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Dutch followed Franklin into the museum, unholstering his MP5K as he entered. He entered cautiously, making aware of every little movement, ever shadow. Further on he could hear shouting. It sounded to him like the people that were left, assuming there WAS people left, were in trouble.
As he delved further into the museum, the noises were becoming more clear. There was definitely survivors, and they were definitely in trouble. Soon Dutch came across a large door, the sounds sounded as though they were right on the other side, slowly he opened the door with his MP5 at the ready.
The interior of the Jefferson Memorial Expansion Museum was dimly lit by small battery powered lanterns. The air was thick with the smell of urine and feces from long-clogged, overused toilets and incontinent people with disabilities in wheelchairs. it was quite the disgusting post-apocalyptic hovel, and Franklin was at once disgusted by the scene.
An old man argued with Franklin. "You said you would come back for us and now you want us to stay? We're almost out of food! You can't leave us here to die!"
Franklin narrowed his eyes at the old man. "Life rarely provides us with crystal clear certainties. But my ability to leave you here to die is not even in question. Now, where is my cat?"
The old man shuffled nervously in his wheelchair and looked at the others. "We are running out of food and..."
Franklin brought his pistol sharply down upon the old man's nose in a sickening thud that butterflied open his sinus cavity, bowling the man over in pain.
"Who else wants to answer a question about my cat with a goddamn status report on your food supplies? Where is my cat?"
"Franklin, calm down. Please don't..."
Franklin silenced this one with a punch to the throat.
"Who else doesn't know the answer to 'where's my cat?"
"B-Billy.... We ran out of meat... We..."
BLAM! Franklin shot another man in the face.
"You ATE MY CAT!"
Franklin turned to Dutch, reliable muscle in his group, and nodding, a invitation to join in on the massacre. The disabled tried their best to move for cover or hide, but Franklin advanced on each of them, firing his pistol and slashing with his machete.
After all of the people in the museum were cut down Franklin kicked a dead man out of a wheelchair and began loading 5.56mm ammo boxes and AR-15s into the wheelchair, booty taken from a raid on Ft. Leonard Wood a couple of months ago and stashed here with the disabled.
Franklin beamed a sadistic smile at Dutch. "Oh yeah, I don't have a cat. When we get back to the barges I have some goodies to show you, from Cairo."
Franklin handed the 60mm mortar and shell to Dutch. "Shit like this. Hella military stockpiles down there, ready for the able-bodied to take advantage of. Help me wheel out this stuff to the bus... Who's the newbies out there?"
Last Edit: Sept 26, 2015 0:24:24 GMT -5 by Deleted
Everything had happened so fast, Josie could barely keep up. All she knew now was that there was no choice against fighting off the advancing Growlers. She did her best, using her bat to keep them at bay. Though the old wooden bat had little impact on most of them it stunned them long enough to get another hit in, right to the skull. After killing a few she turned, watching the two men run into the Museum.
"Are you doin' alright over there?" Josie calls, as she abandons her spot and moves to a position nearer the stairs and the Asian woman, who her question is directed at. Shes fairly certain just by looking that the woman is a fairly more capable than she is. If anything could be told by the way she held herself.
She had noticed the two men enter the museum just minutes before, her curiosity getting the best of her. What could be in there that was so important? She highly doubted that they stopped here just for a cat. No, a cat couldn't possibly be more important than living. She whacks another Growler, sending it tumbling down.
"This better damn well be worth it." She talks to herself aloud, driving the blunt end of the bat straight into the Growlers face, crushing its nose and creating a huge dent between its eyes.
This "escape" had turned into a disaster. The boy she'd been with had disappeared, and now the men she'd assumed were with his little group had swanned off into the museum after a fucking cat?
Unease settled like a lead weight in Cua's gut. She abruptly realized that whatever mess she'd stumbled into was bad. Very, very bad.
Cua blasted back one of the demons, then took advantage of the break in the swarm to reload.
She glanced at the other woman. Slight, face bloodied, holding a baseball bat. The two of them alone would never "hold" this area for long. The man had either been delusional or hadn't cared. Cua was leaning toward the latter. That attitude seemed distinctly at odds with Billy's little group.
Cua, blew back another nearing demon, shooting it's legs out from under it. It still crawled forward on it's arms, but it's pace was slow enough to not be an immediate concern. She drifted back toward the museum, debating wether to dart in. As she reached the door, she heard the faint pop of distant, echoing gunfire.
Cua stepped quickly back. Whether demons or in-fighting, gunfire meant trouble she didn't want.
