Post by Deleted on Dec 23, 2015 18:05:43 GMT -5
Somewhere, to the western edge of North Carolina lay a small collection of but a few dozen houses. The leafy streets provided plenty of shade and the small collection of shops and stores that made her centre could only be described as rustic. It would once have been called a sleepy little place. But now it was just like everywhere else, dead. But on the outskirts of the village a sign of life could just be made out. Having observed the town for the past hour through his binoculars George Marshal had decided it was safe to approach across the untilled fields that surrounded the little village on his trusty old mountain bike, a highly useful item he had purloined out of a back garden months ago.
This never gets any easier, thought George as he let his bicycle glide to a silent stop by the service entrance of a small village store. He had already had to evade half a dozen walkers on the ride in. Fortunately none were following him, all to bemused by the quick moving and silent bike. Lightly dismounting George tried the door handle, locked of course. It was wishful thinking to hope it might have been otherwise. Indeed, it was wishful thinking to believe there might be anything of use here at all. He had been losing track of time over the past few months but it had to have been two or more years now since the world went to hell. Places like this would almost certainly be picked clean, everywhere was. He was going to need a more sustainable solution soon. Truth be told he needed it months ago. But still, here he was, hoping against hope.
Slowly making his way around the side of the building he kept a careful ear out for walkers. Those things could be surprisingly silent when they wanted to be and he knew all too well the price of not keeping an ear open. When he eventually made it to the front and the main road he could see two of the shambling monstrosities up by the far end of the street, clear as anything in the midday sun, but nothing more. He was not going to attract them at this range if he kept the noise down. Keeping quiet however, was always harder that it seemed.
Sadly the front door was also fastened, he could have broken in easily enough with his axe, but the shattering glass might draw the biters. Plus the alarm inside might still have battery power, which he did not want to risk. Looking about he saw a drain pipe which seemed sturdy enough to take the weight of him and his pack. It would be a close thing but those screws looked like they could handle it. So after giving it a test shake or two he clambered up, it creaked alarmingly and one of the fastenings seemed to pop loose causing George a small heart attack as it did so, but it held, just.
Up on the flat asphalt roof he found what he had been hoping for, a skylight. But he also found what he been dreading, it was already open. It would seem that someone else had the same bright idea as him. Likely whoever it was had already left, but he could not be sure. Creeping up to the opening he drew his M9 and waited. Nothing happened. He continued to wait. There was no noise coming from within. No whispering, no breathing, no shuffling feet, nothing at all. The silence was almost maddening, was it safe or had he missed something? There was no way to tell, there was never a way to tell. But there was a difference between being prudent and being over cautious and he was straying into over caution, he had to act.
Weapon drawn he dropped down into the store, landing in a small open area littered with faded newspapers and magazines that had been strewn about the place. Spinning around on the spot like a startled cat he made sure there was no one else in the room with him. It would seem that he was safe. Creeping over to the back office his nose was assaulted by a truly rancorous smell, it was almost enough to make him choke. He could now hear the buzz of flies and he already knew what he would find within, but he had to check.
Sure enough there was a rotting corpse, chewed largely to the bone by time and maggots alike. By the badge on its once white shirt, now stained deep brown by time and bodily fluids, this poor unfortunate had been an employee. But more concerning was the fact that it’s head had already been caved in. This confirmed that George had not been the first man here, and whomsoever had been here last had likely long since departed, locking the doors behind him for who knows what reason.
Holstering his pistol and checking the safety, but drawing out his axe just in case, George went about searching the shelves and cupboards for anything even vaguely useful. Fresh food had gone long ago, tined food seemed to have gone as well, medicine gone, oils, tools, all gone. Was there anything left in this place? The tourist maps here were significantly worse than the proper map he already had. With his fumbling he eventually unearthed some sealed up jerky that had fallen on the ground underneath the magazines. The expiry date was two months ago but these things lasted forever, and beggars could not be choosers. Was this how bad it had gotten? Scavenging expired meat off of the floor in a building shared with a decomposing corpse?
