Survivors! Zombie Apocalypse RP

Arnold slapped his forehead with his hand.

"Yeah, I forgot about that... I'm an idiot. Look, how about I take the wheel for a while, then you can write all you like?"

The road ahead was almost empty, cluttered by a few cars here and there: Some crashed... Others ran out of fuel. They were still very close to the city: The zombies had gorged on those that crashed... They'd left some torn pieces of human flesh around the wreckage. A few stray zeds still remained, ghoulishly trying to pull fresh corpses out of the vehicles.

Some of the crash survivors had become zombies themselves, trapped inside the wreckage. Still, the road South looked much safer than going back to bloody Portland.

Sharon sighed. There really wasn't going to be any getting away from this, was there? She looked at Arnold, really looked. He really wasn't all that bad looking. Granted, he was no Leonardo Dicaprio, but he was cute enough. Sweet too, in his own way. Did he really...

No, she thought, slowing the ambulance, that wasn't the problem. He wasn't the problem. It wasn't a matter of whether or not she liked him (for the record, she did, at least for someone she'd just met). It definitely wasn't a matter of whether or not he was "good enough for her". No, it took a really self-absorbed bitch to say something like that. Rather, it was whether or not she...

The ambulance crawled to a stop in what Sharon had deemed to be a relatively zombie free zone. Unbuckling her seatbelt, Sharon grabbed the pad and pen and climbed out the door. Her boots clopped onto the concrete road, and she circled 'round to Arnold's side of the ambulance, running her gloved fingers across the grille. It was a matter of whether or not she was good enough for him.

edited 29th Oct '11 7:12:47 PM by KSPAM

As Sharon was making her way around the ambulance, Arnold shifted into the driver seat of the ambulance, starting up again as she got back in. At least now, maybe he'll be able to get an answer to his question. He turned to Sharon with a hopeful look on his face, before re-starting the survivor's journey. He had never driven an ambulance before, it was bound to be some experience.

Cail had never seen a zombie up close before, but when the Chevy cruised through the horde he saw plenty first hand, up close and personal. Pale bloodied shells of what they once were clawing at the truck as it drove past, some managed to get a hold onto the truck but were knocked off by other undead or the rocking motion of the truck as it drove over any zombies the truck happened to thud into.

If there ever was hell on earth Cail knew this was it and it was making him nauseous, the music probably wasn't helping either. The *thuds* slowly subsided into nothing and the truck was soon clear of the horde. Cail breathed easier once more and lifted himself from his doubled over position. The bikers introduced themselves, the woman driving being Tyra, the older one being Kurt.

Cail stayed silent for a while lost in his thoughts, the cigarrette smell brought him back. Glancing over at the girl beside him he gave her a reasurring smile and glimpsed the ambulance along side them, out the window. Thank goodness they made it, safety in numbers... He hoped at least.

"Again I'm Cail, dunno if you heard, things were pretty hectic back there, it's good to meet you." Cail had a plethora of questions for the two in front and it took all his willpower for him to hold them back,"Just to clarify when you say bastards do you mean the zombies, those guys who came out of the armoured truck, or, ah, just anyone who gets on your bad side?"

edited 29th Oct '11 7:23:28 PM by Hevchenko

Tyra smiled. "The bastards? Cops, jailers, government folks...", she started. "We kill'em, and we scalp'em.", she said. "They used to jail or kill our comrades.", Kurt said. "This whole apocalypse thing is a good chance to settle old scores.", he said.

Tyra grabbed Kurt's joint, and took a few puffs out of it. "There's them zeds: Fuckin' annoying, and them's a health hazard, so we shoot'em.", she said. Kurt merely nodded, so she continued: "Some folks shoot at us, or try'n' steal our stuff.", she said. "Got to shoot those, too.", Kurt said. "Yup: They shoot at ya, they're gonna get shot.". "Did we leave somebody out?", Kurt asked. "Nah, ain't got no beef with anyone else, really.", she replied.

edited 29th Oct '11 8:04:16 PM by SavageHeathen

Cail nodded in understanding, "So you're revolutionaries? Sorry I don't know much about the civil war, if you couldn't tell by the accent, I'm not exactly from around here."

