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Post by Keith the Great on Mar 11, 2010 21:29:06 GMT -5
Forests ranked pretty high on Keith’s personal list of “Things I Don’t Like.” Worse yet were forests in the dusky evenings when wind rushed in gusts fast enough to whistle in your ears. The Southerner took his steps carefully, flinching at every snapped twig and trying to keep close to his group. In nearly ever horror story he’d ever heard, the guy who got lost was the first to die.
“Man,” he whistled, glancing up at a branch clinging to a tree trunk by a mere sliver. “Damn shame ‘bout that helicopter. We coulda been flyin’ high.” He wasn’t all too big on heights, but they beat the constant reminder of failed woodsman-like expeditions.
Now, rather than drifting through the clouds to some form of warm shelter, the group trudged through a forest, slightly damp from a drizzle of rain, to a town god-knows-how-far away where there possibly might be a chance of an evacuation center, if the scarce signs plastered around the mall were accurate indicators. According to the bright yellow papers, the cathedral in a town called Nevan was their best hope of safety.
That made no guarantees on the condition of the woods leading to Nevan.
The forest, crowded with enough trees to keep a hippie hugging for the rest of his life, was wet, dark, and spooky. So far it had been surprisingly zombie-free, but that didn’t make it any more comforting.
Keith spared a quick glance over his shoulder, almost expecting to see some sort of silhouetted monster waiting to hack their limbs off. He could already picture the group walking into a campsite, seeing all the bodies, then having them suddenly rise up from the dead, claws outstretched...
In Georgia, there wasn’t much to do besides tell stories to scare the piss out of your friends, and Keith had heard more than his fair share of spooky stories and ghastly tales. He knew the monster in the lake, the zombie campers, the ghosts in the creepy warehouse that no one wanted to go near, and plenty more; enough to give him the shivers in a forest like this.
“Y’all don’t let your guard down jus’ ‘cause it sounds empty,” he advised, trying to coax his teammates out of their solemn silence. Anything was better than just the wind and the one lonely bird that dared to sing. “Down South, we had blood farmers in our forests. Anyone went wanderin’ ‘round the woods, the blood farmers’d catch ‘em and eat ‘em an’ plant the bones to grow babies an’ they’d eat those too.”
A noticeable 'snap' echoed from the right, making the hobo jump and scurry closer to his friends. “Aw, man, y’all better not let ‘em eat me!”
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Tara Luketic
Junior Member
Witch Hunter and Pack Rat
Posts: 71
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Post by Tara Luketic on Mar 13, 2010 22:23:04 GMT -5
For those who hadn't caught on yet, Tara preferred to change her often bloody, dirty clothes whenever possible, or at least wash them. She also preferred to keep her hair neat, brushing it numerous times a day and washing it whenever possible. She had done both of these things before they left the mall for hopefully the last time, washing herself as best as she could in the restroom and giving herself a new wardrobe for the journey. Tara's hair was still a bit damp, seeing as everything currently was. It was pulled into her usual ponytail, and she'd managed to find a pink cap in one of the stores.
The rest of her outfit consisted of a purple, long-sleeved shirt with a red heart on the front, a gray hoodie with the Nike logo on the front, blue jeans, white sneakers, and had tied a new blue jean jacket around her waist. The group had grabbed as many of the weapons they had stockpiled as they could, each carrying as much as they could hold. Tara had been forced to clean out her bags so that she could stuff in a few explosives, ammo cartridges, pistols, medkits, pills, and adrenaline shots. Basically, she was their cargo hold, seeing as she was the only one who had thought to carry bags around with her. She didn't mind as long as she still had some room to collect things she felt were important to have on hand.
Tara's current weapon of choice was an AK-47, her preferred type of gun. Like the shotgun, it didn't take expert aim, but at the same time it didn't have a huge amount of feedback or take forever to reload. She sighed as Keith muttered about the helicopter, a topic he hadn't dropped since the opportunity escaped them. "I still say we should have hotwired a car and drove to this town. I mean, yeah, there's more zombies on the roads. But we'd be pretty safe in a car and we'd be able to see any zombies coming. Out here, we're in the open, and it's hard to see very far."
