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Post by vampirechicken on Jan 13, 2013 12:15:23 GMT -5
Henry lowered his shovel slightly as she declared herself not a threat, he remained suspicious at first though. A voice behind him and a tugging on his shirt encouraged him to look closer though. Injured? She was injured... Henry hadn't noticed that the blood on the woman's leg was her own and not the wolfs.
Henry eventually dropped the shovel at his side but still kept hold of the end, more out of habit than anything else. He nodded at her but gave her a warning glance before turning his stare away. "I'm Henry... and this is Pru..." he said quietly, lowering his voice once again in case the looters friends were close behind him. He was busy searching the pockets and bag of the dead man, pulling out a cigerette lighter and two cans of fruit. "We need to leave here." he made a gesture with his head so that the woman would notice the dead bodies hanging up at the store front. "There'll be more coming.... I can patch up your leg but not here. We'll go to the park." He stood up and straightened his bag on his shoulder.
"Where were you and your family headed Pru?" he asked, realising that she had never explained. He headed for the front window and climbed out, checking to see if his companions would follow.
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Post by alexharvey on Jan 13, 2013 12:34:19 GMT -5
"To Dalton", Pru explained while climbing out of the window, one eye still on the woman just in case. "I have cousins there, we haven't heard from them in a week and Gwangi was already evacuated. It was only us." She wasn't going to let herself be overwhelmed again by feelings so she focused on her older cousins. They would take care of her, she was sure, she only had to find them. "Then we were going to travel southeast. My Mom...used to have friends there who would have taken us in."
She tagged after Henry, staying close to him while adjusting her backpack and throwing looks over her shoulder towards Aira, still suspicious. Unsure what to do she fastened her steps to catch up to Henry. "So are we going to Dalton? How do we get there it's a three hour drive, I don't know how long walking will take, though."
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Post by spiritandsand on Jan 13, 2013 12:49:20 GMT -5
Aira squinted - she could also be suspicious if that's what he wanted. At least he gave her their names, that was a good sign.
When Henry mentioned the park she had a knowing look drawn on her face - she'd seen the park from the roof, no problem finding it, as long as they didn't ran into anything. The dead couple made her understand the real situation. Strange that a man just protected a random girl. But she'd been trying to do the same, so she was just as weird.
She decided not to stay close to the others, they didn't seem very fond of her, and that she had to respect. Instead she just focused on moving on being scout while the others talked - constantly hiding behind things, crawling over this and that obstacle, looking to the sides, moving forward again, and back to hiding. She occationally sent the others glares making sure they were there, and making sure they wouldn't assault her from behind.
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Post by vampirechicken on Jan 13, 2013 23:45:18 GMT -5
((This is a great show, and relevant www.youtube.com/watch?v=VBNLl7T3EIw part 2 is about how the animals would cope with the apocolypse. and then how the vegetation takes over ^^)) "Dalton?" Henry said as vaguely as he could. He gritted his teeth, he had just come from Dalton, the place was overrun with Looters. A massive raid had in one swoop, taken out one of the only 'safe' colonies on this side of the country. "You haven't heard from them in a week?" he asked. "And you were contacting them, you have a radio?" He knew Dalton had a radio tower kept running by a generator. If Pru had a radio that was good news, they could contact other colonies even with Dalton no longer an option. He wondered what she meant about Gwangi being evacuated though. Gwangi had been emptied right before the catastrophe 3 years ago, hence the lack of infected roaming the streets. This town hadn't been inhabited in a long while. Henry decided that now wasn't the time to tell her of her Dalton cousins' fate, she was dealing with her parents murder remarkably well already. For all he knew she might still be in shock. She seemed to be holding onto her plan like a glimmer of hope and he wasn't looking forward to ruining that. The park was desolate, rusted childrens' play equipment was entangled amongst overgrown trees and shrubs. Looters had little interest in this place but it was hardly safe from bears and wolves. Henry had spent the previous night perched on one of the creaky metal platforms and this is where he led the two girls now. "Up here ladies." he said, a hint of his old humor buried in his tired voice. He tossed his shovel up there, jumped and swung up to the shelter, then held down a hand to Pru, hoisting her up onto the platform quickly. He leaned down and offered the same help to the mysterious woman, not bothered whether she accepted his hand or not. He seemed more relaxed now that they were out of the looters den, although he was disturbed very much by the little girls situation. "What's your name?" He asked the woman when they were all kneeling up on the platform, he was anxious to change the subject for the moment. He pulled his bag off his shoulders, and took out a roll of bandages.