A voice drew her attention. The other girl was calling to her, still swinging away, holding the dead back. Cua ran forward, inaccurately shooting back demons as they closed in.
"No," she answered, shouting over the buzzing groans of the creatures. She nodded back at the museum. "Are those your people?" she probed.
She had a vague idea that she didn't want to be here when those men got back, but she'd still need help escaping the city either way. She remembered the boat the man had motored in on. If the girl was an outsider like Cua, then she might be willing to help her steal it. She also might know how to drive a boat. Cua hadn't a clue.
Last Edit: Sept 27, 2015 11:04:21 GMT -5 by Deleted
Dutch watched as Franklin began slaughtering the disabled, eventually joining in himself. After they were all dead, Franklin handed him the mortar while explaining how they had lots of military hardware now.
"Do you know how to use it?" He asked as they ran out the door towards the bus. He was about to ask another question when they arrived outside, to see the Asian Woman talking to another woman, one unfamiliar to Dutch.
Franklin pushed the wheelchair full of ammo and assault rifles out of the museum and drew his pistol on the new girl but lowered it without firing after he realized the bloodied mess was alive and talking to the Asian girl with the shotgun.
Franklin glanced over at the levee wall. Waterlogged stankies were climbing over the wall, using Franklin's boat as a boost.
"Well that turned to shit faster than usual.... Bus, now! We gotta take the long way home."
Franklin started wheeling the weapons down the stairs towards the bus.
"Definitely not," Josie answers the woman, shrugging off the unease in her stomach. It doesn't take long for the two men to emerge from the building again, the latter of the two pointing a gun at her for a moment. Josie moves to throw her hands in the air but he lowers it before she has time to say anything.
"Um -" She starts to talk but the man starts talking. Wheeling a wheelchair full of weapons in the direction of the bus. She frowns for a moment.
"Tour..." She scoffs quietly, shaking her head as she runs to catch up with him.
Franklin tries to lower the wheelchair lift, but it doesn't budge. Instinctively he begins unloading the assault weapons from the wheelchair and tossing them into the bus along with ammo boxes.
"Come on! We can't turn the bus around down here... We got a long way to get out of here and a short window to do it in."
Franklin tossed his backpack into the bus and took up an AR-15. A small band of walkers flopped over the levee wall and on to the street near the bus. Swarms of walkers were coming down the hill from the Arch, as well as from the south and north.. Closing from four directions. Franklin gunned down walkers in the path of the bus.
"All aboard! Next stop the hell out of here!"
Franklin jumped on the bus and into the driver's seat and began honking the horn, which drew even more walkers.
Last Edit: Sept 28, 2015 14:41:29 GMT -5 by Deleted
Cua shot the woman an appraising look. 'Definitely not' sounded very good, given the circumstances. Cua opened her mouth to divulge her boat-napping plan, when the two men burst from the museum, laden down with armaments.
She snapped her mouth closed and shot the other woman an anxious look, eyes darting pointedly from the men and back. It was about the only warning she could give with them standing there.
Cua forced her face to blankness. She knew why there wasn't a person riding in the wheelchair.
She eyed the man cooly as he began tossing boxes and weapons in the bus, then running around and honking on the horn like a complete and total lunatic.
He is a lunatic, Cua thought. The realization put her teeth on edge. These two men were almost as dangerous as the demons they were fleeing. Cua looked over her shoulder, gauging her chances for running, but, of course, the madman's honking had drawn every monster for miles. The only way out was with the bus and the guns.
Clenching her jaw, Cua jumped on the bus, crouching by the boxes. She quietly began helping herself to the 12 gauge slugs. She'd expended enough at their expense, so she could always argue they owed her the restock.
She kept one eye on the lunatic and his buddy. She'd ride along --she desperately needed the way out-- but her shotgun wasn't leaving her hands as long as they were around.
Last Edit: Sept 29, 2015 11:54:58 GMT -5 by Deleted
Dutch loaded the weapons and ammo onto the bus as quickly as he could. Once he was finished he heard Franklin honk the horn, signaling it was time to go. Dutch waited for the two women got on the bus before hopping on and taking a seat behind the driver. He kept his eye on the two girls, he still didn't trust them, especially the Asian withe the shotgun.
Franklin waited for the three to get on the bus before he shut the doors tight and began driving south. The crowds of walkers got thicker as they approached the Memorial Drive exit ramp and drove up, going the wrong way on I-44. The walkers were slightly more numerous than the abandoned cars. Franklin continued honking the horn, drawing more walkers around the bus. Franklin drove just slow enough to push into the crowd of walkers causing them to stumble and crunch under the bus' wheels.