Also, there was the obvious fact that Tara was anything but an active person, and wasn't very happy about the long walk. She rolled her eyes as Keith rambled on about blood farmers, probably some ghost story his friends had told him to scare him. Guys were such morons. "Keith, there's no such thing as blood farmers. You can't grow babies by planting someone's bones. Are there cannibals? Yes. Murderers? Yes. Kidnappers? Yes. Baby eaters? Yes. But there are no such things as-"
Snap.
Tara jumped about a foot into the air and whipped around, staring into the trees to their right with a shaky breath. "God damnit, I'm not dying in a forest like some cliche horror chick. No fucking way," she muttered.
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Post by Moro Ashford on Mar 15, 2010 19:44:58 GMT -5
Moro laughed. She was walking beside Roy with her shotgun slung over her shoulder, hands thrust into her pockets. Taking advantage of their final stay at the mall, the young woman now wore a new pair of jeans (free), a red tshirt (free) and had a black zip up tied around her waist (she killed a zombie over this one, actually). Her shoes were a fresh pair of white Adidas that she had previously broken in by chucking them at a wall, and it was perhaps this fresh change of clothes that so bolstered the spring in her step.
"Keith, if there were any blood farmers, don't worry, I'm sure the zombies got them," she said, resisting a giggle as Tara too jumped. "As for anything else, we'll hear them coming."
Forests were, admittedly, unpleasant and forbidding places at night, full of creaks and unpleasant sounds that made the small hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. As it were, however, nothing short of a Tank could dampen Moro's mood; perhaps it was realizing the government had abandoned them, perhaps it was reaching complete despair and climbing her way back up again, but the mechanic had a sudden bolster of second wind. Her demeanor had gone from unpleasant and surly to seemingly fearless and talkative, a change she wasn't sure what her comrades thought.
"Yeah, but we'll run out of gas eventually, right?" she said in lapsed response to Tara's statement. "And besides...I don't believe that CEDA guy. I kind of don't want to be in a huge city if they decide to just screw it all and blow the cities to pieces."
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Post by Mason Breaker on Mar 18, 2010 19:00:04 GMT -5
Mason was possibly the only one in the group devoid of any particular cheer. For starters, these woods were giving him an uneasy feeling. Second, Moro's attitude change was.... Sudden. Very much like Kameko's. And believe it or not, the irishman was fearful for her.
Still, on the other hand, they finally had a lead. Evacuation, and hopefully, his daughter. He hoped that she was okay..... Last time he had talked to her, there had been a good deal of noise from the other end.
"Dahlia..." He muttered to himself, altogether ignoring the blood farmers and the following scare, walking a bit ahead of the group. "Please be okay....."
His mood was unusual, normally he'd probably give a hearty laugh at the simple scare, but right now he was completely out of it. He had been like this for about a day now, avoiding talking when it wasn't necessary. He even stopped commenting on Keith's stories, which he had usually done regularly.
Regardless, he straightend when he heard a loud growling fill the air. A Hunter was somewhere....
"Shit...... We got'a Hunter.... Roy, lad, can ya' get it? Huntin's your specialty after all."
If anything, he found a good friend in Roy. He'd question him and his murderous attitude, but down to it, Mason would trust Roy with his life. Now was one of those times.
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Post by Kameko Hoshi on Mar 18, 2010 19:37:33 GMT -5
She was buried, unable to breath, choking on dry earth. Her mind swirled in terror. What was happening to her? She stared wildly around, but all she could see was crumbling brown soil. Above her moonlight flickered, then dimmed as more soil tumbled down on her, stinging her eyes, filling her ears and nostrils. She was drowning–not in water, but earth.
“Help!” Dirt filled her mouth as she tried to scream.
She scrabbled desperately and thrust out with her arms, trying to fight her way out. Her lungs were screaming for air. Terror ceased her body and when she thought she was going to die, her dark blue eyes flared open. A sigh of relief escaped her. It was a dream. Just a nightmare…wait. What was this? Soil? Earth? No! It was true! It was true! This wasn’t just a dream! She really was drowning in earth!
Her mouth opened to let out a horrified scream but soil just tumbled into her mouth, just like her dream. She sputtered it out miserably. Tears collected in her eyes, making the sting from the soil worse. Why was no one helping her?! Did the gods hate her this much that they had ordered the earth to swallow her up? She didn’t want to die! She didn’t want to die! In her crazed panic she began scrabbling at the dirt, her frenzied actions making it rain down on her faster and faster until nothing. Air? Was that oxygen she just breathed in? She could breathe again? She wasn’t trapped by earth?
