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Looking around for a moment as he stood next to the hood of the Tundra, Bam - map folded out in front of him on the hood - tried to figure out where they were; back to the west, Los Angeles continued to burn, the fires from numerous locations sending sickening grayish-black clouds into the sky, turning the western horizon into what Bam thought was a post-modern version of some Hieronymus Bosch painting....minus the walkers, he thought, as everyone gathered around.
"Okay, everyone," Bam said, snapping his fingers to get their attention, "I figure we got two choices here. If Pontius and Company are correct, the 10's a straight shot east as far as Big Bear Lake and that area...on the other hand, we could get back on the 5 and head southeast, maybe head for the high desert. Either way, we can't say here much longer; those fires to the west don't seem to be stopping anytime soon.....so I want a no-bullshit answer here: the 10 or the 5, which way do you want to go?"
Last Edit: Oct 21, 2017 23:25:33 GMT -5 by Brandon Cole
Post by Haley Cameron on Oct 23, 2017 10:28:18 GMT -5
Haley was still rather shaken up following the earthquake. She hadn't really been herself for the whole time since then. Even in the skirmishes against the undead when the group somehow managed to get through the heavily infested Los Angeles downtown, she seemed cold and almost distant. Going through the motions almost as though she was simply doing everything on "autopilot" so to speak.
She just silently looked out over the fields of fire off to the west, still wearing her tactical vest, red bandanna, and aviator shades along with her normal drab coloured clothing underneath just staring off into the middle distance, watching as the fires tore through whatever was left of California after the quake had ripped it up with a cigarette hanging on her lips and FAMAS on her back, hanging off its sling, the scenes of devastation reflecting off her sunglasses as the dry California dust whirled all around. A skilled photographer could have probably made some sort of movie poster out of this little scene back when people of the old world used to make up stories about the end of the world. Such things seemed so much more appealing, exciting, and full of "fun" adventure when you weren't actually caught up in the thick of it trying desperately to just survive to the next sunrise as the feeling of hopelessness just grinds away at you once more.
Bam's clicking snapped her to attention. A sense of duty, a sense of belonging, those were one of the few things keeping the girl going at this point as she walked over looking down at the map before glancing back up at the former TV star. "Ten. Lake might have walkers..." she gestured to the map and the pockets of population "...but deserts are bad news. We get stuck out there, we run out of water, we're dead. North side has less people, only has a boat thing there."
Post by Brandon Cole on Oct 26, 2017 0:59:12 GMT -5
Bam's clicking snapped her to attention. A sense of duty, a sense of belonging, those were one of the few things keeping the girl going at this point as she walked over looking down at the map before glancing back up at the former TV star. "Ten. Lake might have walkers..." she gestured to the map and the pockets of population "...but deserts are bad news. We get stuck out there, we run out of water, we're dead. North side has less people, only has a boat thing there."
Looking at the map, Dave stood back, arms crossed over his chest and thought about the two options. "Ten, we take the 10 freeway," pausing as he walked back over and traced the respective routes with his finger. "Problem with the 5 freeway is that it takes you through some very populated areas outside of Los Angeles - Commerce, Norwalk, La Mirada, Santa Fe Springs, Orange, Santa Ana, Tustin....on the other hand, the 10 - once you get out of Los Angeles - takes you through areas not as populated: El Monte, West Covina, Pomona, Ontario, Rancho Cucamonga, San Bernardino. Once you get past there, you can either stay on the 10 and head towards Phoenix or turn onto the 15 and go to Barstow, then take the 40 east to Flagstaff." After a few moments, he said, "Its' your call, Bam."
For what seemed like forever, Bam thought about the decision, weighing each route and the possibilities..."We'll take the 10; Pontius, find me the fastest route from where we're at now out to San Bernardino. But first," looking at the long line of vehicles, "let's check these vehicles over, get them topped off....I don't want us running out of fuel, okay?"
After a moment Bam added, "Let's be about it, people."
Post by Kelsey McNeal on Oct 26, 2017 13:12:00 GMT -5
As their small convoy headed north away from the wrecked and destroyed ruins that had previously been 77th Street Division, Kelsey took stock of the situation as she sat in the back of one of their open-bed trucks, Jenna lying over her lap and resting comfortably....brushing a few stray red hairs away from her, Kelsey would look outward, back towards the smoke and fires rising in South L.A. and then back down towards Jenna, the occasional tear falling from her eyes and falling onto Jenna's face. Her tears, though, weren't just for Jenna but for everyone they'd lost back at 77th and though she knew she didn't have time to dwell on everything they'd lost, she also knew she'd have to dwell on it at some point.
"Kelsey, we're on the 10 freeway now," came the radio call from Alex, who was leading the convoy; picking up the radio, she replied, "Copy, Angel; let's head east and get the hell out of Dodge, okay?" setting the radio down next to her. Cradling Jenna in her arms, she whispered, "We're going to be safe, babe, we're going to be safe...."
