Basic Story Plot

It’s 2016 and the world has gone to ****. A motherfucking zombie apocalypse. Don’t ask me how it happened. The news had all kinds of theories but the fact of the matter is two years ago I was sitting next to my helicopter, drinking a beer with my comrades, and thinking life was ****ing boring. It’s a hell of a lot more fun now. The infection spreads through bites or a phenomena called Red Fog. It sweeps through like Mustard Gas and chokes you out. You die but don’t worry… you come back in anything from a few seconds to a few minutes. Hungry and savage! We call people turned by the Red Fog 'Runners', because the corpse doesn’t get to go into rigor mortise in such a short amount of time. And then when whatever takes over your body and makes you a cannibalistic monster, it makes you a fast monster. Not a very intelligent monster, but a determined one to chase you to the ends of the earth to get a taste of heaven.

Then there’s Husks. Those are people who were bit and not taken by the Fog. Husks are the poster-boy of a stereotypical zombie. Slow, rotting, and dumb as a door knob. When bit by a zombie you die slowly and stay dead long enough for rigor mortise to set in. When you come back hello poster-boy. Eventually Runner’s turn into Husks if they haven’t eaten anything in a long time. They can be overwhelming in groups and become riled up when a Shriek is nearby. That’s who's next on our list of zombie freaks.

Shrieks are grotesque, loud, and hunch backed. We aren’t sure how Shrieks came to be, hell we aren’t sure how any of the higher class zombies came to be, but my theory is that Shrieks are Husks who got to eat a lot. They have this awful beer gut and drooping arms that end in long claws. Their jaws hang open, like talk about jaw-dropping haha, and when I mean hang open they hang down to like their collar bone. If they get eyes on you or hear something loud enough they start going off like a car alarm or cats fighting. They aren’t very fast, jogging pace, but those claws can do some damage. Let’s also not forget every damned walking dead guy is going to be making his way over thanks to the dinner call.

Alright, here’s the ****ing I hate most. Stalkers. They are smart. Creepily smart and fast. They don’t look too much different than any other zombie except their big black eyes which flash like an animal’s in the dark and they like to move on all fours. They mimic voices but can’t actually talk themselves. Ambushes are their favorite tactic. You have only two real advantages against a Stalker… 1. They don’t do sunlight or anything bright in general. 2. They give off a weird scent, like ammonia or that stuff my science teachers used to preserve biology specimens. Luckily they aren’t too common and prefer to stay in their “territory”.

Lastly we have Hulks. Yes, like the comic character. These guys are big, strong, and do not like you. They walk around on stout legs with huge upper bodies and sometimes have extra protruding limbs or body parts. We’ve noticed they have poor eye-sight and aren’t very smart but if one starts chasing you, you better book it and be ready for flying debris. They’ll trample and even eat their own kind. Nothing is safe from a Hulk. You can kill all the other types of Zombie’s with a shot through the head or decapitation but a Hulk takes massive damage and doesn’t need a head to come at you. The best way to kill them is shoot the crap out them, burn or drown it, or blow the thing up. I prefer running.

So that’s what you have to worry about class! Random occurring Red Fog or any one of those zombies I listed will kill you.

But fear not if you aren't a survivalist. There areSafe Havens which are run by what’s left of the Military. They were erected all over the world in different cities by the the country's Governments when countermeasures were proved ineffective. Sections of the city were sealed off with giant walls, security controlled gates, gasmask handouts, infection scanners, emergency supplies, and Red Fog warning alarms. Humanity somehow still manages to live on after two years with these Safe Haven Zones but some are beginning to fall apart. Most Safe Havens are now run under dictator like circumstances and are filthy. Curfews are set and everyone registered, you have a scan-able barcode on your wrist, to live in the zone must go to mandatory infection scans once a week. Labor is assigned to you and you are paid in ration cards. You don't work to help keep the Zone running, you aren't fed. The Guard's word is law. They will not hesitate to shoot you and don't care too much if someone else shoots you as long as it doesn't interfere with them. Getting into a Safe Haven zone is pretty much impossible and they don't like people leaving either.

Some people like to live in those dictator run facilities but I prefer to travel the countryside in small groups. Which are you? Are you a Save Haven Guard? A Safe Haven dweller who works in agriculture or another job? Are you a smuggler? Or are you like me, a surviving nomad?

Updates

• Current Location: Around Tacoma, Washington's Safe Haven
• Current Haven Status: Low on rations, curfew is at ten, shot on sight after curfew, not accepting strangers, and civilians not allowed to have weapons.
• Current Month: Late May
• Season: Spring
• Fog status: High to Medium Chance of Red Fog Occurring in Washington's Mountain Ranges

Soft grunts filled the air as slender hands gripped oaken branches to pull the weight of a young woman up into the tree’s heights. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” She said breathlessly once she reached her destination. Body leaning against the tree’s narrowing trunk for support and hands becoming fists at the sight before her. Green infused hazel eyes watched a throng of dead wander around a Walmart that had been their destination of choice. “How does it look?!” A man’s voice yelled up into the branches and she turned to spare a glance down at her partner. “It doesn’t look like a ****ing walk in the park, Godfrey!” She was greeted by momentary silence before he yelled again. “….So it’s like bad?”

“No it’s just peachy keen. YES! It’s like bad, you flipping moron!”

“Hey, no need to get sassy with me Trixie!”

Releasing an indignant huff Trixie sat down, dangling her legs, and trying to find a safe course to get inside. She chewed on her thumbnail in habit ignoring the sounds of Godfrey shuffling up the tree to sit at her side. “Daaaaaamn.” He whistled in awe. There was infected sauntering in all the streets near the abandoned shopping center and masses right outside it. “Glad to see America hasn’t changed so much that a Wal-mart is always packed with brainless idiots…. You see any Shrieks or Runners, Miss Hawkeye?”

First slapping Godfrey for making an Avenger reference then narrowing her eyes to try and get a better view of the streets she mumbled, “You know it’s hard to tell Runners apart from Husks. And Shrieks tend to stick in buildings or come out later in the evening. So to answer your question, no I don’t see any Runners or Shrieks. But there is a Hulk.” Godfrey’s eyes widened and he whipped his head in the direction Trixie was pointing. His curly afro slapping her in the face. “Hey! Watc-“ “You’ve got to be kidding.” He interrupted, speaking breathlessly as she once had. The blonde sighed patting her black friend on the back in comfort as they watched the huge monster push through the shambling Husks.

“I think we should look for another store to raid, don’t you think so?"

“Agreed…. And I really wanted to get some sports magazines out of there Trix. I’m ****ing horny and you’re useless to me!”

“Ouch. Back at you. Who knows, maybe we’ll find us both some hot men in this apocalypse shithole yet, Reggie.”

They began their descent from their tall tree but stopped when Trixie raised a hand that curled into a fist. Godfrey quickly learned that meant halt and be quiet when he grouped up with the Ranger months ago. She gestured at a Runner walking at a fast pace down the Tacoma Park sidewalk. Godfrey watched as she reached back to grab her compound bow from its harness and plucked an arrow from the attached quiver. Steel arrow heads glittering dangerously in the morning’s light. She pulled the bowstring taut, touching it to her mouth, and released when the target was in her cross sights. Aluminum and steel embedding itself through the zombie’s eye socket causing it to stumble then fall over dead. Well dead again… Deader than before? Both humans released uneasy sighs and slipped down the rest of the way from their perch. Trixie retrieved her arrow and put it away but not before she wiped the gunk on Godfrey’s sleeve. “UGH! Really woman?!” The teen moaned, hands pulling the fabric of his thick flannel shirt to stare at the black stain, “This was once Abercrombie and Fitch!”

“Well now it’s Abercrombie and ick.”