Weakly she hauled herself out of the dirt trap and lay on the ground sputtering and spitting the soil from her mouth. It left a nasty, dry taste as it left but she could have cared less. Spotting a nearby puddle of water she dipped her hands in it until she was sure all the traces of sand were gone before getting a hand-full and splashing it over her face. It was freezing cold, but as long as it got the sand from out her eyes she could’ve cared less. When she felt as though the sand was gone and her eyes wouldn’t sting she slowly got to her feet. As she looked around her eyes fell on the marker that was next to the dirt trap. Suddenly she realized that it wasn’t a dirt trap, but a grave! She had been buried in a make-shift grave!
Quickly spotting the Horseshoe Tavern she raced over. She exploded into the building and frowned when she didn’t see anybody. The next ten minutes were spent searching the area thoroughly for anybody–anyone that she could call a friend and fellow survivor. But no. There was nobody. No trace of her comrades. Tears sprung up in her dark blue eyes as she stumbled back outside. What had she done? What had she done? Why had they left her? Suddenly a memory popped into her mind and nausea overwhelmed her.
She had given up. Given up all hope on survival. She had made herself believe that they were left for dead. She had stupidly run off upon hearing miserable crying. The witch, yes. She remembered the witch, at how it had raced for her with eyes glowing demonically and claws outstretched while it screaming in anger that this foolish human had dared disrupt her of her sorrowful crying. She can still recall the claws piercing her skin, but it hadn’t killed her. Why? She thought she was good as dead. Had the witch been so pissed-off at her that it had miscalculated its aim? Suddenly unbearable pain zapped her right arm and she glanced down to see stream of red running down it like a grotesquely-shaped river. Her nausea from earlier rose up again and she took in big gulps of air hoping to calm her down. She began walking. Yes, walking. Away from the Horseshoe Tavern, away from her grave, and away from the corpse of the dead witch that lay only meters away from her grave. But where could she go? The mall? It seemed highly likely that her friends had gone back there, but she knew she wouldn’t make it. If she didn’t find something to treat her arm then the blood-loss would kill her for good this time. She stopped to ponder on what she would do until her eyes fell on the dark outline in front of her.
Yes! The woods! She knew about a few herbs there that could be a potential medicine for her arm until she found a real first-aid kit. Determination took hold of her as she straightened and made for the woods.
Upon entering them she wished she had her iPod because believe it or not, these woods were scaring the piss out of here. And this was not funny for she had to go to the bathroom really bad now that she thought about it. So to keep her calm she began singing a song to herself.
“Moments that seem like they can change both me and even the world are always right next to me. Gazing at the irritation I can't hide and myself as I stand stock-still. Despite my hesitation, despite my worries, despite my regrets, I should decide, with one word you've given me, my bewilderment vanishes. Light shone in my once empty room. The sky I gazed up at is so blue and serene, I decided to open up a window that was shut. Moments that seem like they can change both me and even the world are always right next to me. Searching for answers that must be in the unfulfillable everyday. If I turn around towards the lonesome, gentle voice in the sunlight, you unexpectedly smile in the midst of brilliant sunlight…”
As she sang to herself she hadn’t realized the trees had cleared until she looked up. Imagine her surprise when she spotted a cabin towering above her. Happiness and relief overcame her as she raced over, forgetting about her arm. The front door surprisingly wasn’t locked and she happily let herself inside.
The first thing she did upon entering the cabin was go to the bathroom.
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Roy Bivenmeijer
Junior Member
"Because I'm used to killing animals"
Posts: 76
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Post by Roy Bivenmeijer on Mar 18, 2010 20:09:25 GMT -5
"Gotcha Mason." Almost soundlessly, Roy moved to the side, away from the growling, but in front of the group. Sure enough, hiding in a tree off to the left and up in front, was a hooded hooligan, dried blood evident on the almost gorged teen, sharp teeth protruding from it's grisly jowels. Roy put an eye to his scope and breathed in and halfway out. The wood platform creaked as the hunter tensed to pounce on the rest of the group. 'Wait, wood platform...' Click.. CRACK The heavy round, hand packed (though it was one of his last), nearly removed the head of the gangster, splattering Roy's favorite hunting stand with brains.