Post by Jenna Jones on Oct 27, 2017 6:29:19 GMT -5
Laying there in the back of the bed while someone else was driving the jeep that Jenna had found days before hand. She was asleep in the lap of her love as they were moving along. Her head was pounding, has been since that locker had decided it was going to bop her in the side of her head. Jenna's one ear twitched a bit when the sound of a radio cracking a bit with static and then a message to Kelsey came through. Kelsey then responded and Jenna slowly opened her eyes to see the smoke and fires off in the distance, where a lot of structures were on fire. Places like 77th Station, a place that she was starting to call home. After being cradled and whispered that they were going to be fine, Jenna replied in a whisper. "I know hun...I know. God....my head....shesh...feels like I was kicked by a mule in the head." Sitting up now in the bed of the truck, her eyes drifted around to what was around them. Feeling herself around, she felt her knives and her revolver. But her rifle, her trusted Enfield Assault Rifle and the shotgun that saved her life were now gone. They were still in the station when they were getting the hell out of the place. But she did notice her lucky bag. Smiling, she looked at Kelsey. "I see you brought my lucky bag while I was out like a light...thanks babe."
Reaching for it, she slid it over to them and opened it up. Jenna reached into it and pulled out two bottles of water and her box of .38 special rounds. Handing one of the bottles to Kelsey, she kept her own bottle in between her legs as she pulled out her snub nose revolver and empty out all the empty casings inside of the cylinder. The empty casings hit the floor of the bed with the little tinking sounds and Jenna started to reload all six holes of the .38 Special's cylinder. Once it was loaded, she spun the cylinder and flicked her wrist to cause the cylinder to slap back inside and was locked into place. Holstering the firearm into her holster, she relaxed up against Kelsey as they continued on with their journey to the depths of the unknown. Thinking for a bit, she then rolled her head towards the radio and reached for it. She wanted to see if anyone from her previous group was still alive or if they were dead. Picking it up, she brought it to herself and began to change the frequency, remembering where Kelsey had it before and also remembering the Frequencies that Tamara's group used. Bringing up the radio to her mouth, she would push in the button, not knowing that she would get a response from the Clown Circus themselves.
"Anyone from the Hive still around, come back over. This is Jenna Jones of Tamara's 1st Scout Squad reaching out to anyone that is still around...over." Letting go of the button, she let the radio in hand rest on her lap as she waited for a response. Knowing that Kelsey would be wondering what she was doing, Jenna would say to her. "I'm reaching out to my old group...to see if they all are alright or if they didn't make it from the Earthquake of Doom....curse you Skeletor!" She said in a mocking expression as she waved a fist in the air, which wasn't a good idea because her headache decided to make itself known to her as it throbbed heavily in her brain and caused Jenna to wince a bit. "Ouch...shouldn't have done that..."
Last Edit: Oct 27, 2017 6:30:10 GMT -5 by Jenna Jones
Post by Haley Cameron on Oct 30, 2017 16:52:50 GMT -5
Haley looked over the big ol' trail of abandoned vehicles that absolutely littered the road, evacuated in the initial panic. She had no idea how to check if they had fuel, or for that matter siphon it. However, what she did know was that cars weren't a bad place to scavenge for things one needs to survive out here. People leaving in a panic might have stocked up well, but, if they were forced to go on foot? Good luck carrying all that stuff. It had been a while since the start of the apocalypse though, and of course, Haley wasn't the only one to have thought of this. Nonetheless, it was still usually worth a look provided that someone hadn't locked a walker in there of course.
The girl went from car to car, pistol in hand. Some of these vehicles did look rather nice, Haley was wishing she knew how to drive at this point as she rooted through the vast variety of vehicles just left to bake in the hot sun. Trucks, hatchbacks, SUVs, compacts and even the more exotic such as muscle cars, executive saloons and sports cars just strewn about across and beside the cracked road.
Rooting through car by car didn't lead to much. A few things here and there, mementos of a lost world, not good for anything now and just dead weight. Something though, soon caught her attention. An engine, unlike the others not laid dormant but heading their way. She peeked out from the side of a white van to take a look.
They weren't alone out here. Scavengers, bandits, fellow survivors, out here there were few friends and many enemies even if you did not count the dead amongst them. She jogged up to Bam, FAMAS in hand, but lowered and safety on as she looked up to him. "There's a truck headed right at us." She pointed over to the vehicle, the tyres kicking up quite the dust cloud as it travelled down the dry, ill maintained California highway. "Could be bad guys. Let's get ready for 'em."
Post by Brandon Cole on Oct 30, 2017 19:15:45 GMT -5
Going through vehicles along the freeway, Bam searched each one, making sure there were no nasty surprises in them before opening them up; although he didn't find much, it simply amazed him that people had tried to escape trying to carry every useless piece of junk that they could take with him....heck, he thought, looking over at an abandoned Dodge Ram Superduty that had a baby grand piano perched inside of it, someone tried to carry some piano with them....what the fuck were they going to--
She jogged up to Bam, FAMAS in hand, but lowered and safety on as she looked up to him. "There's a truck headed right at us." She pointed over to the vehicle, the tyres kicking up quite the dust cloud as it travelled down the dry, ill maintained California highway. "Could be bad guys. Let's get ready for 'em."
Lifting his binoculars up in the air, Bam could see what looked a good-sized red truck - a firetruck perhaps? he thought - barreling towards them; lowering his binoculars, Bam quickly made up his mind. "Could be...could also be survivors as well," whistling Knoxville over to where both he and Haley were at. "Johnny, toss out a smoke grenade, see if our mystery guests stop."
