[Other FULL] Outbreak: A Zombie Survival Roleplay (IC)

[Klippy]

Jim Bratton - Status: unsure
STR: 3, INT: 2, AGI: 2, CHA: 5
INVENTORY (6/15):

---

Bratton rushed past a few of the slow walkers before punching a frail looking female one in the face. Sorry, honey. He side-stepped a few chewing on a still-living body and shot the guy in the head. Even though he was an asshole back at the base, Forlile was an alright guy. Bratton wasn't in the mood to reflect on former friends who had betrayed him with Sanders. He punched a small zombie in the face and its jaw ripped off.

Bratton didn't want the responsibility of a group, but now there was no choice and these people were counting on him to get them out. Sanders and two men were chasing after him and Hawke, but Hawke had disappeared somewhere and Bratton's first goal was to get to the vehicle. He couldn't leave Kin alone back at the shelter or else the entire operation was ****ed. Bratton stopped and swung the hunting rifle from his shoulder and loaded it. He lifted it up in time for a zombie to be right in his face. He shoved the barrel into the zombie's eye socket and aimed it at another behind the first. He fired. The bullet ripped through the first zombie's head and blew the other's to bits.

Messy. Bratton ran down the street further and felt a bullet whiz past his arm. He looked behind him and there was that bastard Sanders. "**** you, Sanders, you chicken-****!" screamed Bratton. Another bullet whizzed at him, but this one didn't miss. He was hit in the chest. He flew backwards and landed on his head and back. Lucky I had this vest. He took aim from the ground and fired a shot at Sanders and his men. One took the bullet straight in the forehead. Bratton got up and slammed his body weight into the door of the bookstore he had landed by. He crashed through the glass and his face was cut badly. Death would be worse, especially at the hands of that sadistic bastard Sanders. Or even worse, Jeremiah.

He ran past the shelves and knocked over a few for good measure, but another bullet flew past and destroyed a copy of 50 Shades of Grey. Bratton turned around and blindly fired a few shots. He ducked behind the counter and reloaded. Sanders and his man were shooting, but not at him. He peeked up and saw zombies flooding into the storefront. Bratton shot at Sanders, but the bullet missed, ricocheted, and domed a zombie. Sanders turned and shot back at Bratton before making an opening and fleeing. Like I said, chicken-****.

The man with Sanders was being swarmed though and Bratton lined up a shot, then fired. It struck the man right in the forehead and he was dead. No sense letting a person suffer. The zombies began feasting, but many noticed the big, bald idiot tucked behind a shelf and started flowing deeper into the store. Bratton hopped the counter, threw down some more bookshelves and burst out the back door. He was right by the vehicle.

Jacob, their new recruit, was honking the horn like an idiot. Bratton look towards the grocery store and saw it ablaze. Did any of them but this moron make it? Bratton opened the vehicle's door and punched Jacob right in the face. He shoved him aside and got in, starting the engine. Just as it roared to life, the zombies from the book shop burst out and headed right at the vehicle. Bratton floored it and crashed through a few of the undead and the two fences. He parked right by the grocery store and looked up. There they were!

He stuck his head out the window and shouted, "Hey, dumbasses! The escape ladder is right here!" He honked and backed the vehicle up against the ladder so they could climb right in. The zombies were far enough off, but they'd need to hurry.

As long as McGregor and Forrester made it, we'll be alright. Those two are the only ones with any sense.

---

-

---

​

 

[Klippy]

'Kin' Burr - Status: fine
STR: 2, INT: 3, AGI: 1, CHA: 4
INVENTORY (0/15):

---

Kin limped his way downstairs. Bratton had taken a group out earlier to try and hit the grocery store by Garner's. It was a risk, but Bratton knew what he was doing. The men he had taken weren't sissies either. McGregor, Mark, Hawke. All skilled enough. They had taken a few of the weaker ones too, but they all wanted to contribute and that's what counted.

More than half the original crash survivors were dead or missing by now. Kin felt sick thinking about it as he looked at their empty beds. He felt bad every time he had to pass through their dorm, but he had tried hard to keep them all alive. Shocking to think they had only been at the shelter a week and yet it felt like months. So many deaths needlessly.

Kin pushed open the shelter door and stepped out into the camp. Ronaldson and Martins were cooking sausages by the fire pit. Kin nodded as he passed. He needed to check on the integrity of the fence today to make sure nothing was weak. It wouldn't do for the undead to thrash through the fence. They'd be sitting ducks here. Kin shook hands with Barbara David and her son Luke. Sweet kid. Not sure he's cut for this world just yet though.

Kin approached the gate. The guard, Michael Franklin, was dozing off. Kin clapped his hands and Michael fell over in surprise. "Kin! I'm so sorry. I just shut my eyes and -" Kin grabbed his shoulder and pat his back. Michael was a good guy. He'd owned the flower shop in town for years, but like Luke, he wasn't cut out for this world still.

"Go to bed, Mike," said Kin. "I'll have Harold take over for you." Kin smiled at Michael, who laughed and apologized again. Kin looked out at Main Street. A desolate and corpse-filled wasteland now, but once a bustling and lively street. All his friends lived here. Now...well. Not anymore.

A screeching sound focused Kin's attention on Michael's old flower shop. Two men were walking out. They didn't have any weapons or even packs. Both younger men. They looked decent enough. Kin whistled at them. "You two looking for shelter?" The men ran over and Kin let them in. He sized them up before asking, "So...you two got a story?"

