Survivors! Zombie Apocalypse RP

She pointed down the road. It was a ways, but the burning wreckage of a small shop was clearly visible. Arnold squinted, managing to make out the charred name of the gun shop before the whole thing exploded, shattering the glass windowpanes and sending hunks of wood and zombie everywhere.

A smoking plank from one of the shop's many shipping crates landed feet from Arnold. The bold black lettering said in no unclear terms "Black Powder". Sharon pulled out a .44 mag round from her pants' pocket, pointed to it, and spread out her fingers. Kaboom.

edited 24th Oct '11 10:08:18 AM by KSPAM

It was only at this moment, with all of how gestures, that Arnold realised that Sharon was unable to speak. Seems Arnold wasn't able to properly communicate with ANYONE. It reminded him of his life before this whole zombie apocalypse, where he was the silent, socially awkward guy in an office building filled with smug, superficial pricks.

"So, that's what happened. Can I ask, why can't you... you know, talk? Was it something that happened with this whole zombie thing, or before that?"

Sharon quickly became somber, the levity that had begun to bud whisked away. She nodded okay, and rustled around in her pockets for something. She unholstered her gun◊, and held it out alongside a worn patch of fabric.◊

She looked back up at him, asking if he understood.

edited 24th Oct '11 10:28:03 AM by KSPAM

The things that Sharon had shown to Arnold had been completely lost on him, as far as an explanation goes.

"Okay, so you... like guns, I guess? And that looks like a military logo... where you in the military? Because I gotta admit, that's pretty cool."

She sighed, and holstered the gun again. It would take more effort than she was willing to give to explain.

Turning to Rick, she rapped the back of the ambulance, waving her fingers like she was jingling keys.

Rick looked blankly for a moment, before catching sight of Sharon's hand motion, yet still not connecting the two actions. "Uh... the ambulance... Yeah, s'mine." He fished into a jacket pocket, withdrawing the key as proof. "D'you need something - probably store all that stuff...?" He asked slowly, looking for some confirmation or indication of the woman's purpose.

She pointed to a bandage adorning her forearm, and then withdrew a packet of moist towelettes. Bandages and disinfectant.

Then she pointed to the group. Looking back to make sure no one else was watching, she huddled within whispering distance, thumbed at Scalps, and shook her head.

Arnold stared agape at the bandage on Sharon's forearm.

"Hang on, how did you get that?... Don't tell me you were bitten or something!"

She shook her head, waving her hands. Peeling back the bandage revealed a small gash. The skin had been cut, not chewed. Sharon leaned over and picked up a shard of glass.

Arnold looked on as Sharon lifted the shard of glass.

"What are you going to do with that?"

More relaxed, the older biker started explaining the situation.

"We came here by motorbike, so we're fuckin' stuck: Riding out would be suicidal.", he said. "I ain't gonna play dodge the zombie on an Ural either.", Scalps added.

"So we're grabbin' a car and gettin' the fuck back to the compound: Eighty acres'o'land, hundred miles Soutwhest, middle'o'nowhere."

Her shoulders dropped and she sighed again. This one was going to be difficult to deal with. If only she had her cellphone or something...

She pointed at the cut, and pointed to the shard of glass, making a cutting motion through the air with it.

"Glass cut, huh? Need me to look at it?" Rick opened the back, revealing a stretcher, along with other various medical paraphernalia. He climbed into the ambulance, before turning back. "How long ago was this?"

She held up eight fingers. Given the freshness of the cut, she probably meant eight hours.

"Right... I'll have to check to make sure that glass didn't get in, then extract them if necessary, wash it, disinfect, wrap it up..." Rick explained the procedure, though it almost seemed as if it was for his benefit as much as it was for Sharon's.

"Ah, so you were cut by some glass, huh? Well, better than a zombie bite."

Arnold chuckled nervously. He didn't really feel right making a joke on the apocalypse... and not even a funny one. He then turned to Rick.

"So, you're a paramedic? It'll be good to have someone like you around, in that case."