Roy was elated as he moved back, assuming his protective stance in as rear gaurd of the small pack. "Yo Mason. Got it. And I think I got something else." Roy's smile broadened as he once again glanced at the hunting stand. "We left most of our supplies back at the Mall, right? So hows-a-bout we go stock up. My cabin's not a mile west of here." Not waiting for a response and obviously too proud of himself to care, he shouldered the heavy wooden gun and pulled his knife.
Only having to cut down seven zombies in the delighted dance, Roy was soon in sight of his own rustic abode. The roof had obviously been abused by a Hunter, or perhaps a Smoker. The Lead shingles were falling out, but only one hole had been created in the roof, and he was sure no zombie had taken interest after realizing nobody was home.
Roy, moving to the rock on his far left, bent to grab his spare key. He sauntered back to the door, slicing down a zombie that had been attracted by his eerie whistle. It was so odd to be home after all this time, having slept seemingly everywhere but. As he stick the key into the handle, he yelped with surprise as his door fell open and he fell inside. Straight onto his bear-skin rug.
It was at this moment he heard the flush.
He crept slowly to the bathroom door. Pushed it open...
And came face to face with a pantless Kami sitting on his toilet, bloodied, but still bleeding.
"For shit's sake woman..." He fel to his knees at the sight of her. This was straight out of a ghost story. Man finally returns home, only to be haunted by his past mistakes...
But... Past mistakes didn't bleed on your rugs. "Come here, lemme patch you up dammit. Why the hell are you here!" Roy was upset beyond the point of anger, coming to simple astonishment and concern for her. "The last time I saw that face it was bloody and the last time ANYONE saw it, it was covered in dirt..." He was actually crying at this point, pulling out the Med-Kit.
Then he realized her pants were off. At this point, he had but one thing to say. "So... you shave..."
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Post by Mason Breaker on Mar 18, 2010 21:11:09 GMT -5
Satisfied with Roy's ability, he watched with a grim satisfaction as the Hunter had it's head blown open. And imagine his surpise when Roy announced they were near his cabin. Would be a nice change, that was for sure.
Following Roy's little psychotic dance, they came upon, sure enough, a cabin. Following Roy inside, he was just as surprised as he was when the toilet flushed. Sticking close behind, he almost had a heart attack when they flung open the door.
It was Kameko. Alive. Bloody and torn, but alive. Roy fell to his knees, going to help her, but Mason.....
"She let a sneer fall on her face as she addressed Mason. “Mason, I respect you. You’re a good guy and I know you’re looking for your daughter, but for all we know she could be dead. I mean, she’s just a little girl isn’t she? The infected could overtake her in a heartbeat.” She waved an absent-minded hand as if she didn’t care if his daughter was alive or not. “Now I’m not saying she’s dead, but hinting that there could be a possibility.”"
That situation played over and over in his head as he simply stood and stared. And the hurt sank in. His daghter probably was dead. True, she had run into that Luigi fellow, but how did Mason know that he was immune? Or that they weren't attacked by a horde?
And as it spread, his entire body trembled. It was all catching up to him. Reality that he was never going to see his daughter agin.
"Y-you......You......" He gasped, feeling a combination of anger, sorrow, and maybe a bit of relief.
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Post by Keith the Great on Mar 18, 2010 21:37:22 GMT -5
Keith glanced back at Tara, just then noticing how deep into the ‘Team Pack-Mule’ role she’d gotten. Not like he was going to offer a hand. He had three different types of guns on his back already, his pockets were stuffed, and he needed his hands free so he could grab his magnum once something jumped out and tried to maul him.
As for her complaints, Keith merely shot her a glare. “I ain’t hotwirin’ any more cars ‘less y’all are gonna let me drive ‘em.” After being denied the chance during their WalMart escapade, Keith had decided to be a little more stiff about using his expertise in trickery. No driving, no hotwiring.
Despite Tara’s bitter outlook on the forest trek, she didn’t seem all that fazed by the possibility of carnivorous farmers and infanticide. Moro, though having an opposite outlook on life, held a similar disbelief. (Pssh. Women.) The southerner simply rolled his eyes. He had only two words for them: “Says you.”