She replied keeping her bow in hand as she moved across the park to a bush. She gave a low whistle and a bulky head pushed out of the branches. Slobber falling from large toothed maws and a tiny stump of tail wagging at its master. “Good boy! You stayed like a good boy didn’t you, Titan?!” Godrey Reginald Blackwood rolled his eyes, crossed his arms, and leaned against a swing-set watching the woman before him patting a large Rottweiler.

Trixie Bee Savage was one of the strongest women he had ever come across. Hell, she was scarier and stronger than any man or zombie he had ever met too! You understood she was cut from the Cloth of Badass just by looking at her. When he first met her she had one side of her head shaved off with the other half of wild blonde hair blowing with the force of her Humvee moving under her. Crushing zombies apart while screaming at him to get in her damn vehicle. She was covered in tattoos and despite being so tall and lithe she had a surprising amount of sinewy muscles rippling under her skin. Trixie possessed a wide range of deadly skills from her years of service as a High-Ranking Officer in the Army Rangers. A very elite class of soldiers trained to be merciless. However what she had in perfected killing and survival skills was counteracted by her lack of skill at cooking, manners, and being considerate of others shortcomings.

But there was still a good heart there; after all she took him in, a coward of a gay teenager with no particular set of skills other than running and cooking, and she kept him alive. Godfrey let a smile grace his thick lips as his chocolate eyes continued to watch the woman wearing the strangest ensemble of a jean jacket, holey wrangler jeans, a pair of good steel toed boots, and an Aerosmith T-shirt yet still managed to make it look good despite it also being decked out in military-grade gear. It was like a bad 80’s cop movie. When she finished baby-talking Titan the Corpse Killer, yes that’s his full name, she stood running an archery gloved hand through her platinum locks and eyes moving to the large Walls in the East.

“I don’t know if we should move closer to the Haven or not, Reggie.” Her eyes moved back to look at the teen with the stupid expression on his face and raised an eyebrow. “Decided to go straight Reginald? Couldn't resist my charms any longer could you.”

“Not in this life. And don’t call me Reginald, Trix. Reggie is bad enough… And I have no clue whether we should or not. You’re the boss but we are low on supplies.” He sighed pursing his lips and scratching at his temple. Trixie chuckled hugging her bow close to her before going back to a serious expression. Absentmindedly stroking Titan’s head with her free hand while staring at the Tacoma’s Safe Haven. “Well if they follow routine’s like the ones we had in Salt Lake then afternoon outside patrols should be happening soon. It would be risky if they saw us, but their trucks would be drawing the attention of most the freaks in the area…”

Her brows furrowed in thought before she clapped a hand against her thigh and began moving. Godfrey grabbed his pack and shovel from under the tree they climbed and jogged to her side. “So? The plan is…” Trixie looked at him with a smirk patting his cheek. “We’ll do some recon. See what stores they are in the area closer to the Haven and check them for any leftover supplies. If we don’t find jack-shit we’ll decide whether to infiltrate or not.” Godfrey nodded and thus began an hour of dodging Husks and armored Haven vehicles scouting the area. They crouched low in the shadow of a broken golden arch that made Godfrey crave a greasy burger and stared at a CVS a few meters away. “Looks like a good place to start.” Trixie stated, her voice dropping into her serious soldier tone and Godfrey unconsciously trained now knew to be quiet and watch their six. She lifted her bow and took aim at a one of two Husks blocking the entrance, she gave a low two tone whistle and patted Titan’s collar which made the dog growl and hunch up. When she fired her arrow the dog raced forward as well tackling the other Husk and pinning it. Teeth ripping into the things throat until Trixie arrived and stabbed through the socket with an arrow. She signaled for Godfrey to high-tail it into the CVS, cautiously, and he swung the door open slowly. Shovel at ready as Trixie backed in behind him keeping her eyes on the road. “Clear.” He said and she nodded lowering her bow and closing the door behind them. “Alright split up and be careful. Look for anything useful. We are in and out in five.” Godfrey released a whine at her orders, palm sweaty with nerves. “You ****ing chikenshit. Take Titan with you and you’ll be fine.”

“M’kay….” He said as she went left and he and Titan went right.

Quick but quiet footsteps moved down the quiet streets, his breathing at ease as he scanned the area around him. A male figure dressed in a white t-shirt, black leather jacket and dark blue jeans as well as a pair of black and gold colored Fila Biella Lingua Strap High Top Shoes. His hair was shaved on both sides, showing black roots, where the center showed a blonde colored Faux Hawk that was brushed back. His dark brown eyes carefully scanning the area around him. His movements were quick and quiet, making sure to linger in the shadows to not be seen or heard. His vision so far was rather good in dark places, which made him a very unknown character who hid well. If he were to die and be a zombie, he'd be a Stalker for sure. But right now, he was just focused on finding a place to rest for a bit. Jay Kyung had been living up in Seattle for quite some time, and making the long journey down here in Tacoma was nothing more than a miracle.

He had his bow in one hand, silently creeping around in the shadows and trying to avoid the light where he would be noticed. It was one thing for Jay Kyung to be stealthy and quiet, as well as cautious of his surroundings, but he didn't want to get chased anymore by Runners. What happened last time was just chaos. He probably had a group of about 10 chasing him at one point. Surprised he had lost them on the way here. Now, he was making sure that didn't happen again. Where is a good place to rest... he thought, stopping at a corner of the street, he stood there with his back against the wall and very carefully moved his head to check around the corner. Nothing, well, not yet. Sighing in relief, he started to walk around the corner when he caught sight of a shadow, no, two shadows. He hid back behind the corner, staying very still and calm. Hearing the voices, he picked up two different voices, one of them was a girls, the other was a guy. Jay stayed where he was for a moment, hidden in the shadows, unseen as they passed him by from around the corner.

Moving slightly, he looked to see where the two were headed, a CVS. Haven't seen a living person in a while... Well, 2 is a bonus.. he thought as he watched them for a moment, quietly following them while remaining hidden. His stealth was something worthy of. As well as how Hasty he was too. Remembering back when he had been chased by those 10 Runners, he had to get through a barb wire fence, and man, that wasn't the nicest thing to get through. It made him feel like grated cheese having the barbs poke his skin like that. Only slightly could he feel it.

But he was lucky though, because that fence was an electric fence, and he had gotten away just in time before the sucker was flipped on. Those Runners were barbequed to high heaven. Now, he was having second thoughts on those two people he had seen enter the CVS. He even saw a dog with them, a Rottie at that. God... If I go in there.. I'd be ripped to shreds before a bullet even makes it's way to my brain... he started to make his way toward the building anyways, as if taking a risk was what he wanted to do. Scanning the area, it seemed there was nothing around. Making it to the door, he stared at the two dead corpses of Husks one with it's eye gouged out, and the other with it's throat torn apart. He kicked the two away from the door and crouched down low. This was going to be tricky, especially with the dog.

Taking a deep breath, and exhaling slowly, he opened the door, making his way into the shop very very quietly. He didn't utter a single word, didn't make any noise as he was careful on his placement of his feet. Lots of things seemed to have been ransacked from the shelves, but not everything, that's for sure. Jay took a separate path from the two, going towards the back of the shop where he could search for supplies. What was I looking for again? he thought, scanning the shelves quickly. Eventually his eyes came across some Aspirin. There it is... he reached over and took one off the shelf. Then took second thoughts and grabbed about three of them. This should help him in the long run for a little bit, right? If Jay ever decides to climb anymore barb wire fences and what not.

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Jayne stepped out of the woods at the base of Mount Rainier, physically exhausted but mentally invigorated by his successful crossing of the Rockies. The mountain had given him a great vantage point of the urban sprawl that rolled out across northern Washington. He stepped out, knowing that he was trading one wasteland for another. Mountains and wilderness gave way to jagged concrete outcroppings and the distant shuffling of feet. Jayne slid through the suburban streets like a viper, hunting his prey while avoiding the horde of hawks that nested in the carcass of the United States. His travels had hardened him into a master of evasion, slipping through the plague ridden streets was now simple enough to be a secondary focus, akin to walking or breathing, merely second nature.

