The Walking Dead - IC/OPEN (Survival-Horror RP)

[Cainesland]

"Let's get these desks set up guys!"

"Ok" Mordimer responded. He briskly strolled over to the classroom that Miller had entered. The white floor sat covered with a film of dark scratches from years of chairs being scraped across it. The Whiteboard had marks from the blue black and red markers from the last time the class had been used more than a week ago. Photos, Pictures and quotes adorned the walls. An overhead projector relaxed nestled in the far corner. One of the desks were missing, having been recently moved to the barricade. Mordimer moved to pick up the desk right behind it. The desk seemed to have a layer of used gum coating the underside of it. Sliding into his grasp, the desk was hauled to the barricade, fitting near the other desk and the bench.

"Who are you? What is going on?"

"Mordimer turned around,with the introduction of the new figure, after putting the chair down. He started towards the classroom again. "Hello Sir. I am Mordimer. We are barricading the doors from the risers outside. Would you like to help?"

[Incabur]

August 29, 2018
Wilmington, NC

The others took no time getting their asses up the humvee. First went Caitlin, who pulled out her gun and scanned scanned the window. Then came the others, as they were getting Theo, who understandably needed help considering his age, onto the roof of the the military vehicle. Abraham appeared to be the one who organized the procedure, and Kenneth simply went along with it. There was something about the guy that just didn't sit well with him, but odds are that its just paranoid nonsense. Still, he would keep an eye on the guy, just in case. Abraham thrusted Theo up the humvee, which Kenneth wasn't quite prepared for.

The moans of the monsters were getting louder and louder with each passing second, and he could feel himself shaking. After Theo was safe and sound in the building, and the others had their turn, he climbed the humvee with great haste, almost slipping off as he was in the process of balancing himself. He tossed the gun into the window, and heaved himself into the building. He could feel his back starting to ache, and it didn't help that he landed right on it while propelling himself inside. He picked his Spas 12 up, and scanned the hallways, with the barrel of his gun pointing directly at where he laid his eyes upon.

After assuring himself that there was relative safety at his particular area, he took the time to catch his breath. He brushed off any dirt that was on his certainly not suitable for the apocalypse outfit, and adjusted any wrinkles. He took the time to gaze at the hallway, this time observing with great detail. The place was a mess, with school supplies scattered all over the floor, and even a few lockers fallen on their sides. The place, with the exception of him and the group he was with, was devoid of any life. The only sounds were his group's panting and comments, the moans from the outside, which probably have reached the building by now, and the gunfire coming from somewhere in this god-forsaken building.

"Well, wasn't that just exciting. At this point, I wouldn't be surprised if a bunch of demons starting pouring into the hallways," Kenneth muttered under his breath.

It was at that point that that he heard an unfamiliar voice address them.

"Put your weapons on the floor slowly. I’m not going to hurt you, just do it."

Kenneth looked in the general direction of this voice, and almost pissed himself at the sight. A young woman, decked out with undoubtedly military equipment, was pointing her assault rifle towards Caitlin. Unsure of what to do after a few seconds of silence, he decided to drop his weapon, and slowly put his hands up.

"Are any of you bitten?" The woman questioned. Kenneth himself wasn't sure of that, it had never crossed his mind. However, considering everyone seemed to be in decent health, he simply assumed that no one had bitten.

"As far as I know, none of us have been bitten by those abominations." Kenneth answered. He didn't want to provoke the woman, since escalating things would do no good for anybody. He decided to follow up his answer with a question.

"Are you here to evacuate civilians? If so, there doesn't seem to be many of you."

[Beiarusia]

Katherine Truelove & Morgan Kaur
Wilmington, North Carolina // August 29^th, 2018

Morgan is following Katherine into the office when Mordimer suggests using the bookshelves in the school's library. An idea, but not one without flaws. "Those things are stupid heavy," says Morgan, knowing firsthand from her experience volunteering at the library at her own high school. Even the smaller, shorter bookshelves were heavier than they looked, and were awkward to move. She can only assume the bookshelves here were no different.

The teenager sets aside her guitar case and crowbar — next to Katherine's violin case — and the two hastily check the office for a desk or anything else with enough weight to slow down the walkers should (when) they break through the glass. The receptionist area is more a counter, so is useless, and the principle's wooden desk is too burdensome to consider, but inside an adjacent room is a simple metal office desk buried underneath a mountain of clutter. Katherine and Morgan quickly clear the top, throwing the papers and books and knickknacks to the floor, and, with some effort, lift from either side, getting just enough clearance to shimmy their way back outside to the main hallway. Officer Miller has gathered a few student desks to throw atop the bench found by Ronald. The office desk (and a few more student desks) finishes the simple makeshift barricade, and although not enough to stop the determined walkers it will slow them down. Hopefully.

The glass was starting to crack in places from the repeated pounding of decayed fists.

