hoarked up a mouth of phlegm and coughed it out on to the two or three gobblers uselessly fumbling about down below. The height of the birch tree could not be understated, it acted as a great lookout point and it hadn’t rained in a long while now so she was f—
CRACK.
Naomi jumped with a start; the noise had become so unfamiliar to her. “Are you shitting me?” Thunder cracked again in response. “Oh my god, honestly? Seriously? Wowwwwwww.” Groaning, she looked down below at the gobblers who stared back up at her blankly. “Okay, yeahyeah, I’m coming down. Relax, boys.” All the gobblers were most definitely female.
Luckily this was one of Naomi’s few skills, manoeuvring around up high. In college, she was part of a street collective comprised of parkour enthusiasts. She was not sure why she gravitated towards parkour but she always played it off as a product of her environment to get the sympathy. Either her parents used to have violent fights when she was home or her father made her feel uncomfortable as a young girl—both were true, but neither was a reason she actually took up parkour. Excuses helped her avoid trouble though considering how it was greatly frowned upon back home in Toronto.
“Wonder what Drake looks like now, as a gobbler.”
Naomi chuckled to herself, rolling up her Playboy and stuffing it in her back pocket. She climbed out on to the edge of the branch and leapt into a not too tall, but similarly broad tree a few feet away. Just before colliding with it, she extended her right arm and wrapped it around the trunk, sliding down the length of the tree as if it were an escape pole. Her dark red Timberlands hit the ground and she looked up at the birch tree she had claimed as her home since this all began. The gobblers were slow on the uptake and turned to her moments after she touched earth again. She figured she’d have to run about the ground until the storm cleared before she could climb back to her branch cluster.
“Ugh, walking. The stuff of plebs,” She moped. Naomi looked at her tree and pointed at it threateningly, “Now don’t you move a muscle.” She turned and crouched to tie her laces when all of a sudden a blinding flash of light erupted all around her. Naomi whipped her head back in shock to get a look at what had just happened. The gobblers writhed on the floor, sizzling, and her birch tree cut down cleanly like a knife through butter. She blinked quietly as she watched her tree burn. It acted as a great lookout point and it hadn’t rained in a long time.
But now she was fucked.
PART TWO.
The fire wouldn’t spread too quickly, the rain would make sure of that. Still though, the ground would surely muck up her tread and slow her down to a gobbler’s pace. She had to find shelter, quick. She pushed her Playboy deeper into her jumpsuit and pressed forward past the fiery gobblers, still crowing for meat. One of the benefits of the forest was its easiness to navigate. While there were more than enough trees to provide coverage, one could still weave through them in a sprint without worry of being tangled in a mess of vines. She considered running, but did not really have any plan of action. Naomi looked over her shoulder to see the gobblers still roasting down below and that’s when she realized something: she was on an incline.
The same trees lay ahead, but by the looks of it they seemed younger. The possibility of reaching an open field at the top of this hill would make her lightning rod number one, but humans would naturally want to be able to have a clear vantage point of their surroundings and the top of a hill would be the optimal place to set up camp. Naomi did not expect to find survivors, she had given up on that a while ago. She was after the remnants of a camp.
The rain started slow first, but then picked up where she was. It made the climb a little tougher but Naomi used trees for support, latching on to one another to get to the top of the hill. After what she thought was two miles up, she heard faint echoes. They were natural, but most importantly, they were coherent.
“Others?” Naomi broke into a sprint as the voices became clearer and clearer. A hill was the perfect location to set up camp and Naomi felt stupid for never considering the possibility until a few hours ago that survivors were likely to squat there. People seemed to be leaving though, piling into a jeep and a van. “Wait! Hey!” She approached the van and jeep with a broad smile on her face, waving at them.
“Hey, hi, yes, hello. My tree burned down.”
