OUTBREAK: A Survival RP (IC/ENDED)

[Australian Antarctica]

Jean silently watched as they spoke and then said "You know what, perhaps I overreacted, maybe if I help get that stuff from the police station I can make it up to you? I have an armored van and though I'm gonna keep a personal armory, you can have five FNCs, my FN Minimi, and ten Five SeveNs, I just want to be able to assist my brothers in New York City, DC and LA if they send out a distress signal. I have a feeling at least one of our operations didn't die out. Perhaps I'll give you more weapons, but many of them aren't easy to adapt towards using, Americans usually don't use Bullpup rifles and I wouldn't want any accidents. The FNCs are the older version of the Scar Series, they are a bit more like the AK, with a resemblance of the M-16. I think your people can adapt to them. Oh, and the FN Minimi, I hope you have a veteran or something around cause that's a Light Machine Gun."

Vincent piped up "I know most everything about most any weapons. I can train anyone on them if needed" He got some odd glances "What? I read!" and he did, a lot. At home he'd had his own 'library' that covered his entire basement, and a good portion of the first floor. Remembering that gave him almost a sense of happiness.

[Alouite]

Jean silently watched as they spoke and then said "You know what, perhaps I overreacted, maybe if I help get that stuff from the police station I can make it up to you? I have an armored van and though I'm gonna keep a personal armory, you can have five FNCs, my FN Minimi, and ten Five SeveNs, I just want to be able to assist my brothers in New York City, DC and LA if they send out a distress signal. I have a feeling at least one of our operations didn't die out. Perhaps I'll give you more weapons, but many of them aren't easy to adapt towards using, Americans usually don't use Bullpup rifles and I wouldn't want any accidents. The FNCs are the older version of the Scar Series, they are a bit more like the AK, with a resemblance of the M-16. I think your people can adapt to them. Oh, and the FN Minimi, I hope you have a veteran or something around cause that's a Light Machine Gun."

Vincent piped up "I know most everything about most any weapons. I can train anyone on them if needed" He got some odd glances "What? I read!" and he did, a lot. At home he'd had his own 'library' that covered his entire basement, and a good portion of the first floor. Remembering that gave him almost a sense of happiness.

Jean replied "I suppose I can assist with such training since I am trained to use all of the weapons in that van." Jean then said "So Sarah, I guess it's just your pick as to who gets what training. But as I said, the guns will come over time, as your people gain my trust. Until then stick to the 16 firearms I just gave you for free." Jean smiled and said "So about that police station."

[Wallenburg]

Hugh Garmany || Lauren Clark || South Chicago

"Target lost," Hugh and Lauren heard the radio crackle as the air barreled into the car and out through its trunk. Hugh brought the car to a stop, turning into an alleyway.

"Well. We're alive. Let's check the supplies."

When they opened the trunk door they found one of the jugs of water leaking, a bullet having punched a hole through the plastic. "Damn," muttered Lauren, pulling the jug out of the car to keep it from leaking into the food.

Hugh looked it over and found a silver lining. "Well, I guess we got ourselves a shower." Lauren looked to him and raised an eyebrow. "Well we can't transport it," he said. "We may as well use it somehow."

Lauren smiled and pulled out her knife, carefully cutting a larger hole into the jug. She then turned it over towards Hugh and dumped a small wave on top of him.

Cold, wet, and stunned, Hugh started laughing. He grabbed the jug and doused Lauren playfully. For a while, everything around them--all the pain, all the death, all the cruelty--seemed to melt away, and the two were back in New York, chasing each other down the beach, clinking wine glasses at their friend's restaurant, watching the sun lower between the city skyline from their apartment. The jug emptied, and memories faded out as reality returned with harsh vigor. An infected child was
crawling down the road towards them, quiet rasps leaking from its bloody mouth. Hugh and Lauren were silent, and quickly started up the car, heading east.

[New Grestin]

Jean silently watched as they spoke and then said "You know what, perhaps I overreacted, maybe if I help get that stuff from the police station I can make it up to you? I have an armored van and though I'm gonna keep a personal armory, you can have five FNCs, my FN Minimi, and ten Five SeveNs, I just want to be able to assist my brothers in New York City, DC and LA if they send out a distress signal. I have a feeling at least one of our operations didn't die out. Perhaps I'll give you more weapons, but many of them aren't easy to adapt towards using, Americans usually don't use Bullpup rifles and I wouldn't want any accidents. The FNCs are the older version of the Scar Series, they are a bit more like the AK, with a resemblance of the M-16. I think your people can adapt to them. Oh, and the FN Minimi, I hope you have a veteran or something around cause that's a Light Machine Gun."

Sarah raised an eyebrow, smiling.

"Yeah, you know what? I think that'd work. We'll leave in a few minutes, I just need to get my gear together."

Sarah turned and walked into the armory, punching the code into the door. A loud beep accompanied the door popping open. She stepped inside, grabbing a handgun with a silencer. She looked over the armory, briefly admiring LaForge's work. She reached into one of the cabinets, withdrawing a shotgun and a bandolier of shells. Ian walked inside and Sarah quickly grabbed a rifle from one of the lockers, tossing it to him. He caught it and reached into another locker. He withdrew two ski masks and tossed one to Sarah. She stuffed it in her pocket and walked outside. Alison watched her from the gate, sniper rifle in hand. She called out to the two.

"That's a lot of firepower for a make-out session. Where y'all going?"

Ian yelled back.

"Town. Gonna hit up that police station. You're in charge until we get back."
"Roger that."

Sarah turned to Vincent and Jean.

"Vincent, grab what you need from the armory. Jean, you mind if we use your car?"

[The United Federation of Terrans]

// DAY 29 // 6:40 AM, Just outside New Evanston //

The two men walked down the road, watching the treeline as they went. The sky had gone gloomy, clouded over from the smog. Alan coughed, the smell of sulfur and burning flesh wafting through the air. Cars sat at the side of the road, doors torn open and their inhabitants strewn about the area. Blood and viscera seemed to coat nearly everything they passed. Alan sighed. Things were going to get worse, he knew it. Looking down the road, he tried to distract himself from the horror of it all.

