Post by Deleted on Oct 20, 2016 0:29:51 GMT -5
========== Present ============
Blood. The sickening smell of blood swam around Ali's nostrils for a moment as she struggled to catch her breath. Not just any blood, the rotten blood that filled these dam denture demons like fucking pinatas. Ready to burst open and share all it's sweet delights with the world. Ali fought the urge to vomit, fought the urge to cry, hell she fought the urge to curl into a tiny ball and never get up again. Her long, now blonde hair hung in her face as she leaned over resting her hands on her knees. She could smell nothing but nasty blood and gunpower in the air. Her ears still ringing from the echo of the gunshots calling out on the suburban streets. Her hatred for the walkers wasn't something she shyed away from or even tried to hide. She went out of her way to kill these things because the hatred for them ran deep. Ali never talked about why she hated them so much, not even to her husband Henry........ Oh Henry, Ali thought. Where the hell are you? Will i ever see you again?
======== Escaping Mother's grasp ...... 2 days ago......=============
Ali couldn't help but wonder if her husband was even alive. One minute she was coming down from her tower, the next she was waking up in the back of a van headed cross country. That quick her entire world was ripped away from her and she was stuck in a perpetual state of unease and constant alarm. She managed to escape the crazy old witch who tried to hold her against her will though it was completely on accident. Mother and her children were driving through Michigan on their way east when a speed bump caused the back doors of the van to fly open. Some reckless nitwit didn't latch them properly and Ali saw her chance to jump, but another speed bump caused her to fall out of the van instead. Ali's hands were bound behind her back and her mouth was gagged with a bandanna. The van stopped. Ali was sure they were just going to toss her back in the van; probably knock her around for her trouble, but instead the van took off. Ali didn't understand at first until she saw the walkers headed her way. Rather than deal with the dead they opted to leave her on the side of the road to get eaten. She struggled to her feet, which wasn't easy with her hands tied behind her back with a length of rope. She managed to make it to her feet and ran, she ran until she couldn't breathe and her legs screamed in protest. Eventually she cut the rope by rubbing it against a sharpe piece of metal hanging off of what used to be the front end of a now wrecked car. With her hands free she looked for a weapon. Ali didn't have particularly strong beliefes in god or an afterlife or even a highpower, but she felt as if someone was looking out for her lately. She escaped her captures, managed to survive without getting bit and now she found a gun. It was in the hands of a dead teenage girl. Ali stopped and kneeled down in front of the body. Taking a moment to acknowledge how sad it was this girl died so young as she reached out and took the gun from her lifeless hand. Checking the clip she saw that it was mostly full before sliding it back.
Ali: I'm sorry.
It was all she said as she made her way through the mostly abandoned city. She was in Detroit. The Motor City, though now it mostly looked deserted. It was the streets formally occupied by Clayton and his gang she was walking through. Unaware that if she were to be walking through these streets only a short time ago...... These abandoned streets would have been teaming with assholes ready to grab her, randsome her, rape her or do whatever else their sick perverse minds could have came up with. But now after tangling with the scouts the streets were baron and empty. Just some trash floating down the street as Ali walked along, careful around every corner. Though the place was deserted not even a walker in sight. Most of Clayton's crew who died here had wandered off by this point, or were still trapt in the buildings they died in. Ali kept walking unware that soon she would come to find survivors......
============ Present ==============
Ali expelled her empty clip on the groud and tucked the gun in the back of her pants. The gun was empty and she had nothing left to load it with. She was wearing a pair of grey jeans ripped at both knees and a black tanktop. Her face was smudged with dirt and adorn with cuts and brusies from the last few days roughing it in the streets. She was tired and hungry, and dehydrated as she struggled to catch her breath. She spent her last bit of energy fighting the walkers. She looked down at the pile of corpses and spit on them. She really hated those things and though she was dehydrated she was taking the last bit of moisture in her mouth and using it to spit on the dead. Defiant to her last breathe, but then again she wouldn't be who she was if she didn't do things her own way, which was usually the hard way. Her husband herny used to have an expression he liked to use. He would say "woman you're about as friendly as a pack of hornets when your mad" another one of his famous "henryisms" was "you're about as stubborn as mule" That one rang true the most. Ali could have easily avoided these undead freaks but chose to spend her last bit of energy fighting them, and when her aim wasn't as good as it could have been because she could barely hold up her gun; they got close. And she had to spend more energy shoving them back and keeping their teeth away from her slender neck. Now doubled over and out of breath Ali collapsed in the street. The shots had rang out would certainly get someones attention undead or otherwise. Ali slumped against a wall and barely had it in her to hold her head up, but as she did se thought she saw movement on a long bridge that connected to Bell Isle; which she was right in front of. Had she ignored the walkers she would have stumbled upon the little community, but instead she collapsed outside the gate mere feet from safty; unknowing that such a thing even exists anymore in this world.