"That'll slow them down but not for long. We need to get outta here," Katherine says, turning to look at the others and pausing upon seeing the new face. "Who are you? Whatever. Doesn't matter."

Morgan grabs their belongings and the two head deeper into the school alongside the others, away from the front entrance, allowing the properly trained officer to lead for the most part. Just in case. The school isn't ransacked, but clearly it is empty, and if the military was here then it's impossible to tell. Maybe other areas of the school are different? No one can say for certain. The only sign that something isn't right, aside from the earlier gunshots, is the auditorium, which is chained shut.

"Why's it locked." Morgan slows to a trot to peer at the doors.

Katherine backtracks to drag the girl along but also pauses for a moment too long to stare at the door. They should keep going, to find an exit, but curiosity has stayed her feet. Morgan tries peeking in through the slatted window, then falls back with a yell as something on the other side throws itself against the door. Walkers are on the other side.

"Let's keep going," Katherine says, grabbing Morgan's hand to lead her away.

"Why are they locked up? What happened?"

Katherine doesn't have an answer.

[Alozia]

August 29th, 2018
9:30 AM
Charles P. Murray Middle School, Wilmington, N.C.
What Lurks There

Aside from occasional grunts while struggling to push or carry some of the heavier items used for the provisional barricade of the glass doors the group went through a couple of mintues before Rosa remained mostly silent. Joining the group effort of keeping the Undead on the other side of the glass door she wasn't focused on establishing friendly relations, thinking that this would be something they could do in a more peaceful setting.

After they group did what it could to stop the Undead Carballo grabbed her bat and followed the rest of the group further inside the building. Lead by Officer Miller the group was moving away from the front enterance when they stumbled upon a chained shut auditorium door. It wasn't long before the Undead started making noise on the other side. Following Katharine Truelove's suggestion Rosa followed the rest of the group even further into the building.

[The Armed Republic of Dutch Coolness]

August 29, 2018
Wilmington, NC

“Put your weapons on the floor slowly.” A voice came, out of nowhere. The source of it trained a gun directly on her. Caitlin blinked. Eyes widening as she peered at the figure, decked out in military equipment, she took in a deep breath. ”I’m not going to hurt you, just do it." Slowly, weapon still in her hand, she lowered herself, moving to squat down so she could place the pistol down on the floor. She kept her eyes on the woman, still, warily. "Alright, alright, calm down..." She spoke, trying to sound as calm as she could, considering the circumstances of having a weapon trained on her and having just escaped - at least for now - from a proper horde of zombies. "...let's not do anything silly. I am placing my weapon down on the ground."

As she spoke, she lowered herself further, and pressed the pistol on the school's floor, although her hand did not quite leave it yet. "Nobody's been bitten. I've not even as much as touched a single one of those... things. Not yet, although there's some of them outside..." Slowly breathing out, she raised herself, if only a little - weapon still within reach, for what little it was worth. "...you are with the military, right? We were told to go here to be evacuated. Where are the others? Were you the one taking those shots we heard, earlier? How will we be leaving?"

Brows furrowed, Caitlin dared glance around, quickly, seeing how the others were faring and, more importantly, if she could see any other soldiers around. None that she could see, so far. Squinting slightly in suspicion, she turned her gaze back towards the woman, slowly raising her hands.

[Benuty]

The Remains of Wilmington, North Carolina

The Evacuation Center Zone #2-Eugene Ashley High School

As Nelson helped the others who were lifting Theo up to the Humvee, and the group began to ascend up the car, and into the windows, it became clear the school was not all it seemed. His entire life Nelson had been viewed as a bit of ditz, but that didn't stop him from noticing this "evacuation zone" had probably not been doing much evacuating since the news came out that the bridge was being blown up from survivors using ham radios. His mind began racing until it calmed down with what appeared to be the kind visage of the elderly woman he had grown close to during the last days of civilization, Marge. She smiled and began walking with the group, but of course, he knew she really wasn't here physically and tried his best to avoid making a distraction.

Marge understood nodding, and slowly began to disappear, but this wouldn't be the last time she would come back. The visages often came during his time of sleep since Nelson personally believed the living were closest to the afterlife when they dreamed. Nelson grew saddened since this used to be his old high school, and a part of him hoped if anyone was here they were safe or in the very least their deaths were quick. The presence of the ghouls around the parking lot and school commons suggested of course that he shouldn't spend too much time wondering since he could be surprised at a moments notice. Nelson tried hard to focus back on reality, and keep up with the group at a decent pace since he had no excuse to be slow like the old man they just helped up.