At his side, Paulson trundled along, rifle in hand. He reached into his labcoat, drawing forth a small flask of warm wine. He sipped from it. It hadn't held well, but it didn't matter. Of all the things he'd grabbed before he left, this one mattered most. His mother'd given him the wine for his graduation. A flask of Don Perignon was now his only memory of her, for he knew she was most certainly dead. As the men walked, Paulson stuck the flask back into his coat and whistled a tune.

As the dark clouds passed over, the men stopped near the trail entrance. It led deep into Henry De Tonty Woods. The two men shared a look of worry, but trudged onwards down the trail. Paulson clutched his rifle close.

"You, uh, think this is the trail they took?"

Alan shrugged, stepping over a collapsed tree.

"Not sure, but this is the one O'Neil was having us use for hunting, so it's a good start."

Paulson scoffed.

"Well, fucking fantastic. I've always wanted to shit my pants in the woods."

Alan shook his head, rolling his eyes as he watched the bushes. Crawlers had been a serious problem at first. The damn things were like moving landmines and had a nasty habit of taking a chunk outta people's ankles. It wasn't even a rare occurrence. All someone needed to do was get infected and break a leg or two, then, boom, you've got yourself a crawler. Alan had just lost himself in his rantings when he noticed rustling in the bushes. A man, buck naked, clambered out of the brush. Alan looked the creature over. Blood trickled from his mouth, scrapes and scratches covering his body. Alan had just went for his knife when the man lurched forward. He hissed like a wild animal, spitting blood at Alan as he clawed at him. The zed had barely made it a foot towards Alan when a bullet blasted it's skull open. Alan looked over, seeing smoke rise from Paulson's rifle. The zed stumbled backwards, then collapsed against a tree, smearing blood down the mossy trunk as it fell. Alan gave Paulson a nod of approval.

"Nice shot."

Paulson lowered the rifle, the expended round falling to the ground with a clink.

"Thanks."

The two men continued down the trail, unaware of the ramifications of their actions. The rifle report sounded for the better half of a mile. All throughout the congested roadways, zeds stood at attention. Like ants, they began to march towards the sound, mouths agape. They hungered. As the men marched forward, a horde of nearly fifty infected closed in on the trail.

The crack of a rifle caused Foley to drop to his wounded leg and scan the area behind him from where the rifle echoed off the massive trees that hid him and enemies from the other. The marine had just crested a hill and had spotted a long winding interstate about a mile from his position that was littered with wreckage and bodies when the shot had rung out. After a few minutes of listening for any following shots Foley relaxed as he stood up and stretch his wounded knee and found it tender but not unbearable; he had thought the wound would be much worse but it had not taken away from his condition except for a slight limp or lag in his leg. with a sigh he resumed his journey to the interstate when a roar rang out from somewhere to his left; close to his left. Dropping to his stomach Foley crawled through the low grass to the ridge-like extension of the hill where he had a clear view of a small valley that stretched below him that was dark due to the trees that shaded the depression. Unlimbering the AWM from his back Foley peered through the 8x times scope into the darkness that the pre-afternoon sun had yet to illuminate; the marine sat there scanning and found nothing of concern and was about to pack it in when the first one appeared.

It was of average height and was clad in tattered ACU pants and boots but was bare from the waist up; it was heavily muscular and it's hands had what looked like claws protruding from the end. What Foley noticed was different however, was it's movement; the regular infected moved with exaggerated gestures and clumsily as if performing the motions for the first times or constantly drunk. This one walked out on all fours nose sniffing the air, it's motions were fluid and like that of a tiger; every step was precise and placed as the infected scaled the top of a rock and sniffed the air again before letting out a howl that sounded like a call an animal would have made before a hunt. The call was answered with equal enthusiasm from within the valley as the infected left the valley. There were five more of them and they differed in clothing and size except in key aspects; they were all muscular and walked wit the same predatorily gait as the first one, and each one wore either tattered military uniforms and armor or in one case a torn and dirty black banana suit with a large red A on the right sleeve. They all filled his scope as Foley shifted the crosshairs from target to target wondering whether he should take the shot or not; when they made the first move.

The ACU infected gave a low growl and sat low on it's back legs before it leaped from the rock and into the bushes nearby in the direction of the shot. The others reciprocated the call in a lower tone before following leaving Foley sitting on the ridge wondering what he had just seen when mewling came from the valley below. Foley regarded the mewling for a few seconds before he stood up and with the SKS slung across his back and the harder hitting AWM at the ready Foley made his way down the hill so he could enter the valley below.

Foley entered the shaded valley and was immediately assaulted wit ha stench that he recognized as decomposing meat and something else that niggled at the back of his mind. The floor of the valley consisted of grass that was matted down in the center of the pathway with flecks of dark liquid dotting the valley floor. Moving quickly Foley followed the trampled path through the grass as he scanned the area with the AWM at his shoulder ready to fire at any moment. The stench grew as the marine quickened his pace through the path as he tried to penetrate though the veil the shadows brought over his eyes. Thunk!! foley looked down at his boots to find his left foot had hit a discarded bone, it looked like a femur except for the fact it was cracked in two and the marrow had been sucked out. Looking back up Foley continued forward his steps eliciting louder and louder crunches as bones and debris were crushed under foot. The sound of a low growl had Foley stop in his tracks as he looked for the source of the sound to his left. As Foley turned he didn't notice a form detach itself from a rock formation and stagger towards him roaring; alerted Foley turned to see the figure coming for him, and triggered the rifle in his hands which kicked into his shoulder as the .338 Lapua round exited the barrel and tore into the figures chest area.