---

​

 

[Sonata]

Rob Shepard - Status: Okay
STR: 2, INT: 3, AGI: 2, CHA: 3
INVENTORY (6/15):

Godfried Rogers - Status: Okay
STR: 1, INT: 4, AGI: 3, CHA: 2
INVENTORY (0/10):

---

Rob sat at the side of the highway contemplating. Ukiah was still quite far off, but clearly survivors were there. The daylight was sparkling through the trees and the smell of pine made Rob breathe in deep. He loved that scent. All that could beat it would be coffee. He didn't drink it, but he still liked the smell.

Rob stood up, stretched, and slung his guitar over his back again. He'd see how far he got and then decide to look for camp or keep going. Ukiah wasn't terribly far, but it would be a trip. He could probably do for a joint as well, but being high around zombies didn't seem like a smart decision. He began walking down the highway, humming a song.

--

Godfried had been walking for a few hours before he managed to find an abandoned vehicle that actually had both the gas and keys with it; an old '97 Ford four door. The gas tank was nearly full and it started up right when he turned the key. He got lucky and found a map in the passenger's seat. It was partially ruined by a rather large bloodstain but he could still make out parts here and there.

There was what looked to be a hastily written reminder to the original owner of the truck. "Saw a sign back in Sisters, 'Take Route 395 to Garner's in Pendleton we have guns + safety' ". What was still legible on the map showed a road that connected to Route 395. Since he managed to start the vehicle, Godfried had been on his way to the route that was mentioned. He hadn't seen anything for a while, no signs of life be it dead or living. The road was empty, and the radio was silent. It wasn't until he was on the verge of falling asleep that he had his first encounter with someone or something since docking his boat.

He came across a rather large blockade in the road, cars were piled up and he could hear scraping sounds coming from behind it.

"What in the hell?" Godfried got out of his truck and tried looking around the pileup. He was going around to the side when he heard the sound of glass breaking and was soon greeted by an arm reaching out towards him. He looked through the window trying to see if the person inside was alright. The car was somewhat crushed, so it shouldn't have surprised him to see that the bodies inside were in the same state.

He looked through the window and took the arm trying to see where it led to, and what he saw nearly made him sick. There was a rather large dent in the middle of the roof, which was pinning a woman's head to the armrest between the two front seats. Her face was crushed, teeth were scattered around the seat and floorboard, and one eye was dangling, rubbing against her face which had been soaked with her own blood.

"No fuckin' way. Are you alright?" Godfried was starting to sweat and his mind was racing. How could anyone still be alive after something like that? But nonetheless he went about searching for a way to free the woman, that is until she took a chunk out of his coat as she tried to bite his arm.To which he replied with a swift punch to her face thus silencing her and covering his fist and face with a splatter of blood. He promptly wiped himself off and jumped back into his truck, wasting no time in revving the engine up before running through the blockade.

Roughly fifty 'people' were on the other side of the blockade, half of which were crushed or simply ran over as he barreled through. He didn't take the time to check on them, once he saw them peel their heads -which were smeared across the pavement like butter across bread- he realized these weren't anything he wanted to be wasting time talking to.

--

Rob stood in a ditch near the highway picking berries off a tree. He was hungry, but not completely sure what kind these were. He squished one between his fingers and sniffed. Smelled like raspberry, but it obviously wasn't. He figured he was going to die from starvation if he didn't eat them, but the thought of vomiting up anything else today didn't appeal to him. He stuffed the berries into his pocket and trudged back up the slope.

A lone zombie was walking towards him. It was a small teenaged boy. Blond kid. He pulled his cricket bat up and approached the young man. "Sorry, dude," Rob muttered as he swung the bat into the skull of the zombie. It crumpled quickly and quit moving.

He searched the pockets of the kid and found a wallet. "Bryant Masters, resident of Portland. Looks like you attended the university there. I'm sorry, dude." Rob took the ID out of the wallet and the cash, then dropped it back on Bryant's body. Whenever he was able, Rob would take the IDs of people he killed in case this whole thing blew over and he could help identify the deceased. It was dumb, but he felt it was the least he could do these days. Doug's ID was his first.

Rob began walking again.

--

Hours passed as Godfried flew down the road. Since the blockade roughly two hundred miles back he hadn't seen anything at all. It was back to silence, until he saw a speck off in the distance. Someone was walking down the middle of the road but hadn't yet noticed him. He went to speed past him but as he started closing in the engine puttered out.

Rob heard a vehicle behind him awhile back, but didn't want to know who might be following. The engine roared and sounded like the driver had floored it. Rob prepared to dive into the trees, but suddenly a popping and puttering sound emanated from the vehicle and he turned around. The vehicle slowly rolled up and stopped nearby. Rob stood there looking at the driver panicking and talking to himself.

"No, no no no. Come on! Dammit, the gas gauge still says half full! The hell is this?" He reached into the floor and picked up a small knife which he used on his boat to gut the fish, and opened the door to his truck. "Please be normal." He prayed under his breath.

Rob had his cricket bat ready for whatever, but when he saw the man stepping out, he wasn't sure this guy was going to hurt him. He lowered the bat and raised a hand in a wave.

"Uh, how's it going, man?"

"Oh thank god you're not one of those things. It's going so much better now that I've met you." Godfried hid the knife in the back of his jeans and went up to shake the other man's hand.

Rob shook his hand and laughed. "I won't lie. I saw some tire tracks back at the crash site and hoped I'd run into someone friendly. Did you find anyone there?"