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Post by alexharvey on Jan 14, 2013 5:47:48 GMT -5
Pru stayed close to Henry, following him to the abandoned park. She frowned at Henrys question. "Yeah but sometimes they had to store batteries, it happens so we didn't think much of it."
She let herself be heaved up on the small platform, surveying the place from there. It had been three years before she last had been here. She had practically lived in this park when they had moved to Gwangi. It all changed when three years ago most inhabitants left and she was the only child remaining. Even Nick had left at some point. She realized she hadn't played at all since then. Always busy with something.
She scooped over to make space for the red headed woman, opening her backpack to get her first aid bag out. She slowly started to unwrap some stuff, unsure though how to apply it. She had a fair idea about first aid, but she couldn't tell what was actually injury, what was others blood, and how on earth did you stitch a gash like that.
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Post by spiritandsand on Jan 14, 2013 7:28:46 GMT -5
Aira was a bit surprised that Henry lend her a hand for help. She was still confused about why they wanted to help her with the wound if they so obviously didn't trust her. She gently took the hand as if she was afraid of that it would break, and she barely put any weight in it or used it as support to ge up.
She was sitting scratching some of the dried blood off her belly while she looked in her bag for needle and thread when Henry asked for her name. She looked sad at him for a while without saying anything, because she could not remember it. Then it came to her like a sun peeking from behind the clouds. "Aira", she said determined and slightly happy that it hadn't been 100% gone. Her face beamed for the first time in many years.
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Post by vampirechicken on Jan 14, 2013 7:51:23 GMT -5
“You're from Europe?” Henry said, noting Airas accent and feeling a little sympathy wash away his suspicion. Henry himself had only traveled to America on a business trip, timing at it's worst. He had accepted that he could never return to Australia, to his wife. He took a little comfort imagining that things were better there, that she was safe, but he could never know that this was true and it seemed absurd. He'd already spent to long looking for a way out of the country.
Henry watched Pru open her bag curiously, she had alot more first aid equipment than he did. He placed the bandages on the platform in front of Aira and took a closer look at her leg. "I think this needs stitches." he sighed, wondering if he had any whiskey left in his bag, he had happened upon a bottle hidden in the boot of a burned out car last week. "Here we go," he said sounding slightly relieved and pulling the bottle of amber liquid from his bag. "Are you planning on doing that yourself?" he asked, watching her produce a needle and thread curiously.
Henry was in a better mood than he had been in months despite the weight of the situation. He was finally with people again, talking thinking humans, Henry was not made for being alone. That must have been why he chose to take in the girl in the first place... and why he was helping Aira. He wanted desperately to trust her. She was very pretty, he noted watching her expression light up after she spoke her name. No-one so lovely could be a looter.
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Post by alexharvey on Jan 14, 2013 11:32:42 GMT -5
The Ginger handed her tools to Henry, then sat back, pulling her knees against her chest and watching the friendly exchange between the two. She carefully pulled the rifle from her back, starting to inspect it. There were names written on the handles bottom with thick felt pen, one in straight and very orderly, slightly unsure letters. The other was in thick, smooth and round lines. She smiled slightly at the memory. The rifle had been her Neighbor's, it was the rifle with which he had occasionally taught her to shoot, and one day she had just written her name under his. He had been slightly upset at first but then he accepted it and let her use it whenever she came over for training.
Angrily she checked the cartridges, the switches and the gaps that easily caught dirt, then collected some ammunition from her bag, stuffing a few into her Jean's pockets. She knew exactly how to use the thing but she had been so ridiculously helpless in the store, it drove her mad. Securing the rifle she pulled it to her chest and waited for something to do.
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Post by spiritandsand on Jan 14, 2013 12:28:54 GMT -5
"Yes", Aira said calmly while removing dirt from the wound which had got stuck on their way to the park. She twitched slightly when Henry examined her wound, and her eyes got filled with tears - not only because it hurt.
She nodded again at Henry's second question, took the bottle she was handed and poured some of its content down on her leg. It felt terrible. Then she cleaned the skin around the wound with a humid piece of cloth that had been sealed within plastic - she had two left of those now. While doing all this she spoke with a low voice: "I'm from Denmark. We were on vacation...... Somewhere, before the upheaval began. And then they all died. And I survived for some reason", it sounded like she yearned to talk to someone, but restrained herself because the subject was very unpleasant.