"And if they don't, boss?" he asked; without missing a beat, Bam replied, "Light 'em up if they don't." As everyone scrambled to get ready, he looked over at Haley and said quietly, "I'm gambling they're not hostiles; we haven't seen any, but I could be wrong...I'm also not going to shoot anyone unless they're a direct threat," unaware that someone from his Scouts was headed towards them that very moment....
--Born to push you around You better just stay down You pull away He hits the flesh You hit the ground Mouths so full of lies Tend to black your eyes Just keep them closed Keep praying Just keep waiting
Waiting for the one The day that never comes When you stand up and feel the warmth but the sunshine never comes No the sunshine never comes.... - The Day That Never Comes, Metallica
Last Edit: Oct 30, 2017 19:21:02 GMT -5 by Brandon Cole
Post by Alexandra Stapleton on Oct 30, 2017 19:44:36 GMT -5
As they headed down the 10 freeway, Alex kept glancing back towards the back of her cherry-red firetruck to check on Kelsey and Jenna; a thumbs-up from Kelsey every so often gave Alex solace, letting her know Jenna - and by extension the two dozen or so survivors from 77th and Hollywood Park - were still alive and kicking. They'd had a run-in with a group of bandits to the east but they'd simply steamrolled over them, driving by at full song and firing outward like a ticked-off porcupine...now, with a decent stretch of the then in front of them, all Alex was concerned with, as the lead convoy driver, was finding an exit so that they would duck back under the freeway and get back on the eastbound lanes so that they could get out of dodge.
Suddenly, in front of her, what looked like a large plume of purple smoke, followed by a second equally large plume of purple smoke, erupted up in front of the convoy; grabbing the center-dash radio, she called out to the convoy, "We got smoke up ahead; I'm slowing down. Everyone, slow down now," throwing the radio aside and sliding the center-back window open on the truck. "Hang on, everyone, " she said to Kelsey, Alex (and Piers, who was watching over them in the back, shotgun in hand) before turning back towards the front and firmly but not slamming the brake pedal down so that she could slow the truck down; she knew from her time in the service that smoke was often used in open country to denote roadblocks and that your chances of living fell precipitously if you failed to stop at the smoke.....after a long but controlled slowdown, the firetruck came to a stop within the smoke; as she sat in the front seat, Alex held tightly to the steering wheel, hoping there weren't any itchy trigger fingers on the other side of the smoke....
Post by Jenna Jones on Oct 31, 2017 7:18:23 GMT -5
Sitting and trying to relax in the back of the open bed of the truck that they were riding in and they were in the back of the convoy. She hadn't heard a response from her call out and had changed the frequency again feeling a little disappointed since she was hoping on hearing some word from her former group. Frowning a bit, she was starting to think that she might be the only person left from New York until she heard the static from the Radio and then Alex, the woman driving the firetruck had radioed to everyone. "We got smoke up ahead; I'm slowing down. Everyone, slow down now," throwing the radio aside and sliding the center-back window open on the truck. "Hang on, everyone, " she said to Kelsey, Alex (and Piers, who was watching over them in the back, shotgun in hand) before turning back towards the front and firmly but not slamming the brake pedal down so that she could slow the truck down; she knew from her time in the service that smoke was often used in open country to denote roadblocks and that your chances of living fell precipitously if you failed to stop at the smoke.....after a long but controlled slowdown, the firetruck came to a stop within the smoke; as she sat in the front seat, Alex held tightly to the steering wheel, hoping there weren't any itchy trigger fingers on the other side of the smoke.
Jenna slowly pushed herself up as the convoy was slowing down to a stop and were finally at a stop by the time she placed a hand on the roof of the truck and looked towards the front. Her eyes saw the purple cloud of smoke. Earlier, Kelsey had given her something for the pain that was rockin n a Rollin in her head. "I know only one group that uses purple smoke for signals..." She said lightly as she reached for her lucky bag and slid it over her shoulder. Reaching inside, she pulled out a purple smoke grenade, pulled the pin and threw it with all her might. It hurled in through the air and would eventually land in the midst of Bam's group and bounced further back and began to shoot out it's own cloud of the same color smoke. Smiling, she climbed over the edge of the truck and began to walk towards the wall of smoke which was starting to look like a party was about to happen, all they needed was lights and some music to make this into a flown blown Rave. Sliding her thumbs through the front belt loops of her jeans, she walked casually towards and started to walk through the cloud of smoke.
While moving through the wall of purple, her boots thudded lightly on the asphalt. Patting herself for a moment, she found in her vest right pocket her pack of smokes that she had picked up a while ago. Reaching into her jean's pocket, she pulled out her lighter and lit the cigarette. Taking in a drag from it, she blew out slowly as she stood in between the two groups. Speaking up, she would say towards Bam through the wall of smoke. "I only know one Group of Reckless Hell Climbers that use Purple smoke while the rest used green and those Clown used to get in trouble for the stunts they liked to do while they weren't being scouts. Bam? Johnny? Boy Wonder of singing? You guys on the other side of this smoke or am I simply talking to ghosts out here?"