More than a dozen people joined him at one point or another during his expedition west. Those that didn't split off at the first sight of a city perished when they proved incapable of completing the complex maneuvers required to travel through highly infested areas. There was a host of reasons why he was still alive while the rest were dead, and not one of them was luck. He was careful when he could afford it and daring when the situation demanded it, he respected fear as an ally, an innate warning system that was to be embraced and used to his advantage, and above all, he never took unnecessary risks. The world had become cold and unforgiving, those that chose to travel with Jayne quickly lost any doubt of that fact. He made it clear from the offset that anyone he chose as a companion would only be kept so long as they provided assistance. Should they become a liability and fail to quickly remedy the situation, they would be left behind.

The Tacoma safe zone wasn't far. He could just make out the fortifications amidst the skyline. Husks continued to shamble about, wandering from building to building with no real direction. Jayne skimmed through the city in total silence, watching the ground as much as his surroundings to ensure he didn't kick anything that would cause a commotion. He skated past a run down fast food restaurant and suddenly halted, freezing in place at the introduction of an unfamiliar sound. Growling. It wasn't loud, which troubled him. The sound was low and faint, but he could tell it was not an echo of a loud issued at distance. He grimaced, knowing that meant there was a special kind of threat nearby. Dogs were enough of a nuisance on their own, but wild dogs usually traveled in packs, loud, easy to detect packs. This one sounded alone which meant it was either rabid or in the company of humans.

Jayne took a deep breath, he was doing alright on supplies, so killing them for their food and weapons would be too much risk for too little reward. He did however need information, the kind of information he could only get from locals. This was a delicate situation and he didn't plan on letting someone get the better of him this close to his goal. Jayne circumnavigated the restaurant, sticking to the collapsing walls of the neighboring buildings until he came to a shattered glass door. He ducked inside, making sure to avoid the field of broken glass that threatened to give away his position. Moving through the building was easy enough, but he took extra caution to avoid rooms without windows. The threat of a stalker attack became much more real inside, stairwells and interior rooms were especially dangerous. The building was some sort of cafe in days past, it boasted a bar and large storefront windows, both of which proved useful when a young man came into view on the road outside the cafe. Jayne rolled over an empty section of bar and rested behind the counter top, drawing his pistol while he waited for the survivor to pass. The man headed into the CVS across the street, leading Jayne to wonder if he was the dog owner.

Once the kid was gone it didn't take long for Jayne to find the stairs that lead to the upper level. He opened the door quietly, doing his best to avoid startling anything that resided in the dark stairwell. His heart raced, this was one environment he wasn't comfortable in. Dark, cramped spaces with nowhere to run, no distance to take advantage of with his rifle. It was just him, his pistol and the darkness. He wished that his flashlight still had batteries, but managed to work his way to the second floor without incident. He barricaded the door behind him regardless. No sense in being careless. Jayne loved cities, the architects always liked to put way more window space on the exterior wall than necessary. The upper floor lacked any real outer wall, instead boasting massive windows that had been blown out long before. With all of his possible marks inside the CVS Jayne took some time to construct a sniper's nest from the overturned tables and chairs in the large room, setting up a defensible position from which to observe the actions of his targets.

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http://www.youtube.com/user/RacoonJones

I've posted a new Brothers, a Tale of Two Sons video for anyone interested.

"This is so stupid," Aaron van Zandt said to himself as he pedaled past the mint-green, bullet-pocked sign reading "Welcome to Tacoma." He glanced down, reassured that the Smith and Wesson Model 686 was still holstered on his side. Like six rounds would make all the difference. "This is such a stupid idea," he repeated, feeling the acoustic guitar in the hard-shelled case thump with each revolution of the old Schwinn's grating chain. A revolver, a bike, and a guitar- his net worth right now. He missed having an actual motor vehicle, but he had been forced out of his old Toyota Tundra at gunpoint down in Sacramento, the pickup pressed into service for the Safe Haven there. At least the bicycle was quiet, didn't need fuel or batteries, increasingly hard to find these days.

Pedaling through the outskirts, he kept out a wary eye. If it came down to fight or flight, he'd take flight any day. His wiry, malnourished frame wasn't much good for a prolonged battle. Aaron figured he was a few meals and a few night's sleep shy of being much use in a fight. But he couldn't stop now. He was on a mission.

Aaron ran through the names in his mind. Adam Huntley, bass. Waldemar Kopacz, keyboards. And, of course, Stevie Sutton, the face of the band. Lead guitar, lead vocals. Aaron smiled just thinking of her, Stevie's vivacious energy, the glue that held them all together. If anyone survived, Stevie did.

Poor Tim.

The buildings were getting a little more close-set now, Aaron realized as he kept peddling along this county road, disused even before everything went to hell. More likely to see the dead. Or people. Christ, he didn't want to run into a Shrieker again, like he did back in Des Moines. Barely got out of that one.

His plan was simple, the same old thing he had done in dozens of towns, all across the country. Avoid the dead. Seek out the living. If they were friendly, ask about the band. The Severance Package, the only thing that had meant anything to him. Ask if anyone knew about Stevie, or Adam, or Waldemar. They were celebrities, maybe someone at least heard a rumor. If not, as had happened so often in the last two years, play a few songs on the guitar in trade for a few scraps of food, maybe a couple bullets or some other supplies. And then ride off.

It was simple, but it had worked once, eight months ago. It had led him to where Tim had been buried after being crushed under the weight of a Hulk outside El Reno, Oklahoma. He had paid his respects, moved on. Still three more names to find. Still a mission.

And so the man with the guitar continued through the suburbs into the city, hoping to find answers.

She slams the knife into the Husks's neck and decapitates it. "Bastard." She murmured before running behind a tree just as a Runner passed by. She wasn't keen on facing any of them yet. She hears a Hulk in the distance but also hears a dog. She thought it was stray for a moment until she heard glimpses of human voices. When the runner was out of sight she headed down the street and passed the flickering street lamp which told her, her bearings. She knew where she was going from this point to inspect the voices.
She hustles silently up a drainpipe to see if she could see them but she had no luck. She did however notice the Hulk she had heard earlier and cursedI. She hoped it wasn't coming near her. Maybe it was a mistake running away from the compound and out into the open. It was called a Safe Haven for a reason right? She sighed and shook her head. No, she wouldn't regret it now. She could handle it; Especially if there were others! She headed to where she heard the people and analysed the area before hiding in a bush.

After making sure that this was all that he wanted, Jay started to put them in a backpack that he had with him. He had a few supplies in his backpack, course maybe a few of them were unneeded supplies. Inside there was a first aid kit and a battery operated hair buzzer that he stole from a barber shop out North somewhere, along with a pack of batteries. As Jay Kyung was walking, he was trying his best to make his footsteps as quiet as possible and move as quick as he could to not be seen. He didn't want that Rottie after him, not after what he saw he did to that Husk. Jay finally made his way toward the entrance, making sure that those people who were also in the store, did not see him.

He exited the store, looking around for a little to make sure there were no zombies, then he proceeded out of the store, bow in one hand. Though he made it out about halfway into the street until he saw about 2 Runners coming his way. I'm a Runner magnet it seems... he thought as he took a arrow out of his quiver and lined it up. Pulling the bow string back and aiming carefully, he kept backing up to give him some space. After lining it up right, he let it go. The arrow managed to land right between the eyes, deep into the skull. One Runner made it to him but he quickly kicked it away with a Front Snap kick. Taekwondo, it pays to take classes, but surely it does pay off in the end. This type of kick, is the first learned in TKD, but it can be the most powerful and can surely injure.