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Post by speshal on Mar 1, 2015 23:14:43 GMT
Charlie hung his head out the window, startled by the newcomer. Before she had actually made any noise he put his hand to his back, ready to pull his gun. It wasn't until she spoke that he relaxed. The realization that she wasn't just another walker was definitely welcome. He spun around, taking count of who was in the van before issuing any orders. By the looks of things Jonathon was in the front seat, Gabe was directly behind him, and Corey was behind Charlie. Dana sat between the two boys. Her smaller physique made it much easier to travel in the van. That meant that Miranda, Zach, Steven, Sandra and Eddie were likely in the Jeep. The stranger then mentioned something about their tree burning down. It was odd, but she seemed relatively harmless. There was no reason to drop procedure, though.
"Shit," he mumbled, getting out of the car and drawing his machete. It was mostly an empty threat. Charlie just wanted the girl to stop her approach. "Corey, take her weapons and throw them in the trunk. Secure her and sit her down in the back."
The boy nodded and emerged from the back seat of the van. He walked over to the girl and grabbed hold of her hands, handcuffing them behind her back. It was the one thing he still had left from his career before the end and they constantly came in handy. He then pat her down in a few swift movements, bottom to top. She definitely wasn't traveling heavy. He felt the Playboy stuck in her jumpsuit but determined that whatever it was could not cause harm (unless explosives come in the shape of magazines now). Corey gave an "all clear" nod to Charlie and opened the side of the van back up. With a few clicks, his seat was down and access to the third row was granted. He shoved her in just like any police officer would have shoved someone they had just arrested then reset his own seat and climbed in. Charlie stepped back into the driver's seat and took off toward the small path that had been taken to the top of the hill. It was pure luck that it led in the same direction as the gunshots.
"Name," he commanded, shooting occasional glares at Naomi through the rear-view mirror.
Dana let out a short sigh, uncomfortable with the various things all happening at once. Her assumption was that the new girl felt the same. "Honey, it's going to be fine. It's just precaution. As soon as we can figure out who you are and what you're about it'll be okay. You just chose a bad time to... uh... have your tree catch on fire."
[[insert response here, will continue on but assume responses were taken but no answers are given if Naomi asks questions]]
Crack. Another gunshot, this one much more welcome. It gave the drivers of both cars a solid sense of where they would have to head. Charlie stuck to the path, turning left once they reached the bottom of the hill. It wasn't too far out and there likely wasn't much danger in continuing. All of the walkers in the area seemed to be scattered. The thunder caused them to wander in different directions effectively breaking any sort of mob that had formed. The group then entered the edge of the storm. Everything was a bit darker, but still visible by the headlights of the van. A relatively short female walker appeared suddenly in the darkness of the night only to be smashed by the front bumper. It was clear that no damage was done to the car, but a lot to the undead. Charlie continued staring forward. Dana let out a small yelp, caught off guard by the sudden noise. It only took another minute or so of driving to hear cries for help. The vehicle was brought to a rough stop.
"Alright, everyone out. It's to the right. Corey stay here with the new one. If she tries anything shifty, don't be afraid to rough her up. We don't need more trouble," Charlie said, swinging his door open. He left the keys in the ignition. It was likely whatever was being shot at would likely come after them and he wanted a quick getaway.
Crack. One last gunshot. The only noise now was the group moaning of a mob of walkers. Charlie approached through the trees slowly, unsure of what the situation may hold. He assumed the rest of the group was close behind but still stopped before a dark green ATV parked beside a tree that was likely the victim's. At the center of a group of at least twelve gargling monsters was a young woman resting in a tree. She had a black hooded sweatshirt on and blue jeans with white athletic shoes. Her attention was quickly directed toward the group of humans approaching. "Hurry up! God help me I can't stay up here!" She dropped her pistol to the ground, smacking one of the zombies in the head. It didn't kill it but definitely cracked the skull. Charlie ran forward with his police baton, aiming for the skull of the one closest to him.
[[Battle: begin!