The figure fell back as a gout of blood exited from the entry point even as two more figures ran screaming from the point of the original growl in the same stumbling gait. Working the bolt Foley ejected the old round and locked a new round into the chamber as the closest figure reached for the rifles barrel and locked onto the barrel with a steel-like grip. Pulling the trigger the second figure jerked back like the first as it's innards were liquefied by the large round; Foley couldn't work the bolt fast enough to kill the second so he brought his rifle around in a buttstroke practiced endlessly on Parris Island that hit with an audible crack that sent the form reeling back. Pushing his advantage Foley advanced as he jacked another round into the chamber as he pushed the figure to the ground, placed a boot on it's chest, placed the barrel against it's temple and pulled the trigger.

The report clapped off the valley walls as the muzzle flash blinded the marine temporarily; a problem he fixed by blinking rapidly which cleared the spots that had begun to form in his vision. Foley looked around the bone ridden valley that smelled of death for a few minutes as he searched for the source of the mewling but he didn't find it. Shaking his head at the fact he gave away his position and wasted ammo for nothing Foley turned to leave when a ray of sunlight highlighted the three fresh corpses. They were female, and shared the overtly muscled physique and the yellow eyes of the infected that had just left. What was different and explained why foley had survived the encounter was the fact that each women had a slight bump in their stomach and that one of those bumps bounced up and down in rhythm as the women in question mewled as she clutched the wound through her left lung.

Foley left the infected women laying where it had fallen as he stumbled out of the valley to the top as he felt dizzy all of a sudden. However, even getting away from that dreadful smell didn't quell his queasy stomach as the marine fell to his knees and let loose his stomach contents that consisted of a power bar and water. How is that possible? They're basically animals running on instinct..... Oh god. Foley shook his head as he gained his feet again and snatched he AWM up from where it had fallen; cracking the breach, Foley loaded three more rounds as the soft mewling from the valley turned into utter silence that left the area feeling ominous and empty.

Foley afforded himself one last look to the valley before he started his journey back to the highway.


........................

The pack had turned around at the sound of the shots; their intentions and worries obvious to each other through their scents. Close to nest....danger..... The pack found the bodies of the dead females minutes later which elicited howls of outrage that could be heard a long ways away; the pack leader pawed his way towards his mate and sniffed the ground near her searching for some spark of life. Instead he found a scent he recognized in the back of his mind, one that was foreign and yet familiar at the same time. Following the scent path, the leader found a pile of liquid that it recognized as the fluid that came from freshly killed prey's stomachs. Sniffing the odorous liquid the leader gave a howl of authority that gathered the grieving pack around the leader as it started off after the path that The Mate-Killer had made in it's retreat.

[Alouite]

Jean silently watched as they spoke and then said "You know what, perhaps I overreacted, maybe if I help get that stuff from the police station I can make it up to you? I have an armored van and though I'm gonna keep a personal armory, you can have five FNCs, my FN Minimi, and ten Five SeveNs, I just want to be able to assist my brothers in New York City, DC and LA if they send out a distress signal. I have a feeling at least one of our operations didn't die out. Perhaps I'll give you more weapons, but many of them aren't easy to adapt towards using, Americans usually don't use Bullpup rifles and I wouldn't want any accidents. The FNCs are the older version of the Scar Series, they are a bit more like the AK, with a resemblance of the M-16. I think your people can adapt to them. Oh, and the FN Minimi, I hope you have a veteran or something around cause that's a Light Machine Gun."

Sarah raised an eyebrow, smiling.

"Yeah, you know what? I think that'd work. We'll leave in a few minutes, I just need to get my gear together."

Sarah turned and walked into the armory, punching the code into the door. A loud beep accompanied the door popping open. She stepped inside, grabbing a handgun with a silencer. She looked over the armory, briefly admiring LaForge's work. She reached into one of the cabinets, withdrawing a shotgun and a bandolier of shells. Ian walked inside and Sarah quickly grabbed a rifle from one of the lockers, tossing it to him. He caught it and reached into another locker. He withdrew two ski masks and tossed one to Sarah. She stuffed it in her pocket and walked outside. Alison watched her from the gate, sniper rifle in hand. She called out to the two.

"That's a lot of firepower for a make-out session. Where y'all going?"

Ian yelled back.

"Town. Gonna hit up that police station. You're in charge until we get back."
"Roger that."

Sarah turned to Vincent and Jean.

"Vincent, grab what you need from the armory. Jean, you mind if we use your car?"

Jean replied "Yes, not a problem. There should be space in the back of the Armored Car." He then said "I'll make some space quick." He walked over to the car and moved all of the gun bags into the area in the back closer towards the driver and passenger seats. He then fastened them down with a broken seat belt and walked back over to Sarah. "Just say the word and we can get going."

[Deramen]

Cade drove until they were far away enough from the base and parked. He climbed out and went to the back, along with Ava, to figure out the plan. "Look guys, I don't know what you all want to do, but me and Ava are going to Northwestern University. They were holding out there when Ava left and we can probably take some students with us to Wisconsin."

"Alright. I'll stay with you until then, but I'm gonna have to-agghhh-head west." he said, limping out of the back of the transport. He sighed. "Look, I'm extremely thankful that you guys let me come along, without the supplies back there I would've starved, but I'm... I'm just too old to be crashing through military bases like this. Getting home is all I want to do."

Jenkins looked at Hans and at Cade and Ava."Guys we should stick together!There is no hope for us alone.the best chance for survival is to go as a pack."He looked at them and noticed the surroundings,it was died wildlife,most likely from a stray missile.wait a stray out this far?Jenkins looked up to see a chopper coal black,spinning silently far behind them."HOLY SHIT GUYS THERE A CHOPPER ON US LETS GO!"

[Australian Antarctica]

Jean silently watched as they spoke and then said "You know what, perhaps I overreacted, maybe if I help get that stuff from the police station I can make it up to you? I have an armored van and though I'm gonna keep a personal armory, you can have five FNCs, my FN Minimi, and ten Five SeveNs, I just want to be able to assist my brothers in New York City, DC and LA if they send out a distress signal. I have a feeling at least one of our operations didn't die out. Perhaps I'll give you more weapons, but many of them aren't easy to adapt towards using, Americans usually don't use Bullpup rifles and I wouldn't want any accidents. The FNCs are the older version of the Scar Series, they are a bit more like the AK, with a resemblance of the M-16. I think your people can adapt to them. Oh, and the FN Minimi, I hope you have a veteran or something around cause that's a Light Machine Gun."