"No no, I came from the beach. There's a crash site? I totally missed that. Did you come far back enough to see the barricade? That was really fucked up." Godfried hadn't been this happy to see another person in a long time. He had been starting to think he and this "Garner" might be the only ones left.

"No shit, huh? Wow. I was in the forest back there a ways, but there's a downed airliner. Tons of corpses," said Rob. "Real nasty scene, but there were tracks. People got out."

"Damn. Well anyhow, you know anything about engines by any chance?" He chuckled, "Engine just stopped as I tried to go by, I was worried you might be one of them so I just floored it and well." He motioned back towards the truck. "I don't know the first thing about trucks since I've been on a boat for the majority of my life, so I mean, if you're as useful as I am with these things we had better start walkin'."

He looked at the truck and scratched his beard. "I could take a look for you. I'm not great with cars, but my old man showed me some tricks. Only it'll cost you a ride!" Rob laughed. He figured this guy wasn't so bad and Ukiah was not far off now. They could check the town out and see if anyone was left. "I'm Rob, by the way. Rob Shepard."

"Haha, no problem my boy. And the name's Godfried Rogers." He patted the man on the back and walked over towards the truck.

Rob lifted the hood and took a look at the engine when the smell of cooking flesh hit his nose. He looked down and saw blood, guts, and even some teeth smashed through the grill of the truck. "Uh, did you run some of those dead freaks over?" Rob used the end of his cricket bat to scrape the chunks of people from the truck's grill. "Go try to start it up now."

The smell instantly hit Godfried and sent chills up his spine. "Ah, yes there was a rather large pileup a while back. I sort of just rammed through it and took a couple of heads along with me. Probably should have thought about that, just not used to worrying 'bout cars seein' as I've been on the water my whole life. But yeah, I'll go give 'er a start." Godfried got back into the truck and turned the key. *Click click click click click click click click* "Shit, just give the engine a nice hit wit that bat won't ya? It's not doin' much of anything now."

Rob looked closer at the inside of the truck. He scooped a bit more guts out, then whacked the engine with his cricket bat. "My old man used to punch things when they didn't work anyway, so maybe there's a trick to..." He trailed off as the sound of crackling twigs echoed in the stillness of the day.

Godfried turned the key as a couple of zombies stumbled out of the woods off a little ways behind them.The truck started right up and he motioned for Rob to hurry up and get in.

Rob grabbed his cricket bat, slammed the hood of the truck down, and bolted for the passenger door. No sense in being slow when the dead are coming. One mistake and you'd be toast. He opened the door and threw his guitar in, jumping in after it.

"Sometimes the oldest tricks work the best." Godfried mumbled as he put on his seatbelt and stepped on the gas. "We may be some of the only ones left out here, but safety should never be overlooked. It'd be a shame to die from flying out of your front window when there's all these other dangers." He repositioned the rearview mirror so that he could see zombies who were still limping towards them. Though they were being left in the dust so to say, they were still following them quite persistently.

Rob clicked his seatbelt in place and looked back. One of the zombies was a small boy. Couldn't be more than ten. Sad. He turned back around and sat quietly, looking out the passenger window at the forest.

Godfried cleared his throat, "So you know where those tire tracks were headed? I got a map there where you're sitting, whoever had this truck before us had written a message on it. Don't know if you were plannin' to head the same way, but it seems promising to me at least."

"Well there's a town. Ukiah. Maybe... thirty miles ahead," said Rob. He took a peek at the map and tapped his finger on it. "Yeah, see, we're on the right track. But..." Rob noticed the little note about a 'Garner's'. It seemed promising. Maybe the tire tracks from the crash came from there.

"Alright. We'll check out this Ukiah and then go to...Pendleton. That's where this Garner's place is. Sound good?"

"Sounds like a plan to me. As long as one's not too far out of the way of the other. Hopefully there's actually still people there. We should be looking for some shelter tonight, it's almost sundown. I would like to trust the truck to keep running, but it's already failed once and it is a little old. I don't know about you but I'd feel much safer in a house somewhere."

"Glad you didn't run me over, Godfried."

'One less thing to clean out of my grill.' He thought to himself as a house came into view on down the road. They came up on it, a small dirt road running into the woods. The house was nothing too extravagant, a little log cabin maybe big enough for a small family. More than enough room for them, and the prospect of food.

"Looks like we'll be stopping here for the night." Godfried smiled at Rob as he pulled up to the porch with the two old rockers.

"Good place to bring the grandkids someday," said Rob. He laughed at himself as the two men got out to inspect the cabin and camp for the night.

---

​

 

[JukeboxTheGhoul]

George Broker - Status: Tired
STR: 2, INT: 3, AGI: 3, CHA: 2
INVENTORY (0/15):

George panted, he was exhausted from the journey. Wiping a sweat droplet off of his brow, he looked at the group he'd been guided towards. He'd followed a man he'd trusted on the basic qualitative of not wanting to gnaw his face off. At least, it was a plus he could count on. He observed his surroundings carefully, he saw that the area was well supplied, enough to supply a medium size congregation. But something was... off, he couldn't tell what exactly what gave him this idea but it seemed that there was too many beds for too little amount people. This had been a wild ride so far, so he was happy to see some normal faces.