THUMP.

edited 27th Oct '11 6:42:44 AM by SavageHeathen

Seiko didn't offer her name immediately, as she wanted to gauge who everyone was and what kind of threat they migt pose to her. Six days in the collapse of society had taught her a lot about not trusting anyone. Most of the people seemed to be unlikely to be hostile to her, though the bikers unnerved her quite a bit. With the number of people present, she worried more about attracting zombies to the proverbial buffet. Still tense, she stepped towards the others a little, then hesitated.

Finally she spoke, quietly, "Watash... I am Seiko. Need. need clothes."

Havoc. Fear. Death. Screaming. All of these were the first signs that life would never be the same, may never be safe again. Sure, first it was the cries pf revolution, the light of a new dawn. But that has past, now a constant twilight of loneliness and the low calls of the dead. Before to Steven, the silence was refreshing, theraputic. Now it was awful, stagnant, as dead as the people around.

The first few days, when Steven knew that things had gone horribly, he had holed up at home. Fortunately, his small apartment had only one set of windows and a single door which were easy to keep barricaded. He stayed quite and hid, only moving to eat or go to the bathroom. But he could still hear them, all around, the horrible moans of hunger.

He eventually decided that hiding in was too much. He could no longer take the solitude, the fear. So, he fled. Since then he did all he could to avoid the infected, hiding for a few hours of sleep here or there. He had relied on some simple dry food from home to keep going but he knew that wouldn't be enough for long. He would have to leave. But the city was big and he never got his license. He could basically drive, that would have to be enough. First, he needed food. He needed to go somewhere with enough.

In the end he decided on the nearby Wal-Mart. It would likely be dangerous, but he could at least run or hide in there. And there would be a lot. But it was also an idea commonly had in the movies. Go to the mall, go to the superstore. It rarely worked well, but he didn't intend to hold up, he just wanted supplies. So with more than a bit of fear, but trying to keep a smile, he walked through the parking lot quickly, looking arounjd for more of those undead.

He was getting close when he heard the sounds of people. There was something going on in there, but he couldn't hear what they were saying. There were quite a few from the sound of it. From here, he couldn't tell if they were just a scared family or raiders. He tried to quietly enter the place, cringing when the door clanged behind him.

Arnold looked around him. The whole "Zombie Apocalypse" thing had left him quite nervous, and with good reason. He hopped up into the Ambulance.

"It's better to be on the safe side, in case a whole pack of zombies attack, you know?"

Arnold outstretched his arm, offering Sharon to help get up into the ambulance.

Sharon took hold of his hand. It was slick, shaky, and a little clammy. The hand of a combat virgin. But, she reflected, it was a hand, and in this situation, she was more than grateful for it.

Clambering into the ambulance, she found the nearest bench, and for the first time in almost forty-eight hours, sat her ass down and relaxed. Even if it was for just a minute.

edited 26th Oct '11 5:07:57 PM by KSPAM

Arnold paused for a moment, unsure of what to say, considering that Sharon could only speak in mime. He then remembered that he had just came from his office building, meaning he had a notepad and pen in his front shirt pocket. He handed them over to Sharon.

"Here you go, I'm sure this should make things much easier for you. Maybe you could start with your name?"

She took the pad and pen. It wasn't her phone but it was certainly better than nothing. And it appeared clear to her that Arnold was the chatty type. Better get scribbling.

First, her name. In scrunched loops, she scratched down Sharon Harkness

Underneath it, she wrote, Arnold, right?

edited 26th Oct '11 5:28:43 PM by KSPAM

Hmm... Sharon... pretty name, hell, pretty girl.

"Yeah, it's Arnold. I suppose this whole zombie thing took you by surprise, huh? I don't think anyone was expecting it... except crazy people, but I guess it turns out, they're right. Weird, huh?"

She raised an eyebrow at him, then scrawled something on the pad.

Don't think anyone really saw it coming. Glad to know the military wasn't wasting out time with those zombie drills at least.