When Tara jumped, fearful (though of course, not sensible enough to be afraid of the real threat), Keith gave his teammate another cold stare, though he still shifted a little closer to company at the sound. “Don’t worry,” he said. “I’m sure being ripped limb from limb, havin’ the meat torn off in bloody chunks, an’ havin’ your bones buried t’ make tasty babies is plenny orig’nal. It’d be more cliche ta get eaten’ by the zombies.”
Another branch snapped, sending the hobo’s heart pounding in fear. He could still only think of one explanation, starting with ‘Blood’ and ending in ‘Farmers’. Fortunately, Roy didn’t seem to want to stick around, preferring his fancy-shmancy cabin instead. Keith was more than happy to follow along.
For Keith, a hobo who had lived in graveyards, cardboard-boxes, and, at best, a shack made of mud bricks, Roy’s cabin was a damn good place to live. It was a cozy, wooden little beauty. He hardly noticed the hole in the roof as he followed his friends inside. Within, it had that same comfortable feeling. It would have been a little more relaxing had there not been a scarily realistic bearskin rug on the floor and dozens of severed animal heads mounted on the wall.
Curiously, both Mason and Roy were gathered at the bathroom, shocked by something or other. Since Keith wasn’t one to pass up some excitement, he hopped over to investigate. However, one glance within pretty much convinced him that he didn’t want to investigate that badly.
Within the bathroom, in a rather...personal position, sat the previously-dead Kami. For a moment, all Keith could do was blink and wonder why the zombie-virus hadn’t kicked in yet. When he realized that she wasn’t going to transform into an undead creature before his eyes, he decided that it probably wasn’t a good idea to stand there and gape at her at this moment.
So Keith solved yet another problem through the convenient tactic of ignoring it entirely. Whistling a light, bouncy tune, he quickly turned away and wandered towards what looked to be a kitchen. Raiding the fridge, he thought, might not be a bad idea.
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Post by Kameko Hoshi on Mar 18, 2010 22:02:57 GMT -5
Kameko sighed in relief. At least she got the bathroom part out of the way. Now all she needed to do was find her friends and apologize for her behavior before she presumably had ‘died.’ Just as she flushed the toilet and was about to pull her pants up, the door to the bathroom flung open. Startled she froze with her hands on the hem of her pants.
There, falling to his knees at the doorway was Roy. Kameko could only just stare at the man as he rambled off incoherently. Her mind hadn’t yet processed the fact that it was Roy. Her friend–with benefits if you put it that way and fellow survivor.
At his comment of ‘So…you shave…’ she quickly realized she had not pulled her pants up. Quickly doing so she washed her hands thoroughly before literally pouncing on the man. She was crying as she gripped onto his shirt like her life depended on it.
“Roy!” Kameko sobbed. “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean what I said promise! I-I…I don’t know.” she said in a broken whisper.
While this was happening she barely noticed Mason standing there and Keith who left shortly after.
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Roy Bivenmeijer
Junior Member
"Because I'm used to killing animals"
Posts: 76
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Post by Roy Bivenmeijer on Mar 18, 2010 22:28:58 GMT -5
For one of the first times in his life, he was caught off gaurd; He fell to the ground as her rediculously light mass hit him square in the chest. She sobbed into his chest, rambling incoherantly. She racked and sobbed out something about her not meaning it. That was right... he should be angry with her for her bullshit antics earlier. There was no call for it. For a second, he attempted to keep his arms at his sides, but her small body on his was too much. Slowly, he raped his arms about her, pulling her close for comfort.
His mind raced still. She was safe now, but no closer to being alive then last they met. Actually, she was probably farther, what with everything she'd mentioned to Mason and Shane's general preasence. He ran their past conversation, accompanied with his death threats to Shane, through his head. He kissed her forehead and quietly muttered an "I won't let them touch you... just never go again."
He'd killed a man. A man who, no doubt, would've willingly joined up with them. And he'd killed the man because of her. Not that he cared much, but the others, some of the more insightful no doubt guessed his real reason for that cold-blooded kill, would judge. One always had to keep in mind others... Especially when one didn't think like them at all.