The moment they spotted the lone soldier standing before them issuing orders to them caused a nervous stream of sweat to form on his brow. Nelson remembered the sweating those bitten would often have, and how it sent the army medics at the hospital into a frenzy checking people for bites. This was back when they had a sense of duty and civility before losing control and massacring people there for any reason because their command was breaking down. Nelson quickly wiped his brow paranoid that the soldier was not in fact alone, and would force him into some room to be examined for bites. No one ever sent to the examination rooms came back, and during his adventure of the abandoned hospital he found out why, they simply killed them, and used one room as a cold storage mass grave.

The stress went over the boiling point, and Nelson nervously laughed "my god you are the only one here aren't you?". Nelson shook his head in disbelief based partly on the state of the building, the sporadic gunfire indicating if anyone was here they were being killed, and the dissaray of the military trying to leave. Nelson suspected at least initially some small groups of stranded military tried to get back together, and evacuate, but the sheer number of ghouls and low ammunition made that difficult. Nelson remembered talking to one of the nurses days before the massacre about the soldiers snapping from exertion, and opening fire on their own, deserting to find their families, or just leaving out of disgust for what was happening. The scene at the hospital was repeated all over the city, and just like this school, everything became a shit show.

[Unified Republic of America]

August 29, 2018; Wilmington, North Carolina

As Sam navigated through the intersections filled with the wreckages of vehicles of all sorts of types. SUVs, sedans, pickups, police cars, even a burned-out tank. While he drove for on and on, losing track of time from seeing the same description of destruction and reminders of the outbreak, he pondered over what he discovered of this virus that ravaged human society and looked through one of his journal pages:

-It was obviously highly contagious and lethal, likely due to the lack of hygine and bacteria the infected bodies were carriers of.
-Likely airborne as reports of the virus appearing all over the globe at a rapid pace with no obvious mode of transmission.
-The infected host has a primal desire to consume meat; brain functions are rendered to feral levels; DO NOT APPROACH HOST UNLESS NECESSARY OR WITH WEAPON
-The infected host has no instinct of self-preservation, do not hesitate to shoot and kill. (Addendum: Shoot for head, infected hosts are able to take immense amounts of damage otherwise.)
-Mass panic will engulf urban areas within the first weeks of the outbreak; relocate immediately to secure, rural area to resume research into Zeta (Addendum: Virus is named "Zeta" for [REDACTED])
-Virus “Zeta” is remarkably similar to Rabies; possible origin as a mutagenic strain? [unconfirmed as lab was breached before testing of hypothesis]
-Military unable to contain outbreaks for long; assume government retreat to secure isolated locations by the next month.
-C.D.C. Building in Atlanta likely overrun, unlikely of seeking analytical assistance there.

Suddenly, the GPS in the HUMVEE alerts Sam he's near Eugene Ashley High School of this damned city. As he rolls up to the evacuation site, he notices the hordes all around of the school and then proceeds to drive around to try and find an area where the least amount of zombies where he could run through and get inside. “Poor kids didn't stand a chance," he said to himself, hopping out of the HUMVEE and still in his HAZMAT suit (Level C) from the medical facility from earlier, walks into the high school, pistol in hand, and made a break for it and ran through the somewhat wide spaces in between the zombies and eventually through a door to get inside. “Going to need to burn them after they die,” he mentally noted. He also still had his dufflebag slung across his back, with all his personal belongings inside. After he got inside, he shut the door and propped a nearby object to keep it shut. “Won’t hold up back for long.” He said to himself and kept running. Hopefully he’ll find other survivors. Then he remembered he had a walkie-talkie and then pulled it out. “Hello? Is anyone on this frequency?” He hoped someone was on while he kept moving. While walking down a hallway, he finds a bulletin board on the wall displaying a map of the high school and Sam mentally marked down the stairwells, heading to one of them in a brisk pace since he didn’t want to stay downstairs any more than he had to.

When he reaches a stairwell, he finds that there’s a makeshift barricade in place. Usually, this indicated that there was signs of human presence here. But the problem was, were they infected by this point? With some Twister-like moves, something he’d thought would never have to do again, and some shifting, he scales across the barricade and moves his body onto the other side of the barricade, continuing onwards to the upstairs. After reaching a door in the stairwell, he carefully listens for any noises and after hearing none, opens it and walks through, exploring the upstairs with his gun pulled out.

[Fantrum]

Madeline Hess
The Belly of the Beast

It had been a tense few minutes, watching the door while the others did their level best to bar it. Several times I tried to help, slinging the rifle on my back to free my hands, but I just want very strong. With a knife or bayonet, I could stab a motherfucker all day, but ask me to ground fight someone, or go unarmed and I was done for. That was the primary reason I kept the bayonet fixed. Something about it added a lot of credence to whatever I had to say. Or at least I liked to think it did. It was also handy if I needed to get up close and personal with anyone, see aforementioned stabbing.

It just sucked that I was only a little taller than the rifle was long. Probably made people look down on me, quite literally. Then again, I kept mostly to myself anyway, so no skin off my back.