Franklin let off the accelerator completely and soon the bus was overtaken by walkers. Every window in the bus was filled with the leering decaying faces of the damned, all pounding their hungry fists into the bus' fuselage. Franklin honked the horn a few more times and giggled.
Turning to the new arrivals, Franklin said, "I'm Franklin. This is my associate Dutch. We're going to be here a awhile so we might as well get to know each other. You.."
Something hanging in the air turned Franklin's nose as he sniffed the air again, then he turned to face the Latina girl.
"Christ did you bathe in shit," he exclaimed, pointing to the walker guts and bile smeared on Josie's clothing.
"Take that shit off. No way I'm camping all night with that smell in here."
"Pardon me. It's been awhile since I've followed the stinkies on foot. FUCK THAT'S RIPE.." Franklin's demeanor and body language changes with a distinct break, from manic to more even-toned Franklin seems to be fighting back a gag reflex.
For the first time, Franklin notices the girl's injury, swollen eyes and nose.
He walks back to the back of the bus sideways, hands up, knowing Dutch is ready with his machine pistol if the Asian racks a round.
Slowly he reaches down and dumps a laundry bag onto the floor, all mostly cans of orange spray paint, which elicits a giggle.
He takes the gray laundry bag back up front and looks at the Asian. He wondered if she thought she was endangered. She should, but saying so would create more fear. Dutch would light her up, but she'd certainly wound Franklin severely if not fatally with that shotgun. Franklin spoke in a calmer tone.
"I'm sorry. Thanks for keeping the stairs clear. In a couple of days they'll be underwater. Could have taken us months to get these guns. Anyone got a pocket knife? I'm gonna make a party gown for her so she can get out of that slime and clean up."
Last Edit: Sept 30, 2015 1:24:39 GMT -5 by Deleted
"They don't come after you," Josie said, adding almost as an afterthought, "When you smell like them." She shrugs, weary enough without having to worry about the smell. She didn't have the time before to stop and notice the stench, but now that she has her stomach churns. She watches Franklin get up, noticing the orange spray paint cans falling to the floor. She remembers hazily seeing Growlers with orange faces, they must have been the work of this man and his group.
She shoots the other woman a look, her natural nervousness getting exacerbated by the tense atmosphere. But after a minute she digs in her jacket for the knife she knows is there, still covered in dried blood from the man she killed it with. She isn't quite sure she wants to give Franklin her knife, even though she is aware that he wouldn't be able to do much with it before the other woman lit him up. After a few moments of intense internal debate she draws it from her pocket and holds it out, handle side facing Franklin.
"My name is Josie." She tells them, keeping her voice from wavering as best she can given the circumstances. After handing over her knife she starts to categorize her wounds. The most prominent being her broken nose, which has thankfully stopped spewing fresh blood. She feels around the break gently, not quite sure what to do about it. Besides that are bruises and cuts, from the fall most likely.
For the first time since getting on the bus she realizes that she is completely vulnerable. With just a bat to defend herself, and most of her hope being pinned on the other woman who is possibly a threat as well. Not to mention the Growlers surrounding them on all sides. She isn't quite sure what their purpose is, or why Franklin decided drawing them together like this would be a good idea. But of course she doesn't voice any of that out loud, knowing it wouldn't exactly be met with kindness.
Last Edit: Sept 30, 2015 3:25:38 GMT -5 by Deleted
Cua watched the other woman, Josie, hand Franklin the knife.
"I'm Cua," she said.
She lowered the barrel of her shotgun to the floor and deliberately relaxed her shoulders. It'd make her slower to defend if the need arose, but she had to at least pretend to get along. Or at least try and defuse some of the tension in the bus. Particularly if this escape plan took the promised 'awhile'.
"Nice to meet you," she tacked on, a little late. She looked at Franklin, since he seemed to be doing most of the talking.
"What's the plan, exactly?" Were they just going to try to drive out of St. Louis on a bus? Wouldn't they eventually be forced out by demons, if the bodies got stuck underneath or in the wheel wells?
"The plan is we hold out hope and wait for help, then get pissed and sad when it doesn't come. Then we start surviving." Franklin nods at Dutch. "We're already on the surviving part, and we hate to wait for people to catch up."
Franklin takes Josie's knife and begins cutting the laundry bag in to a makeshift longshirt.
"The Missouri is flooded, that's where this herd is coming from. The Mississippi is rising. We've got boats out of here, but we have to wait out this herd to get to them."
Franklin honks the horn a few more times.