After kicking it away, he watched it stumble and fall over. Jay made his way over to it and practically stomped on it's head. Yes, he had very nice shoes, now with blood on them. "Such nice shoes..." he sighed, going over to the other Runner and pulling the arrow out of it's head, also stomping on it. He put the arrow back into his quiver to be used for later. Best to save what you have, right? Make use of it. Jay wiped his shoes on the asphalt, leaving a blood trail stained ground as he walked off. Though, something did catch his eye, he could have sworn he saw part of a bush move. Glancing at the bush, he started to have second thoughts, walking toward it. But then stopped, reminding himself that it probably was a dog or cat of some sort and decided to dismiss the action of seeing what it really was. From there, Jay kept walking, leaving the bush alone and going about to wander the streets to see if there was anything else useful for him.

It's what he wanted to do though. Instead, he stopped again, and turned his head to look at the bush once more. Something isn't right about that... he thought. He knew that if anything was behind that bush, he'd choose whether to kill it or not. But right now, curiosity was getting to him. So he advanced toward it once more, cautious though. He walked toward it and stopped for a moment, standing about 5 feet away in front of the bush, staring at it as if he knew something wasn't right.

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Godfrey gripped his shovel with both hands and squeezed until he thought a vein was going to pop. He heard a strange sound and wanted to scream until he realized it was his own knees knocking together. Titan leaned into him, his body warm and familiar, making Godfrey release a sigh of relief. He strode down the candy and snack isle, hardly finding anything that wasn’t expired but grabbed a few things of gum, stale nuts, and hard candy.

Titan found a big box of that Slim Jim stuff that never went bad and the African-American patted the dog’s head with a huge grin. “Good boy.” He tore one open and let the dog eat it while taking a nervous glance towards the next isle. TV and Advertising goods. “Oooh~ Think there’s a Snuggie Titan?” The dog tilted its head giving him an almost disapproving look when he froze with a paw in the air sniffing in the dark must. A black ear raising before he turned and pointed with a low, barely audible growl. Hair rising on his neck in a sign of aggression that was making Godfrey whimper. Someone was in here! He pulled his walkie-talkie, and Glock, with shaking hands to signal Trixie. His shovel set on the floor beside him.

Trixie paused a few seconds after the three of them split up. The drugstore was pretty dark and musty due to the film of dust over the front windows. Then the lack of people moving around inside to keep the feeling of life helped contribute to the feeling of death. Eyes of green hazel glanced around looking for signs of danger but she found none. At least until she swore for a moment it got brighter near the front entrance. Knees bent and she spun around staring at the entrance they just came through. It was dark again but she couldn’t shake an uneasy feeling. She folded up her compound bow and strapped the thing to her shoulders. The tall aisles and narrow spaces made this an inopportune place for a use bow. Instead she drew her Bayonet knife and stalked towards the back of the store where the pharmacy was. Boots stopped in the female goods isle and hands snagged a few necessities she had been getting short on when she heard her Talkie bleep on its lowest sound setting.

She and Godfrey kept their talkie’s on near silent when in towns. But there hadn’t been a sign of any dead inside yet so he could have just spoken up to talk to her. They had to be only fifty feet away from one another! If he was using the talkie something wasn’t right, just like she had felt. Trixie’s pulse rocketed and she took even and very slow breaths to heighten her senses as she answered the talkie in a whisper. “Status?”

Godfrey’s trembling voice came through. “Titan is doing the whole pointing thing and like patting his paw on the ground… Trixie. I’m scared.” Trixie swallowed. There was either a Stalker or a human in here if those were the signals Titan was giving. She took a big whiff in, trying to catch the smell of ammonia but instead she smelled…. Shampoo? Hair gel maybe? Her brows lowered and she ground her teeth. There was a human, not a Stalker, trying to sneak through here because she and Godfrey sure as hell didn’t smell like no ****ing daisies. “Put the talkie to Titan’s ear but first have your Glock at ready like I showed you. Tell me when you have it out.” When he mumbled a reply of confirmation she pressed the button and spoke again. “Lay low while I handle this. And don’t get shot in the face, Reggie.” Godfrey’s answer was more a noncommittal whine than anything, and she thought she was going to have to tell him again when she heard Titan’s heavy pants and the sniffles of Godfrey in the background. “Seek.”

Trixie ordered and heard her dog’s claws scramble and echo on the floors as he ran to his target. Trixie drew one of her Berretta pistols and crossed her wrists in front of her. One hand holding her knife and the other aiming her pistol, ready to attack on all fronts. She rolled back upon the balls of her feet like in stealth training and moved towards the location her dog was seeking. The pharmaceuticals. When she found a good position of cover she saw Titan turn a corner of the over the counter drug’s aisle. The blonde rushed to his side and both watched the back of some Mohawk wearing kid head to the front of the store. Titan was about to snarl but she patted his nose twice for silence.

Both began quietly stalking him with teeth and bullets. Using cover and Trixie’s finger itching to pull the trigger they got within feet of him. However the kid wasn’t starting trouble, looked like a quick grab and go, and when one human was around. Usually another was too. Sadly most people were pack minded in situations of distress. And a zombie ****ing apocalypse was pretty distressing. The kid sneaked out of the front door and she had to admire his guts and quiet skills until she cautiously wiped the film from one of the store front windows and watched the idiot down two runners with a bow. Nice form but careless.

“****ing idiot.” She snarled. She checked her watch and cursed again. Titan’s head bowed like he was the one in trouble and she cooed at the dog scratching behind his ears while hawkish eyes searched the outside. ’That convoy will be moving through here in less than ten minutes. Four dead zombies, especially two Runners which look human, will draw their attention. Security is about to get tight. ****! I can’t risk trying to take Godfrey into the Haven with them on High Alert. Motherfuckers! Where are your comrades?’

She watched the kid head off towards the tree-line of the park and began to search at higher vantage points with her eyes. She wouldn’t have seen anything if not for a stroke of luck and a trained eye. There was something metallic and shiny in one of the upper floors of a wrecked building across the street. She kept staring, maybe it was nothing, until it shifted a bit in her direction. Trixie slid down wondering how close she just came to having her head blown off. That **** her off. She began to unfold her bow and signaled Godfrey, “Go back to the pharmaceuticals and gather everything you can back there. Especially those one pills I told you about. We’re leaving out the back through the drive-through window. We need to be clear of here in seven minutes, Reggie. Move your ass!”

“R-roger.” She heard him clambering and lumbering noisily to the back and the sounds of pill bottles falling off shelves. She clucked her tongue and peeled off the label off an empty plastic water bottle lying beside her. Deft hands signed a message which she tied around her arrow shaft. Breathing in and out slowly Trixie rolled pushing open the front door and firing up at the Café window. Her arrow sticking out of Cain’s barricade, note reading ‘Back the **** off or I’ll make you and your Asian pretty boy **** blood out of your eyeballs. I’m not a fan of getting messed with and I’m no stranger to violence. But to be a friendly neighbor there’s a Haven Convoy heading to this location If you don’t wanna die better clear out in the next five minutes. Peace out.’, and she was already back inside the CVS racing towards Godfrey. She could hear the distant sounds of the haven Convoy getting closer.