For those curious: new girl's faceclaim is Kimiko Glenn. I linked it so there would be a good point of reference. Anyone who wants to fight can. Leaving it open to see
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Post by Kura on Mar 2, 2015 1:14:16 GMT
Jonathan was surprised by the sudden intrusion just as they were about to leave, and even more surprised by what the woman who came to the camp had said. My tree burned down? What kind of introduction is that? Either way, he watched as Corey and Charlie moved on with the procedure. The woman was 'clean', which was a relief. They moved on to the 'interrogation' part, to which he listened with attention, but didn't interfere with.
The trip remained otherwise uneventful, save for a walker crash or two, until they arrived at the source of the gunshots. From the passenger seat, due to the headlights, Jonathan could clearly see a tree, a horde surrounding it, and a woman on top of it throwing a perfectly good gun straight at a walker's head.
Well, shit. Jonathan didn't think too much about it. His humanitarian side often got the best of him, and he couldn't resist climbing out of the van. He took his gun from the holster at his hip. Crack, crack, crack. Three zombies down. It seemed all the practice was worth it. The sound was enough to draw the horde's attention, and with any luck, distract them from the lady for time enough for her to climb down from the tree and into one of the vehicles. Plus, it should draw some of the heat from Charlie. Jonathan grabbed a heavy-looking stick to fend off some of the approaching zombies, but stayed close to the rest of the group.
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Post by speshal on Mar 2, 2015 1:20:22 GMT
While the attention of the horde was momentarily on Charlie, it quickly shifted toward the gunshots. All but two walkers moved their attention from the tree to the group and began stumbling over. It was up to the rest of the group to cut them down.
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Post by fishstyx on Mar 2, 2015 1:38:06 GMT
Steven quickly parked the Jeep and let off a few rounds of the shotgun he kept tucked into the side of his trousers. He hit one walker in the head and another in the left leg, but there were plenty more where that came from. The sounds of others scrambling from the Jeep reassured him since he knew that everyone at least had mobility. It was his turn to get out now.
Moving quickly, Steven pushed open his door, knocking back two walkers which he then shot in the head. With those two down, he had a clear view of the melee before him. Some people were still pouring from the van, but Steven could see individuals running around firing and beating and punching. It was absolute chaos, and Steven couldn't find Charlie.
That was when Steven felt a tug on the collar of his shirt, and he was pulled down by the side of the Jeep, causing him to scrape his elbows on the hard ground. The sound of ragged breath behind him alerted him to his attacker: a walker. Steven was too old to be able to twist the way he needed to in order to get out of this situation. If somebody didn't see him, he'd be meeting Michael and Gracie a hell of a lot sooner than he'd planned on.
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Post by safroka on Mar 2, 2015 2:51:40 GMT
“You’re not gonna cut me down, boy,” Naomi addressed Corey with a smirk, “Does he always boss you around like that?” He went for the pat down, but she continued, “Didn’t realize pat downs took this long, t-b-h. Or are you just having a good time?” Any talk of the apocalypse wouldn’t change the girl. In her eyes, hostility was a weak trait and belonged to those who could not see who she really was; who based their judgments off appearance; who couldn’t accurately assess threat levels; who would die because of a misstep they could have avoided. Did she want to surround herself with people who couldn’t carry their own? While she talked smack to Corey, Naomi herself assessed the situation in her head just in case things went south with these folks.
I have no weapons and I’m next to useless on leveled land. I don’t know these people and they don’t know me. I can’t earn their trust and then split, they need to think I’d have died. But I can split. Yeah, let’s keep splitting open as an exit opportunity, Naomi.
‘Exit opportunity’, what an ingenious way to euphemise how much you hate your godawful job and want to escape. Employers were stupid, they would always read it as something noble so that they didn’t have to recognize the horrors they put their employees through. So that they didn’t realize the onus was on them for providing a good work atmosphere. What was that anyway though? All work sucked. Parkour was her exit opportunity; Naomi remembered leaping off highrises like her own office building to fire escapes and feeling brick underneath her feet. She thought about how unnatural it would feel to most people and because they couldn’t understand the sensation, it had to be bad. It had to be condemned. They feared their own potential and slammed property damage charges on her saying that parkour was her being a public nuisance, not them being dream killers. Of course, filing papers an older man never remembered existed was much more beneficial to society. It was her being quiet, reserved, closed off from her real interests and as a token of their appreciation she had the privilege of taking home a paycheck, looking at it, looking into it, the paycheck as a mirror. She was reflected in it: valueless unless understood in context as part of a system where only a select few get to decide what value even is.