Sarah raised an eyebrow, smiling.

"Yeah, you know what? I think that'd work. We'll leave in a few minutes, I just need to get my gear together."

Sarah turned and walked into the armory, punching the code into the door. A loud beep accompanied the door popping open. She stepped inside, grabbing a handgun with a silencer. She looked over the armory, briefly admiring LaForge's work. She reached into one of the cabinets, withdrawing a shotgun and a bandolier of shells. Ian walked inside and Sarah quickly grabbed a rifle from one of the lockers, tossing it to him. He caught it and reached into another locker. He withdrew two ski masks and tossed one to Sarah. She stuffed it in her pocket and walked outside. Alison watched her from the gate, sniper rifle in hand. She called out to the two.

"That's a lot of firepower for a make-out session. Where y'all going?"

Ian yelled back.

"Town. Gonna hit up that police station. You're in charge until we get back."
"Roger that."

Sarah turned to Vincent and Jean.

"Vincent, grab what you need from the armory. Jean, you mind if we use your car?"

Vincent nodded his head and ran to the armory. He selected 3 Concussion, 3 High Explosive, and 3 Smoke Grenades, as well as his Mk. 14 and his M9, still crusted with the blood of the infected Sam had shot to save his life. It never occurred to him that that was probably the first one she'd ever killed. The thought filled him with rage. Quickly he pocketed the pistol and grabbed a second one. He would get rid of the first one, symbolically cleaning Sam of her sins.
(Sorry for the Cornflakiness)

[Cumberlanda]

"Alright. I'll stay with you until then, but I'm gonna have to-agghhh-head west." he said, limping out of the back of the transport. He sighed. "Look, I'm extremely thankful that you guys let me come along, without the supplies back there I would've starved, but I'm... I'm just too old to be crashing through military bases like this. Getting home is all I want to do."

Jenkins looked at Hans and at Cade and Ava."Guys we should stick together!There is no hope for us alone.the best chance for survival is to go as a pack."He looked at them and noticed the surroundings,it was died wildlife,most likely from a stray missile.wait a stray out this far?Jenkins looked up to see a chopper coal black,spinning silently far behind them."HOLY SHIT GUYS THERE A CHOPPER ON US LETS GO!"

"Good God, we got to get out of here!" He said, turning on the military radio in the transport.

-Wildcat 1, over. Spotted 5 sierras in a stolen transport, over-

Hans cleared his voice, and tried to sound as official as he could, speaking into the mic.

"Negative, Wildcat 1, this is Lance Corporal... Ken Stapleton, over. After the raid on Nike, we decided to pursue the fleeing sierras on our own. Target was lost 2 klicks north of Ridge Avenue, last seen driving into the ruins."

Some uneasy seconds passed.

-Corporal Stapleton is not a registered name in the database for Nike.-

"Well, they didn't call me that, they put me in as... Razorback"

-Uuh... let me check with...-

As the pilot checked, Hans, not really listening to "Wildcat 1," took a shot at the pilot. He missed, but knocked the spotlight out.

"Cade, get this ugly thing out of here! I'll try to shoot the pilot! Jenkins, join me!"

[Tayner]

Sarah raised an eyebrow, smiling.

"Yeah, you know what? I think that'd work. We'll leave in a few minutes, I just need to get my gear together."

Sarah turned and walked into the armory, punching the code into the door. A loud beep accompanied the door popping open. She stepped inside, grabbing a handgun with a silencer. She looked over the armory, briefly admiring LaForge's work. She reached into one of the cabinets, withdrawing a shotgun and a bandolier of shells. Ian walked inside and Sarah quickly grabbed a rifle from one of the lockers, tossing it to him. He caught it and reached into another locker. He withdrew two ski masks and tossed one to Sarah. She stuffed it in her pocket and walked outside. Alison watched her from the gate, sniper rifle in hand. She called out to the two.

"That's a lot of firepower for a make-out session. Where y'all going?"

Ian yelled back.

"Town. Gonna hit up that police station. You're in charge until we get back."
"Roger that."

Sarah turned to Vincent and Jean.

"Vincent, grab what you need from the armory. Jean, you mind if we use your car?"

Vincent nodded his head and ran to the armory. He selected 3 Concussion, 3 High Explosive, and 3 Smoke Grenades, as well as his Mk. 14 and his M9, still crusted with the blood of the infected Sam had shot to save his life. It never occurred to him that that was probably the first one she'd ever killed. The thought filled him with rage. Quickly he pocketed the pistol and grabbed a second one. He would get rid of the first one, symbolically cleaning Sam of her sins.
(Sorry for the Cornflakiness)

Luke returned to the armory with Sarah and Ian, and found a pice of paper. He wrote on it Log Book and labeled the page Day 29 PO(Post Outbreak). Once he looked at the group's loadout, he wrote it all down. "Sign here. I was told to keep it organized, and now I'm keeping a record of what goes in and out of this armory."

Luke checked the group out, following the same procedure with Vincent, and found a chair. After some searching around, he found a bottle of tequila with a rag stuffed into it. Luke found a plastic cup, pulled out the rag, and poured a little in it. He stuffed the rag back in it, sat down, and drank the tequila. It burned his throat but Luke didn't make a noise.

He walked out the building, leaving the log book on the table by the door. He looked around, and found Vincent on his way out. Luke caught up to him and spoke to him. "If you can find pennies, or copper wile you're gone, I could smelt 'em and make a still. With the right corn, I could make some 100° proof pure moonshine, but right now, I need the copper. Tell the others too." He said.