Almost casually, Roy unfolded himself, Kameko and all. He brought his chest and upper legs up, a hand resting under Kami's butt to support her. As he raised one leg, then the other, he realised he was holding her like a child but, at this point, he could've cared less. She was still with him, crushed up against him, and that was all that mattered. Her weight, almost non-existant under his seasoned arms, was a comfort, not a burden. As soothingly as he knew how, he rubbed her back as her sobs began to subside. "I won't let them touch you... I've already done it once..." But then again, he was used to killing animals...
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Tara Luketic
Junior Member
Witch Hunter and Pack Rat
Posts: 71
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Post by Tara Luketic on Mar 18, 2010 23:49:06 GMT -5
Tara, after the bloody demise of the Hunter, had followed after the others to Roy's cabin. Really, she didn't mind the detour, seeing as they'd probably take a short break and she could get off her feet. However, when they came to the place, it didn't look very comforting; what with the roof falling apart, windows shattered, and blood smeared on the exterior walls. But then, beggars couldn't be choosers, so Tara trekked inside with the thought of somewhere to rest motivating her plenty. She grimaced at the sight of so many trophies, if one could call them that, and dropped her bags and rifle in a corner of the cabin.
Grabbing a pistol from her messenger bag in case there happened to be any infected around, she finally realized that there was a small crowd by the bathroom. Tara frowned and raised her eyebrow, but curiosity got the best of her as she walked over at the same moment Keith left. "What's so damn interesting? Indoor plumbi- holy mother of God..." she whispered, joke cut-off by what she saw. Kameko, not undead as one might expect, but alive and kicking. She was currently hugging Roy, the two bawling their eyes out in an obviously emotional moment.
"Wha- how did- when.... Right. Not gonna get any answers until after the sappy reunion. Forgot. Well then, might as well do what I do best: ransack," Tara muttered to herself, turning away from the three and making a beeline for the kitchen. And no, she didn't go there because Keith had; she always checked the kitchen first. Of course, she was surprised when she saw his behind jutting out from behind the fridge door, but she didn't mind. "Find anything edible in there, Keith?" Tara asked as she moved over to the pantry, pistol still in hand.
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Post by Moro Ashford on Mar 19, 2010 16:33:19 GMT -5
A few step back from where Mason stood at the doorway, Moro was similarly frozen, rifle held loosely at her side and mouth faintly agape; it was a moment before she remembered to breathe again.
She was watching Roy curl around Kami who...was dead. She had to be; Moro had seen Mason bury her. And yet, even still, there she lay in the poor boy's arms, bloodied and sobbing and weak, but very much alive.
"I don't understand," her thoughts were murmured quietly aloud; with trembling fingers, she slung her weapon back over her shoulder and stiffly stepped forward.
"We need to take care of those." The mechanic's voice hardly rose above a whisper; dreamlike, she had moved past Mason and was standing above the two, grey eyes unable to tear themselves from the face of the girl she had presumed dead. Feeling strangely detached from her own movements, Moro reached down a hand and set it on Roy's shoulder.
"She's going to die for real if she isn't taken care of."
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Post by Mason Breaker on Mar 19, 2010 17:49:27 GMT -5
Mason was still standing there as Tara, Moro, and Keith joined up. Not surprisingly, Keith went to the kitchen, Tara following after him. Moro was just as shocked as himself, but moving to add Kameko. Roy looked protective, but that wasn't surprising.
But that didn't matter to Mason. Not at all. Because this proved two things. First was that Kameko was given a second chance, and second, was that he was never going to see Dahlia again.
Because if Kameko survived, someone else had to die.
Had Mason been thinking clearly, he'd see the serious flaw in that logic. Now, all he could manage was tremble.
Tremble and take out the radio he used to talk to Dahlia. He switched it one, held the talk button, and released it without saying anything. Nothing but static and white noise responed. And with that, he dropped the radio to the ground. It landed with the back facing up, a picture of his daughter on the back of it. He had put it there as a reminder of what he was fighting for. Now.........
"D-damn........D-amn you......" He sputtered before slowly turning away and walking out of the cabin, leaving the still crackling radio on the ground. His destination? He didn't know. He wasn't looking for death, not like their friend back from the grave, but he did want to get away from all the things that hurt. Seeing their.......