Eventually, with painful slowness, the door was more or less secured. The barricade irritated my combat engineer sensibilities but we really didnt have time for me to adjust our mad pile up of random crap in front of the door. In fact, even as our brave leader took us farther into the school, I knew for a fact we'd wasted more time than necessary with a barricade that wouldn't hold for long. But for some reason I just couldnt bring myself to point it out. Part of me felt it was being way too cruel to crush their hopes... Then again... Wouldnt it be worse to let them believe they were safe? When I knew it to be false? I shook my head violently to clear it.

Biting my tongue, I waited for the rest of the group to move out before bringing up the rear, keeping a cautious eye behind us. I told myself it was the best position to bolt for my life if they found something horrible ahead, but I doubted that. Being the rearguard was actually probably the most dangerous place I could have been, but something compelled me to take the role. Where there more people than before? I supposed I didnt really care that much, our group was bound to pick up more people as we went, but when had they joined us? Didnt matter.

And then one of the kids even younger than me, but still taller, fell over before me. Id been so wrapped up in my thoughts I nearly tripped over her. Instead I cursed softly as I caught myself and then turned my dour glare at her. "Come on, stop tripping over every damn thing and keep moving." With my measly strength I hauled her up by her arm but stopped short of actually shoving her forward.

I wasnt out for friendship, I was out to survive. And that meant keeping people at arms length, and making sure they stayed alive long enough to keep the Ghouls distracted.

[Unified Republic of America]

Sam Pipua; August 29, 2018; Wilmington, North Carolina; Eugene Ashley High School

As Sam walked around the floor as quietly as he could, hiding behind walls and briefly peeking around corners to see if there were zombies around them and out of sheer cautiousness. He never was one for impulsiveness, though this did prove problematic at times when he was on a strict deadline as he would spends hours over a specific thing, combing over every little detail it had before he would continue. Probably one of the reasons why he was beneficial yet harmful to the research effort with his team; took too damn long to do anything, yet discovered details his colleagues wouldn’t normally find if they had simply rushed through the experiments and data. Knowing that someone had to be in the high school, he continued to listen closely for any noises that gave indication of a human presence. Obviously he could hear the damned moaning from the infected outside, that was for sure; but he numbed the moans out and tried to focus on anything else. After some time, he does hear some sort of noise, but can’t quite make out what it was. Cautious as ever, he checked if his pistol’s safety was off and began to head towards this noise he heard, sneaking his way over there.

[Ihury]

August 29, 2018
Wilmington, NC

The voice of somebody (a young woman, by the sound of it) telling the group to lay their weapons took both Jiro and Theo by shock, but realising they had no weapons to begin with, neither of them were too taken aback to react calmly. She didn't seem intent on killing anybody, and from the looks of it, she was alone, without a backup squad or snipers hanging around nearby to cover her back in case of emergencies.

More likely than not, Theo reasoned, she was probably just another survivor, hoping to find refuge here.

"Should we trust her?" Jiro leaned in close to the old man and whispered to his side, out of earshot of everybody else.

"I don't see why not", said Theo, leaning on his walking stick. "Now, it's just us humans against those things."

"Those things... were they not once human too?"

Theo sighed.

"I wish I could call them that", he replied forlornly, his gaze settling on something beyond. "I wish we could see them the same way we see the bodies of our departed loved ones. But something isn't quite the same here. They haven't gone on to the next world. They're dead, but their bodies live on. Their minds are... absorbed into the devil."

"That line sounds familiar..." Jiro's voice trailed off.

"Oh, it's from Perelandra."

"By C. S. Lewis?"

"Yes", said Theo. "I enjoy his novels very much, though I can't say I care much for his theological writings."

"Ah."

Jiro quietly stood up. He no longer felt dizzy; for some reason, seeing the soldierly woman appear was oddly comforting, despite her order (nay, request) that anybody with weapons put them down. It was definitely preferable to meeting more ghouls inside the building into which they'd gone to find refuge, after all, and while being told to drop their nonexistent weapons wasn't exactly the best of greetings.

"Are any of you bitten?"

"No, thank goodness for that", said Theo to the young woman almost chirpily, if in a somewhat dark-humoured manner. "Not that I know of, at least."

Jiro picked up his and Theo's bags. The air, he felt, had become considerably warmer.

"What's your name?" Theo inquired further, without any tinge of fear of any sort.

[Unified Republic of America]

Sam Pipua; August 29, 2018; Wilmington, North Carolina; Eugene Ashley High School
Slowly approaching the noise he heard from earlier, he crawls up against the wall as best as he can and peeks around the corner. What he sees are a female soldier, an old man, and what seems to be the old man's companion. Before deciding to take further action and approach the group directly, he listens onto their conversation from around the corner, leaning against the wall. For all he knew, they could be bandits and the soldier's gear could've been taken from a dead corpse. "Best safe than sorry," he thought to himself, listening intently on their conversation.