“Move, move, move!” She barked and the kid jumped before nodding avidly. He zipped up his pack, having gotten a good haul, and the two pulled themselves out the back window. Godfrey lifting Titan through and Trixie catching her large pup with a grunt. Trixie sat on her haunches and looked at the boy. “Take Titan and head back to the Humvee with our supplies. This place isn’t safe. Don’t get jumped. Don’t get followed. And lay low until I return. No fires. No noise. I’m going to break into Tacoma Haven.” Godfrey’s pupils dilated and he pulled on his backpack straps like a normal teenager would do in a tense situation at school. “But-“ “NO BUTS! This is safer than you coming with me. I’m trusting you here, Reggie. You’re faster than anyone I know. The convoy is gonna be here soon with a lot of unhappy solders and now we know other survivors are out here. No clue if they are friendly or not. SO GO! I should be back within two days at most. By the fourth day and I haven’t returned, take the Humvee and move towards our final destination. My dad will take care of you and if I survived somehow. I’ll meet you there.”
She didn’t allow for anymore words. She slapped the kid upside the head and when he muttered ow with closed eyes she kissed his forehead and her dog’s before moving at a quick pace towards the Haven. Godfrey sniffed, tears threatening to overflow, and sprinted like a mad person with Titan on his heels through the park, through the residential area, and towards the Forest where their vehicle was buried under debris. He slowed down wheezing only when he hit a back-country road. Any Husks that had tried to chase him left in his dust and the sole Runner had been torn apart by Titan and received a shovel to the cranium as a double check. “Be safe Trix.” He said softly. “I can’t survive without you…” He wiped his nose and began sauntering down the road with a whining Rottweiler for company.

Meanwhile…..
It had been at least twenty minutes since the CVS store and she had made good time. She sat with her back against a wall, and chest heaving from exertion while staring at a sewer grate. The shadow of the Haven walls loomed over her and men lazily patrolled the top. She guessed in another two minutes or so they’d be a hell of a lot more alert when the Convoy signaled in. “Let’s hope those people got my greeting letter.” She said with a chuckle gripping her knife and moving in to take out the three husks blocking her smelly entrance. The Ranger was skilled in hand to hand combat, it was drilled into their heads from day one, and Trixie found stupid opponents like Husks to be a waste of her talents. She offed them quickly with sharp strikes with knife and body before pulling open the grate and dropping down into grimey waters. “Wonderful.” She gagged at the smell while drawing her Beretta equipped with a flashlight before moving forward into the darkness…

''I don't know what happened, it just stopped working; I think I heard it making some noise.''

Abdul had considered walking away from this one job, not because it was out of his range of ability but because it was simply the property of one of the wives of the leader. The concept of polygamy would have been immoral to American society pre-collapse but as the balance of power grows and the guns go to one man, nobody dares judge the man openly. And neither could Abdul. Her name was Paula, sweet young thing, smart for her age and smart to the point where she could see the advantages of being basically a prostitute for a powerful man; guaranteed food, shelter, clothes and water, perhaps even a few extra things to boot. But Abdul couldn't help but ask the young lady about the supplies the leader had told him about for the repairs of the second main generator. ''Has Paul told you anything about the things he told me he'd bring?'' Paula turned back and spotted the guard assigned to her a few meters behind, doing his rounds absent-mindedly. The look she shot at Abdul was one of discontent, some rules must not be broken so carelessly. One must not speak to Paul's women.

Paul, the supreme leader, and something of a cult leader among his men, inside the Tacoma Safe Haven had risen to power by what could possibly be described as economic power. Of course, there was not much of a stable economy; economic power meant he hoarded the most valued supplies and, of course, the manpower to protect his cargo. The safe haven had started relatively well when Abdul had entered, it was ran by the military commander and the troops were disciplined, everyone was familiar and cordial with each other even if there were a few rotten apples among the orchard. But time was passing on and the supply trucks with food and water were starting to dwindle, people didn't immediatly start looting around Tacoma because they feared what was outside the walls; it was up to the boys with guns to get to the task of supplying the starving and helpeless ones to get food. The first incursion into Tacoma didn't go well, needless to say, the soldiers were used to people falling when you shot them down. Half of the soldiers died. The rest were shaken up and a few badly injured; a quarter of our medical supplies went to keeping a couple alive through surgery. The commander desired to remain calm and, perhaps in a bad move, led the second expedition into Tacoma for the search of supplies. It was relatively succesful, with the exception one man had been dragged away by a Hulk while he was on watch in a vantage point; the men only heard his screams when his legs had been shoved up his mouth and the Hulk tossed him away like a rag doll.

The chain of command had been lost even if there was a couple men below the commander and above the bulk of the living troops. And among one of these high-ranked men that were no struggling to keep control among each other and between the troops was Paul Hunter; nobody really knew where he came from, he'd just transfered from a base in Anchorage in order to ''secure order and safeguard civilians''. At least that's what he'd told the inhabitants of the Safe Haven. One and a half years went... not perfectly well, of course, it IS the fall of society and the modern world as we know. There is no civility and mercy left on the world and the world is just infested with the shells that resembled the bodies, the baggage we carry now. And that may convert into one of them.

Going back to six months ago: supplies were low as ever, morale just a bit lower than that and one of the high-ranked officers had been struck with a dreadful disease after a patrol outside. Bloodshot eyes, agressive behaviour, bite marks; it was obvious. Paul shot him down without mercy and so he converted in the new first-in-command, through a bullet. But the chain of command would mean nothing; everyone who had a weapon could mount a rebellion. Paul Walker is a snake and not a soldier, not a man who cares for his fellow troops but one who uses them as human shields when a firefight breaks out; and neither was he a humanitarian, when he was still one of the two high-ranked officers, he slowly won his underlings (because if Paul's not a soldier, neither are those bastards) by granting them ''permissions'' above the rest of the crowd. Maybe a bit more water or a bit more food. Or most of the water and most of the food. All for our honorable defenders, who no longer ventured out for their own supplies but sent the helpless civilians with no weapons (and some had escaped on their exploration) to scavenge what little was left in the surrounding area of the Safe Haven. The guards cut their duties down to: making sure no supplies (their supplies) were stolen and making sure nobody got in. That's where the Safe Haven stands now, curfew at ten and shot after curfew, no questions asked. The men with the weapons and ammunition held all the power in a prison that housed the innocent.

That's the rundown of the situation inside the Safe Haven.

Abdul shook his head and looked at the woman, it was a tired gaze. Paula did nothing but grunt a little, sigh and dismiss Abdul in a rather inappropriate manner that a young person should be adressing an older one, which she clearly ignored from her high position. Abdul didn't know her very well either, so he just stood up and left, ignoring the guard's focused gaze on him. Outside the wind was cold and the night darker than usual. Was it after ten? He didn't realize until the guard that had previously been guarding Paula shoved him and signaled him to move, as if he couldn't spare a few words, as if Abdul wasn't worthy of them. The silhouttes of the building were the only thing that could be seen of them after dark; the windows were pitch black and the doors on the empty street closed. The watchtowers outside the safe haven and the Military HQ (formerly known as City Hall) were the only things that were illuminated at night, by orders of Paul. The Safe Haven had been kept shockingly tidy, although that may have been just becauase of how much spare time people had when trapped 24/7 for two years with no internet, phones or TV. There were around twelve buildings with more than three stories and the rest were two story houses and shops. Tacoma was by no means a small town but neither was it too big.

Abdul gazed upon the gates and the walls that surrounded him and thought of the ancient castle cities of both Iraq and Iran, relics that would not be torn apart by time no matter how they were attacked; either from inside or outside. And he silently hoped they wouldn't withstand as much. The soldier escorted him to his workshop and house; since Tacoma had recieved a high influx of refugees when the safe haven was first started, there was not much space, even after a good number had perished to the circumstances. The place was a garage just a couple blocks away from the Military HQ; there was not much around it aside from a sewer on the alley behind it. The place was pitch black when he entered. The soldier left and Abdul guided himself by memory into the candle in the metal table. He lit the candle up which showed a filthy, crammed, grey room with machine parts strewn all around. Or as Abdul would call it, home. The cold had penetrated his bones and he felt not restless, but tired from the day. Yet he couldn't sleep because of that breeze that clothes wouldn't defend him against. By the candlelight, he grabbed one of his tools (which had been stolen by someone more than once, usually for bartering) and started to work on a water heater that he had been asked to repair a week ago. Warm water is good for raising spirits, he thought. Unaware of what could come from the alley behind his garage.