After asking Vincent, Luke returned to the armory, and organized some more rifles. His eyes fell upon Foley's SAW. He picked it up, and grabbed the ammo, and placed them into a locker. He labeled the locker LMG. Luke thought the man had died back at the checkpoint. I should've gone back to get him. Luke wandered, grabbed a AK-47. He propped the rifle on the table and sat down after he leaned his chair back onto the wall. He then kicked his feet onto the table. He waited for the next person to come through. The rifle was his security system.

[Armeia]

Cade ran back to the front and slammed the gas, accelerating as fast as he could without blowing the engine. "How'd they find us?"' He muttered to himself. As they drove, he turned onto the highway lane to Evanston, particularly Northwestern University.

Ava noticed this too and explained the location. "I'm from Northwestern, it's a great survival place and my friends there already started a militia to fight the zombies. We can re supply there and decide what to do next."

[Charlia]

Charlotte finally started to wake up, still slightly out of it. "Ugh... head hurts..." She tried to sit up, but pain lanced through her body again and she laid back down. "How long... was I out?" Oh. Oh dear. "Did I... say anything weird?" She blinked, swirls of color turning in the air as her eyes opened again. Painkillers... ugh.

[Wallenburg]

Hugh Garmany || Lauren Clark || Crossing into Indiana

Bits of asphalt flung up into the air as the beaten-up car tore down the highway to Gary. Lauren was driving now, Hugh checking the weapons and reloading them with full magazines. "So Lauren, what do you think of Lamar?"

Lauren sighed. "He isn't one of us."

Hugh didn't take his eyes off of the handgun cartridge as he slid in bullets. "What do you mean?"

"He wasn't on the plane. I've only seen him for a few hours. I barely know anything about him. He could be a good man, but I'm not putting any blind faith in him."

"Alright then. I can appreciate that. I'd like to give him a chance though."

Stowing away the last weapon, Hugh looked up to see the shape of a large truck far ahead on the highway. "You think they see us?" he asked.

"I hope not. They just showed up there, so I'm trying to slow down."

[Deramen]

Cade ran back to the front and slammed the gas, accelerating as fast as he could without blowing the engine. "How'd they find us?"' He muttered to himself. As they drove, he turned onto the highway lane to Evanston, particularly Northwestern University.

Ava noticed this too and explained the location. "I'm from Northwestern, it's a great survival place and my friends there already started a militia to fight the zombies. We can re supply there and decide what to do next."

Jenkins nodded at Hans and took his M4A1.He took pocket shots at the chopper.The first shot hit a propeller.the second one hit a soldier in the chopper and then Bam blood pored out of jenkins arm."AH! I'VE BEEN HIT AGAIN BY THESE FUCKER!"Jenkins aimed his M4A1 and released all the ammo shooting like a mad man.He was in his fit of rage when *Click**Click*He...Was out."I'm out!"He checked the transport and found no gun.But he found a gas mask and a rain coat.Jenkins put it on over his clothing.He tried the next best thing which was yelling to Cade and Ava."HEY USE THE PISTOL I GAVE YA I'M OUT OF AMMO FOR MY GUN!"He then checked on Charlotte.....
*Character Look Update.*

Charlotte finally started to wake up, still slightly out of it. "Ugh... head hurts..." She tried to sit up, but pain lanced through her body again and she laid back down. "How long... was I out?" Oh. Oh dear. "Did I... say anything weird?" She blinked, swirls of color turning in the air as her eyes opened again. Painkillers... ugh.

.....Jenkins smirked."You've been out for less than a day and we are in a gunfight!"Jenkins heard a shot from the chopper,"Sorry for this!" and moved Charlotte farther into the transport.He noticed the pain and looked imto the first aid kit.It had painkillers and that was it.He took them and gave them to Charlotte "Use them if it hurts real bad."He then checked again but this time for himself.he found gause and thought that would work for now.He took off the coat and wrapped the gauze around his hand.He then put the coat back on and breathed.

[New Grestin]

// Day 29 // 7:30 AM // New Evanston

Sarah nodded to LaForge, impressed. She knew they'd need to keep track of everything. Particularly if they wanted to keep troublemakers from causing problems. She stepped outside and hopped into the passenger seat of the armored car, Ian following close behind and stepping into the back. Ian reached forward, handing Sarah a map. It was an old tourist map of Evanston, with everything marked with cutesy characters. Red marker had been scribbled around the map, indicting scavenged locations. The police station was circled several times. She looked back to Ian.

"Any reason you guys hadn't hit this place yet?"
"Used to be too dangerous. A lot of people crowded the station once the crisis started."
"You're not sending us into a deathtrap, are you?"
"No, no. I've been checking periodically since then. It's pretty well cleared out now, we just need to be careful."
"Totally."

She leaned out the window, waving for Alison to open the gate. The woman nodded, slinging the rifle over her shoulder and hopping to the ground. With a little help from one of the guards, the gate opened. Sarah leaned back, nodding to Jean and waiting for Vincent.

---

Meanwhile, Alan and Paulson had begun the trek back to the compound. As they walked, they slowly became aware of noises approaching. The two men ducked behind the trees, Alan watching with bated breath as his eyes fell upon the small horde that had followed them. The creatures trudged along, listlessly searching, but they knew not for what. Paulson watched, fascinated. He'd never understand the dynamics of the animals, how the virus could reduce humans to such beasts. The two men laid in the bushes, hoping to avoid detection.

---

A small group had gathered behind the med-tent. Claire watched, tears in her eyes as Craig's lifeless corpse laid in the dirt. Hank stepped forward, sighed, and then pulled a bible from his jacket. It'd been a long time since he'd prayed. The way he saw it, god had abandoned them long ago. The creatures, the zeds, now owned the Earth. It was the end times. Still, as a former man of the cloth, he was slightly more qualified to deliver a eulogy than most. He cleared his throat, then spoke.

"Thank you all for coming today. I understand with everything going on, that some didn't have time. That's fine. We'll begin."

He paused for a moment, then spoke again.

"Why? Why are the innocent punished? Why the sacrifice? Why the pain? There aren't any promises. Nothing certain. Only that some get called, some get saved. He won't ever know the hardship and grief for those of us left behind. We commit this body to the void with a glad heart. For within each seed, there is a promise of a flower, and within each death, no matter how small, there's always a new life. A new beginning. Amen."