Naomi tuned in when she heard her name. No, it was just the guy who gave orders like all other guys asking for her name. Names were unimportant though now, she decided. So she lied. “Melody.” It was a name she hated. It was deliberate and it was stupid. Something newly-married parents name their kids because of how much they romanticized that garbage as lovers in high school. Never once considering what their children would go through with that name if they could not, like most children, carry an actual melody if their life depended on it. Of course though it got better when men could add a Melody to their resume.
Naomi ignored what Dana said to her about “precaution”, but smiled and nodded as if she had been paying attention. Solidarity was important early on, but Dana seemed disillusioned even if she wasn’t. The burning tree joke was cute too. Naomi bet Dana would have been dead without these guys. Dead and walking.
When they arrived at the commotion, she was told to stay put with—actually, no. Corey was told to stay put and watch over her. Corey, He Who Takes Orders Like A Pleb. Maybe if the boss watched over her, that would mean she’s worth a damn. But no, we got Corey here. Like making sure a dog doesn’t run out on to the street when the door opens. But they didn’t know her. She was the street.
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Post by Wyndi on Mar 2, 2015 5:32:33 GMT
The intruder had a bright smile, but not bright enough to disarm them. Pressed against the door of the Jeep, Miranda watched Charlie and Corey go through with the SOP and shove her into the minivan. No surprises there. Of course they'd take her in, Miranda thought, even though the girl had showed up out of nowhere: innocent until proven guilty; no man left behind; all that bleeding heart **** that'd get them all killed one day, just you watch. Miranda leaned back in her seat, keeping one hand near the door handle. Whatever - so long as the girl wasn't in the Jeep, she was okay with it. For now.
Once they reached their destination, Miranda was the first one out of the Jeep. She hit the ground running before the Jeep could even fully stop, her rucksack smacking against her back from the force of the impact. So she hated the whole hero bit. So she was raw and exposed out here, straddling the tightrope between life and death (and undeath, as it were). But god, did a horde of walkers ever make her blood pump through her veins like crazy - the thrill, the adrenaline, the rush of power slamming into her like a tornado. Miranda straightened up and grinned - her wild, feral grin with all teeth bared - before she drove her newest harpoon into the skull of a walker. Once the point had sliced into its target, she yanked the spear back out and kicked the dead walker into the one behind him. No whining about sad pasts here, not right now.
The stranger they'd come to rescue, still up in the tree? Steven, half-pinned by a walker near the Jeep? Both were pushed back to the recesses of Miranda's brain. She hadn't come here for either of them. She'd come to (re)kill things.
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Post by Mini on Mar 2, 2015 21:34:25 GMT
Great, another new addition to the group. Yeah there was safety in numbers but too many people could spell trouble easily. He kept a wary eye on her as Charlie went through the whole standard procedure when it came to a new person joining their group. She didn’t seem too phased by it - didn’t look like the whole dead walking the earth bothered her either. Dana did her usual mom act, trying to make her feel welcome like she had done to him and all the others and Corey was his usual self. Zach sighed from the passenger seat of the Jeep as he waited for them to finally get a move on. The Jeep bumped along on their path down, following the noises of the gunshots with the tell tale sounds of the raspy breath of walkers accompanying them the closer they got.
What the hell is it with girls and trees tonight? He thought to himself as he hopped out of the Jeep and fired an arrow at one of the walkers by the tree, pinning it there as he ran over there and grabbed the arrow, wiping the blood on his jeans before putting it back in its place. With this many walkers around it was easier to fight with his machete, he’d only use the crossbow if he really needed to.