Cain watched the pretty boy's entrance and exit of the CVS. It was largely uneventful, and lacking a dog. That meant that whoever owned the hound was still- A figure came into view, scanning the area. Cain readjusted slowly, training his weapon on the new arrival. She must have seen him, because she disappeared as quickly as she appeared. Then there was a flash. She flung back up, bow drawn, and time seemed to slow. Cain's eye focused in on the target, as the woman loosed her arrow, Cain squeezed the trigger. He ducked behind the barricade before confirming his shot, hearing the thud of the arrow in his makeshift nest. The air went silent, no death throes, no screams. He had missed, and he instantly regretted taking the shot. In the distance he could hear moans, hissing and shuffling. He peered over the barricade, more than a dozen husks were all staring up at his vantage point. He noticed the note wrapped around the arrow while observing the husks. Snatching the hastily scrawled greeting he huddled back below the barrier. There were a lot of them, but he was safe enough in his upper floor fortifications to take some time to plan his next move.

What he heard next made his heart skip a beat. Tapping, slow and methodical, coming from behind him, from the stairwell door. Cain's breathing became heavy, suddenly he wanted nothing more than to watch the advance of the rotters on the ground. He closed his eyes, turning slowly. When he opened his eyes all his fears came crashing down over him like a wave. Pressed up against the thick window of the stairwell door was a face, wide eyed and grinning, a horrible, lip less grin. The stalker was tapping on the glass, over and over while watching Cain from the stairwell. He stood up and the stalker stopped tapping. Cain had to make a choice fast, a sudden impact on the other side of the stairwell door made up his mind. Cain threw his rifle over his shoulder, spun around and vaulted over the barricade, enduring the twelve foot drop and hitting the ground rolling. He lost his footing on impact and barreled out into a clumsy spin. It only took him a moment to recover. He leapt to his feet, husks closing in around him and the distant sound of trucks rumbling in the streets. Clouds had passed overhead, dimming the sunlight that previously flooded the city streets. Cain looked back up at his barricade, slowly falling back into the CVS.

Gray fingers gripped the edges of his table fortification, then came the top half of a face, lustful eyes peering down at Cain from the nest. The tune of some long forgotten nursery rhyme echoed in the air. Singing, why the **** was it singing? He turned away, ducking into the CVS after the unidentified archer. The eerie song seemed to follow him through the open storefront. His eyes burned, he was on the verge of screaming. After so much time in this world he thought he'd have hardened against anything it could throw at him, but he could never get used to stalkers. He bounded through the drugstore, barely catching a glimpse of two people parting through the drive through window. Cain squinted, watching the archer quickly fade into the distance. He held his position while the young man and the dog left. A steady stream of husks struggled toward him. The sickly song of the stalker grated on his sanity. Finally the boy left, and Cain vaulted through the window, the husks only a few feet behind. He took off down the street after his assailant.

Not long after abandoning the CVS Cain followed the woman to a sewer grate. She quickly dispatched a couple husks then pried open the grate and disappeared into the sewer. Cain approached the edge of the entrance slowly, peering down inside. It was nothing but darkness and the echoing sound of the woman's footfalls.Always the ****ing dark... Why can't the path ever be well lit? A nice grassy path with flowers, and maybe some sheep or some ****. But no... It's always gotta be dark. He lowered himself slowly into sewer, careful to make as little noise as possible. His feet touched down on the concrete and he drew his pistol, clicking the barrel against the wall and forcing a rushed whisper.

"Hey! Artemis, hold up."

_________________
http://www.youtube.com/user/RacoonJones

I've posted a new Brothers, a Tale of Two Sons video for anyone interested.

She stepped softly into the water. The cold penetrated into her skin like the fingers of impending death and sent shivers up her spine. Suppressing another shiver, Trixie pulled her baby-blue jean jacket tighter around her frame. She felt molested by the darkness. It was creeping around her, pushing at her boundaries, and the light on her Berretta barely kept it at bay. She swallowed thickly as her heart rate soared; as if she’d been pumped full of cocaine and was nearing the edge of an overdose. Instincts were funny things like that. Using fear to keep her hyper-aware. The black of night or the darkness of enclosed buildings had never scared her before… until the apocalypse, that is. Scary things bumped in the night now.

Captain Savage, promoted to a position of Command during the first waves of outbreak, had been sleeping in an abandoned house with the team who left the Haven with her. Only the moon’s glare provided them with light and she took first rest. If it hadn’t been for the Shriek and Titan she would have died to the Stalker’s Ambush that night. Her men on watch downstairs had already fallen to them and a lone Shriek snuck past the ground floor while they feasted. It had climbed the stairs of the cliché family home and entered the room of exhausted humans. She awoke to a sound of Titan’s bark, having gotten careless in security to not have woken at the first strange sound, and saw the grotesque form of the Shriek bearing down on her. Its claws ripped into her breast like a knife in butter and she screamed in pain rolling away; alerting the rest of the sleeping men and women in the room to get up for battle. Her hand pulled her Bayonet from under the pillow and angry hands repeatedly stabbed the monster’s face in retaliation. It released a banshee wail that still makes her feel sick to this day when she recalls the sound and fell. The next few seconds had been filled with the hot wet pain in her chest and the horror swallowing her as she turned to look at the doorway. Her men were pointing and yelling about more monsters crowding the door.

That was the first time she came up close and personal with Stalkers. They were crouched in the doorway with large, black eyes reflecting orange demonic hues from their laser sights, like a great-white sharks eyes. They vanished back into the dark downstairs where they mimicked the sounds of the men who died below to make them thing people were still alive. They managed to kill the Stalkers off, only losing one of the remaining five men to his mind. Insanity gripped him making him rock himself back and forth on the floor like a weeping child… and Trixie shot him.

She lifted her gun while her chest was still exposed with hanging, bleeding bits of serrated flesh and took the shot. She only wanted a bit of silence. That day she lost a bit of her own sanity and also lost the respect from her surviving soldiers. They wrapped her up with medical supplies and then they separated when she showed no signs of infection.

And so here she was… Wading through filth that masked the smell of ammonia in the pitch black despite her instincts yelling ‘Get the hell out of Dodge!’ Just waiting for something to jump out and something kind of did. It was merely in the shape of a person who wasn’t quite undead.
"Hey! Artemis, hold up."

Trixie about jumped out of her skin. The blonde spun round as that call echoed on the concrete around her. She heard the sloshing of a person running and raised her gun to point the light on the individual tracking her. “HALT or I’ll ****ing shoot!” Black hair, long legs, and hawkish features stood before the soldier but she took notice that he didn’t have his weapon pointed at her. But she wasn’t going to take any chances “Put your gun away.” Her brows knitted together and her voice got low as she gestured to his weapon to be haltered. “You must be Café boy. Didn’t I send you a card saying leave me the **** alone? Why are you here, following me into the ****ing dumps… Is your pretty Asian lover here too or-” Realization dawned on Trix and anger flared through the sassy woman. “He better not be going after my civilian or I’ll blow out his kneecaps after I finish with you of course.” ’**** ****. Be okay Godfrey!’

As the two had their little standoff banter, neither seemed aware of the things their yells had alerted in the dark.