Cail took of his back pack, placing it between his knees and sat back on his seat. He wound the window down letting the smoke out, choking back a cough from the smell. Cail's eyes wandered taking in the sight of the inter-state, cars strewn everwhere, the occasional undead wandereing around or gorging themselves.

Cail unzipped his pack, brought out his two litre bottle and quenched his thirst, he offered some of the water to the young girl whilst his spare hand rummaged through the pack passed the ammunition and med-kit and canned food, prying for the dry biscuits near the bottom. Glancing back he saw the other vehichle had slowed down to a halt.

"That's weird, the ambulance stopped..." Cail said.

For her part Seiko remained silent in her seat, taking stock of what she had in the way of supplies. The Power Bars and water she'd gotten at the convenience store were in her bag, if a little smashed in the case of the former. Since she had her own, she waved off Cail's offer of water. Her shotgun had maybe 20 shells left after the altercation with the raiders at Walmart. That carbine had one partial clip and one extra. Not much, but it did give her extra firepower if she needed it. Now if she could just find and weigh the options for survival amongst this new group, she could better determine where she should go to be safest. Despite the bikers' reassurances to the contrary, she didn't trust someone who used the end of the world as a chance for revenge, let alone removed the scalps from those they got revenge upon. When she noticed the ambulance had slowed down on the side of the road, she finally mustered some English.

"They stop," she remarked, then coolly added, "And I am OK."

edited 29th Oct '11 9:39:08 PM by Bombadillo

For a while, Sharon just sat there, face still a light shade of red. After a while, she began chewing on the pen, having still not written a thing. Then, finally, after about two miles, she sighed, and just stared at the paper, like it had defeated her. And then she began to write. God help her find the words, she began to write.

Look, Arnold, it's not that I don't like you. Really, it's the opposite. But still, don't you think this is a bit too sudden? I mean, we just met! I'm not saying no, I just think it would be better if we got to know each other a bit more. There are a lot of things I don't know about you. And... she hesitated before continuing, there are a lot of things you don't know about me.

Something happened in her eyes just as she dotted that last sentence. The dull, impenetrable blinds of those windows set in her skull parted, giving Arnold just one peek, a look inside. A look at the real Sharon. He looked into her eyes, and what looked back was nothing less than the world's most woebegone angel.

edited 29th Oct '11 10:58:26 PM by KSPAM

Arnold looked deep into Sharon's eyes.

"Wow... I..."

He really felt sorry for the girl. Didn't mean he didn't like her any less. This conversation would be so much easier if he weren't driving. Feeling that the area they were in was devoid of danger, Arnold pulled the ambulance over. Looking back at Sharon, he took by the hand, and planted a gentle kiss on her lips.

"Sharon, something tells me we're going to know each other much better soon. We've got quite a trip ahead of us, so let's share something about ourselves... umm... you first."

Okay, he'd kissed her. He'd really just kissed her. Was that good or bad? Definitely... good, right? No! That was bad! But isn't kissing supposed to be a good thing? Yeah, but in this situation, it was more... right? Sharon, still reeling, couldn't seem to decide how she felt.

That 's not really what I meant Arnold! I mean it is, but

She trailed off, pen twisting into the yellow cellulose. With the way things were going between her and Arnold, it was only a matter of time before it came to that. The truth would have to come out sooner or later. Her eyes downcast, she put her hand on Arnold's and wrote again.

I told you before, there are things about me you don't know. Things you really should before you say stuff like "I love you." They might, she stopped to catch a breath (she hadn't noticed it, but she'd practically stopped breathing for a few seconds after that surprise kiss), and wrote the last bit. They might change your mind.

edited 30th Oct '11 7:39:49 AM by KSPAM

Arnold only gave Sharon a reassuring smile.

"Go ahead, try me."

Kurt chuckled: "Well, we're revolutionaries now, I guess.", he said. "We're one-percenters... Black Army Motorcycle Club.", she said. "Did gun runnin', drug dealin'... Y'know the drill: Honest smuggler's work.", she explained.

Kurt shrugged: "Thing is, the government jailed or killed some of us.", he said. Tyra smirked wildly: "Now they're fucked, 'n they ain't got no backup. So we jump'em 'n we butcher'em: Karma's a bitch, they say.", she said. Kurt nodded: "So yeah, our group sides with the revolution. We're not much of a fighting force after the zombies, though. Perhaps a couple more back at the compound, maybe twenty throughout the Northwest.", he said.