As to emphasize that she was done talking Aira put a small piece of polished wood between her teeth and started to stitch herself together. With great effort she kept quiet, and even managed to send Pru a tormented smile to assure her that it was okay. She worked with dexterity, but the pain seemed to slightly reduce her skills. Still she stubbornly kept piercing her skin while occationally looking up at the others, not able to grasp that they were actually there.
At the time when she was done the piece of wood would have visible markings printed on its surface.
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Post by vampirechicken on Jan 14, 2013 15:12:05 GMT -5
Henry leaned back and listened for a moment, he could see that the subject was upsetting her and he felt like he should shut up while she was doing surgery on herself. "Are you sure.... I mean..." Henry started to say, wincing every time she stabbed herself with the needle. He stopped, seeing the determination on her face. "Well alright." he said and waited for her to finish, eyes on the grooved metal under them.
"Where are you headed?" he asked Aira when she was done, handing her the bottle of whiskey again pointedy, he would have drunk it all to dull the pain if he was in her situation. She was tough. "Pru and I are headed southeast." he looked at his young companion to confirm, he didn't mention that they would be passing around Dalton entirely.
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Post by alexharvey on Jan 14, 2013 15:42:51 GMT -5
Pru's head snapped up when her name was uttered. She nodded. "There is a colony there", she bubbled out, "My cousins live there, they all live together in this big house they inherited from one of my uncles. Some of them are also part of the Militia. They are really strong and nice and I promise they'll have a few free beds, They always have."
She started grinning over the Memories, "I used to visit them really often, they also have this garden. As soon as we get there we will be safe and have some hot meals."
She kept blabbering with the rifle on her lap, completely lost in the Memories of happier days and the wish for it to return to that. She was still certain that as soon as they reached Dalton her cousins would take care of her and maybe Henry and Aira could live there too.
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Post by spiritandsand on Jan 14, 2013 16:13:33 GMT -5
Aira looked interrogative at Henry while wrapping bandage around her stitched wound, but got interrupted by Pru before she could say anything. Listening to the little girl made a tiny spark of happiness light up inside her. It sounded so lovely in Dalton, it almost felt like they were already there.
She declined Henry's offer with grateful smile; she appreciated the thought, but would rather stay focused and endure the pain than drug herself and loose her awareness.
"I'm not heading anywhere", Aira admitted a bit embarrased, but still with that spark inside her, "I've nowhere to go. Could I.. Come with you? I promise I will not slow you down. I can hunt and make weapons and I.. I can be your scout looking out for danger", suddenly she was terrified about that they would leave her, so she desperately tried to prove herself worthy as companion. While she spoke she clung to the strap on her bag as if it contained her life.
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Post by vampirechicken on Jan 14, 2013 16:34:11 GMT -5
Henry looked incredibly uncomfortable for the time that Pru spoke, but he cleared his throat and tried to act innocent when the attention was turned back on him. Maybe he had only imagined the destruction and carnage at Dalton, maybe it was just as Pru described it. Happiness and safety, community and hot meals. He thought of his wife in such a place for a moment, but he couldn't picture her face anymore, only the mutilated corpses, the looters he had killed, the infected with their scales... and Airas face as she looked at him pleadingly.
"Of course you can." Henry heard himself say, his voice oddly strained. He took his bag and shovel and jumped down from his perch on the platform. "We should head off, it's only midday." he squinted up at the sun waiting for the two girls to follow him.
They crossed the park, startling a grazing white tailed deer and sending it fleeing across the road. Henry stopped in front of patch of reeds taller than himself and stepped in, glancing around first to check for danger. Following him would reveal that hidden inside was a rusted white ute with a smashed windshield, two seats and exposed wiring under the steering wheel, it looked like all the other burned out cars on the street but apparently this one worked. Henry pulled open the door and jumped in the drivers seat. "We should stop at the old supermarket, we need supplies." he added, leaning over to unlock the passenger side door. There was only room for 3 in here if they squeezed in, or if one person jumped in the back.
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Post by alexharvey on Jan 14, 2013 16:54:30 GMT -5
Pru climbed into the car, crawling after Aira. When she shut the door and the older woman shuffled a bit, she grunted in displeasure and a comment about hips was on her lips but she swallowed it. She huffed, making herself as comfortable as she could on the worn seats and squeezed in as she was.