George had on a dull green buttoned up shirt, his armpit and back were sodden with sweat stains, it had several tears on the edges and at the collar. His arm seemed to be bruised but they had began to heal. Around his neck he had an obvious wooden cross, which had engravings in it of several bible references. His trousers were ones you'd see someone wearing with a suit, but it had several holes that were patched up with several different pieces of material. He had in his trouser pocket a tie that is stained with dry blood, it was twisted as if it had been used to suffocate a zombie. In his breast pocket a scrap of paper, with the quote
"When the Lord shall have washed away the filth of the daughters of Zion, and shall have purged the blood of Jerusalem from the midst thereof by the spirit of judgment, and by the spirit of burning. - Isiah 4"

He looked at the group, he had to choose his words carefully, for if he stammered, he knew that he would give them a number of places to exploit. He believed these people were good, but even the most divine of souls would not apply some kind of pre-judgement. It was the nature of survival to be able to extrapolate from an extraordinary circumstances to bring conclusions to their mind quickly. George paused, hesitating.

"I do have a story." He retracted his tongue, restraining himself from showing his glee at his ability so far to keep himself from faultering.
"I-I" George cursed himself in his mind Damn you mouth, why wont you work correctly? "I come from Utah, I took my bike to the nearest airport when the news first started reporting zombie. All the flights were... b-booked. I went to a phone box to see if my friend... Darren, was OK. He said that he was on the way to the airfield to get his plane and fly to San Francisco, we had heard of r-rumours that the ports in California h-had people escap-in-ing on barges and cargo ships. Trying to get to Australia. W-we started to fly to California in his plane. Over the radio s-someone had gave out a m-mayday message from a passenger plane. We couldn't c-call them back. By that... by that time we were low on fuel, all the airport towers were down so we landed on sight and instrum-strum-str... instruments only. We got out and and found that our landing attracted a horde... They... they ate Darren. I ran for my life, picking up-up a bike left on the pavement, and started to ride down the road, I was tr-trying to lose them..." He paused, studying his audience's expressions, trying to check if they were bored. "I started to sca-scavenge, I was hungry... I came f-face to face with a zombie in an abandoned off-licence, and... I struggled with it until... I kil...killed it. It seemed too-oo easy, I had no reg-ret. It wasn't human, it was wandering drone. I kept walking d-down the road... and I found you g-guys."

He placed his hand on his head, his eyes stung from sleep deprivation and his throat began to hurt. Behind his back, he held a white child-locked bottle, it rattled, on the outside it said, "Concerta XL - ADHD Medication - Drink with water - 8 hour concentration - prescribed."​

((Hope you don't mind the medication addition, even though it's not an item, it's just a little plot piece. And I am basing some of this character on me, such as a minor stammer and medical condition. (ADHD)))

 

[Ice1]

Oswald Lessard
2 Strength/3 Intelligence/2 Agility/3 Charisma
Status: Sleep deprived
Inventory: (0/15)

Oswald Lessard entered the camp. He followed an older gentleman with a mustache, together with younger man in a green shirt. The younger man seemed captivated by his own thoughts, and Oswald didn't know if it was just a look of wonder on his face, or if there was something more sinister behind it.
"I do have a story," said the green-shirted man. Oswald listened. The man stuttered a bit, and listened to the man talk. He seemed a bit nervous, and it made Oswald nervous too. Oswald listened carefully to the story. It had been weeks since he heard someone talk, and he missed the sound of a human voice. He almost let a tear escape when the man finished his story.
"I'm so glad I've found people," Oswald said. "I've been driving through the wilderness for two weeks now." Tears started flowing down his cheeks. His voice cracked. "I… I've haven't slept for longer than 2 hours at the time in the past two weeks. My head hurts, my feet are sore, and I feel dead tired. I had to scavenge for food, and I even got shot at. I'm not made for this kind of life." He took of his glasses and looked at them. "It's a wonder these survived." He looked at the men he was walking with. "I'm from Europe. I have a wife, I have a kid, and I don't have any pictures of them. I have no way of seeing them again, and I have no way of knowing they're alive." He started getting teary eyed again. He quickly wiped the tears away. Maybe he shouldn't show too much emotion. He knew nobody over here, and it might not be the smartest idea to show his emotional scaring.

 

[gimmepie]

Capt. Timothy McGregor
3 Str | 3 Int | 2 Ag | 2 Char
Status: Banged-up and emotionally scarred but otherwise unharmed.
Inventory:

Spoiler:

1x Old Newspaper (Weight 1/20)
1x Claw Hammer (Weight 2/20)
2x Cereal Boxes (Weight 4/20)
2x Cans of Chilli (Weight 4/20)
2x Dried Fruit (Weight 6/20)
1x Pack of Cigarettes (Weight 1/20)

Total Weight = 18/20

​

McGregor took a deep breath of fresh air, smoke starting to wind up from the store.
Everywhere go seems to end up on fire… the plane, hardware store and now a supermarket. McGregor tried not to think about Mark's body burning alone in the building, surrounded only by enemies and his fellow dead. McGregor had lost plenty of men in his career, too many really, but it never got easier. Especially since it was likely the man's family would never know what had happened.

The cars horn sounded again, shaking McGregor away from such depressing thoughts for a while.
"Hey, dumbasses! The escape ladder is right here!" Bratton's voice yelled from the vehicle they had arrived in. McGregor squared his shoulders; there was no time to morn yet. Zombies were everywhere and so were gunmen. Mark was dead yes, but that just meant his troubled were over – McGregor was still a man of the living and he was determined not to lose another person.
"Let's move it guys, before any unwanted guests show up."