Which, turns out, he needed to as Steven was pinned to the ground struggling with a walker. He swung around and fired his crossbow, sending an arrow right through the back of the head of the walker on Steven. He’d be able to grab his arrow and thank Zach later. He quickly swung the weapon back over his shoulder and pulled out his machete to continue fighting off the hoard of walkers. He’d gotten good with the machete over the past few months, able to decapitate a walker with one fluid swing. As he killed walker after walker, blood spattering on his face and clothes, he’d forgotten the reason they were there. The fact that there was a girl in a tree didn’t matter to him - what mattered was killing these things again and making sure they stayed dead. Oddly the feeling of cutting these things down made him feel alive.
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Post by speshal on Mar 3, 2015 2:10:46 GMT
Charlie swung to his left, knocking back one of the walkers clawing at the tree. It fell to the ground and due to the poor state of its muscles took a bit to get up. As it went down, though, it grabbed hold of his baton and ripped it out of his hand. It was now resting on the ground behind him. If he chose to turn around and pick it up he could easily be blindsided by another walker. His choice was smart, but cost him another weapon. He unsheathed his machete to slice through the skull of the walker to his right. Again, he lost a weapon. It was lodged in the head and was taken down with it when it fell. The previously beaten walker had now found its way back up and was taking tiny steps toward him. Had it not been for the young woman's warning, he likely would have been bitten. She screamed and he instinctively flipped toward her. This put the other in his line of sight. Not wanting to lose another weapon, Charlie simply took out his pistol and delivered a shot to its head.
"Get down," he said, gathering his items from the ground and placing them back in their respective places on his belt. She nodded before climbing slowly down a couple of branches and stumbling the rest of the way. Like a cat, she landed on her feet and sprung into a sprint toward her ATV parked toward the cars.
"All of you need to follow me now. I know a safe place," she yelled, clearing the slimy entrails from the grill of her bike and starting it up. She pulled ahead of the cars and sped down the path away from the hill.
Charlie surveyed the situation. Was it really worth trusting a stranger? They could just as easily return to their hill. The storm was not approaching it and it provided a decent view of the surroundings. And even then, where would she be taking them. They were in the middle of a forest with no view of civilization for miles. That could be deceptive, though. They did just come from the city recently and it could have easily just been a few acres of private land that were preserved. There was no danger at the moment, either. The horde was taken care of and everyone was alright. But the gunfire. The gunfire fucked it all up. He and the others who had fired likely lured more from the area. If just a couple gunshots from the stranger brought that many, it was likely that theirs would bring more.
"Shit!" he exclaimed, kicking the dirt while walking quickly back to the truck. Charlie slammed the door behind him. Dana placed a comforting hand on his shoulder that he quickly dismissed with a jerk of his body. He rolled down the window and continued, "We don't have a damn choice. Our shots'll bring more of them here. We can sit here and fight forever, and our hill won't be safe. We can defend each side alone forever. If it's not safe wherever she's taking us we'll turn right around, but for now it's either die by walkers or risk death by people. Let's go."
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Post by fishstyx on Mar 3, 2015 17:36:16 GMT
Steven felt the force of a gunshot wrack the body of his attacker, and felt the walker go limp. Shaking it off, Steven shakily got to his feet, not sure if his nerves could take standing. Slowly, Steve. That's it. He hated that he was old enough for things like that to affect him, while the young-ins ran around on spry feet shooting and swinging left and right. That's what he got for outliving his family, Steven supposed. You weren't supposed to live longer than your children, and he was paying for it.
Noticing Charlie sprinting back into the van, Steven leaned on the side of the Jeep. There was no way he could drive in his condition, or he'd kill all of them before they could get to safety. "Anybody up for taking the front seat?" Not waiting for an answer, Steven pushed his way along the side of the Jeep and opened the door to the backseat. He hoisted himself in with some trouble and sat there, feeling the phantom pain in his leg bother him again. He heard Dana talking, always talking, trying to calm the others. That woman had strength that Steven knew he could never possess, and it made him feel better to know that at least one of them could be of help to others. Unlike him, who couldn't even get through one fight without needing help from one of the young ones. Never mind that he'd kept his body in fighting shape; never mind that he'd been through too many fights with the walkers to count. Steven was getting older, and it was impossible for him to not start feeling it.