Shoving the jerky into one of his webbing pouches he continued checking about the store to ensure there was nothing else that he had missed when he saw the flicker of movement across the shops drawn Venetian style blinds. Freezing in place like a particularly startled statue he waited until he saw the flicker again. Shuffling carefully over to the window he pressed his eye up against one of the narrow gaps between the slats and peered out. He could make out something, at least one figure to be sure but it was currently in the shade and his eyes had not yet adjusted. Was it a walker, a human, how many were there? He waited a few moments, waiting for eyes to acclimatise to the sudden burst of light.
This never gets any easier, thought George as he let his bicycle glide to a silent stop by the service entrance of a small village store. He had already had to evade half a dozen walkers on the ride in. Fortunately none were following him, all to bemused by the quick moving and silent bike. Lightly dismounting George tried the door handle, locked of course. It was wishful thinking to hope it might have been otherwise. Indeed, it was wishful thinking to believe there might be anything of use here at all. He had been losing track of time over the past few months but it had to have been two or more years now since the world went to hell. Places like this would almost certainly be picked clean, everywhere was. He was going to need a more sustainable solution soon. Truth be told he needed it months ago. But still, here he was, hoping against hope.
Slowly making his way around the side of the building he kept a careful ear out for walkers. Those things could be surprisingly silent when they wanted to be and he knew all too well the price of not keeping an ear open. When he eventually made it to the front and the main road he could see two of the shambling monstrosities up by the far end of the street, clear as anything in the midday sun, but nothing more. He was not going to attract them at this range if he kept the noise down. Keeping quiet however, was always harder that it seemed.
Sadly the front door was also fastened, he could have broken in easily enough with his axe, but the shattering glass might draw the biters. Plus the alarm inside might still have battery power, which he did not want to risk. Looking about he saw a drain pipe which seemed sturdy enough to take the weight of him and his pack. It would be a close thing but those screws looked like they could handle it. So after giving it a test shake or two he clambered up, it creaked alarmingly and one of the fastenings seemed to pop loose causing George a small heart attack as it did so, but it held, just.
Up on the flat asphalt roof he found what he had been hoping for, a skylight. But he also found what he been dreading, it was already open. It would seem that someone else had the same bright idea as him. Likely whoever it was had already left, but he could not be sure. Creeping up to the opening he drew his M9 and waited. Nothing happened. He continued to wait. There was no noise coming from within. No whispering, no breathing, no shuffling feet, nothing at all. The silence was almost maddening, was it safe or had he missed something? There was no way to tell, there was never a way to tell. But there was a difference between being prudent and being over cautious and he was straying into over caution, he had to act.
Weapon drawn he dropped down into the store, landing in a small open area littered with faded newspapers and magazines that had been strewn about the place. Spinning around on the spot like a startled cat he made sure there was no one else in the room with him. It would seem that he was safe. Creeping over to the back office his nose was assaulted by a truly rancorous smell, it was almost enough to make him choke. He could now hear the buzz of flies and he already knew what he would find within, but he had to check.
Sure enough there was a rotting corpse, chewed largely to the bone by time and maggots alike. By the badge on its once white shirt, now stained deep brown by time and bodily fluids, this poor unfortunate had been an employee. But more concerning was the fact that it’s head had already been caved in. This confirmed that George had not been the first man here, and whomsoever had been here last had likely long since departed, locking the doors behind him for who knows what reason.
Holstering his pistol and checking the safety, but drawing out his axe just in case, George went about searching the shelves and cupboards for anything even vaguely useful. Fresh food had gone long ago, tined food seemed to have gone as well, medicine gone, oils, tools, all gone. Was there anything left in this place? The tourist maps here were significantly worse than the proper map he already had. With his fumbling he eventually unearthed some sealed up jerky that had fallen on the ground underneath the magazines. The expiry date was two months ago but these things lasted forever, and beggars could not be choosers. Was this how bad it had gotten? Scavenging expired meat off of the floor in a building shared with a decomposing corpse?
Shoving the jerky into one of his webbing pouches he continued checking about the store to ensure there was nothing else that he had missed when he saw the flicker of movement across the shops drawn Venetian style blinds. Freezing in place like a particularly startled statue he waited until he saw the flicker again. Shuffling carefully over to the window he pressed his eye up against one of the narrow gaps between the slats and peered out. He could make out something, at least one figure to be sure but it was currently in the shade and his eyes had not yet adjusted. Was it a walker, a human, how many were there? He waited a few moments, waiting for eyes to acclimatise to the sudden burst of light.