"That's it, uglies, come to Franklin." The walkers crowd around the bus, now writhing over each other.
Dutch chuckled, looking out the windows as the zeds tried desperately to get into the bus. Franklin was right about the river, it was most definitely the reason for all the zeds currently outside the bus.
He could tell Franklin didn't trust the Asian Girl anymore than he did. Good. Trust isn't something you can be giving out like hotdogs at a BBQ, especially not in this day and age.
(I won't be able to post for the next couple of days, so I give Franklin permission to NPC my character until my return)
Franklin pulled a GPS unit out of his backpack and began thumbing the map up and down, back and forth. Several custom waypoints scrolled by as Franklin skimmed the surrounding area on the map.
"Malcolm Bliss?" Franklin suggested to Dutch.
"Hell no." Dutch replied. "Crawling with Zeds. Everyone we knew there... turned. Drug overdoses likely. Mass suicide, something."
"Yeah. Those bastards were crazy before the world ended. Good parties though. Yeah, I'm going to miss St. Louis. We gotta get out of here and the only known secured fuel sources besides here is in Cairo. It's time we broaden our range, but the others..."
"Yeah, I know," Dutch replied, "they've been talking about voting you out as leader since the day you left down river. Half of them are probably shocked you came back and the other half are probably pissed off that you did."
"Trevor?"
Dutch nodded. "And Madame Bera. Got them all spooked with that Tarot card nonsense. If you push to leave too much they may vote you out."
"No, they won't. They'll get off my goddamn barge." A stern look tightened on Franklin's face. Whatever authority dynamics were in play back at the barges were likely to turn ugly. Franklin was already sorting the barge community in his mind between protect, kill immediately, kill slowly, and kill for the hell of it.
Franklin turned to the two women present. "Our...group, back at the barges. Are either of you pregnant? Sick? When is the last time you ate? What was it that you ate? How did you get to St. Louis? Are you with others?"
Franklin took a deep breath, trying to rein in his thoughts. He analyzed himself... Here he was rambling about re-asserting his leadership back at the barge when he found himself barking orders at two strangers. Women, sure, but anyone around on land two years after the world went to hell were not helpless. Not like his ex-wife. He was trying to be diplomatic, not raise fears or emotions, and create unnecessary conflict.
"Josie. You don't seem to be having any breathing obstructions and the bleeding has stopped. And you know you smell like maggot shit. That's good. I mean, that's good that you can smell. The good news is your nose is dislocated but not fully broken. The bad news is resetting the cartilage is going to hurt worse, and even if we had painkillers, most of them thin the blood so you would be stupid to take them anyway with bruises and possible internal hemorrhages. But, that swelling is going to worsen, then you will have breathing problems. We have to fix that. Soon." Franklin waved at the windows. "Before the sun goes down and we have to waste flashlight batteries on a not-yet-necessary field tracheostomy surgery. I'm kidding...."
Franklin was trying to use humor to diffuse the tense situation.
"But seriously, we'll look away, you get out of those clothes and put on the gown I made you. I was a federal agent. Dutch here was, I mean, is a Marine. Sorry, Dutch. We're from the government and we're here to help."
At that, Dutch busted up laughing. Franklin had many mood shifts, probably certifiably insane in the really real, but Dutch had gotten a kick out of Franklin's sense of humor over the last year. Franklin giggled along with Dutch.
"Corny as it is, you've got a cop and a soldier between you and a lot of fuglies that really do want to get at your flesh right now and wouldn't take time to appreciate the... moment in uh, in a mutually satisfactory way. The sooner you're out of those clothes, the sooner we can treat your injury. We'll look at Kawa...Er, Cua? We'll look at each other dead in the eyes and talk while you go in the back and change. So, Cua. Everyone has a name for the fuglies. I call them fuglies because they're effin ugly. Dutch calls them Zeds - "who's Zed? Zed's dead, baby" - and Growlers. And on the barge you'll hear people call them Growlers, floaters, stankers, mud monkeys, the list goes on. It's like Eskimos and their hundred jillion words for snow because it's all around them, like the fuglies. but, I've never heard anyone call them demons before?"
(Sorry that took so long, had a busy couple of days to deal with.)
Josie tried to field his former questions as quickly as possible. 'No, not pregnant', She tries not to roll her eyes at that. 'Ate yesterday, canned peaches' She doesn't mention where she got the peaches from. 'I found a map, came in by bike,' Once again she doesn't mention that she killed a man to get the map. 'I'm alone.'
She watches him work on the gown, curiously but after answering the questions she goes silent. Waiting patiently.