The voices joined him.

"Amen."

With that, Hank nodded to one of the men. He nodded back and quickly began to fill the grave. Hank walked over to Claire, comforting her as her husband was interred to the earth.

[Beiarusia]

ASF-13 Reaper-B

>SNIP<

Akiyama watched as the world passed by, head in hand and weapon in lap, gazing out from the side window as the truck gradually made its way east into Indiana. Several hours had passed since the small unit’s departure from Nike and their search for those who had assaulted the base had yet to see success. Progress had been further delayed upon encountering a hostile group of sierras foolish enough to attack the truck, no doubt hoping to loot the high-grade equipment from the soldiers. Needless to say things had not gone as planned for the would be bandits. The bodies had been searched though Akiyama had little reason to believe they were the same ones responsible for the Nike raid.

“We have a vehicle at six o’clock,” announced the driver suddenly, his gaze locked on to the side mirror. Akiyama steered her gaze to the opposite mirror and, true enough, there was a vehicle approaching from behind.

The second-in-command perked up. “Stop the truck,” she ordered, the truck dutifully slowing to a stop several seconds later. To the other four sitting in the rear, “Weapons ready. Fire only if fired upon.”

Akiyama stepped down from the truck, having to hop down almost. Her rifle was left in the passenger seat though her sidearm was at her side, a precaution if need be. The driver remained seated, the truck’s engine still running, the four others ready to act if need be, two stepping down to the street. Akiyama waved down the slowly approaching car, thinking a change in tactics would suit them well enough.

[Imperialisium]

Chicago

D didn't notice anyone as he looked about, only seeing the infected, and so her made the hard choice. He reined his horse around, and aimed his stead down the road away from the store. Moving to a trot pace D returned to his prior occupation of looking about himself to make sure he was not being watched. Heading West D crossed through West Madison Street. Giving him clear sight lines as he trotted down the road. The sound of the infected grew and dissipated with each passing clop of his horses hoof. Some wondered about, others ran at him, and D spared no time to stop or run. Just drew his blade and cut them down where they stood at that particular moment. Leaving a bloody trail of bodies. Not so much a trail, but for all intents and purposes it was a trail of bread crumbs.

Another clop of a hoof and D glanced back at downtown Chicago as he meandered down West Madison to the outer boroughs of the city. Crossing the United Center D looked askance at the building, the superstructure, and the infected that milled about it in the distance. Corpses, have decomposed, half eaten on top of skeletons. The infected were beginning to starve as they exhausted food supplies throughout the districts of the city. Probably in a few months this city will be as good as dead. That thought harbored some irony in D's mind. The thought that the last ones to die in Chicago would probably be the ones who are terminal.

At that thought, crossing Wells Temple of Deliverance D brooded on the religious angle of this existence, and all aspects therein. No doubt some would yell This is the Rapture, God is punishing us, the apocalypse is nigh, or only the faithful will achieve deliverance unto salvation. All nonsense really. The musings of crackpot fools and false soothsayers. No, this was the works of something else. D was sure of it. Lifting up his right hand D looked at it. The pale skin, and he touched his face, feeling the soft flesh. Guiding his hand back he felt the point of his right ear. The unnaturalness of it all made his stomach feel like a boulder had just been heaved on it. Returning his hand to the reins he looked up at the sky. The swaying of the saddle would have been nauseating for one not accustomed to the travel style of an equestrian. The Sun's rays felt like the lances of pure warmth as they touched his skin with their blinding aura. The breeze wafted through the city-scape and brushed his hat and cloak. The tug was like that of a child on a wayward mentor to come home. The visage of Sam flashed through D's mind. Had he lost another? Perhaps the worst had had happened. A quick death right now was a mercy compared to being devoured alive.

Glancing to his right he spied a sign that made him pause. Access Warren Family Health Center. D didn't even think he just turned back and galloped around the corner. His boots hit the concrete as he drew his sword once more. Stepping through the shattered glass door and the crunch of glass D nimbly slid around the corner. An infected stirred on the floor with a low growl. D planted the tip of his sword through its skull, silencing it with a noiseless crunch, like a watermelon that had been punctured by an ice pick. The infected died in a pool of its own blood as its brain was skewered by steel.

Pulling the blade free D slid over the counter and made his slowly through the back room. Finding a storage space he began opening up plastic tuber ware. Finding the desired one he lifted out the kit for a sling and an arm splint. D turned and there he froze. Two infected barred the door. He had been so dead set on finding the kits he had forgotten to be aware of his surroundings. They came at him, D dropped the kit, his blade sang once in a fierce uppercut. Slicing through stomach and splintering the breast plate of the lead infected nurse. The second was younger and quicker. Dashing round her dying companion the infected lunged at D. Clamping her jaw on his fore arm D let out a snarl and gave a savage punch. His fist demolished her nose and shattered her cheek bones. She snarled and slashed, catching his shoulder plates as they skitted across. D threw and elbow knocking her back and quick drawing a knife plunged it into her throat. Opening the jugular like it was a satanic sacrificial fountain. She died trying to staunch the blood flow and D checked his fore arm. No blood. Under neath the black clothe was a steel vambrace. Edging to the door D saw nothing else. Turning back he scooped up the kits, grabbed some batteries and other bins. Carrying them out he dumped them into the saddle bags of his horse that was sniffing the asphalt.

Dumping the tuber ware unceremoniously onto the road D slid back into the saddle with practiced grace. He wasted no time in returning to West Madison at a quicker pace. No telling what the smell of freshly spilled blood might bring.