Shouting could be heard from inside the building they were on top of as McGregor began to move down the fire escape as quickly as he dared, his weight pulling a hitched up ladder downwards to the ground with an unpleasant screech as he reached near the bottom. McGregor didn't stand around waiting after that, he ran for the truck and threw himself inside.
"Don't wait around once the rest of them get here. Nobody else is coming but trouble. Mark's dead."

 

[Oddball_]

Iuvenes morientur in bonum...​

Status

Spoiler:

Sad

Spoiler:

Spoiler:

Inventory: Shovel (4/15)
Crackers x 5 (10/15)

Alex coughed as she slipped out of the door onto the roof. McGregor moved down the fire escape, Alex turned and helped the others onto the roof. "That way!" She wheezed. The smoke was beginning to overwhelm her. She couldn't help but wonder how Dennis was doing...
A gargle snapped her into attention. "Alex watch out!" Someone yelled from the fire escape. However the Walker marched past her and outstretched its arms towards the survivors on the escape. "You can't have them." Alex hissed as she swung her shovel through the corpses neck. The movement slid her sleeve off her arm, revealing a large, bloody bite mark. "Keep going! I'll hold them back!" Alex coughed. "It might not be the smoke..." Alex looked back towards the door. She walked over and slammed it shut. She propped her shovel beneath the handle and threw herself on the concrete beside it. Below her she heard screams, both live and dead. She looked up at the sky and through the smoke she saw a shooting star fly passed. "Keep them safe..." She coughed, this time blood hitting the ground around her. "Shame I don't... have a bullet." She thought to herself. Behind her something smacked into the door, but she held it closed. "Shame... I never got... to go... home..."

Previously on Outbreak...
Mark? What are you... NO! NO! FUUUUUU...

 

[Arsenic]

Nathan Hawke
3 Str | 3 Int | 2 Ag | 2 Char

Location: Pendleton
Status: Blue
Inventory:

Spoiler:

1x Hunting Rifle
Weight = 6/20

"Hey, dumbasses! The escape ladder is right here!"

Nathan ushered everyone down the ladder. Someone needed to be last to made sure they didn't loose any more people. "Lets go you blokes I don't want to be here longer than I have to!" He yelled at the rest. One by one they slid down the ladder and into the truck. All but one they were missing.

"We're missing one!" He yelled down the Bratton "Hold on a minute!" he headed back across the roof in search of Alex. They weren't going to loose any more people on his watch!

Hawke headed back towards the door. He had decided he'd first make sure she wasn't somewhere on the roof for... whatever reason, he couldn't figure out why someone would stay behind! "Alex!" He yelled "Cmon already we need to go NOW!"

"It's now or we're leaving you!" Someone from down in the truck yell.

He thought for a second. Maybe she slipped out another way and is in the truck. Either way he needed to head back, or else he would be on his own for a long time.

Hawke spun around and headed for the ladder. He slid down it and landed in the truck with a thud. "Drive! Drive!" He yelled, now hearing bullets rip through the door on the roof.

Lovely CSS by Foxrally
​

 

[Foxrally]

Youssef Abuzeid

1 Str | 2 Int | 4 Ag | 3 Char
Status: Healthy, Hungry
Inventory:

Spoiler:

x 1 Wooden Spoon (Weight 1/10)
x 2 Hostess Twinkies (Weight 2/10)

Total Weight: (3/10)

Spoiler:

Youssef was second last to go into the building. He glanced behind him. The building was readily catching fire, and great clouds of smoke were coming out of the windows and doors. He could hear the attackers screaming as they hurriedly ran out of the building.

As he followed McGregor to the window where the escape ladder was, he moved aside as the man with the rifle hurriedly ran past him back to the roof of the store. Why is he going back there? Is he crazy?! Youssef thought. Suddenly he realized the girl maybe had not followed the rest of the group into the appartment. He stood there for a moment, unsure whether she was with McGregor or with the man with the rifle.

After a moment of hesitation, he shook his head and continued moving forward. The girl was surely with McGregor. They wouldn't leave a kid on her own like that anyway, right?

He quickly climbed down the ladder and followed McGregor to what seemed to be a large truck, with the man with the glasses he had seen enter the store with the rest of the group and another bald, burly man sitting in the driver's seat. he threw himself in. The man looked at him with an expression of confusion - obviously Youssef wasn't part of the group.

"Don't worry, he's one of us. Found him at the store." he heard McGregor tell the man.

Meanwhile, Youssef looked around, perplexed. Where had the girl gone to?

 

[Klippy]

Jim Bratton - Status: panicked
STR: 3, INT: 2, AGI: 2, CHA: 5

---

"Where's Mark? And the kid?" asked Bratton as Hawke climbed down from the ladder.

McGregor said, "Don't worry, he's one of us. Found him at the store." Bratton glanced back and saw an unfamiliar man. He appeared nervous and looked around shaken.

"Whatever. Where's Mark? Where's Alex? How the **** did you guys manage to screw this one up?" Bratton shook his head when bullets began pelting the vehicle. Bratton looked around and saw Sanders and Jeremiah running at them from Garner's with several other men in tow. They had assault rifles and shotguns. Bratton gave Sanders the middle finger and floored it.

"Drive! Drive!" shouted Hawke. Bullets were flying all over and Bratton felt a sudden, sharp pain in his chest. Not good. ****in' Sanders. He barreled through a crowd of zombies and the bullets stopped. He nearly crashed into a parked postal vehicle, but managed to get on Main Street with no further damage to the vehicle. He coughed and blood flew from his mouth. Horse****. He looked at the group in the truck and laughed. At least they'd all made it out. Except...