And who knew where they were going this time? He'd not been able to see anything other than Charlie getting back in the van, so he didn't even know how many of their party still lived. Suppose somebody died instead of him because he was so busy losing? It would be Michael all over again. Steven closed his eyes and tried not to think about his son anymore, hoping someone would get in the Jeep and drive him away from all of this.
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Post by Wyndi on Mar 4, 2015 5:01:35 GMT
Great. Just abso-****ing-lutely great. And that's why we don't play hero, Miranda thought as she crushed one of the last walkers' chests with her boot and yanked her harpoon out of its cranium. Now that the adrenaline rush was over, she was starting to feel pretty damn bitter about everything again. They'd given up safety and a great lookout point - for what? A grand ****ing total of one stranger, and god ****ing knew if she could be trusted. "Safe place," she'd said. Yeah, right.
Miranda wiped the bloody barbed end of her harpoon on a patch of relatively clean grass. The thing probably wouldn't last through another fight - it was just a stick, after all, not a metal monster - but she'd take what she could get. Maybe it was time to start picking up guns...but then she'd have to worry about bullets and proper upkeep and all that ****. Too much of a hassle.
Half a dozen feet away, Steven was getting into the backseat of the Jeep. The walker must've hurt him more than Miranda had seen if the man had decided not to continue driving - or he was just feeling his age. Working out could only do so much to stop your bones from becoming brittle: it was all part of the human aging process.
Rolling her eyes, Miranda climbed into the driver's seat, kicking her rucksack under the seat and keeping her weapons close at hand. As if daring any of the passengers to defy her, she glowered into the smudged, slightly cracked rear view mirror: sure, she wasn't the smoothest or the safest driver, but her uncanny reflexes always ended up saving everyone's ***es each time anyways. So what was there to worry about her driving, honestly?
She turned the keys once, twice, thrice in the ignition, and waited for Charlie's next set of orders. Like the obedient ***** I am.
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Post by speshal on Mar 4, 2015 5:52:19 GMT
Charlie revved the engine and sped down the path, following the sounds made by the stranger's ATV. The thoughts clouding his head caused him to lose focus of his surroundings. He was still driving safely and on the path, but wasn't nearly as observant as before. Walkers were everywhere. Anytime the lights flashed on the trees another group could be seen. His mind wandered toward his recent decisions. It was likely the group disliked him right now, but he couldn't dwell on it. If he hadn't made choices like these before most of them wouldn't be alive. They would have to understand that people risked their lives, or even died, just to save them from their situations. It wasn't worth arguing each time, though. They seemed to understand and were relatively willing to follow instructions. After a few minutes of high speed navigation they arrived at a three-way stop sort of situation. This path was paved and had signs posted that read "no trespassing". They were finally in habitable country. Charlie listened for the ATV and turned left after deciding on the noise. The trees thinned and slowly progressed into long, untamed grass. It had to be neighborhood, or at least a house.
The ATV then came into sight. The girl wasn't on it, though. A few more seconds of driving revealed her walking calmly down the path. It was odd considering the near death situation she had just been in. She gave a quick glance to those driving beside her before pointing straight ahead. "Only a few more seconds down the path," she yelled before progressing into a slow jog. She grabbed onto the rear windshield wiper of the van and rested her feet on the bumper, "You won't be safe unless they see you with me."