Passing blocks and several abandoned places of worship, one of which had words spray painted on the doors, God Damned US, the rains having not completely washed it away nor made it illegible. Passing on D saw to his right a sign that read Garfield Park Public Pool in white letters. The park was immediately in view. Brown stains were found along the side walk and the bones of the ceased could be seen. Picked clean by the local birds that called the Park home. The skulls of several children, for they were smaller than the rest, became a grinning remainder of Sam the potential failure in keeping her safe. But what that not simply avoiding the inevitable? Couldn't D just have put a bullet in her brain and saved her the pain and torment of surviving as a child in this wasteland. After all, we are all broken, especially after the world fell.

Then of course D remainder the foggy memories he did possess from earlier. He had a family, that much was certain, and they all perished. Surely he could forge a new self after he was changed. To not give into the hell this world has become to its surviving inhabitants. So D poured himself into his own thoughts and recalled something about a safe house in Wisconsin, and heading North.

Pulling out his map he procured from a highway rest stop a while back D checked his bearings. He could jump on N. Hamlin up to North Ave. Then cut across East to North Western Ave. That would take him far to the North and nearing the state border. A similar route to before except D took a wide arc from Milwaukee and entered Chicago from the West heading East by South-East. Craning his head and squinting about D nudged his steed on wards. Passing by a couple bombed out buildings along the way until he began moving onto Hamlin heading North. As D reached North Ave he saw the bombing commence. The final deathblow to a once mighty city. Someone had decided it was time to pull the plug, and the military still had the manpower to deliver that payload. That gave a subtle home into D. But it was soon dashed at the way the soldiers had tried to kill everyone in the warehouse the day earlier. The military evidently had long since stopped caring for the well being of civilians.

Running East as D spurred on his horse to a run, the bombing producing an inferno that was slowly spreading, and gave him all the more emphasis for speed. D did not want to be caught in the inferno as the bombs dropped. Finally reaching Western D spurred his horse North as they galloped out of Chicago. D looked down at his map as he flitted his vision back and forth. To the North-West was Skokie, to the North-East was Evanston. Skokie was closer, but Evanston was a bit more out and had access to the lake. Travel by boat was a lot safer than by land. D was certain he could find a craft suitable for a horse and himself to skirt Northwards.

The clip clop of hooves beating the pavement, the fluttering whoosh of his great coat, and the clinking of his sword's scabbard against the saddle was all that accompanied D as he kept his eyes forward. Locking in on the road before him as he passed block by city block. Slowly giving way to smaller buildings, more spaced out, and less clutter. D was firmly heading into the suburbs of the North. Beyond that was a more rural setting that was arguably much safer. Hopefully the group of at least Sam and Vincent were heading that way as well.

[Tayner]

Luke attended the service for the man who died saving him and Sam from Chicago. Luke had learned his name was Craig. Once a man named Hank, an old preacher gave a eulogy for Craig and Luke removed his hat and bowed for the prayer. Once it was over he said "Amen" with the rest of the group. Luke walked over to Clare, who he understood was Craig's wife. "I'm sorry for your loss, ma'am. He was a good man."

Luke returned to the armory, doing more inventory, and taking care of what little mess remained. After finally organizing the guns, he found a keg of black powder. Well, shit, I'm glad I waited to finish my smoke earlier. Luke thought, as he put it near the antique firearms. Luke picked one up, a musket. It had rifling, definitely Revolutionary War era, German made. It was one that the sharpshooters used to kill the British up north with. This certainly belonged in a museum, not some preper's compound.

He placed the rifle on the counter, found a hammer, and some nails he grabbed from the hardware store. He hammered four nails into a wooden part of the wall, and placed the antique musket on the wall. It made a nice display, better the being locked in a box. It was a pice of American history. Luke returned to his spot by the door, and sat down. He proceeded to clean the AK-47 he left there. But it didn't matter, he could drop it in mud, leave it for a few days, and returned and be able to empty the mag. One of the few things the Soviet Union did right. Just ahead of the Mosin-Nagat.

[Beiarusia]

Samantha Tallow // New Evanston

Sam watched from behind the gathering of despondent survivors as the man was lowered into the grave. His name was a mystery to the girl but he had died saving both her and Luke back at the hardware store, unjustly struck down in their place. Sam had no connection to this man and yet she couldn’t help but to feel grief if not guilt over his passing, her being partly to blame for what had transpired. It would be a false statement to claim that Sam was solely responsible for this man’s death but had Sarah not come back for them he would still be alive and well. Wrong place; wrong time.

The girl was the first to leave the small funeral, wandering the compound with little else to do but think. Her father was the first to come to mind, as always the case, his final fate elusive but most likely gone regardless. Had he somehow survived Sears Tower then the bombings would have surely claimed him, and even if that too was not enough to leave the Brit for dead it was unlikely that the two would cross paths again. A sordid thought that soon segued into that of Vincent, him having gone off again on some dangerous task. Sam had once more been left out of the loop and could only guess as to where they were now, though Sarah had accompanied the small group so there was some consolation at the very least. The woman seemed more than capable and would no doubt keep Vincent and the others safe from harm, an assumption that Sam could only hope was correct.

Looking about Sam discovered that she was near the same watchtower from the night before, having paid little to no attention as to where she was actually heading, simply moving for the sake of doing so. She debated on whether or not to scale the ladder once more but shied away after spotting someone already occupying the small platform. Turning to leave she nearly collided with a man she did not recognize, his dark eyes meeting her own before slowly traveling down and back up her thin frame, stepping pass her before their eyes could meet once more, close enough that she could feel the brush of his jacket against her own. Sam watched the man for a moment more, feeling uneasy, tearing herself and back to the dorms only after he had disappeared from her sight. Thirsty, the girl headed first to the storage shed. A man was sitting outside busying himself with a small wood carving, greeting Sam and, while friendly, seemingly confused when she said nothing in return. He tried again with similar results. Sam made a few quick movements with her hands, figuring he would understand and, as fortune had it, he did. Rather than go through the hassle he merely allowed her to pass.

