Post by Yameki Nakamura on Nov 2, 2015 20:45:40 GMT -5
The sun beat down on Yameki from above like a cruel burden, and the sound of cicadas seemed to roar in his ears as he approached the town line. He was exhausted, and even picking up his feet to walk into the street made him feel as though he might collapse. His eyes glanced around the streets and fell upon many a sight: walkers, mostly dead, and humans that way, too. The street was littered with trash and bodies, cars that no longer worked. Houses lined the streets, some beaten up, some burned to the ground. He wasn't sure exactly what had happened here, but it clear that it was probably the same was what had happened everywhere else.
Yameki gripped his jacket tighter around his lithe form, despite the blazing temperature. He felt oddly protected cocooned within its fabric, regardless of how it warmed his skin. It was Jimmy's, still smelled like him, like musk and man. Yameki allowed his head to drop for just a moment before he shifted his guitar case on his shoulder and adjusted his backpack.
He walked into the town with his pipe in hand, and was pleased to see that there weren't many walkers about. There wasn't much of anything about, truthfully, but that was something that he could hopefully fix. With so many houses around, perhaps he would get lucky and hit the jackpot.
Illinois, the sign had said. He didn't know if this was where Evan's family resided. He thought he had heard them say that's where they had been headed, but he didn't know for sure anymore.
He didn't know anything for sure anymore.
A low growl broke him from his reverie, and sure enough, a walker stumbled out from behind a fence. The skin of its shoulder tore and ripped against the broken chain link, but it walked on regardless. With one ankle broken, it staggered towards Yameki at a slow speed, but his heartbeat quickened nonetheless. He held his pipe up like a bat and swung the moment he could. The walker spun and dropped to the ground, lifeless.
Lifeless. Yameki smiled just barely at the absurdity of it and wiped his hand across his brow.
He stole up a set of porch stairs and jiggled the handle of the front door. It was locked, but the door sat so uneven on its hinged that he was able to bash the lock in with his pipe. He knocked the door open with his foot, looked around outside to make sure no walkers were behind him, and poked his head in just enough to see inside. It seemed safe, or as safe as a house these days could be. Furniture was toppled over, but there were no real signs of blood, or of people, dead or alive.
"Hello?" He asked. When he got no response, he checked his surroundings for safety again and cracked the pipe against the doorframe. He dared one foot inside, waiting to see if someone would come downstairs, or around the house. "Tadaima."
Yameki gripped his jacket tighter around his lithe form, despite the blazing temperature. He felt oddly protected cocooned within its fabric, regardless of how it warmed his skin. It was Jimmy's, still smelled like him, like musk and man. Yameki allowed his head to drop for just a moment before he shifted his guitar case on his shoulder and adjusted his backpack.
He walked into the town with his pipe in hand, and was pleased to see that there weren't many walkers about. There wasn't much of anything about, truthfully, but that was something that he could hopefully fix. With so many houses around, perhaps he would get lucky and hit the jackpot.
Illinois, the sign had said. He didn't know if this was where Evan's family resided. He thought he had heard them say that's where they had been headed, but he didn't know for sure anymore.
He didn't know anything for sure anymore.
A low growl broke him from his reverie, and sure enough, a walker stumbled out from behind a fence. The skin of its shoulder tore and ripped against the broken chain link, but it walked on regardless. With one ankle broken, it staggered towards Yameki at a slow speed, but his heartbeat quickened nonetheless. He held his pipe up like a bat and swung the moment he could. The walker spun and dropped to the ground, lifeless.
Lifeless. Yameki smiled just barely at the absurdity of it and wiped his hand across his brow.
He stole up a set of porch stairs and jiggled the handle of the front door. It was locked, but the door sat so uneven on its hinged that he was able to bash the lock in with his pipe. He knocked the door open with his foot, looked around outside to make sure no walkers were behind him, and poked his head in just enough to see inside. It seemed safe, or as safe as a house these days could be. Furniture was toppled over, but there were no real signs of blood, or of people, dead or alive.
"Hello?" He asked. When he got no response, he checked his surroundings for safety again and cracked the pipe against the doorframe. He dared one foot inside, waiting to see if someone would come downstairs, or around the house. "Tadaima."