"Alright, tell me whe-where Mark and Alex are. What happened?"

His question couldn't be answered as the roar of engines echoed through the stillness of the forested road. Bratton looked in the rearview mirror, but it was cracked from a bullet. He spun around and saw two vehicles flying towards them. He could barely make out Sanders in the passenger seat of the SUV. The other was a Jeep and he could see Jeremiah driving.

This isn't good. They didn't know where we were. Now... Sanders was bad. Jeremiah was worse. Jeremiah had been the guy on base who spent time in Afghanistan. Torturing. He was a sick bastard and damn effective at torturing Afghans for information. He'd been one of the ones closest to locating bin Laden and Sanders had bet him $100 he couldn't torture the information out of a top tier terrorist. Sanders lost that bet, but only after the Afghan had lost all ten fingernails and a couple toenails...with pliers.

Bratton swerved as Sanders' SUV rammed the truck. He almost lost control, but years of driving in wild conditions had given him some skills behind the wheel. He handed the rifle back to Hawke and screamed, "Don't miss! Shoot the bastards!" Before anything could happen, the Garner's crew had slowed and disappeared from sight. Bratton knew that was bad. They knew where he was driving to. Ukiah was the only damn town for miles and they'd fallen back...

To make a full assault.

---

​

'Kin' Burr - Status: Reserved
STR: 2, INT: 3, AGI: 1, CHA: 4

---

"I started to sca-scavenge, I was hungry... I came f-face to face with a zombie in an abandoned off-licence, and... I struggled with it until... I kil...killed it. It seemed too-oo easy, I had no reg-ret. It wasn't human, it was wandering drone. I kept walking d-down the road... and I found you g-guys," said the first man. A pill bottle shook from somewhere behind his back, but Kin knew everyone had their vices. His was alcohol back in the day. Now...now his only addiction was making sure he lived.

He learned the man's name and said, "Well George, we're sure glad you made it. We've got plenty of space for you as long as you're willing to put in the work." Kin shook his hand and turned to the second man.

"I'm from Europe. I have a wife, I have a kid, and I don't have any pictures of them. I have no way of seeing them again, and I have no way of knowing they're alive," said the second man. He seemed reserved, but maybe that just came with the times. His name was Oswald and he seemed decent. Kin shook his hand as well when screeching tires echoed out in the still air.

Kin limped towards the gate once more and saw it. Bratton's truck packed full of people and bullet holes littering the doors. Kin threw open the gate, but Bratton crashed through the fence, knocking the entire thing down. Kin rushed towards the driver door and opened it. Bratton had blood pouring from his chest and out his mouth. He slumped over and the horn honked, but Kin pulled him off of it and tried to inspect the wounds. "What the hell happened, Jim?"

Bratton looked up and opened his mouth. He coughed blood and said, "Sanders." His eyes rolled back into his head and he was gone. Kin turned around, panic setting in. He wasn't sure what to do. Bratton had always been in control of the problems outside. Kin had handled things in here. This wasn't good.

He looked towards the rest of the group and said, "Quick. We need to go. Now!" Barbara David ran to the makeshift alarm and began sounding it. It was a classic air raid siren from back in World War II. Not only would it get everyone to the bus, but it'd attract the undead for miles and let them escape on a clean getaway.

"Quick! To the bus behind the building!" shouted Kin. Everyone began packing things and rushing to the bus where Tom Higgins sat. He had driven the school bus before all this happened and had spent some time outfitting the bus for travel. The air siren had been going for about five minutes already. Luckily none of the undead had arrived, but Sanders wasn't far behind by the look of Bratton's body and his truck.

Suddenly another vehicle was rolling up to the gates. Kin drew his gun and aimed it at the vehicle. Harold and Michael, the gate guards, aimed their weapons as well. Sanders sending a warning party? Unlike that bastard.

Two men got out with their hands raised. One had a guitar slung over his back. "Who the hell are you two?" shouted Kin. They shouted back that they had been out on the highway and had seen the plane wreckage. They also found a map with directions to Garner's, but had stopped here first to check for more survivors. They had seen tire tracks at the site and wanted to be sure before heading on to Garner's and heard the air siren from a mile away.

Kin lowered his gun and let them know Garner's was a trap and anyone that arrived there would be killed on sight and looted for supplies. The two men, Godfried and Rob, had just met each other, but Kin figured they could use the manpower. He invited them to join the group on the bus as they were preparing to leave. Those two are lucky Sanders didn't run into them on the way here.

"Hey! One question for ya. Did you see any other vehicles out there when you were entering town?" asked Kin to the guitar-wielding Rob. Rob thought for a second and said, "Yeah, we saw an SUV and a Jeep parked a little ways out. Nobody was-"

He was interrupted by the sound of a bullet. The air siren didn't even stop the piercing sound of a sniper rifle firing. It was a strong, terrible sound. Louder than most other bullets would sound over that haunting wail of an air siren.

Kin barely even felt the bullet shattering his skull.

---

​

 

[Arsenic]

Nathan Hawke
3 Str | 3 Int | 2 Ag | 2 Char

Location: Route 395, OR
Status: In the zone.
Inventory:

Spoiler:

1x Bratton's Remington 700
2x .308 Magazine

Weight = 10/20

"Alright, tell me whe-where Mark and Alex are. What happened?" Jim asked

"Both dead.." Hawke started "Too many Zeds, we cou-" He was interrupted by the roaring sound of engines. "What the... Oh f***.."