Post by Haley Cameron on Oct 31, 2017 18:01:33 GMT -5
More purple smoke? Haley didn't really get much of the significance apart from that maybe these people were trying to communicate? The smoke itself though looked extremely similar. As if it wasn't just another purple smoke grenade, but, the same type of purple smoke grenade. She quizzically glanced up to Bam for a moment, before looking back at the smoke to try and see if anyone was going to simply walk through it, rifle at the ready as she took cover behind the engine block of a long abandoned truck, peeking out just enough to have her rifle ready to go and a good eye on proceedings, but, keeping as small a profile as she could in case this turned real ugly real fast.
"I only know one Group of Reckless Hell Climbers that use Purple smoke while the rest used green and those Clown used to get in trouble for the stunts they liked to do while they weren't being scouts. Bam? Johnny? Boy Wonder of singing? You guys on the other side of this smoke or am I simply talking to ghosts out here?"
Who the hell was this person talking like she knew the team? Must be a spy! Wait, no. That's stupid. Besides, even if they were, Haley wasn't going to start shooting unless the others did. Killing's never good after all, unless they are walkers of course, but those aren't exactly human anymore. That said, while she wasn't going to start shooting her rifle, shooting off a wave of sarcasm though? That was another thing all together.
"Yeah. Ghosts. Ghosts threw that smoke grenade. WoOoOoOoOoOO."
Post by Brandon Cole on Oct 31, 2017 20:57:27 GMT -5
Watching the smoke wafting into the sky, Bam kept his AR-15 at the ready, finger resting next to the trigger well when all of a sudden he heard a woman's voice calling out from the other side of the purple smoke.... "I only know one Group of Reckless Hell Climbers that use Purple smoke while the rest used green and those Clown used to get in trouble for the stunts they liked to do while they weren't being scouts. Bam? Johnny? Boy Wonder of singing? You guys on the other side of this smoke or am I simply talking to ghosts out here?"
Looking over at Haley, who was standing next to him, her hands on a FAMAS rifle and also ready to shoot, Bam started chuckling to himself and shouldered his rifle, shaking his head in disbelief at who they'd run into. "Relax, I know that voice," he said, stepping around from behind the vehicle and calling out to the woman, "Jenna, I know that damn voice; you're safe....you and whoever you're with, come through the smoke slowly," pausing as Knoxville, McGhehey and England joined him. "Remember that sassy-as-hell redhead with the great figure who could sing like no one's business and shoot the wings off a fly with 500 yards? Well, that's who on the other side of the smoke," he said as they stood, waiting to see who would come through the smoke....
"Yeah. Ghosts. Ghosts threw that smoke grenade. WoOoOoOoOoOO." A younger female voice came through the wall of smoke and Jenna didn't know who this was that was being sarcastic towards her. So, since this person had decided to open that can of worms, it was only fair that Jenna returned the favor. "Huh...that is either McGhehey who you guys decided to spade to make him sing better with a more of a female like voice, Johnny found a Talking Blow up doll or....you found a little girl who hasn't hit puberty just yet....funny how things turn out..." Then she heard Bam speaking up. "Jenna, I know that damn voice; you're safe....you and whoever you're with, come through the smoke slowly," Smiling a bit at the familiar voice, she nodded her head as she turned around and started to walk back the way she came through the smoke. Breaking through the other side where her group was, she would walk over towards the Firetruck and leaned against the door. Pointing towards the hand mic, she thanked Alex for handing it towards her and pushed the button in. "Ok Boys and Girls, we are going to be meeting up with the one part of my old group from New York. They say we are safe to drive up towards them, but we need to move slow. So let's all get along...ok? Ok...see you all on the other flip side of this smoke." Handing it back to Alex, Jenna would walk back towards the wall of smoke as all the vehicles began to move up slowly behind her. Taking another drag from the cigarette, she would blow the smoke out and flicked the cigarette and watched as it flew over the edge where it then disappeared. Her Harley boots thudding lightly towards Bam's group through the smoke, eventually, she was then seen as she started to come up and broke the smoke.
Once fully on the other side, she would step off to the side a bit so that the vehicles could park in front of Bam so he and his Hell Climbers could see them all. "Well, it seems like the ol' gang is back together again...ha ha ha ha..." Her eyes looked from side to side, scanning everyone until they stopped at the face to whom she put the little voice to. She saw the familiar Famas that was in her hands and remembered the person who last held that assault rifle.Barry North, he was a good man who couldn't flirt with the ladies worth for shit, but still was a good friend of her's and she still misses, even though that was months ago when he fell out of the Helicopter to his death on top of a car. Smiling at her, she would then look at Bam. "So, where's the Boss Lady at? I would have thought she would have been up here to greet me along with all of you clowns. You guys scouting out for San Simeon or...did the Earthquake affect you guys as well? We lost a good bit of our people down at 77th Street Police station and fires are erupting all over the city from which we came from..." Jenna heard people that weren't injured started to climb out of their vehicles to greet Bam and his Scout Team.
Post by Haley Cameron on Nov 5, 2017 14:36:00 GMT -5
(Sorry for the delay, got distracted with RL things)
Haley couldn't help but chuckle about the Mcgheyhey singing comment, although, she was still unsure about most of the things that this person was saying. Who would want a doll that's inflatable? Or... blow up doll... Did she mean explosive? She shook her head before watching carefully as this new figure came through the smoke. At least knowing about McGheyhey's singing was even more of an indication that the scouts have met whoever this person was before, if the way they were talking wasn't enough of a hint. Also "little girl"? Haley was sick of being underestimated like that! After all, she had survived just as long as anyone else. It was of no matter anyway, and perhaps could even be used to her advantage.