This evacuation site was supposed to be his backup plan out of the city after he heard over the radio in the HUMVEE the bridges were blown up by the military to quarantine the city. By this rate, Sam reasoned they were going to firebomb the city next; at least that what he would do if he was in charge: take no chances and terminate the infected at all costs. The unfortunate irony in all of this is, he and his research team; well, mostly himself now, he made a break for the exit when the building was breached; can't tell if anyone else made it out. Now, he was here with probably the most important documentation of the research effort, about to be bombed or killed. "Great." He also thought to himself, continuing to watch them.

[Kentucky Fried Land]

August 29th, 2018
9:30 AM
What Lurks There

”I’ll be right back.”

Crock of shit. A crock of shit. If the corporal was sure of one thing, it was that. He had lied to Bryars just like he had lied to McMillian, just like he had lied to Cass and he just couldn’t seem to stop it. He could picture one of those TV psychologists, crooning the word ”Pathological” with contempt and intrigue swathing. Cole couldn’t help it, he knew that. He knew that from the first day he remembered not brushing his teeth and telling his mom immediately that he had. He was always a filthy liar and that would never change, but dammit if he didn’t want it to.

These thoughts had run through his head after dashing out in a futile attempt to grab a humvee and get him, Bryars, McMillian, and some of those folks from the auditorium. Just… anyone. Him and Bryars had gotten split up from McMillian once the infected broke in and slaughtered their squad and they had chained up the auditorium tight. If only they had gone with the evacuating party, then maybe they could have gotten out too.

Regardless, they hadn’t gotten out and this was what led to Cole’s clumsy attempt at securing the humvee. The second he left the classroom he and Bryars were holed up in, he had come face to face with the snarling mugs of slobbering dogs; once people, now the dead awoken in violent ends to violent means. He had wasted an entire magazine on lighting up the corridor of the school and blowing open the few heads he could manage to catch with his bullets. The rest flew through chests, shattering windows and only attracting more of the scuttling freaks. He pushed through men, women, children, shoving them away before they could rip a chunk from his neck. The humvee was out of the question now; not with how he had fucked everything up.

Why did you think you could make it? How did you think you were going to make it? The questions sifted through his mind, tearing away at his being. He thought he could grab an incendiary grenade and a rifle and get them the hell out of there. Not even a damn radio to spare. Some hero, Cole.

One thing led to another and he had run into the cafeteria, a joint room of the two schools that was surprisingly large. The openness of the area worked to his benefit; it also worked to his downfall. No longer were the nostalgic aromas of cardboard pizza or puke colored chili floating this cafeteria. Now, the stench of rot was the only thing left in this cafeteria, surrounding each of the several dozen undead corpses taking chase of Cole. His heart couldn’t help but palpitate as he slid into the kitchen.

He looked around, eager for any sign of help when a blushing red button popped out of the white brick wall beside of him. A calloused hand smashed into it, sending the gates of the kitchen area crashing down before any more of those infected could get to him.

He fell to his hands and knees before turning around and sifting his back up against a steel counter. They were at the gates already, watching without eagerity. They were insomnial in their groans; faces inexpressive, lazily tugging at the bars of the safety gate.

Just catch your breath. Then you can get the fuck out the back door, maybe find the humvee-

Cole’s thoughts were stopped when he saw the stripe of bright red gashed across the tile flooring. Is that mine?! He nearly puked, staring at it for a second as adrenaline finally settled and pain flushed his cheeks. A heavy gush of blood spurted from his right hand as he looked at it dumbly, muttering some incoherent babble. His breath let out a harsh crackle before his left hand clamped over his right.

As tears started to drip, he kicked at the counter with one question in mind. How?

***

August 29th, 2018
9:39 AM
What Lurks There

At the doors of Charles P. Murray Middle School, the glass finally broke.

Desks upon desks upon desks did not matter to the dead. They burst through the glass doors and the thin windows, crawling over the desks and not bothering to use the doors they had no use for. Glass cut into some of them, but pain wasn’t realistic anymore. Sharp blades of glimmering crystal hung out the sides of a man and a woman, accented by a goop of black blood preventing reflection. The infected poured in, as the survivors inside the middle school reached what appeared to be the guidance office. At the end of the office sat a way out; one that led into another hallway which was now flooding with infected. On the ceiling of the office a skylight was placated, hanging over a janitor’s closet that housed tools such as a mop, a yellow bucket and wringer, cleaning solutions, Febreze, and a metal ladder.

A large room normally sealed off by double doors, now it contained around three of the worked and downtrodden monsters that used to be human. One used to be a young woman of around 25, a sealed badge hanging from her neck that designated her as Marsha Potters, the 8th grade guidance counselor. The other two, two men, were covered in camouflage suits and armored vests along with a helmet. Their weapons and ammo seemed to be missing, used for a prolonged but fruitless attempt at survival. They looked up, seeing the survivors and rushing forward. One of the soldiers, his cheeks missing, appeared to be grinning as he drove towards them.

