The Walking Dead: Out of the Shadows (IC)

[Convallaria]

DAY 1
Los Angeles, California

OOC

"Well good morning Los Angeles, you're listening to KCL 101.1 and it looks like the rush hour is just getting its hop on so if you folks plan on taking the 110, I certainly hope you brought some reading material, because it looks like its gonna be a long one...We're looking at a bright and sunny morning with a high around 78 downtown, 76 valley, low grade smog advisories throughout the AM, and a chance of overcast in the foothills around North Lam-"

It was an expectedly bright morning in the city, with the same predictably slow moving freeway traffic indicative of LA. It was only 6 AM, and yet the 110 was already moving 20 under the speed limit just as the early morning commuters were making their way south towards their offices downtown, and east towards Pasadena and San Bernadino. Sabrina was decelerating incrementally before coming to a standstill. Construction? That was her first guess as she sat impatiently in her little red Volvo. Sabrina's friends had been urging her to find a new vehicle as the older car stuck out for all the wrong reasons. But they didn't understand, nobody did. This had been her mothers car for 20 years, and Sabrina simply couldn't abandon it to some junkyard. It ran fine, and most importantly...was cheap to fix. The lane next to her was still moving, so she went ahead and merged in hopes of not having to be late for work. The traffic was slow, but slow was better than stopped. Soon enough, she saw the culprit: a fairly bad accident consisting of a badly damaged minivan. It looked like it had occurred several hours earlier, so most of the commotion was gone except for a sole police SUV and a tow truck trying ineffectually to move away the wreck. Sabrina was surprised that the road had ever been moving fast enough for someone to crash in the first place.

"While the latest in a stream of unusual deaths claimed the life of a local man last night following a domestic incident, several media outlets are calling light to what they have described as another 'blatant, unjustified example of excessive force' by the LAPD for their actions against Patrick Sutherland during the incident. According to reports, Sutherland displayed anger, but was unarmed when fired upon by officers just after-"

Sabrina switched the station...like she needed any more depressing stories this week, and besides, Neil Diamond was better than the news anyway. A helicopter hovered in the distance. Just north near the mountains. Another behind them. News choppers looking for the another accident maybe? Or is it something more? Before she could think about it more, she reached her exit and pulled into the hospital parking garage. At the very least, she had her own parking place...more than a lot of people could say in the city. Finally, she was in the building and ready to start her shift. The ER waiting room was busy and she could see that it would likely be a seven or eight hour wait. She swerved into the locker room where she parked her bag and fetched her ID card. Ramona, one of the floor nurses was also getting ready.

"Heard it was pretty busy last night, Dr. Prakash called in sick." Ramona said.

"Doesn't surprise me, seems like this flu season is pretty bad. Waiting room is packed," Sabrina replied.

"Did you hear about that guy that got shot last night?" she asked as she pointed at the newspaper sitting on the bench. "Coroner's scheduled an autopsy, but my bet's on meth you know? Apparently he even took a bite out of his wife's arm somehow."

"Yeah drugs would make sense, but it still doesn't explain why the cops shot that guy though..." Sabrina explained.

"How about the fact that, I don't know, maybe that officer was an overpowered asshole?" Ramona said sarcastically.

"Can't argue with that," she agreed.

Suddenly, the door opened and the Charge nurse beckoned them out while holding a clipboard.

"Let's get moving, I've got about twenty patients waiting to be seen, and we're short staffed," she ordered, before exiting back onto the floor. Sabrina followed quickly, entering an exam room to begin her rounds.

[The Felan Federation]

Vera Fairbright

---

Vera was up to a good jog in the morning - as she made her way towards work. Granted, her way of jogging involved a lot of jumping, spinning and more than enough tricks to earn a video on the internet. It was her way of working out the sweat for the day - since she'd be sitting around doing nothing anyways at her place. Most people only came by a 7-Eleven if they needed gas or a quick snack - most of it, they could get themselves and that left her nothing much to do beyond read some magazines or nap in.

Granted on-route there, she passed through an alleyway and it didn't take long for whatever was sleeping there to stir up and awake. "Huh! Bloody fuck, you stink!" she groaned - the unnamed man in question, was wearing rags, smelled of piss and something that made even rotten meat smell nice. What was more annoying was the fact, he just had to get in her way and try to come at her. As it was, Vera didn't have time to start wrestling with some bum over change or any other carnal thoughts the drunkard had. Thus instead, she choose the better alternative and...in the long-term...the reason she would remain alive later. Merely, skipping onto a wall and up towards the fire escape that tangled over the alleyway.