She returned the smile looking up at Jenna, still very much holding that rifle but visibly with a more relaxed posture than before, certainly less on edge than she initially was but still certainly keeping her head in the game with a good eye on proceedings, visually scanning the area for threats every once in a while to make sure no walkers or any other people are about to jump them.
She followed the rest of the scout team through the smoke, covering her mouth and nose with her arm. Sure, this smoke was probably non toxic seeing as the rest of the people just walked through it just fine, but, it still didn't change the fact that it had a horrible chemical smell and was stinging her eyes slightly.
"You guys scouting out for San Simeon or...did the Earthquake affect you guys as well? We lost a good bit of our people down at 77th Street Police station and fires are erupting all over the city from which we came from..."
"The castle is gone. Fuckin' burnt and gone. The whole place lit up like the Fourth Of July when the earthquake happened."
Last Edit: Nov 5, 2017 14:36:38 GMT -5 by Haley Cameron
Post by Logan Mendez on Nov 5, 2017 16:03:44 GMT -5
Fate.
To some it was an unstoppable force, a certainty of happenings, the unavoidable destiny of all beings and events. To others it was more flexible, a destination, a goal to reach, something that requires work and determination but that eventually would reach their hands to those deserving. Others firmly believed it to be nothing but a myth, a lie, that nothing could predict the universe’s future and that each man’s fate lied on their hands.
To Logan, it was a bitch.
He was at the wrong place, at the wrong time, of that he was certain. He had crossed the state border from the south, abandoned that military-infested hell-hole of Texas weeks ago. The Road was as it always was, hard and unforgiving, he was running out of everything. Ammo, meds, water…and food, he had run out of food and for the next weeks he had desperately raided small towns and abandoned locales, breaking into empty houses and deserted supermarkets, the stench of rotten meat and rotten bodies eager to consume filling his nostrils as his being filled with desperation.
Scraps, even that was hard to come-by, he was already running on fumes, nothing had gone inside his body in days and the void inside his gut roared insistently. The hungrier he got, the louder the voices became, they whispered, unseen, unheard, haunting him, chasing him like an unshakable herd of Walkers.
He needed to eat, if not for his himself then at least to shut the voices up, to disband the roving masses of ghosts, dancing in the edge of his vision. Haunting, pointing, blaming-
Logan
He kept to the roads, avoiding people as he could. Nowadays people didn’t ask, nor doubted, nor hesitated; they just took and one had to kill to not get killed, to steal to avoid starving. He knew some sort of group was around the area, bandits probably, ex-military perhaps judging by the fire-power, he still avoided them, better to not take chances.
Logan where are you?
He didn’t like soldiers, barking orders around, trying to set things ‘right’ with their own vision of order. When society had gone to hell they had been among the first to disregard duty and resort to banditry, after The Fall guns gave man power and they were the ones with the guns.
He did not trust them.
He didn’t trust anyone.
Hunger and madness drove him to the edge of desperation, the side roads where too empty, ransacked, he began to ponder on other options. The city perhaps, maybe he could ambush some light patrol? Eat, he needed to eat.
Logan, you promised
He needed to shut them up. Keep himself there, keep himself real.
And then the earth shook, mighty and terrible, the warehouse he had been using that day was already in shambles, but its punished frame shook and trembled. He had vaulted out of there just as the concrete collapsed, reflexes saving him once again from certain death.
Sometimes he wondered if that was a good thing…
Fires flamed on the horizon, something had fallen, as they always did. Nothing stayed, everything fell, everything died.
Dead Logan, just like us
The roads filled themselves with people and in his haste Logan had ended up in a highway, hunger detouring him from his escape from goddamn California to scavenge whatever edibles he could from the legions of abandoned vehicles.
He heard them before he saw them and before he knew it he had huddled himself inside one of the rusty cars, trying to make himself as small as possible while the group passed over.
Of course they didn’t. He heard engines roar and die down, doors opening and closing, voices all around. How many? 10? 20? 50?
Too many of them, a purple thing of smoke rose in the air, visible through the windshield. More engines, more people.
Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.
Damn his gut and his hunger and his madness. He was trapped now, trapped with too many people around. He was down to 5 bullets on the Glock, 4 on the revolver and he had spent all but one shell for his shotgun in skirmishes with bandits and Walkers.
Shit, he was screwed. Royally, the voices chanted, mocking him as he tried to make himself even smaller, huddled as he was on the back-seat with Kukri and sawn-off held with white-knuckles wrapped in dirty gauze, ready to fire, ready to kill.
They were checking the cars, scavenging. He could hear them outside, footsteps, voices, cars doors opened, windows smashed.
Post by Brandon Cole on Nov 7, 2017 17:17:20 GMT -5
Once fully on the other side, she would step off to the side a bit so that the vehicles could park in front of Bam so he and his Hell Climbers could see them all. "Well, it seems like the ol' gang is back together again...ha ha ha ha..." Her eyes looked from side to side, scanning everyone until they stopped at the face to whom she put the little voice to. She saw the familiar Famas that was in her hands and remembered the person who last held that assault rifle.Barry North, he was a good man who couldn't flirt with the ladies worth for shit, but still was a good friend of her's and she still misses, even though that was months ago when he fell out of the Helicopter to his death on top of a car. Smiling at her, she would then look at Bam. "So, where's the Boss Lady at? I would have thought she would have been up here to greet me along with all of you clowns. You guys scouting out for San Simeon or...did the Earthquake affect you guys as well? We lost a good bit of our people down at 77th Street Police station and fires are erupting all over the city from which we came from..." Jenna heard people that weren't injured started to climb out of their vehicles to greet Bam and his Scout Team.