[Hastur]

Pvt. Alexandra McMillian
2nd Marines, Fox Company
Seveenteen Days After Intial Outbreak
Wilimington, North Carolina - Eugene Ashley High School, Second Floor Hallway.

---

Alex observed closely as the frightened civilians followed her order at gunpoint. Those armed dropped their weapons as most informed her that the freaks that lurked outside on the way hadn’t got any of them. Although the accuracy of their statements would have to be verified later, she didn‘t want anyone to turn on her. Before she could say or do anything else however, anxious but persistent questions streamed in from the mismatched group of people, all of them eyeing both her up and her surroundings as they concentrated on one talking point. Evacuation.

“Evacuation?” Alexandra mumbled in confusion. She hadn't expected any civilians to show up. “What evacuation?“ She repeated, a puzzled and worried expression appearing on the marine’s face concealed behind her gasmask as she contemplated the questions asked, growing more tense. “Who told you to come here?” She adjusted gun as she lifted her gaze away from the rifle’s sight and onto the group, the weapon no longer aimed at the woman center mass, now just pointed, with Alex’s finger still firmly on the trigger.

They had told her nothing about the high school being used as a civilian evacuation point. Sergeant had told them it was for military personnel that didn‘t make it across the bridge. Command had been damn clear on the fact that civilians were to be left behind. They could not afford to spend time and resources saving those already doomed, sacrifices a few to save many. It was an order she didn‘t like following, something that made her sick to her stomach with guilt, making her feel irredeemable as they left so many to die. But it had been her own best chance for survival, so she went along with it.  Alex just wanted to go home, something that was now nigh un-achievable. None of it even mattered anymore.  She was in the same boat as then. Trapped in a highschool, one that was about to become her tomb. Like the rest of the poor fuckers who died waiting.

“My god you are the only one here aren’t you?”

The nervous cackling from the younger looking fellow with an expression of disgust on his face struck home. Out of all the squad mates and military personnel left behind in the panic, she was one of the last man standing in all this mess, the most useless and inexperienced person in the squad. Anyone from her unit would have been better in this sicuation and more importantly would have known what to do. Now these people now had all of their hopes placed on her, and she didn‘t have a fucking clue what to do next. She was scared shitless.

Alexandra lowered her weapon, defeated, the rifle no longer aimed at the civilians as she pulled it in closer to her chest. She could start by being truthful. No point in keeping these people going on false hope.

“Nobody is coming.” She answered, acknowledging their question with a bleak tone. Her eyes firmly latched on the ground with guilt, unable to look them in the eye. “I’m sorry.” Alexandra stammered out, like those two words would magically solve the awful situation they were in. Sorry! But your only hope of survival was a lie! Sorry! But the people that you expected to protect you actually just left you for dead! Nothing she could say would make it better, It was a stupid. Alexandra realising that she probably should have kept her mouth shut. She wasn‘t sure what to expect next. Maybe they'd leave, or maybe they'd just beat her in anger. But she didn't have a plan. She just stood there, frozen, unsure what to do, still unable to look at them.

“What’s your name?” An aging man enquired without fear, the man being unexpectedly plesant despite the sicuation, catching her off guard unexpectedly.

“Alexandra.” She mumbled quietly, before speaking up, making herself louder and more clear. “My name is Alexandra.”

[Unified Republic of America]

Sam Pipua; August 29, 2018; Wilmington, North Carolina; Eugene Ashley High School
Sam pondered over what the female soldier, Alexandra, said. The high school was not meant for civilian evacuations, which likely resulted in the mess outside, probably a result of miscommunication between military personnel and refugees, he reasoned. He also pondered over the fact that she said that no one was coming. He figured that out pretty much earlier when the bridges were bombed. He was slightly surprised the whole city wasn’t struck with a nuclear warhead or something by now when Operation Cobalt was put into effect.

Of course he had to be the only scientist that made it out of the laboratory that was overrun. He possessed a relatively great deal of research into the pathogen and advice against infected hosts for their limited time performing autopsies, analyzing reports, and conducting experiments. Were any other scientists still alive and working on the vaccine? Of course they had to be some, though he lost contact with the outside world after a couple days into the outbreak. Last he heard from the CDC and the WHO was some French laboratory was making some notable progress and then contact promptly ceased. He personally believed the virus was airborne, drawing his hypothesis from the autopsy reports of the “deceased” infected hosts and looking at their medical records, all varying from being attacked by another infected host to simply dying of natural causes and suddenly getting back up and gaining rabies-like symptoms.