Easily getting out of reach of the bum, before she dashed forward onto the next one and soon landing on the other side - the drunkard, taking several minutes to turn around. Although by that point, Vera was long gone at that. All things considered, she didn't like much the detour or the encounter with someone more eager to drown their sorrow rather than try to better themselves. Once she was out the alleyway - she kept on jogging, until she was sure that nobody was following her.

It didn't take long, before she reached her workplace. Granted, the only thing that came out of that 'jog' was that she had to later clean up her shoes from some black and red gunk that smelled rancid yet still left a mark after being scrubbed with cleaning soap and a brush. Whatever it was, today was gonna be an interesting day nonetheless.

[The Hoosier Alliance]

Fredrick Howe, or more commonly referred to as Fritz by his friends and "clients", leaned against the old brick wall of the abandoned building in the one of the poorest parts of LA. He took a nice long drag from his cigarette, taking glances to his left and right to keep an eye out for his client and cops. The alleyway was dark, dirty, and moist. Trash was everywhere, including but not limited to old bottles, cigarette butts, needles, blood, and other bodily fluids. A rat scurried past him, hugging the wall opposite to him, pausing briefly to inspect a puddle, then darting under a nearby dumpster. The morning sun cast shadows on the street and kept the alley dark enough to conceal him to anyone not paying close attention. As a pair of men walked past his alley, Fritz pulled the hood of his jacket over his head in an attempt to hide his face.

A few minutes went by as he waited. "Where the fuck is this guy?" Fritz muttered to himself, checking his watch. "He's like ten minutes late. Goddamn junkies." Just as Fritz was about to head home, he noticed someone take a turn down the alley towards him. Fritz couldn't be sure yet, but he was fairly certain it was his man. Why else would anyone start walking down an alley in this shitty part of town? He flicked his cigarette onto the ground after taking a final puff, then turned to face the man. He stopped ten feet from Fritz, at which point Fredrick pulled down his hood. "You Jamie?" he asked.

The man, now within range to see in the dark alley, chuckled nervously and began scratching his arms. "Y-y-yeah man. I'm, uh, Jamie. You uh...Freddie?" Fritz took a few steps towards him and replied, "Naw, names Fritz. Remember? Carl sent you, yeah?"

The man nodded, "Yeah homie, Carl. Good guy."

Fritz shook his head. "No, he's not. Scum of the Earth type. That's why I know 'em."

The man, Jamie, nodded his head, "Yeahyeahyeah, whatever you say dude."

Fritz turned his head to the right and spit, then said, "Enough talk. You got the money?"

Jamie nodded, yet again. "I sure do. R-r-r-right here. You got the, uh, stuff?"

Fritz pulled out a couple of small bags containing "the stuff", showing them to Jamie. His face lit up at the sight of his fix, then happily handed over his money. Fritz counted it then tossed it the man, who caught it with a child like laugh.

"Hot damn dudeeeeee. Epic."

Fritz sighed, "Yeah, you got your fix. Now get the hell outta here, ya fuckin' junkie. You make me sick."

Jamie laughed, "Yeah, sure. Hey man, I'll need some more. Like...next Friday?"

Fritz chuckled, "Yeah. Text me the deets and I'll get right on that. For now, get outta here."

Jamie turned and left, pocketing the baggies as he walked and turned the corner. Fritz shook his head as he leaned up against the wall again and pulled out a fresh smoke. As he brought up his lighter to ignite his cigarette, he heard something from his left. He thought that was odd, considering it was a dead end that way. Regardless, he turned to look at the cause of the noise. A figure was standing up from behind the dumpster that sat towards the end of the alley and began shuffling towards him. As he walked, Fritz knew right away it was a bum. "Hey," Fritz said, "Get the fuck outta here, ya lousy shit. I want some peace and quiet." He then looked straight ahead, ignoring the homeless man as he smoked. A soft groan from his left got his attention again. "Listen, I said get out. I don't have any change. Leave." The man didn't respond, instead he continued to shuffle towards him, reaching an arm out to touch him. Fritz backed away, putting his hand on his handgun. "Hey, screw off." Fritz said. As he backed away towards the street, the man followed him until the light touched his face.

Fritz gasped, letting his cigarette fall to the ground. "What the hell happened to you?" he asked, astonished. Blood was dripping from arm and neck, where two bite marks were. It also wasn't a homeless man. It was some guy, dressed in street clothes. He looked poor, but the kind of poor with a tv and apartment. The man lunged at him, at which point Fritz shoved him off. The man snapped his teeth at him, like he wanted to bite Fredrick. Fritz pulled his pistol out and aimed it at the man.