"Yup: We kicked ass on the battle all right... Then them fuckin' zeds did us in. Can't just break through a horde'o'zombies with a motorbike."

edited 30th Oct '11 8:56:21 AM by SavageHeathen

Steven remained in the back of the ambulance. Now that they were on the move from the zombies, he was starting to calm down. He took the chance to look around. Inside the vehicle there was someone in some type of medical gear. He didn't know much about certain clothes or uniforms, so it didn't matter greatly. Steven was just surprised that he wasn't driving the ambulance. In the front was some woman, but he couldn't see her well so he couldn't think of any way to describe her besides "woman". Same for the guy sitting beside her. Outside, all he could see was the destruction of the city, and the black van behind them. Steven bit his lip in nervousness then; he had seen one of those people cut someone's head off, or part of it. Was it good to have them following? Not like he could do anything about it. Even if he was willing to shoot at other survivors, he would likely miss.

Steven looked at the two in front to to speak to them but then saw them share a quick kiss. He decided it would be better not to disturb them, though he was greatly confused by everything happening. He hadn't had a chance to speak to anyone about who anyone was, or what the hell anyone was planning. But he was worried that the ambulance was stopped, twice. There were too many Zed in this town to risk just stopping. But...as he thought, they did seem to be involved in their own affairs, and it wasn't like him to interrupt. He looked around through the windows of the ambulance anxiously, hoping they would get moving again soon.

That's when the bikers realized the girl was wounded. There were too many zeds to just stop: Kurt shot the nearest zombie to get some space, and then he jumped on the concrete. He hopped on the back of the pickup, and started searching among the loot for some booze: Vodka could disinfect a wound all right.

Meanwhile, Scalps kept driving at about 20 miles per hour, so no zed could approach. "I've got it!", Kurt yelled, after a short while. He had a bottle of gin, which would work equally well. Then Tyra stopped: Kurt hopped down and he scrambled back to the cabin. Once the doors were locked, he grabbed a clean gauze and the gin and handed them to Seiko. "Clean up that wound, kiddo.", he said.

Sharon curled up on the seat, hugging her legs and burying her head in her lap. She clenched the fabric of her cargo pants between her fingers, bunching it up until her knuckles were white. Her prosthetic was clearly visible against her stretched pants, outlines of jutting ridges, interlocking plastic plates and a plethora of tiny screw heads. Finally, she responded to Arnold, loosening the death grip on her one natural leg.

Do you really wanna know... how I got this leg?

Arnold nodded towards Sharon.

"I just assumed it was because of some accident while you were on duty, but if you want to elaborate, go ahead."

Cail felt stupid and unchivalrous for having forgotten about Seikos wound. He looked at it again and saw it was a shallow graze about a quater of an inch deep.Looking out the back window he saw Kurt continue rummaging through the the contents in the back, looking passed him he struggled to spot the ambulance, even with its distinctive colour, the first time they stopped they had simply swapped drivers, now he couldn't see what or why they were stopping.

A gleeful cry came up from Kurt and he ran back round, getting back into the chevy and handed the younger girl a bottle of what looked like gin and some gauze. Cail, placing comfortability above practicality decided to slip his rifle of his shoulder and placed on the ground leaning against the seat, alongside his shotgun.

"Do you need help with that?" Asked Cail, leaning over to get a better look at the cut.

Accident... right. One hell of an accident.

She paused, twisting the tip into the pad. Ink welled up as the pen punctured the paper further, like it was bleeding. Did I ever tell you when I served? Crux of that conflict in the Middle East. Of course, since 'Nam everyone knows "conflict" is just a nicer word for war. And it was a hell of a war. Every bit as violent, drawn out and pointless as Vietnam. Of course, I didn't know that when I first enlisted. I was just a kid, fresh out of highschool. I thought that if I could fire a gun, I could go to war. Serve my country. Be a hero. I was a fool. Just another damn fool.

She paused for a second, and took a deep breath before she started to write again. As you'd expect, things had gone to shit by the time I got there. The air was filled with gas, the sand stained with blood, and there was a car bomb for every Jeep and a suicide vest for every mother and child. It was hell. But I'd decided it was a hell I was going to survive.