When the facility’s personnel were informed of the nearing of the enactment of Operation Cobalt on the city, they began to implement their evacuation protocols when the hordes attacked the facility and overwhelmed the military presence guarding the various medical and scientific personnel inside unfortunately. Chances are, trying to collect any research left behind inside is a no-go and a death wish to most people.

“Now or never I guess.” Sam thought to himself and sighed quietly. “Can’t just stay behind this wall forever.” Putting his pistol in his dufflebag, he carefully walked out of his hiding spot behind the corner wall with his hands in the air in a non-threatening manner. “Don’t shoot, I am with the Center of Disease Control and Prevention,” his wallet in his right hand with his government-issued ID card inside. “My proof of identification is in my wallet.” He said, hoping the soldier wouldn’t shoot him from a lack of trigger discipline. He still had his Level C-class HAZMAT suit from the laboratory earlier along with his gas mask still on. He thought to himself that he probably should’ve changed but it was a bit late for that now. Plus he wasn’t going into the lockers to change, especially in a overrun public high school.

[Helowi]

Ronald Perry
Wilmington, North Carolina
Ronald was following everyone as fast as he could down to the rest of the group, even though it was extremely hard with his prosthetic leg and his limp.

He saw the people that were being eaten alive behind the locked doors, and followed we’d the groups suggestion that they continue going. The sight was something to see. The fact that those ghouls could’ve gotten him, his wife, his daughter, and his whole entire family, gave him a bit of fear overall.

When they had reached the Guidance Counselors Office. Inside where three people, a woman that looked like he guidance counselor and two military men. The two men were probably giving help to the woman inside, who then became an infected and took them out, but that was just Ronald’s guess.

Ronald had pulled out his gun, just Incase the three undead broke through. Ronald had no idea what should happen right now. He turned to the deputy sheriff and asked “What should we do know?” He was waiting for a response, and ready to take orders.

[Imperial Idaho]

Charles P. Murray Middle School, Wilmington, North Carolina, United States of America

Miller was pleased the rest of them had followed his instructions, for the sake of efficiency of course. They'd pulled a good amount of desks to the doorway and basically jammed it shut, but that meant nothing about the dead breaking through the windows and climbing in. There wasn't a whole lot they could do about that, besides close to the doors to the classrooms they'd spill into, which he took care of. Regardless, they wanted to get as far away from that door as they could, and so they continued into the school.

They'd passed the door to the gym or the auditorium and found it chained shut, the reasoning becoming obvious upon hearing the moaning and wailing on the other side.

"Be real quiet." He instructed.

Everyone moved past the chained door, on to hopefully greener pastures. They'd found their way to the guidance offices, now inhabited by a group of 3 dead. They quickly took notice of the crew and started shuffling over towards them. As Edward pulled his baton, the one legged man, Ronald Perry, asked for what to do.

"We'll get these three and continue on our way, or get the hell out."

He approaching the incoming dead with his weapon raised.

[Torchina]

Luca Ionescu
Chales P. Murray Middle School

Luca looked at the deaders bashing at the front door, rotting flesh meeting glass with continuous thumps. The Romanian shuddered, how long had they been there? Why had he locked himself in the bathroom instead of barricading the door? Dear Lord, he was stupid, so so stupid. He coughed violently for a moment, suddenly aware of just how real the situation he found himself in was. All he'd had to do was make it to the evacuation point and he'd be okay, how foolish he'd been. There was no okay anymore, he had to start taking real fucking care of his life if he didn't want to end up as one of the monsters on the other side of the door. Luca nodded at the man who had spoken to him, the most forthright of the newcomers it seemed.

"Ah, I suppose that would be best, no?" Luca said slowly, running to a classroom to grab a desk to throw against the makeshift barricade.

And the barricade was very makeshift, there was no way it would hold for long. One of the women spoke that about how they had to move, and Luca couldn't agree more, biting his tongue as she dismissed his new presence to the group. There was no point trying to be friendly with these people while they were all in danger. Danger that he couldn't help but feel they'd brought to him by leading the deaders towards his little hideaway.

Luca walked awkwardly with the group, constantly shifting the weight of his backpack and holding his baseball bat awkwardly in front of him with his right hand. He didn't exactly know how he was supposed to fit into their little dynamic, but there was safety in numbers. And so the man found himself walking awkwardly behind who appeared to be the leader of the group, eyes darting to the side constantly. Luca barely registered that the auditorium was locked and that there was constant moaning coming from inside. Obviously someone had taken the time to lock the dead ones in there where they couldn't get to the living, maybe God was looking out for him after all, Luca allowed himself to think. It was a small optimistic thought, but one that the exchange student found himself clinging to.

This thought was one that was interrupted in his mind when he became extremely aware of the sounds coming from behind them, the unmistakable moans of the dead on the move. Their barricade had barely lasted a few minutes, they were well and truly trapped in the school now. To think that Luca had wanted to come here, more and more the building seemed like a death sentence. A giant coffin that had once housed children and teachers. With this Luca looked awkwardly over his right shoulders, letting out a slurry of slurs in Romanian.