Two vehicles were barreling down the route after them. It was obvious who was driving them, their friends from Pendleton. Why the hell were they still after them?! It's not like they took anything with them from Garners! It didn't matter. If they didn't act they were screwed anyways. But before anyone could actually do anything the SUV tried to do a pit maneuver on their truck.

Hawke was thrown to the other side of the bed and landed on somebody but he didn't have time to see who it was, nor did he really care. The back window slid open and Bratton pushed his rifle through it.

"Don't miss! Shoot the bastards!" Bratton screamed at him.

Hawke grabbed Bratton's Remington 700 and pulled it through the window. It was now or never. The jeep was now up next to the SUV and the passenger was yelling something to this 'Sanders' guy. Hawke got onto one knee and brought up the rifle. He shouldered the rifle and took in a breath then exhaled. The crosshairs lined up as Hawke mumbled "Try this on for size, Mister." As Bratton's driving steadied he took his chance. He inhaled deeply, steadied his arm, and exhaled as he squeezed the trigger. A crack rang out as the man in the jeep's passenger seat's head snapped back. He could read Sander's lips yelling "Oh f***" as the contents of the mans head dripped down the seat.

Suddenly the car swerved again and Nathan fell to the floor of the bed. When he got back up the two cars were gone.

"Probably never gonna make that shot again" he said as he slumped back down against the side of the bed. The only thing those bandits were going to do now was a full on assault of their safe house. This would probably be the only time to rest he would get for a while. "Might be hard for most of you, but I'd try to sleep the rest of the ride. Might be the last time we get to for a while. I'm sure our friends are going to keep their distance to make us thing we lost them." He said as he got as comfortable as he could. He forced himself to sleep still tightly gripping the rifle.
------------------------------------------------------------
Location: Ukiah
------------------------------------------------------------

Nathan was jolted awake when the truck crashed through the front gates. Like he figured the SUV and jeep kept their distance. Without thinking he hopped over the side of the truck and began surveying the surrounding roofs and fortifications for a good location to defend from.

"Bratton, do you have a key to up there it would be a good vant-" He stopped mid-sentence as he turned and watched Bratton die. He saw the exit wound in his chest. "Bloody f***ing hell, Bratton why didn't you say you were shot." He mumbled to himself.

"Quick. We need to go. Now!" Kin yelled as an old klaxon sounded. "To the bus behind the building!" But before anyone could do anything another car came crashing through the front gates. Everyone who was armed had their aim trained on the vehicle to pull up. Who else could it be other than Sanders men. But to his surprise two strangers got out unarmed with their hands in the air. Kin shouted a few question and it ended up with everyone lowering their weapons.

"Hey! One question for ya. Did you see any other vehicles out there when you were entering town?" asked Kin to the guitar-wielding Rob. Rob thought for a second and said, "Yeah, we saw an SUV and a Jeep parked a little ways out. Nobody was-" 'Rob' was cut off by the sharp crack of a high caliber rifle. Kin never stood a chance to survive, his head had practically exploaded.

"F**cking sniper! Get behind something! Stay away from that body I'm sure they have 'kill the medic' mentality up there" Hawk yelled as he through himself behind the corner of a building. If he wanted to keep any more people from dying he needed to take control of the situation NOW. He needed to think quick.

"McGregor! That sounded like a .338 by how loud and sharp it was. I need you to get anyone without combat experience to the bus when I say! I'm gonna assume you know that anyone who gets shot by that sniper isn't getting back up so keep them out of sight." He stopped and peaked around the corner, "I'm also going to guess you know that as long as that sniper is up there we aren't going anywhere. I'm going to try to take him out but if Sanders men get to close just leave! The SOUTH road would probably be your best bet, keep the engine block safer. If I die don't worry about a grave."

Nathan ran up towards the front gate guards screaming at them "GET THE CIVILIANS SOME SUPPRESSING FIRE!"

 

[gimmepie]

Capt. Timothy McGregor
3 Str | 3 Int | 2 Ag | 2 Char
Status: Banged-up and emotionally scarred but otherwise unharmed.
Inventory:

Spoiler:

1x Old Newspaper (Weight 1/20)
1x Claw Hammer (Weight 2/20)
2x Cereal Boxes (Weight 4/20)
2x Cans of Chilli (Weight 4/20)
2x Dried Fruit (Weight 6/20)
1x Pack of Cigarettes (Weight 1/20)

Total Weight = 18/20

​

The kid had died.
The kid had died.
The kid had died.

The one thing McGregor had promised himself in the uncertain world was that he was not going to let Alex die when she still had so much of her life yet to live. He'd failed; of course he'd failed. They were probably all screwed in the long run. Mark was dead. Alex was dead. Was there any point in him even trying when everyone he tried to keep alive ended up a corpse?
Stop thinking like that you fuckwit McGregor thought to himself You have to find your family and protect them and you need to keep these guys alive too.

The truck was jolted suddenly as the sounds of screeching tires and stench of burning rubber assaulted McGregor's senses. He was familiar with this situation, being a homicide cop meant he'd had his fair share of car chases – and yet it was slightly unnerving to be the pursued this time and not the pursuer.