Well I did. They threw everything at me, but it was never enough. I was just a better soldier than them. And a better killer. Artemis, they called me. Goddess of the hunt. How fitting. Really, there's no better word for it. I mean, it was just as easy. Their soldiers were mostly civilians after all. I put them down like a hunter puts down deer during open season. And I never thought anything of it. It was just self-defense. Survival. It didn't matter how many orphans and widows I had to make, at the end of the day, if they were dead and I was alive, it had been a good day. My survival was all that mattered to me.

That all changed when I was promoted to sergeant.

edited 31st Oct '11 8:35:03 AM by KSPAM

Wrapped up in making sure that her weapons and supplies were in order, and worrying about the bikers' intentions, Seiko had forgotten temporarily about her wound. There was some blood on the seat under her thigh and she felt the sting whenever the truck hit a zedhead especially hard. The Japanese girl didn't think about it though, casting the pain aside as she tried to keep her wits about her. It was only when the biker offered her alcohol and gauze that Seiko really returned full attention to her injury. Without giving a verbal response she glared a bit due to being given what sounded like an order, then took the items anyway.

She hesitantly lifted her skirt enough to look at the wound clearly, then clenched her teeth and went a little pale at seeing it. Blood was something she was very used to seeing by now. Her own blood, though, was something entirely different and difficult for the girl to deal with seeing. Taking a deep breath, she removed the cap from the whiskey and dabbed some onto a finger before using that to rub the alcohol in and clean out the grazing wound. That made her recoil in pain from the sting, but she managed to do okay. Not great. Self reliant as she had to be, she knew she'd need help from the foreigner next to her.

"Dozo," she told him, offering the alcohol and gauze to him while bracing her body for further pain.

Cail accepted the outstreched items wondering how to proceed when a thought struck him.

"You idiot!" Cail berated himslf, slapping his forehead. He opened up his pack once again and brought out the small med kit, zipping it open he got out a few cotton swabs a small, some alchohol pads, anti-sceptic creame and a safety pin.

He placed the gin under the seat, not needing it anymore as he had the alchohol swabs, but he wasn't exactly going to give any alchol to some high bikies, especialy when they were driving.

Cail used one of the alchol swabs to disinfect his hands and then pulled himself onto the floor of Chevy in front of Seiko so he had better access to the wound. "I'm sorry if this hurts," the cut had mostly stopped bleeding so Cail used some alcohol swabs to continue cleaning the wound.

The girl whimpered and Cail cringed but continued to clean out the wound. The girl looked in pain from the stinging he must have been causing so he decided to try occupy her thoughts with conversation. English obviously wasn't her first language, she seemed Japanese, Cail had taken a japanese course for two years in high school for extra credit.He hadn't learnt much and remembered even less but it was worth a shot.

"I'm Cail," he said, now applying the anti-sceptic creame, "... Hajimemashite...Boku wa Cail-san desu."

The japanese was broken and disjointed, Cail hoped that what he said was correct or even that the girl was japanese at all, maybe he should have asked, he recalled her saying "dozo" that was japanese, wasn't it?

Finished with the creame, Cail wiped his hands and grabbed the gauze motioning for the girl to elevate her leg so he could finish dressing the cut.

He realised he didn't know her name, what was "what's your name" in japanese again?

"What's your name?" Cail queried, recalling some more of his japanese he asked again, this time in Japanese (he hoped), "Oname wa nan desuka?"

"Oh..."

For a while, that was all that could escape Arnold's mouth. The Middle East? Must have been horrible. Still, he asked to hear the story, and he was going to let her continue.

"...Sergeant, huh? What happened then?"

She just looked down at the worn carpeting, the pen twirling flaccidly in her hand.

Retreating more and more into that disturbingly fetal curl, Sharon set down the pad and buried her face in her knees.

Arnold Looked over to Sharon.

"Oh, hey..."

He held Sharon's hand in an attempt at comfort, though he doubted it would work.

"...Come on, you can tell me."

She shied away at first, but after a second she took his hand in hers, and held on tight. Pulling him closer, she just sat there, holding on like she would never let go. Trembling, Sharon tucked his hand next to her face, and just cried.

edited 31st Oct '11 3:05:19 PM by KSPAM