It wasn't long before the makeshift group found themselves in front of the what must have been a guidance counsellor's office, three of the dead had taken to making it their home. And now they wanted to eat their uninvited guests, the crippled man turned to the leader for guidance, and it was reiterated what appeared to be clear. They had to kill these deaders. Luca gulped, he'd never had to do this before, he'd avoided it. But there was no running now.

"No guns," Luca spoke aloud in an accent so thick it almost sound like a hollywood gypsy stereotype, "they will hear us... and we will die." He jerked his thumb on his free hand quickly toward the other hallway that was now flooding with the shambling corpses, before pulling it back to grab the baseball bat with two hands just as quickly.

On that note, Luca too stepped forward, his focus drawn on the woman who had been a teacher. He gulped, he had to do this at some point, and this was probably the best time to do finally do so. There was no more running and letting others die in the distance, it was kill or be killed.

Keeping himself out of the reach of the monsters, he raised the baseball bat above his head. With a deep breath, he finally took a step forward and swung it down with as much force as he could muster. Hoping to crack the skull of the corpse that had once been a woman.

[The Armed Republic of Dutch Coolness]

August 29, 2018
Wilmington, NC

"What evacuation? Who told you to come here?" And with those few words, what little hope there was left of being evacuated out of the hellhole that Wilmington had turned into evaporated. "...there was a radio message," Caitlin started, hesitantly. "...told us to come here for evacuation. But that's..." She took a deep breath, trying her best to keep herself composed. "..that's not happening now, is it? Not anymore, at least." She nodded remorsefully, lowering her hands as the soldier pulled her weapon closer to herself, and away from Caitlin and her compatriots.

"-alright Alexandra, I'm going to pick my pistol up again now, if that's fine by you..." She spoke, leaning down to pick the weapon back up. "I'm Caitlin. Caitlin Hart. I work- worked for the city." She made an attempt at flashing a smile, although she couldn't quite muster one, considering the situation and the news she'd received but a moment ago. "...are there any other people like you left? Soldiers?"

It was then, as she picked up her weapon, that the Hazmat suit-equipped man approached, an ominous figure indeed. Instinctively, Caitlin moved to train her weapon on him, but she stopped herself from doing just that, reminding herself of the far better equipped soldier right next to her, and unsure of just exactly with who Alexandra would side with if she were to aim her pistol at the man. She gave a slow nod as he introduced himself, before letting out another deep sigh - not related to his sudden appearance from the shadows, but still. Stressful times. "Right. So..." She began, glancing around, and at the soldier and newly appeared Hazmat-man in particular, "...do any of you know in which direction whatever evacuation group would have headed, out of town? I don't particularly feel like staying here for the rest of my days, if you get what I'm saying - and I'd rather get a move on sooner rather than later."

Frowning, she gave herself a single nod. Focus. That was important. At least for as long as there was a whole group of those freaks out there trying to get them. The time for feelings was later. Someone had to ask these things, try to find at least some semblance of direction in this horrid situation, and why not her?

[Unified Republic of America]

August 29, 2018; Wilmington, NC

Sam, still slightly confused on what to do as he was supposed to have been evacuated from Wilmington but knew that there had to be some way out of the quarantine zone, as he observed the quarantine zones being breached in several other cities as the outbreak progressed, answered the woman’s question.

“Unfortunately, I do not. I was to have been evacuated alongside my military escort with several other scientists with our research out of this overrun city but we were hit before we could make it out. I believe I was the only one that have made it out. I figured there were at least 1 or 2 evacuation points left in this city, so I ended up here. Seeing that there’s several infected that are surrounding this school on my way inside, I can assume this place is overrun yes? Also, to answer your question more clearly; You could try to get a boat to escape via waterway or try the highways, though either option is unlikely seeing that we’d probably die trying to get a boat or the thousands of infected on the Interstate.”

His research, even though only merely a journal, still contained a great deal of information of this strain that has caused the decline of society so rapidly, unseen on a scale since the days of when the Bubonic Plague was actually a problem. Being an epidomlogist of the Center of Disease Control and Prevention, Sam somewhat expected for his colleagues and himself to be prioritized in the evacuations considering they were assigned to research this new disease. But after seeing what happened to his team’s military attachment to guard them and the infected hordes at the school which was supposedly at one point an evacuation point and that the military had even left a soldier behind, evidenced by the female dressed in military fatigues, he began to wonder: “How disorganized was the government’s retreat from this mess of a disease? How bad were we beaten back? Will the military even have the resources to defend itself from the infected hosts and bandits?” All of these questions were on his mind, though obiously this situation at the high school with the woman with the gun was obviously more imperative than the questions he had thought of.