"The castle is gone. Fuckin' burnt and gone. The whole place lit up like the Fourth Of July when the earthquake happened."
For several seconds Bam looked away, not really sure what to tell Jenna; gathering his thoughts, he looked back at Jenna and began to speak. "We all got out of San Simeon; like Haley said, the place shook all to hell, then blew up like a goddam Fourth of July celebration gone horribly awry....unfortunately, our group and Tegan's got separated somewhere south of Paso Robles; for all I know, they could be right behind us or they could be up to Canada by now," a downcast gloom in his voice. "What I do know, Jenna, is that before we got split up a few days back, we were going to rendezvous with them somewhere around Big Bear but--"
Before he could continue, everyone's radios - at least, the ones in Bam's group - crackled almost universally at the same time; it was Pontius, who was guarding the rear of the convoy. "Bam, this is Pontius; I got someone about 500 meters or so sneaking around, going through a bunch of vehicles. Want me to drop him, boss?" he asked.
After a few moments, Bam keyed his radio mic and said, "No, keep an eye on him and let me know how close he gets." Whistling to everyone, he called out, "Okay, we've run out of time, everyone; load up whatever you found into the supply truck and then we are headed to Big Bear Lake to rest and recover," adding, "Let's be about it, people."
Picking up her radio, Kelsey switched it on and keyed the mic. "Hey, Jenna, this is Kelsey; everything alright up there?" she said, having turned back around and resumed her scanning of the eastern horizon." Setting the radio down as she waited for a reply, Kelsey looked at the others in the back and said, "Relax, if anything were going to happen, it'd've happened by now. We'll be alright."
Post by Logan Mendez on Nov 12, 2017 0:26:14 GMT -5
(Dunno if there's a posting order or something. If there is I'll be glad to delete this and post another one once the due process is made XD)
A sickening crack filled the air, the characteristic sound of a nose being broken upon impact with a car window, cracks emerging from said window at the force of the impact, painting it crimson from the shattered nose. Logan let go of the guard’s hair, poor man immediately collapsing to the ground, unmoving.
Shit.
Had he killed him?
Fuck, no, dammit if he was dead-
Kneeling over the downed man (boy really, had the features, skinny fellow, clothes too big, that fuzz on his chin was not worthy of being called a goatee) Logan frantically checked his pulse, blood dripped from his ruined nose as Logan muttered obscenities under the black scarf that hid his features, frantic blue eyes darting around. He’ll live, a huff of relief was released from the Feral as he confirmed pulse.
Goddammit this wasn’t in the plan at all.
Of course he had gotten out of the car, they were closing in on him, he had one shotgun shot and a tight space to maneuver, if he stayed there he was dead meat. Logan was one sneaky bastard, but he was still human, in his darting around from car to car for cover he had miscalculated the timing and he was sure one of the guards on the rear had seen him.
He had made the right choice moving out of the ruined vehicle, he had not bothered with counting, he had no time, but they were definitely more than a dozen, organized and armed. Well-armed he’d eyed assault rifles among the crowd and vehicles, not those bolt-action things and rusty shotguns road bandits carried. His suspicion had been confirmed when he eyed the armed mean on the rear of the caravan moving forward, the man who had spotted him stayed back, with a radio on one hand and the rifle on the other, eyes surveying the sea of rusted cars, looking for him.
Great, they had fucking radios.
That meant communication, chances are the guards on the head of the caravan where heading downwards too, him getting cut off and trapped was just a matter of time if he remained stationary, he had to move. Still, he had to put distance between him and the group he could actually see, he moved faster, scarf and hood up to hide his face. Logan’s face was sweaty with stress and anxiety, messy brown locks sticking to his forehead.
The knocked-out guard had NOT been part of any strategy of his. If they were indeed coming from the front as well as from the rear, he had to get as fast as he could through somewhere in the middle. He was on his way to said middle when he took a wrong turn and ended up face to face with the kid. There had been no questions, nor hesitation, nor warnings; he had charged as fast he could in the tight space fate had given him to maneuver, thankfully behind the cover of cars and not on the open. His fingers had tightly grabbed onto the guard’s hair rather forcefully and without giving him a chance to raise the shotgun he carried Logan had used his momentum to slam his face against a car window.
Truthfully, it had been a reflex response.
Which was why he panicked at the possibility of the young man being dead, he was crazy not stupid and neither was he particularly idealistic. There was a high chance of him ending up once again as a prisoner of someone and groups did not take kindly to killers.
His trigger-finger twitched.
Logan
Fuckfuckfuck! But this wasn’t in the plan, he wasn’t supposed to hit anybody! He-he needed to calm down, needed to keep himself grounded.
Logan Logan
Needed to keep himself real.