She watched as there was a person who caught her just as she was entering the bush and making it rustle. She could see the curious and suspicious look on his face and she was worried he was going to freak out. She waited then sighed and just hoped up out of the bush and gave him a sheepish smile. “Don’t shoot.” She said nervously before heading over to him. Then she pulled him under the bush with her as the other people were coming out. Then there was a big commotion and an argument saying that they had to leave, so Leia grabbed the stranger’s hand and led him out of the area and avoided the other people. She smiled at him and decided to talk as they were running even though it was a bit of a weird situation. If she was going to meet a stranger in an apocalypse then why not get to know him. He was strange after all. Or, well he looked strange. He was Asian and what was the weirdest thing about him was his hair. Shaved either side with a Blonde Mohawk style thing in the middle. She wasn’t the best at describing hair but whatever. It was not something you generally saw on tv and stuff when it came to people in a zombie apocalypse. He was also shorter than her, which was also strange. She hadn’t met too many guys that were. She was 5”7 so she guessed him 5”4 or maybe even shorter, or was that being to mean on the guy. She didn’t however think he was 5”5. “So… um whilst we’re running… what’s your name and all that jazz? I’m Leisha Moore but just call me Leia. I’m 19, I love ice-cream and I am a trained and now qualified medic. I have always lived in Washington, with my single mother and or my guardians.” I smiled but my look made sure he knew that I didn’t want to divulge any more to a stranger, not out of distrust but out of hurt. She didn’t want to tell anyone her history if she didn’t have to. She zoomed down the alleyway then stopped and started walking because she figured they were far enough away now but didn’t know where she was. It was a dark street and the light was now gone. She didn’t realise how long she had actually been running for with this guy. “You tell me about yourself whilst we make our way to wherever. “

Jay Kyung was surprised when he saw a figure appear from the bush. He knew something wasn't right when he saw that bush, now it was clear to him. It was a girl, a young one at that. She had grabbed ahold of him and pulled him into the bush. Why the heck was she doing that? Then he heard the sounds of people talking. Oh, so that's why she did that. Jay couldn't help but peek through the leaves of the bush to see what was going on, it was the girl and boy from the CVS. They appeared to be splitting up. Splitting up? he thought as he watched the girl go her separate way and the boy along with the Rottie go and take off. He sat there for a moment, then decided to sling his bow over his shoulder so he wouldn't have to hold onto it. Jay turned to look at the girl for a moment, and that was when he looked to see her grab his hand and drag him off to God knows where. They were running off away from the location, since the Haven Convoy were on their way, that is. Best not be in that place while they make way through that part of town, right?

As he ran with her, he had to look around him to see if anything was there. No zombies so far, which was alright, he could deal with that. Then, whilst he was being pulled around like a lost child's doll, the girl had spoke up. She mentioned that her name was Leisha Moore, or she prefered to be called Leia. She was 19 years old. Jay had figured she'd be young. Though the part about being a medic, that was some new info to him. 19 and a medic, that was surprisingly the youngest he had ever heard of someone in that field of work, especially this kind. Soon enough, as they were running about the streets, through an alleyway and stopped on a dark street. Jay stood there, trying to catch his breath. "Geez, this reminded me of when I was running away from a group of Runners..." he sighed heavily and went to lean against a light post.

He decided it was best to introduce himself as well. "My name is Jay Kyung Lee. You can call me Jay or Jay Kyung. My friends use to call me Lion cause of my hair and how they said I resembled a Lion." he told her. "I am of Korean descent... I am 23, and skilled at Taekwondo. My father taught me how to use a Bow and Arrow when I was younger." Jay stood there for a moment, still trying to catch his breath and looked around the streets, not seeing a single soul in sight. Then, he muttered something in Korean to himself as he looked around, trying to make sure that they were alone. Then, Jay's attention was on Leia, "Might I ask why you dragged me off?"

_________________

When she felt they were safe enough and he started to talk to her she felt a lot more comfortable. She was still cautious but didn’t see or hear anyone. She looked at him as soon as he started to speak. He escaped a whole group of runners? Maybe one, sure. Try outsmart it and knife it or something but to escape a whole group… “Did you say a whole group of runners? How many?” Then he said his name and that he was Korean. Jay Kyung Lee. He said he was good at Taekwondo and Archery, that last bit she found interesting. Both were strong reasons to suggest he was talented since he was still alive. She admired him for it.
Then he asked her a question she wanted to answer, but then again didn’t. She did anyway. “You know that was a Safe Haven Patrol Van from Tacoma Safe Haven right? Well I have been there since the beginning of this appocalypse.” He needn’t know why. “That’s how I became a medic so young, they needed everyone to do a job and I liked science so I became the apprentice of a doctor there. After I acquired those skills and skills with a knife and gun I left to live on my own because it became like an oppressive regime. They threatened those that tried to leave, since they needed the people, with death. So… needless to say I need to stay away from those vans. Sorry. At first I was just hiding from those other people but then… Sorry. Now I’m rambling.”

Cain grinned, shrugging to readjust the rifle slung over his shoulder and keeping his pistol raised.

"Yeah, well, I never was great at following directions. Figured the pretty boy was yours though, "

The woman glared at him, extending the potentially deadly stand-off. Cain continued.

"Look. If you're heading this way it means you must be looking to infiltrate the haven. That would give us a common goal. I don't give a **** about your reasoning, but getting in alone would be a lot more difficult than accepting help."

He held his position, waiting nearly a full minute for the archer's response. Finally she spoke.

"Fine, I could use the help. But don't think that means I trust you."

Cain laughed.

"Who said anything about trust?"

The woman nodded, Cain lowered his weapon, and she loosened the draw on her bow.

"Alright, lets get moving then.

Cain exhaled.

"Glad we could come to an agreement."

The pair moved through the sewers cautiously, progressing through the muck and mire towards the haven's underside. Cain was comforted by the woman's presence, but still unnerved at the prospect of squaring off against stalkers. Most of the trip was uneventful, leaving Cain to mentally complain about the sewage seeping into his boots. As the pair neared their destination however, the peace was broken. Peering up out of the knee deep liquid, the woman's flashlight caught the wide, reflective eyes of a stalker. The creature screamed, the dying scream of one of its victims, then leapt out of the sludge, scurrying down the hallway ahead of them. Suddenly the sewer came to life, screeches, calls and crying from every tunnel, echoing in the deep. Cain shouted amidst the cacophony.

"****! We need to get out of here, now!"

The woman glanced back at him, already moving.

"Just try to keep up."

Cain sprinted after her, sloshing and shouting getting closer with every passing moment. She stopped at an iron ladder build into the wall. It lead to a manhole cover in the ceiling. The woman looked to Cain.

"Try and keep them off me. I'll see what I can do about getting that open."

Cain nodded.

"If you really think stopping here is the best plan."

She shot a menacing look at him, he drew his rifle.

"Alright fine, we go with your plan."

The archer scaled the ladder, working at removing the cover from its seating as a veritable pack of stalkers rounded the corner in pursuit. Cain raised his gun and took a shot, dropping the first one with precision accuracy. He quickly chambered another round, killing another before the advance became to much to handle. He slung the rifle over his shoulder and drew his pistol, firing indiscriminately into the stalkers. One more dropped and the rest withdrew, most likely planning a safer course of attack.

"You haven't got long Artemis, get that thing open!"

"Last thing I need is encouragement from you, can it."

Cain shook his head, reloading his pistol magazine while waiting for another attack. Fortunately the long awaited sound of metal clanking against concrete came before the stalkers did. He looked up to see the woman climbing through the hole.

"Thanks for the heads up...."

He holstered his pistol and began to clamber up the rusted ladder.

_________________
http://www.youtube.com/user/RacoonJones

I've posted a new Brothers, a Tale of Two Sons video for anyone interested.

A ray of light coming through the only window on the room and a far away singing voice disturbed Abdul's sleep in his small bed, that, as many things in the room, was also on the floor. The water heater that he had commited to repair lay beside him and so did his drool, as the warm blankets that covered him drew him back into sleep once more but not before identifying who was the man singing; a young man who had given him and some of the inhabitants a bit of hope inside the safe haven, to the cost of his mobility and, possibly permanently. His name was Waldemar, a thin kid with a scruffy beard and that looked like he could be broken apart in two by the touch of a feather, and not much was known about him aside from the fact he had been touring with a band. Waldemar had arrived to the Safe Haven before Abdul, for reasons unknown, just like many other strange faces that had suddenly found themselves crammed inside a relatively small space.