They? Charlie thought. Then it dawned on him. They! People! More people! It was the happiest thought he'd had in a while. A group of people that could help him. Not just one or two frustrated stragglers (while he did appreciate them and had grown to love his group), but a cohesive bunch. The thought faded as the sight of their "camp" came to view. It wasn't really a camp, though. It was just the term that they used so often that it was automatic for place of residence. This was a house. But even then, not a house. It was a big house. No, not a big house. A huge house. Honestly, a mansion. A slightly weeded brick path with a few blood spots leading to a fancy wrought iron gate with rocky pillars on each side covered in lively ivy. Trimmed flowers cut to perfection on both sides. On the other side of the fence it seemed better. Trimmed grass. Yes, trimmed grass. Freshly trimmed as well. The lawn still had some sort of zig-zag pattern cut into it. The path led to a magnificent white home with more windows than Charlie could count on one hand. A stone mailbox made from a few bricks was to the right side of the road. It had a plaque on it.
The name Turner was scratched with some sort of sharp object but still readable. In equally messy handwriting "Martin" was written. "Weird," Charlie said to himself. While he should have questioned the perfection of the home, the sight of some sort of pre-apocalyptic structure made him too happy. It was likely many of the others felt the same. In fact, Dana knelt forward from her spot and rested her elbows on the center console. She gave Charlie a short smile before shifting her attention back to the house. It really all did seem to be working out.
"And who the hell are you?" A voice shouted from behind the wall and gate. It was unclear exactly from where but it was loud and clear.
The rescued girl hopped off the back of the van and walked forward. "Let them in", she called. A short laugh could be heard from the man.
"You really fucked up today, honey," he said. She shook her head and ran her hand through her hair. Seconds after the gates swung open. The girl walked ahead, signalling for the cars to follow. After they entered the gate slammed shut behind them. Before long, they were at the circle drive.
A blonde woman came rushing out from the front door of the home. She held a pistol by her side and an angry look on her face. Her gun dropped lower when she noticed her girl was home. The two hugged for a moment, and didn't release when the woman began talking.
"And who the fuck are you all?" she asked, bringing the gun back up and pointing it toward the vehicles like she could actually take on a whole group. Just then another woman, obviously older, emerged from the house in much calmer and elegant fashion. She wore a tight red dress that fit her well and pair of large red sunglasses. She lifted them up to reveal her identity, but still remained far enough behind the two for them to not notice her. Charlie parked the van but left it running for any sort of emergency. He figured he would let his group do the talking for now with how unclear the residence was making him think.
[[ NOTES For buildings I'm trying to remain true to the environment (Tennessee). This is Alan Turner's home. It can be seen here and here. For those curious: (as a reminder) the initial stranger's faceclaim is Kimiko Glenn. The faceclaim of the first "blonde woman" is Elizabeth Mitchell. The faceclaim of the older woman is Jessica Lange. I chose that picture for the hair mostly. Her face looks much younger there. In reality, it would appear much more like this.
Sorry for the multiple he's, she's and what's. I can't refer to them by name yet because they haven't introduced themselves.]]
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Post by Mini on Mar 4, 2015 17:07:15 GMT
He walked over to the walker he’d saved Steven from and pulled out his arrow - there was no wasting something as vital as a weapon in these times. He wiped the bloody shaft on his pants and placed it back where it belonged before he realized everyone was piling back in the cars. “F***, seriously?” He groaned. They were chasing some random stranger to who knows where...didn’t Charlie realize this was dangerous? Zach briefly toyed with the notion of staying in the woods and fending for himself, but he knew he didn’t have the necessary supplies to do so. With that thought still in the back of his mind, he sauntered over to the Jeep, noticing the old man was now in back and Miranda had taken the driver’s seat. He slid in to the passenger seat. “You didn’t get bit, did you?” He turned to Steven in the back seat. They didn’t want to deal with something like that on the way to this unknown place. It’d be too risky and Zach had no qualms about killing anyone who could be a risk. ___
“The hell are we going…” He asked half to himself the closer they got to their destination as the Jeep rumbled and bounced down the road. Trimmed grass, flowers? Wrought iron gates? Whoever lived here must have no idea what’s going on in the real world - or if they did they didn’t realize just how bad it was. He noticed the name Turner had been scratched out and Martin had been scrawled on top. The original owner must have bit it. Or maybe these new residents killed him. He thought to himself, but still felt a little creeped out by how well manicured the lawn and foliage was at this veritable mansion. As the girl they’d rescued embraced an older woman that ran out of the house, followed by two others - a man and a woman. Zach felt his grip tighten on his machete that was sheathed on his belt, not getting a great feeling from either of them.