She kept her rifle close on her lap looking out of the windows while Henry started the car. She would keep an eye on the surroundings, shoot if necessary. She was determined to be of use, but in reality she fell asleep within half an hour, the stress taking it's toll on her. She slept peacefully along the rocking of the old vehicle, or so it seemed. In reality she was suffering from a nightmare. Mere Memories of her parents cruel fate but enough to shake her sleep thoroughly making her whine once or twice. Until suddenly she sat up straight, eyes wide a bit disoriented and her breath fast, heart beating against her chest, and it took a moment for her to regain her senses and realize where she was.
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Post by vladimir on Jan 14, 2013 17:47:13 GMT -5
Once upon a time, the supermarket had been stocked to the point of bursting at the seams. Bargain prices had brought what seemed like droves of people to the place, looking to escape home with what they perceived as provisional treasure, bulk purchases of typically unnecessary volume and unprecedented low prices. The couponing crowds were nothing compared to the swarms the apocalypse had drawn to the place, everything from canned peas to kitty litter having been dragged from the shelves from day one of the crisis. The panicked had been like flies on a carcass at that time, their carelessness was archived by way of shattered glass and overturned aisles which had lain in their fallen positions for such a long time that they had begun to sink into depressions in the rotting hard-wood floor, puzzle-perfect fits which locked in around them as time crawled past. The same building materials which had once distinguished the place had already begun to give way without maintenance, the wood crawling away slowly to reveal the cement below and the colorful posters once tacked to the front fading out from the wind and rain.
The decay suited him in a way. If Reinhardt had been an artistic man, or even a passionate one capable of recognizing the little jokes life cracks at the misfortunes of its attendants, he might have found it somewhat entertaining that he and the supermarket both suffered a sort of physical alienation. The supermarket, however, was luckier than the man. It had no mind to lose and no recognition of itself to bring it shame.
It seemed to him that every day the cracked, hyper-pigmented skin left behind by the infection spread a little, that the yellow of his left sclera became more intense. He knew this wasn't the case; it had been a long time since he'd felt the effects of active symptoms and what parts of him had been unaffected during the peak of his septicity looked likely to remain that way. Reinhardt was both grateful and spiteful of that detail; where his skin tone ended, so did the effects of the virus to some degree. The foulness of his blood still discolored the skin in those patches, but they were spared the cracks and the seeping bile. Even the eye on that side remained a paler shade of yellow, though it watered frequently and the irritated shade of pink that had always defined his lower eyelid had grown to an angry red. Unpleasant as that was to look upon, it was easier to deal with than the rest of his face. He had bound the rest of him up thoroughly, bandages from head to toe, down both arms and over his scalp. A heavy coat hid the excessive gauze, a ragged cowboy hat disguised the yellow-and-red stained binding over his head, and a bandana, found tucked into the back pocket of a swollen corpse in the back room, had been drawn over his face keep from sight his cracked lips and scaled nose.
There was no one for him to hide from, of course. Survivors were exceedingly rare, the few he'd seen drop by the supermarket in search for supplies (which while still present were hidden in the farthest corners of the gigantic grocery) had been easy to avoid. It was himself he covered for so as to feel at least a little human when he walked past a window or over a particularly clear puddle- of which there were many- and forgot to look away from his reflection. Like this, concealed under pounds of medical gauze and with a little sallow patch of smooth skin still showing, he found it was not so hard to persist. It was an easy thing to give up on life if he didn't take the proper precautions, and he knew that. The silence was ritual by now, as was the dark and the routine of scouting, barricading, sleeping.
It had been so long since the articulate living had come by this part of town that he was at a loss as to what to do when this routine broke for the first time in nearly sixteen days. The distant purr of a car engine was evidence of approaching survivors and as much as he hoped they'd drive on pass and recognize the super-mart for the husk it was, he knew somehow that they wouldn't. Realizing how close he was to the doorway, to the windows which were not quite dirty enough yet to be opaque, Reinhardt felt nails dig into the meat of his palms through the thin covering of the bandages and knew that he was shivering slightly. The fear of the random, of human beings and of being recognized for what he was, told what he was, was overwhelming- far worse than the threat of raiders or the infected. Seeing as it was a genuine effort to will his legs off the floor well enough to walk, Rey did the next best thing and stumbled to a nearby checkout desk, sinking down behind the cash register and pulling out his shotgun. Biting his lower lip and immediately regretting it as pus and blood seeped out from a seam in his hardened skin, Reinhardt ran his fingers along the engraving on the stock of the firearm. He couldn't read, no, but he knew the name that had been engraved into it well and even that simple thing was enough to calm his nerves just a little.
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