When the struggles with the military men started and the starvation and weakness, weariness carried over many months that demolarized even the strongest man, Waldemar had started gathering a small group of followers that would listen to him sing. The boy didn't have a particularly spectacular voice, nor did he wish to become a signer; he had even stayed quiet most of the time, as if afraid of acting up because of the authoritarian guards that took the inhabitants' freedom. But one day, he just stood up and started singing his heart out, and that woke up a glimmering ray of hope, that even though small, appeared due to the rythm and unity that music created between individuals with shared issues. However, Paul and the authorities didn't particularly want a wandering bard that could cause an uprising by creating the mood for rebellion; hope was something to be supressed if they didn't want weapons disappearing from the armory.

At first it was mere threats, which worked momentarily. But he grew more resilient when he saw that they were vague and empty, that they were not being enforced. People that flocked around him were threatened next, even lower suplies would be handed to the individuals who would find themselves around the 'Singing Voice of Tacoma'. Word spread around and the inhabitants of the Safe Haven, although weakened by the harsh opression imposed to them, banded together to protect what they saw as their rights to gather. Paul conceded but saw this as a spark, as a sign that Waldemar would have to be taken out.

And one night, in the midst of the dark and hiding in the shadow like bandits, they jumped Waldemar as he was walking down to his residence after singing. It was 9:45 and the screams of Waldemar did not emulate the harmony that had slowly been improving over time (and that to this day is improving). The dry sound that the baseball bats did as they made contact with his knees was almost rythmic, ironically. Waldemar was left a heap, on the ground, legs broken beyond repair. Abdul, after leaving the generator's main building, found the whimpering kid whose shouts for help had been ignored, whose counsciousness had been slipping away. And even though Abdul considered him stubborn, foolish and naive for awakening the ire of the guardians, he gave Waldemar a piggyback ride, which only helped to increase the pain on the way to a nurse that resided across town. The young man was no longer speaking when they arrived to the nurse's residence. It was 10:15 and Waldemar's voice was no longer screams but supressed whimpers due to the pain.

Abdul had to stay beside the young man as the nurse what she possibly could to decrease the pain; curfew had been long past and the nurse offered him a night's rest. She said he'd have to let it heal, that a wheelchair would now be his method of transportation but that he had to be thankful that he wasn't hit in the head. He just said that he had to be thankful to no man for what had happened to him, except to the man that had carried him. It was 11:30 when the nurse passed Abdul a small package and told him that Waldemar would need therapy not to stay paraplegic. That she'd be able to provide it to him but that he shouldn't take risks. And Abdul thought that it very well explained the curses and cries from Waldemar inside the room.

Abdul opened his eyes again. Waldemar was still singing in his wheelchair outside, perhaps a block or two away. Someone had donated to him a guitar (that he played badly) that wasn't looted from the high school. Support had grown around him but so had fear of being seen. Paul no longer considered him a large enough threat, now that he had all the power but nevertheless rumor had it that someday Waldemar would be picking the supplies, wheelchair rattling all the way as the husks chased after the young singer.

And Abdul took the package that Waldemar gave him that night, opened it and put the headphones in his ears. He pressed play, even though he still wasn't a fan of American music, he allowed the melancholic sound, that somehow mimicked the song that Waldemar was singing instead of the initially energic songs he had seeked to sing, fill his hears.

And so he slept again.

"Well, that's encouraging," Aaron van Zandt muttered to himself as he surveyed the walls from what he hoped was a safe distance. Squinting in the early afternoon sunlight, ducked behind a gutted car in the parking lot of the Tacoma Dome (one of the stops on their tour, he remembered), he studied the spray-painted signs reading "NO ENTRY" as if hoping they would morph and change to something more welcoming if he stared at them hard enough.

His trip into Tacoma had passed more or less without incident. A few moans from the shadows had forced him to pedal faster a handful of times, but that was about it. In the Sacramento Safe Haven, months ago, he had heard Tacoma had the only other official Safe Haven on the West Coast. San Diego, Bakersfield, and Portland had fallen in the previous two years, Stockton was run by gangs now (little change from before the Red Fog, Aaron thought acidly), Eugene had been dissolved by internal vote when supplies ran low. There were other groups of survivors, sure, scattered all over. But Aaron knew that as risky as the Safe Havens were, they represented the best chance of finding the rest of the Severance Package.

Now he just had to figure out how to get inside Tacoma.

Cautiously, he opened the rear door of the Buick LeSabre that had been his blind, now missing tires, gas, and engine. He grunted as he hoisted the Schwinn bicycle inside, covered it with a rotting old tarp someone had left folded up inside the car. Aaron had learned his lesson in Sacramento. Reliable transport was hard to come by these days and had to be hidden when not in use.

He bent over double as the wave of exhaustion hit him. He was so weak, he realized. Months of biking north, exposure, poor nutrition. Especially that? What was the last time he had a proper meal? Or a balanced one, for that matter. Aaron wouldn't really be shocked to discover he had scurvy or rickets or something like that, given his diet of whatever he could find.

Quit whining. Take a moment, catch your breath, then head north to the Safe Haven. Your bandmates are out there somewhere.

After a moment, the dizziness and breathlessness left him, and Aaron slowly stood upright. He tightened the strap on his hardshell guitar case, making sure it was snug to his back. Following the 705, he walked north the half-mile or so to the wall, his hand resting on the Pachmayr grip of his holstered revolver the entire way.

Finally, he reached 21st Street, the southern boundary of the Safe Haven. The wall was formidable, running the length of the entire street, butting up against the buildings. There were more than a few bodies here, neatly drilled through the head with single rifle rounds or brightly colored arrows. The fresher corpses seemed to have been dispatched less neatly, large stones or bricks stained black and resting not too far from crushed skulls. Aaron wondered how much ammunition was left inside.

Also, how to get over this wall. Either the Army Corps of Engineers or the Navy Seabees had put this thing together early in the crisis, maybe the Air Force's Red Horse. Whichever group it was, they hadn't half-assed it. Aaron studied for a moment, slowly pacing alongside it. He stopped to listen every once in a while. No shrieks, no shouted warnings over megaphones, no safeties being clicked off. Aaron knew he had been lucky so far. A city this size was bound to have hundreds if not thousands of walking corpses in it, so far he had only seen them from a distance. But the longer he was exposed, the more likely he was to run into some. Luck was a finite resource, and had to be conserved like any resource in this crappy new world.

After a few minutes of study, his eyes lit on a billboard, a metal pole with a torn, drooping sign forlornly advertising the opening of a new Burger King on a date three years in the past. The sign didn't interest him quite so much as the ladder leading up the side, painted an unappealing brown. Of course, the forty foot drop over the side would kill him instantly if he tried to jump clear into the Safe Haven. But if he timed it just right, he could land atop the wall itself, as wide as a two-lane road. A ten-foot drop, maybe, from the catwalk underneath the sign to the top of the wall. Dangerous, but doable. But a one-way trip. He wouldn't be getting back over the wall that way. Then he could walk atop the wall until he came to a tree or rooftop within jumping distance inside the wall. He nodded. It could work. It could definitely work.

Another few minutes passed, and Aaron was limping happily along the sunbaked top of the wall. He had banged his knee and scuffed his guitar case, as well as accumulated some serious scrapes on his hands and elbows.

But whatever.

He was atop the wall. And by the look of the narrow gap between the wall and that boarded-up apartment building about a hundred feet ahead, he would soon be inside.