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"Actually I am a sergeant in the US Army, but I have a lot of family that live in Canada. I was on a long vacation after getting off a tour of Babylon ..errr... Iraq. I'll watch the cars, but I really need a bench grinder or a good sharpening stone."
Patrick points to the honkin' big sword on the van's floor.
"I think it wont do much against guns, but for a regular looter it might keep them off our backs."
"Mary Ann, this way!" Johnnie pushes her in the direction of the stairs.
He's chasing you, but thank God he doesn't run quickly. He seems terribly ill, runs jerky and a little slow - he snarls again like a dog. The smell you caught when you entered the building was strong near him.
Mary Ann is crying.
"Actually I am a sergeant in the US Army, but I have a lot of family that live in Canada. I was on a long vacation after getting off a tour of Babylon ..errr... Iraq. I'll watch the cars, but I really need a bench grinder or a good sharpening stone."Patrick points to the honkin' big sword on the van's floor.
"I think it wont do much against guns, but for a regular looter it might keep them off our backs."
Dave nods. "I think I saw a bench grinder in there. I can go and get it ... not sure about a sharpening stone, but I can have a look." he glances across the ally at the back door of the food store. "Sam should be alright, it still seems relatively calm in there."
As he heads back in to Ace he mutters good naturedly to himself (but so Patrick can hear), "Man, I thought the US Army issued guns ... not big MF swords..."
Patrick smiles at the retreating parkour practicioner.
"The sword ain't Army issue unless you want to consider the West Kingdom a military organization."
Patrick looks over at the wild-eyed Johnnie. Sensing his distress, he snatches up his sword.
"What's the matter, man? Are there looters or gangbangers about?"
Patrick's Iraq instincts cut in, and he scans the area for trouble.
Sam and Mike: just post where you've been. Coming back with armloads of canned goods and rice. In the hardware store or whatever. Enter the melee if you like.
Dave: You don't have the grinder yet. You're just inside the door.
Init:
Johnnie: 17
Sam: 14
Everyone else: 13
Zombie:8
The bloodied man runs toward you with his jerky, shuffling gait. You see his skin is pale, almost greyish, his eyes seem milky, and his face and hands are covered in blood. From his neck down it looks like an artery burst on him yet he himself has no wounds. His face is fixed in an animal snarl and his eyes focused on you.
You wait for him, you could have moved, but seeing a bloodied man snarl like a beast somehow stopped you. He approaches to within ten feet and you see the meat hanging out of his mouth.
The break in was exciting, but this, this: it pretty well empties your adrenaline reserves.
Sam and Mike: just post where you've been. Coming back with armloads of canned goods and rice. In the hardware store or whatever. Enter the melee if you like.
Dave: You don't have the grinder or whetstone yet. You're not far inside the door.
Init:
Johnnie: 17
Sam: 14
Everyone else: 13
Zombie:8
Sarge: 7 (Delayed until Zombie's move)
Dave is moving uncharacteristically slowly, having stopped just inside the doorway to scan the place for looters, then taken a few dawdling steps whilst checking his phone for messages, the crowbar held loosely by his side.
Suddenly he hears a commotion from outside – sounds like Johnnie shouting. Dave shoves the phone back in his pocket and turns, trying to see what’s going on outside the door.
Johnnie's standing outside, at the back of the van. Dave creeps over to the door, crowbar held ready, and out, trying to get a handle on the situation. "What's going on man?" he asks, before noticing the freak closing in on Sarge.
“Sh*t, does that guy have A.S.E.? Sarge! Get away from him, he’s infected! Sh*t, we should be wearing the proper masks…”
Dave runs for the Camero, gets in through the unlocked driver’s side door, leans over to unlock the passenger side, calling out for his closest friend to jump in, then attempts to restart the car.
Mike replies to Dave's query.
"Name's Alex. Alexander Supertramp."
As the Australian jimmies open the driver's side door of the Camaro, Mike clambers into the *unlocked* passenger's side. Nice.
Great. I'm stuck in a Camaro with the f+~%in' Road Warrior.
Mike feels the weight of the wrench in his hand, testing the serrated grip. It feels solid.
The car slows, then stops altogether.
Mike exits.
And there it is: the walking dead. It's the first time Mike's seen one of the 'victims' of this new plague, and for a split second, he wonders if it's still alive. Then he notices the viscous, black blood, the staring, unblinking eyes, the outstretched hands. All doubt vanishes. Recalling everything Brooks wrote in his book on undead, Mike raises his wrench, ready to give the zombie a real old horrorshow tolchocking.
Maybe this is a bad idea...
"Get off the f*ckin' roof d*ckhead," mutters Dave as he tries to start the car.
Dave pinches the wires he pulled earlier. The engine starts again.
Rumble.
Even with the zombie snarling everyone wonders how fast the car can go.