Think, think. He had to move, plan was trash now, new plan, improvise, adapt Logan, adapt goddammit. Time was valuable, best not to waste it, he needed to hide this prick, but first he needed to check him. His hand had immediately went for his pockets, shotgun, he had a shotgun, what was it? 12 Gauge? Shells, he had to have ammo-there it was! One, two, three, just three? Fuck! No, ok, ok, you’ve been through worse, 4 is enough.
He hastily retrieved his own sawn-off from the make-shift holster strapped around his thigh, popping one the shells in the empty chamber and stuffing the rest inside his jacket. He couldn’t shoot, that would be the end of it, but ammo was nice, always nice, he could still use it, grip’s hard enough.
Radio was next, he didn’t know how many they were, or where they were most of the time. Little thing could work well enough, he listened to the chatter as he looked around, frantic as rabid animal.
“You see him?”
“Naw Pontius, west side’s clear”
“Good, keep moving forward-“
Ok good enough, west’s a no-no. His time was running out, every second he spent next to this unconscious guy his chances of escape were growing slimmer but there was one more thing. The backpack, it was reckless and it was foolish, but he was starving. Hands moved with vicious speed as they rummaged through the pack with violent zeal as Logan tried to find some food while at the same time keep an eye on his surroundings. His fingers curled themselves around something and he produced a…candy bar? Fucking scraps, but still, it was something.
He kicked the looted backpack under a car and dragged the unconscious man under it too, hastily trying to erase the evidence as he bit into the sweet, glorious scent of his first food in days.
Post by Brandon Cole on Nov 15, 2017 17:39:25 GMT -5
Before Bam - or anyone else, for that matter - could say anything, the radios' crackled again and word trickled in that one of their Scouts' was down, possibly injured or taken prisoner. "Alright," he said, making sure his AR-15 was loaded, a round in the chamber, "we gotta' get our boy back. Knoxville, take your team down the left side of the freeway, work your way in towards the middle....Pastrana, take your team down the right right side along the K-rails, work your way in towards the middle as well.
"Meanwhile, me, Haley, McGhehey, Jenna and...," pointing towards Alex, whose name he didn't know, "the Army chick there will head down the middle," pausing as he keyed the mic on his radio. "Pontius, whoever's taking potshots at us, drop his ass if you get the chance to, okay?" Looking around, he added, "Everybody ready?" After a moment he said to them, "Let's be about it, people."
Post by Logan Mendez on Nov 18, 2017 23:26:35 GMT -5
The man held his rifle high, ready and tense, eyes surveying the rusted car-wrecks. This one was older, the hard lines of a man’s face present, taut muscle beneath the layer of relatively clean yet still worn clothes. This one was older than the kid, the guards appeared well-fed and not too shabby, the signs of people grown soft outside the roads, people who knew what it meant to have a home, yet forgot the harsh reality of the continued existence of the ruined world behind walls.
There was no sign or warning, Logan was silent as a shadow, stealth born out of habit and necessity. A pair of black-clad arms slowly crept from behind his head, unseen. The rough hands covered in bandages and black fingerless gloves moved like vicious snakes, before the man realized what was happening he was already trapped in a fierce chokehold. The weapon was dropped in panic as he attempted to claw at whoever was cutting up his oxygen supply. He was dragged, unable to scream, behind the cover of ruined vehicles, out of the line of sight.
Logan dropped roughly, his back hitting a car door taking his victim with him without interrupting his maneuver. The scout growled and Logan growled right back from behind the scarf covering his face, the eyes behind his goggles were wide in feral aggression as he applied more pressure, the man’s legs kicking helplessly as the fight abandoned him, desperate clawing becoming nothing more than weak pats before all movement died alongside consciousness.
Logan scoffed, sweat dripping from his brow.
Another one.
He hastily shoved the unconscious man beneath the car, it was a sloppy maneuver, the man was badly hidden, he would be found, he knew. But pressure was high, he had no time, soon enough they would close in on him, he had to move.
He didn’t even bother to check him up, the last one had nothing but a beef jerky either, and a full clip on his pistol, greatly appreciated by Logan. Wherever their food and ammo was, they didn’t have them on them, only confirming his suspicion that they were somehow survivors of a fallen community of sorts. They did not feel the need yet to carry their own baggage, naïve perhaps…or confident, either way, they packed a punch and were organized enough to repel the usual highway bandit scum…
Logan, hooded and masked as he was, realized he didn’t look too different from those savages dressed in rags.
But he was an animal of a different kind.
Logan
He moved as silently as he could, eyes darting everywhere, head poking for brief instants to get a grasp on the situation at hand. Pontius, the lieutenant (as the radio chatter clearly indicated that he was answering to some sort of boss. Blam? Bang?), continued to advance from the rear, rifle searching diligently for his position, he had gotten the direct kill-order and he suspected that his aim wasn’t something to be taken lightly if such a task had been directly assigned.
Another scout approached, a woman with a rifle poised to fire, Logan kneeled behind the depleted tire of a ruined truck and held his breath as he waited for the steps to draw closer.
Wait
Wait
Wait
You promised
His hand, holding the sawn-off shotgun, held by the barrels with the grip serving as an improvised club, shot out of cover just as the woman took as step on his position. The weapon hooked itself around her ankle before he violently pulled, making her abruptly loose her footing and fall on her face, dazed as she was, she couldn’t do much as Logan hastily dragged by the ankles behind cover, flipping her before straddling her middle as he held his shotgun high. Before she could protest or scream for help, the grip whipped her across the face savagely, he delivered the next strike as fast as he could before she could even moan in pain crimson spraying as her nose shattered. The scout, tethering on the edge of consciousness twitched, attempting to lift her head before being savagely put down in one final strike that sapped her remaining energies.