Bratton handed Hawke a rifle – again this man had been armed. Obviously he could handle the weapon but it unnerved McGregor. A shot rang out and McGregor saw blood spatter a windscreen.
He's not a bad shot… useful but dangerous.
"Don't suppose you've got another gun in there do you?" McGregor yelled over the hail of bullets and screeching wheels, however a second firearm wasn't needed – at least not for a while. McGregor watched as their pursuers pulled back at the edge of the town.

They know where we're going McGregor thought to himself grimly They aren't retreating, they're regrouping for a full-on assault rather than continuing to pursue us as they are now. It's a good move, we need to get the fuck out of Ukiah.

"Might be hard for most of you, but I'd try to sleep the rest of the ride. Might be the last time we get to for a while. I'm sure our friends are going to keep their distance to make us thing we lost them." Hawke's voice rang out over the sudden silence as he attempted to get comfortable. McGregor nodded in agreement, it seemed that the mysterious Hawke had reached the same conclusion he had.
"The man's right" McGregor added, "This is the calm before the storm and if you want to whether what's ahead you're going to need all the rest you can get.

McGregor leaned back and closed his eyes, however he didn't truly sleep. He wouldn't do that again until he knew everyone was safe.

---

McGregor hadn't been exaggerating when he said that the drive back to Ukiah had been the calm before the storm. A few times he had thought he might have seen the SUV and Jeep in the distance but he had been positive it had been his imagination. The truck crashed through the fence and skidded to a halt, jolting those who had been sleeping awake.

McGregor, like Hawke, leapt from the bed of the truck and was quick to survey the area. The only conclusion he could come up with was that they were dead if they stayed. The alterations to their defenses had yet to be completed and now Bratton had put a hole in their defenses anyway.
The idiot McGregor thought before almost instantly realizing that something was wrong Bratton may not be as cautious as Kin, but he's military and knows how to defend a location so… oh fuck. McGregor didn't need to finish his thought, Bratton had stumbled from the vehicle and soon after dropped to the ground dead.

Kin was upon them soon after, screaming at the top of his lungs as he ran – yelling over the sound of an ancient klaxon horn and the pandemonium around him (in which to newcomers arrived, displaying the worlds most horrendous timing). Then, a shot rang out over the sound of the alarm and Kin too – or what was left of him - fell to the ground in a pool of blood.

McGregor heard Hawke shouting again, but he didn't hear the words. He was too busy screaming himself
"Everybody stay the hell down! Don't try to help him you dumb ass he's dead!" and several similar sentences all being yelled at the top of his lungs. Only the sound of his name being called made McGregor stop yelling
"McGregor! That sounded like a .338 by how loud and sharp it was. I need you to get anyone without combat experience to the bus when I say! I'm gonna assume you know that anyone who gets shot by that sniper isn't getting back up so keep them out of sight."
"No shit!" McGregor screamed back as another shot rang out, this one hitting the truck with a resounding clang. McGregor looked around at the chaotic masses of people he could see around the shelter, then back at his fellows from the supply raid. It seemed there was only one way he was going to make this work, nobody would like it but he didn't need to make friends he just had to keep people alive.

McGregor lunged forward, pulling Kin's pistol from his holster before he slammed himself back against the truck to avoid being shot. Then, stealing himself he turned to the other survivors with him
"Hawke and the guards will keep them occupied, run like all hell for the shelter. Stay as low as you can whilst still running quickly because small and fast is harder to hit. Go NOW!" McGregor also shouted after Hawke one more time "You better not die yet Hawke, I've got some questions I have to ask you!" then he too was off.

McGregor ran like crazy, because his life and perhaps those of other people depended on it. His lungs burned and ached, his years of smoke inhalation doing little to make the sprint easier. His legs ached from running and the heavy pack he carried was digging into his shoulders, but they'd need all the supplies they could get. A bullet struck the ground by McGregor foot, spurring him on to push his aging body to it's limit.

McGregor burst into the shelter with the other survivors pointed his gun into the air and pulled the trigger, embedding a bullet in the ceiling. The chaos inside stilled suddenly, looking at the man with the weapon.
"Kin and Bratton are dead, so listen to me if you don't want to die!" McGregor yelled, knowing that in these situations a loud voice often gave the appearance of authority "from what I hear there is a bus and an exit behind this shelter. Take only what supplies you have in your immediate vicinity and get on the bus. I will personally blow the head off of anybody who isn't on that bus in five minutes without my permission to be elsewhere. MOVE!"

 

[JukeboxTheGhoul]

George Broker - Status: Shocked
STR: 2, INT: 3, AGI: 3, CHA: 2
INVENTORY (0/15):

Was that it? George saw the wold slow as by heartbeats went past. In hindsight, what he had just witnessed was the timer ticking down, in front of his very eyes, his hourglass lost it's sand. His death was sudden, by a human machine, designed to kill. Why? Oh. Why are humans so Savage? It was true, the rapture was upon us. But it was the vulgarity of the barbarity of human nature to kill one another for personal gain. The man he had just met. Had his brains blasted out by a bullet. George shoved his medication in to his pocket. A truck shredded through the barbed wire. Skidding in to a post. The man inside was bleeding. His companion who had just took him in went to help, but his life ended. Behind the truck, another vehicle trailed behind, the shape defined by the bullets erupted from the passenger's seat. It was hectic. The survivors scramble. George ran behind a pile of planks. Two survivors looted the pistols from the corps. The site of the fleshy mush of his head made George vomit. Bullets rained from above. George covered his ears and said a prayer. George nudged the nearest person, "What is going on?!" He yelled. Almost gagging.