Inside the refrigerator was cold, Sam making an effort to quickly find something palatable so as to leave as soon as possible, shivering despite the jacket she still wore. There was an adequate stock of bottled water as well as juice boxes of varying flavors, among other things. The girl was tempted to grab an apple juice but ultimately settled for water instead, breaking the seal and drinking as she made for the exit. About to step outside she spied a shelf sitting not too far back from the door, several bottles of liquor sitting atop, both dark and clear. With little thought Sam approached, gazing at the assortment and reading the many labels. Her knowledge of alcohol was passable enough to know what it was and even how it was made but that was the limit of it. On a whim she grabbed a bottle of vodka and twisted the already loose cap, sniffing the contents with displeasure crossing her face, the smell strong if not unpleasant. A second passed before she raised the bottle to her lips, taking in a mouthful and nearly gagging from the burn as it went down her throat. Shaking her head clear she returned the bottle to its place, cap on tighter than it previously was, and simply stared at the collection seemingly deep in thought. With a sudden determination she left the refrigerator, startling the whittling man with the forcefulness of her strides, hearing not his protests.

Luke was in the armory as expected, cleaning a rifle the girl recognized as Soviet. He took notice of her but said nothing, knowing his words would be a waste of breath to the girl who couldn’t hear them. Sam found a loose sheet of paper and a pencil, scribbling a note with a ferocity so unlike her, her writing loose and sharp as it cut across the blank space. She went right up to Luke and held the note outstretched for him to read, holding herself in such a way as to make saying “no” an impossibility. Teach me how to shoot.

[Wallenburg]

Hugh Garmany || Lauren Clark || Indiana

"Oh, shit," growled Lauren.

"Hmm?"

"That truck just stopped. We're going to be on top of it in no time."

Looking ahead, Hugh could see the truck growing on the horizon. "So what should we do? Turn around?"

"No, they'd probably just follow us and we'd waste fuel."

"So we're going to have to be friendly."

The truck's features came into clarity. It was painted in forest camoflauge and was clearly armoured. "Oh no," Hugh whispered. "Military."

The only sound in the car was the wind howling out of its rear window like a dying reaver. Lauren brought the car to a stop as she saw soldiers step out of the trucks. "Berets?" she asked.

"I think so." Hugh looked to her, hope long gone from his eyes. "We should have turned back." Hugh reached over to Lauren and caught her in a long embrace, letting a few tears fall. Death stood among the soldiers, waiting to escort two more away from Life. Lauren and Hugh kissed, and then they stepped out.

[Armeia]

Outside of Northwestern University

Ava took the pistol from Cade as they drove and leaned out the window, taking a couple shots at the helicopter before ducking back inside. "The transport is too slow, we might have to ditch it and run into the woods, they can't hit us easily there."

"I'm not risking it," muttered Cade, turning on another bend and seeing a sign that said 'WELCOME TO NORTHWESTERN CAMPUS'.

"We're here!" he shouted, still driving as fast as he could to try and lose the chopper.

[Tayner]

Luke was almost done cleaning his rifle when Sam entered. She quickly found a pencil and a pice of paper and wrote. Luke almost laughed at the note. Not because she wanted to learn to shoot, but the fact that she tried to order him. He wrote Ok. But for future reference, say please. He went around the armory and found a BB gun, an ale Red Rider. He picked up the container that held BBs that he put by it earlier.

He grabbed the plastic cup that he used to drink tequila from earlier. He motioned for Sam to open the door, because his hands were full. Once she opened it, Luke found a pice of wood, and propped it up on the wall of the armory. Luke placed the cup on the pice of wood, and he walked back about twenty paces from the cup. He grabbed the paper Sam wrote on and wrote rules of using a gun.

Rules
1) Always treat a gun like it is loaded.
2) Don't put your finger on the trigger if you don't plan on shooting.
3) Don't point the gun at Good people.

Luke then wrote This is how you shoot a gun. He brought the small BB gun up to his shoulder and leaned forward. He then took in a small breath, and shot the cup. It put a small hole in it, but it didn't fall off the wooden support. Luke wrote down some tips for Sam to read, like Squeeze the trigger, hold the gun steady, and breathe in slightly before shooting. He then loaded a few BBs into the gun, and put it on safety, and handed it to Sam.

[Altito Asmoro]

Nikolas "Nick" Kharchenko / Melody Hanson
Day 29
On their way to Indiana

The radio's off, even when it's on there's barely something appeared. Car's looks old, but it's reliable. Along the way they found the infected, the normal ones, so far. They did heard of the special ones, but until now, they never seen it...yet. And that's a terrifying future. There's a music casette, but it's an unknown music to them.

Along the way, Melody fell asleep. She's tired after the last night's guard duty. Only 1 handgun and enough ammunition, as well as constant hiding that made them safe until now.

They made this far, and they hope it stay safe. Almost impossible, but hope is a beautiful thing.

[Cumberlanda]

Outside of Northwestern University

Ava took the pistol from Cade as they drove and leaned out the window, taking a couple shots at the helicopter before ducking back inside. "The transport is too slow, we might have to ditch it and run into the woods, they can't hit us easily there."

"I'm not risking it," muttered Cade, turning on another bend and seeing a sign that said 'WELCOME TO NORTHWESTERN CAMPUS'.

"We're here!" he shouted, still driving as fast as he could to try and lose the chopper.

"Jenkins, here, put a tourniquet on that" he said, passing him what's left of the t-shirt. He wasn't too good himself, his right arm found it harder to hold up his gun. He got down on his stomach, figuring he could still hit the heli and not have to hold his gun. "Jenkins, use my revolver. It's better than throwing rocks."

"Nice to see you alive, girl. Now, we're practically here, we just gotta lose this asshole." He said, aiming at the plastic cockpit window. Then he fired 3 shots in succession. He wasn't sure if he hit the pilot, but it would definitely distract him enough.

"Cade, you got a chance, now lose him!"

[Australian Antarctica]

Vincent looked around the armory one last time, then set off. Quickly he ran to the Armored car, weighed down with the ammo, explosives, and his gear. He hopped in and sat down, pulling out a copy of 1984 he'd had in his backpack since the begining. Sometimes he needed to read do deal with all the shit that's been going on since the beginning, now was no exception.