It opened his hurts, his losses, the fact that he'd never see his daughter again.
He was alone.
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Post by Shane Richardson on Mar 19, 2010 18:16:25 GMT -5
Upon first seeing the cabin Shane whistled. It was pretty nice. Who knew an asshole like Roy could own such a nice-ass house in the woods?
He walked after Tara as she entered the building, not liking the idea of being alone in the woods right after Roy had just killed a hunter waiting stealthily to pounce them. As he entered the building, he stopped and looked around to inspect his new surroundings. Great, goddamn dude’s a hunter! the teenage boy thought coolly as he saw the series of animal heads hanging on the wall. And to think I thought he couldn’t get crazier!
Suddenly he realized that there was a small crowd by the bathroom. Shane spotted Keith swiftly leaving the area as is he saw something he didn’t want to see. Tara had gone over and, after having a look of disbelief fall on her face, followed after Keith like the obedient little puppy that she was. Moro followed a minute later and he watched through narrowed eyes as her mouth lightly fell agape and she froze.
Sighing at what could be so interesting Shane walked over. As he thrust his head to peek into the bathroom, he blinked in surprise. On the floor of the bathroom was Roy crying his pathetic heart out for what Shane thought was the first time as he cradled a black-haired girl like a baby. What…black-haired girl?! A choking sound came from Shane and he retreated a step or two from the bathroom.
No way! No fucking way! Don’t tell him that the black-haired girl was the same one he thought had died after finding the supposed ‘corpse’ and witch. So if that was the black-haired girl that he thought it was…then was this Kameko? The same Kameko that Roy apparently had strong feelings for and had beat him up for it? The same girl that Mason had punched him in the face for disrespecting her body? The same goddamn girl that Moro hissed hatred at him about?
“Holy-trombones-on-a-pogo-stick-I-have-to-give-her-iPod-back!” The words tumbled out of Shane’s mouth incoherently. He dug into his pockets until he pulled the iPod out and stared at it longingly. Finally he decided that he wasn’t going to that Kamewhatsit her musical device. It was only way of ignoring the other dumbasses he was forced to literally survive with.
Shane pointedly turned his back on Moro, Mason, Roy, and Kamewhatsit to make his way into the kitchen. Keith and Tara were located in the small area. He leaned against the wall with his arms crossed.
“Well, looks like I got beat up for no damn reason!” complained Shane angrily to the two.
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Post by Keith the Great on Mar 19, 2010 19:53:48 GMT -5
To start with, Keith didn’t exactly have the patience to stay on one topic for long. Furthermore, he preferred ignoring problems to solving them. Put the two together, a.k.a. one dead-girl still walking around, and the poor southerner’s mind just took off running.
By the time he’d reached the kitchen, he’d forgotten that anything had even happened. Roy had gotten a pretty good kitchen setup in his cabin, leading Keith to wonder how much of it was still good. Thankfully, the door had been locked, so hopefully that had prevented theft.
A quick peek in the fridge was all it took to boost Keith’s mood back up to ‘cheerful’. Apparently, Roy’s little hideaway had been too far out to get hit by panic. The fridge was still fully stocked. Granted, the milk wasn’t smelling so good by now, but most everything else looked okay.
He’d only just begun checking expiration dates when Tara walked in, inquiring about the very thing he was searching for. “Well, I guess it depends on what ya call ‘edible’,” he replied, pulling out a case of eggs and checking the stamped date. “Just a week over. Good by me.” Absently, he flipped the top open and counted how many eggs were left. “Enough ta egg someone’s car an’ still eat a good breakfast.” He gave her a thumbs-up, as though this were the cure for zombie-ism itself.
Shortly following, a third person joined the kitchen party: Shane nearly stomped his way over and took a spot on the wall to pout. Keith listened a moment, frowning as he felt his mind drifting back towards a problem area. Staring blankly at the carton in his hands, the hobo decided to just solve this problem as he would any: ignore it.
“Catch!” he chirped, gently tossing an egg over to his friend. Without bothering to give an explanation, he simply went right back to investigating the fridge. Most of the contents were meat, though. (Not that he was complaining.) “Hey, Tarrie? Check the cab’nets for me, would ya? If we find some bread we can make some damn good sandwiches.”
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