~*~
"Thanks," Says Josie. She stares at the gown for a moment, then shrugs and heads for the back. Trying not to dwell too much on the implications of his diagnosis. After undressing she gathers up the dirty clothes, debating on keeping them or tossing them. But she figures theres little chance of saving the scraps of clothing now, she'll have to make do with what she has for now. But she keeps the mans jacket, the material of it still strong enough to hold out a rough washing.
She takes a second to wipe off her face, running her fingers through her unkempt hair. Shes dying for a wash now.
While away from prying eyes she takes out the duct tape from her bag. Setting to work with her now mostly useless glasses. The lens that fell out is cracked right down the middle, and though it'll be annoying as hell she figures its better than going blind. She pops the lens back into place carefully, and sticks a small bit of tape onto the bottom and top just to make sure it doesn't pop back out for now. Despite her tender nose she sets the glasses back on her face, refusing to let this little thing stop her.
She heads back to the front, with the rest of the group holding her arms out once shes in view. "How do I look? Human again?" She shifts a little, the material of the gown a little scratchy - but again theres not much she can do about it. She moves to settle back in her place, feeling a little bit better now that shes adjusting to the situation.
"I've got some spare food," Josie offers, "Its easier to make nice on a full stomach."
Franklin looked over Josie. The laundry bag fit her well in just the right places. A bath and a little bit of Madame Bera's makeup and she'd be a knockout. And the Asian woman was not hard on the eyes either.
"That's good that you're not pregnant. Stillborn fuglies are like goddamn pirhanas. Except inside you. Not the best way to die." The tone in Franklin's voice revealed that that horror is something he'd seen before."
Trying to lighten the mood again, Franklin says, "They're like rabid chihuahuas. Micro-Cujo."
As Josie mentions food, Franklin replies, "Food... Sure. You don't want to take antibiotics on an empty stomach." Franklin reaches into his backpack and produces a bottle of Fish Mox, which he shakes, rattling the pills inside. "God bless capitalism. This is for bacterial infections in fish aquariums, but the pills are the exact same manufacturer and contents as prescription strength Amoxicillin for humans, without a costly doctor visit. Not that there's any doctors anymore. Most of them are fugly turds now. Anyway, 'Franklin's scrounger tip #6' - hit the pet stores and animal clinics - most of the veterinary antibiotics are the same shit given to humans. You can even find Cipro for fish. Yeah, the shelf lives are expired by now, but double dosing might make up for the loss of potency, or at least give you a gnarly hallucinogenic trip."
Franklin shakes out three 500 mg Amoxicillin pills and hands them to Josie. "You're not allergic to penicillin, are you? Don't take those just yet."
Franklin scoops up Josie's viscera-soiled clothing, and nonchalantly says "clothing is the easiest thing to replace in this world." He goes to the back of the bus, picks up a can of orange spray paint and lowers one of the side windows and flings the stinky clothes into the faces of some walkers. The walkers rush the open window, but are not tall enough to reach inside. "Come here, dammit" Franklin reaches out and snatches one of the walkers by the hair, lifting it up, but the scalp rips away and Franklin comes away with a handful of oozy dripping hair, which he flings back into the street. "Come on, come on..." Franklin leans way out of the window and grabs another walker by the jaw and throat and lifts it up to bring its face in line with the nozzle of the spray paint can. "Gotcha!" Franklin throughly covers the ghoul's face with a thick coat of orange spray paint, especially caking the monster's mouth and nasal passages before he drops its flailing body back on the street. Other walkers step on the painted fugly, but it eventually scrambles to its feet, and begins wandering away from the bus.
Franklin shuts the window, giggling. "That is so goddamn hilarious! More fun if you zip-tie their arms behind their back first."
Franklin wipes his hands clean on another laundry bag and returns to the front of the bus with the others. "If you cake up their noses with paint, they can't smell a damn thing. Makes them docile, thinking there's nothing to eat so they wander off towards the brightest light or loudest noise. They can't even smell each other. Eventually they fall in with other walkers, like a flock, but it's easy to track their migration patterns if you tag a few of them."
Franklin rummages around in his backpack again and produces a can opener, a spoon, and four cans of white hominy. "White Hominy. The most ubiquitous canned food item left behind by snooty and picky doomsday survivors. The bastards never leave the beef stew or even god damn Chef Boyardee spaghetti. They even grab the beets and cranberry sauce, But leave the world to be picked clean and all that will be left to say mankind was here will be endless warehouses full of god damn hominy..."
Franklin was obviously flirting with the young Latina girl.
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