Post by Deleted on Apr 28, 2016 16:42:20 GMT -5
The winter had been cold. Very cold. A couple heavy blizzards that had left her rather unprepared for the frigid cold. She'd essentially boarded herself up into a house with a wood burning fireplace with a large stock of wood - who was alive that wanted their house to look pretty, anyway? - that she and the others that had been with her had built up.
And over the months, she'd lost them one by one. The only reason she didn't have the axe that they'd used was the last one that died had been carrying it.
She wanted to head West. She needed more supplies. All of hers had dwindled over the winter in attempt to regain the weight she had lost. That didn't say much for her endurance, but, she had to start somewhere, and she had gotten dangerously thin.
Now it was spring. Now she needed to go.
Not only did she need more supplies, though...but she honestly needed to head back to Boston. If not for supplies, then for the slim chance she might bump into Damien.
One way or another.
Either he was alive, alive and dying, or part of the throngs of undead.
Kyrie had no idea what had happened to practically any of her family. And she had despaired over the loss of her child, and no word of any of them - not even chancing upon Damien with her group - had sent her into a depression that had largely lead to the weightloss. She'd only been lucky that they had been scavenging and stockpiling.
As it was, the blonde was sick. The change in seasons and shifting weather had gotten to her and her immune system. Her entire body ached, but here she was, pedalling down the interstate, approaching Boston. She was so close to being there, despite her heaving stomach. The large plastic bottle of water was strapped to the back of her bike, aluminum bat propped in front of her handle bars. Everything else was tucked into her bag, along with what remained of a quick grab of beef jerky.
Not that she'd truly been able to touch that. Her stomach gave a violent heave, and she quickly stopped despite her body and mind's protest, and her stomach spilled its contents onto the cracked pavement. She had to catch her breath, working to keep whatever remained in her stomach (not much, judging by the lack of substance on the pavement) down. And she spat, moaning softly. She would have to go off, soon, or find a way to scout the edge of Boston, first...without running into any undead, before that.
Swallowing dryly after she spat again, she slowly straightened and pushed off again, trying not to expend too much energy to get up to a good pace. It felt like the journey nearly killed her, and she shivered despite her jacket and the clothes she had on. She'd braided her hair but some of the shorter strands had escaped some time ago.
'C'mon...time to get moving again. You have got this. Just a little further. Stock up...get a basket or two. Maybe find a vehicle...maybe see Damien...go back to Seattle...'
It became a mental mantra as her eyes scanned, and she eventually pulled to a stop to scope out what she could see. Not only undead, but...sometimes humans had turned so disingenuous that she just didn't feel comfortable among them, anymore. The group she had been part of had been...well. Mostly good.
They'd saved her life, after all.
Trying to control her teeth chattering, she pressed on, trying to coast on the silent bike as much as possible. Her body protested but she persisted, despite the cold sweat, despite the pain, and ill feeling suffusing her bones. She needed...to find some place that hadn't been ransacked. Some place she could walk in. Soon she slipped off the road, off her bike, and took to walking with the faster mode of transport.
Into the city she went...
...ears open, eyes up, vigilant despite the fever that was making her feel frigid.