He didn’t bother hiding this one.
He did take her rifle. His fears after all, hadn’t been unfounded, the radio chatter that had allowed him to synchronize his movements had also confirmed that the scouts were also advancing from the front, the more time he wasted, the more the chances of ending trapped rose.
An AK, pretty simple, reliable enough, the magazine looked full. It would serve well enough, for now. Logan didn’t like rifles, they were loud, heavy and cumbersome to carry over great distances, not suited for him at all. Logan was a man trained by the Road, not by his fellow men, he learned how to fire guns not with his brothers, not truly, but in the wastelands, fighting for his survival. He had learned, in a deadly process of trial-by-error how to survive, how to move, how to kill, everything he did was born out of methods proven effective in previous situations.
Which was why he was taking the rifle now, he was a pragmatic, in the back of his mind he was already expecting to fail. It was why he had not attempted to kill anyone yet, even though that might have been quicker.
But for now the present, he needed to escape and with danger pressing from forwards and backwards, the middle was his best shot. He had grown to be a decent enough marksman, but his advantage usually resided in close quarters, where his sheer aggressiveness could turn the tide of fights.
But he was best concealed, unseen.
“Has any of you seen Ben, I thought he-ugh!”
“Guys! Someth-guh!”
“Shit, it’s Tess! Pontius-argh!”
“-the fuck is he?! I swear I’ll-“
The radio channels filled themselves with similar chatter as advanced faster and faster, he couldn’t do this forever he knew, he was leaving a trail, a trail that was growing more obvious by the minute. He would fuck up, his timing would be wrong, that Pontius bastard would spot him, one of the scouts would catch him before he could close the distance.
Where are you?
He had to try, had to escape. The place was becoming increasingly crowded as he approached the center, littered with refugees, still armed, yet more concerned with the safe-keeping of their belongings and packing. They seemed to be ready to move, a car, he needed a car.
The increasing heat forced him to board one of the abandoned vehicles near the middle, near his prized exit. It was a desperate attempt to avoid both the harassing scouts and Pontius searching aim, across the purple smoke he could see a gathering of people.
He snarled under his breath.
This was bad, he was getting cornered, running out of options.
His eyes traveled to the radio hanging from his belt.
Bad idea.
Very bad idea.
…but he was out of options here.
The whole situation looked like a meeting between two groups, a reencountering. They had come from both sides of the highway, perhaps they were actually part of the same community. Which meant that the head honchos were probably there.
…fuck
Logan shook his head, taking his decision as he held his body low inside the care, only half of his head and the barrel of the rifle poking out as he attempted to aim as best as he could. From here he could only make out the frame of a male and what might be 2 women.
The man might be this Bam guy.
One way to find out. He scrambled his brain for words, it had been so long since he had spoken, it was…strange.
“Bam”
The radios crackled as his voice tore through the chatter, a ragged, hoarse sound, product of its lack of use. This was incredibly stupid…
Post by Haley Cameron on Nov 19, 2017 15:40:21 GMT -5
The kid had some damn sharp senses, hearing included. That, plus her capability to remain undetected was certainly something that had come in useful in her survival. She moved up with Bam, sharp, focused, her rifle pointed ahead as she scanned for threats. Direct front. Clear. Right? Clear. Left? Movement. She definitely heard something. A rustling, a scuffle, an impact. She gave a subtle little hand signal to Bam, almost imperceptible to a person who wasn't right next to her and on their A-game.
It was just then, when the radio crackled into life. Haley looked at it, then up to Bam giving a little head nod, quietly saying "Keep him talking" before moving around to flank, staying low while sticking to cover and concealment. This wasn't exactly something that was new to the girl as she silently moved around and behind the various long abandoned vehicles. Every gust of wind, every small ambient sound on this dead highway, a chance to mask her light footsteps until she was right behind him, rifle ready. She positioned herself behind the engine block of a nearby old barge of a Cadillac to at least provide some partial cover, not to mention some distance and obstruction so he couldn't try to get in close enough to grab her weapon or do anything else.
She readied her rifle, pointing what to her was a rather large weapon directly at the back of Logan's head, finger on the trigger ready to fire at a moment's notice. "Drop your weapons, put your hands up, and walk out into the road or I swear to god I'll make your skull look like a fucking bowl. Don't even think about doing anything else." The girl was certainly doing her best to sound intimidating and commanding. Her voice wasn't raised, it was more low and "dangerous" sounding. If she spoke too loudly for all she knew it would attract more hostiles or maybe even walkers. If she was older she probably would have sounded a lot scarier, but on the other hand her words were backed up with a big ol' gun. That ought to do it.
Last Edit: Nov 19, 2017 15:44:25 GMT -5 by Haley Cameron
Shauna Kelly: That helped, thank you
Oct 4, 2021 14:40:44 GMT -5
Ayita Hunt: dang, January was my last post.. Jeez it's been a hot minute. o7 guys, sorry for the complete disappearance, life got.. a little interesting this year.
Oct 18, 2021 22:34:19 GMT -5