"And who the fuck are you all?"
The woman’s question hung in the air. Charlie wasn’t answering, and if he expected someone like Zach to speak up he was barking up the wrong tree. They were lucky if they got two words out of Zach on a good day in conversation. He was surprised she asked such a dumb and obvious question though. We’re survivors, idiot, just like you. He thought as dark eyes scrutinized them, ready to fight and flee at a moment’s notice.
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Post by Kura on Mar 6, 2015 1:58:19 GMT
After the fighting was over, Jonathan threw away the stick he was using to beat away the walkers. Not a very effective weapon, but enough to keep them off of him while the girl came down and the others cleaned out the walkers. Before anything else, though, the girl got into her vehicle and went away, apparently telling them to follow. Shame, really. He wanted to know how that happened, maybe get a grip of the situation so they wouldn't be following a complete stranger to who knows where. At least she's cute, he thought. Plus, we just saved her. Why would she lead us somewhere dangerous? With those thoughts in mind, Jonathan went to the van and claimed shotgun again.
Once they got there, Jonathan whistled at the sigh of the mansion and the garden. Now, that's something you don't see every day. Who'd say someone would bother taking care of appearances with the dead walking the Earth? It might not have much practical use, but at least it's nice to look at.
Once they got inside, however, the reception was less than pleasant. Well, it was to be expected. Nobody trusted anybody anymore. And maybe they're right. But now was not the time to be having these thoughts. Jonathan shook his head to focus at the moment: Charlie, the "leader", wasn't saying anything; afraid of what the other members of the group might do and thinking that if they did something, it certainly wouldn't end well, Jonathan decided it was his time to shine. He stepped ahead, slowly raising his hands in a gesture of peace. "Please, we mean no harm. We just helped the miss over there," he said, gesturing to the one who they saved, "and she brought us here."
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Post by speshal on Mar 8, 2015 1:47:30 GMT
The woman in the back stepped forward, eyeing Jonathan. As her heels clicked against the pavement it was clear that the other two had heard. Heel were an odd sight. Obviously not a strong tool for survival, but then again it seemed they were surviving just fine the way they were. Both stepped back and allowed her to speak. The gun was lowered and the dark haired stranger stepped forward, offering her approval of this statement.
"She brought you here?" she said calmly, revealing a French accent. With a click flick of her wrist she smacked the back of the dark haired girls head. He jerked forward but she recovered quickly. "Get Amanda to her room. I'll talk to her later. As for you all..."
She took a long pause to be sure that the blonde woman escorted Amanda back into the house. The fact that they had some rule about communicating with people on the outside meant that they obviously had some sort of idea of what was actually going on. While it was a welcome sign, it just made the excellent conditions even weird. Charlie snapped back to reality and gave the older woman the same stern stare. She took a deep breath before throwing her hands up in a sort of surrender.
"Well, you're already here. I'm Marie Martin and this is my estate. We're a rag-tag bunch, but we're family. The blonde one is my daughter, Annette. The dark-haired one is my... adoptive granddaughter," she let the last part out with a bit of a sneer, obviously unhappy with it. Just another traditional old woman. She took a long look at her watch then up to the sky, "Sun is down and likely won't be up for a few more hours. Come. We can lodge you until morning as a sort of... thanks. Check your weapons at the door."
Marie turned abruptly after finished and set off for the door. A middle aged man in a tuxedo met her at the door, brushing off some sort of lint from her shoulder and closing it behind her. Charlie turned his back to the house, surveying the surroundings.
"We should go inside," he said, attempting to get input from the group. It was unusual, but he was slightly unsure. It was the first time the group had encountered such "perfect" people.
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