Blood. The sickening smell of blood swam around Ali's nostrils for a moment as she struggled to catch her breath. Not just any blood, the rotten blood that filled these dam denture demons like fucking pinatas. Ready to burst open and share all it's sweet delights with the world. Ali fought the urge to vomit, fought the urge to cry, hell she fought the urge to curl into a tiny ball and never get up again. Her long, now blonde hair hung in her face as she leaned over resting her hands on her knees. She could smell nothing but nasty blood and gunpower in the air. Her ears still ringing from the echo of the gunshots calling out on the suburban streets. Her hatred for the walkers wasn't something she shyed away from or even tried to hide. She went out of her way to kill these things because the hatred for them ran deep. Ali never talked about why she hated them so much, not even to her husband Henry........ Oh Henry, Ali thought. Where the hell are you? Will i ever see you again?
======== Escaping Mother's grasp ...... 2 days ago......=============
Ali couldn't help but wonder if her husband was even alive. One minute she was coming down from her tower, the next she was waking up in the back of a van headed cross country. That quick her entire world was ripped away from her and she was stuck in a perpetual state of unease and constant alarm. She managed to escape the crazy old witch who tried to hold her against her will though it was completely on accident. Mother and her children were driving through Michigan on their way east when a speed bump caused the back doors of the van to fly open. Some reckless nitwit didn't latch them properly and Ali saw her chance to jump, but another speed bump caused her to fall out of the van instead. Ali's hands were bound behind her back and her mouth was gagged with a bandanna. The van stopped. Ali was sure they were just going to toss her back in the van; probably knock her around for her trouble, but instead the van took off. Ali didn't understand at first until she saw the walkers headed her way. Rather than deal with the dead they opted to leave her on the side of the road to get eaten. She struggled to her feet, which wasn't easy with her hands tied behind her back with a length of rope. She managed to make it to her feet and ran, she ran until she couldn't breathe and her legs screamed in protest. Eventually she cut the rope by rubbing it against a sharpe piece of metal hanging off of what used to be the front end of a now wrecked car. With her hands free she looked for a weapon. Ali didn't have particularly strong beliefes in god or an afterlife or even a highpower, but she felt as if someone was looking out for her lately. She escaped her captures, managed to survive without getting bit and now she found a gun. It was in the hands of a dead teenage girl. Ali stopped and kneeled down in front of the body. Taking a moment to acknowledge how sad it was this girl died so young as she reached out and took the gun from her lifeless hand. Checking the clip she saw that it was mostly full before sliding it back.
Ali: I'm sorry.
It was all she said as she made her way through the mostly abandoned city. She was in Detroit. The Motor City, though now it mostly looked deserted. It was the streets formally occupied by Clayton and his gang she was walking through. Unaware that if she were to be walking through these streets only a short time ago...... These abandoned streets would have been teaming with assholes ready to grab her, randsome her, rape her or do whatever else their sick perverse minds could have came up with. But now after tangling with the scouts the streets were baron and empty. Just some trash floating down the street as Ali walked along, careful around every corner. Though the place was deserted not even a walker in sight. Most of Clayton's crew who died here had wandered off by this point, or were still trapt in the buildings they died in. Ali kept walking unware that soon she would come to find survivors......
============ Present ==============
Ali expelled her empty clip on the groud and tucked the gun in the back of her pants. The gun was empty and she had nothing left to load it with. She was wearing a pair of grey jeans ripped at both knees and a black tanktop. Her face was smudged with dirt and adorn with cuts and brusies from the last few days roughing it in the streets. She was tired and hungry, and dehydrated as she struggled to catch her breath. She spent her last bit of energy fighting the walkers. She looked down at the pile of corpses and spit on them. She really hated those things and though she was dehydrated she was taking the last bit of moisture in her mouth and using it to spit on the dead. Defiant to her last breathe, but then again she wouldn't be who she was if she didn't do things her own way, which was usually the hard way. Her husband herny used to have an expression he liked to use. He would say "woman you're about as friendly as a pack of hornets when your mad" another one of his famous "henryisms" was "you're about as stubborn as mule" That one rang true the most. Ali could have easily avoided these undead freaks but chose to spend her last bit of energy fighting them, and when her aim wasn't as good as it could have been because she could barely hold up her gun; they got close. And she had to spend more energy shoving them back and keeping their teeth away from her slender neck. Now doubled over and out of breath Ali collapsed in the street. The shots had rang out would certainly get someones attention undead or otherwise. Ali slumped against a wall and barely had it in her to hold her head up, but as she did se thought she saw movement on a long bridge that connected to Bell Isle; which she was right in front of. Had she ignored the walkers she would have stumbled upon the little community, but instead she collapsed outside the gate mere feet from safty; unknowing that such a thing even exists anymore in this world.