"Hey, fuck off. I'll shoot your ass. If you need a hospital, I'm sure one of these-" Fritz didn't get to finish his sentence as the man lunged again, this time stopped by the bullet Fritz fired into his chest. The man toppled. Fritz was about to walk away before any cops showed up, but the man stood again. Then, he lunged, only to be shot again. However, this time he didn't go down. He just stepped back due to the impact of the bullet, then kept coming. Fritz's eyes widened as he took another shot, this time into the man's forehead. This time the man went down, dead. Fritz kicked his corpse, then muttered, "Fucking junkie. High as hell on acid, probably." Fritz took off jogging, a little shook up from what he saw.

What the hell were those bites? he thought to himself, and three bullets to bring down one man? I swear, I shot that fucker in the heart or something. Fritz jogged the short distance to his truck and peeled outta there, wanting to get as far away as possible from the act of (mostly) self defense. He drove for a few minutes before reaching for another smoke, but his pack was empty. He muttered a curse and pulled into a 7-Eleven. He got out of his old 2003 Ford F-150 and slammed his door, shaking loose some of the creeping rust near the bottom of the truck. He walked into the building, taking a look around and noticing a pretty woman standing behind the cash register.

This would be an easy score, he thought to himself. Then he shook his head, deciding that shooting a man and robbing a gas station on the same day was stupid. That's how Marty and his crew got taken down, he thought. He walked down the aisles, taking a few snacks and getting a cherry slushy before going up to the counter. He place the items in front of the woman and gave her nod in greeting, "Hey sweetie. All this and uh, one, no two, packs of Marlboro Reds."

[Idiot People]

Elizah Rhosyn
Los Angeles, California

Click.

Elizah brought her camera down and looked at the screen of her camera, looking over the photo she had taken. Different from her usual scenery, sure, but the gleaming buildings and cars and the bustling crowd did have a charm of its own.

She was spending some time with her friend in the city for a few days so she could catch up and take a few city pictures to put up on her website. So far, she'd gotten a few pictures that were alright, but none she was really happy with.

The sirens of police cars drew her attention upward as she saw the two cars speeding down the road. She didn't know what they were for, but she skillfully brought her camera up and took a string of pictures as the vehicles passed. When she brought her camera back down, she quickly scanned through them until she found a shot with both cars in frame and focused fairly decently for how little time she had to react. Satisfied, she took her lense off and put it away, letting her camera hang around her neck.

She walked along quietly, dodging around people with her hands in her coat. Her ponytail bobbed behind her as she walked, her eyes looking around her with no apparent reason. When she spotted the 7-Eleven's small lot with the truck parked in it, she began to make her way over to it.

The small ding of the bell greeted her ears as she entered and she made a quick scan of the store. There was a young man, who she took for a teenager at first glance, browsing the snack isles and a pretty blonde woman at the register. She smiled briefly at the cashier as she entered to be friendly before making her way over to the drinks.

She looked through before picking out some peach flavored drink. She then made her way over to one of the isles and picked out some mint and berry gum, her eyes briefly looking at the other snacks, before going over to the register behind the guy from earlier.

While she waited, she quickly fetched out a wallet from her bag and got out a ten dollar bill. She didn't particularly fancy 'purses' and 'handbags', but she wasn't about to carry her travel backpack around and she needed somewhere to hold her lense. Absentmindedly, she let her eyes roam over the man's back as she waited, her cash wrapped around her gum in one hand and her drink in the other.

[The Felan Federation]

Vera Fairbright

---

"You got it man," replied Vera - whom seemed less interested in him or what he was doing. Since as far as she understood stuff operating in this neighborhood - one didn't ask nor did one question, whom or what one was doing here. As far as she was concerned the man was better dressed than some of the bums here.

As she soon enough got out two pack of cigarettes at that. "Anything else?" she added, her typical grin on her face at that. Although one that turned into a frown when she suddenly heard someone banging. Namely this was happening at the window of the 7/11 that she worked at. "Oy! Fuck off!"

"Sorry about that. Now then, that'll be $9.25," she spoke - for now the banging had stopped yet a bloody handprint had been left behind.

[Convallaria]

DAY 2
Los Angeles, California

"Under the current circumstances, the Center for Disease Control would like to make it perfectly clear that this is a contained outbreak, and not an item of national security. The need for calm can not be overstated while our researchers explore solutions. The quicker that we can address the issue with a level head and a sense of safety, the quicker that these isolated cases can be resolved by the appropriate clinical agencies. While further protocols are being evaluated as a contingent measure, it is our belief that this is no more than a minor, containable situation that will be resolved within 24 hours."

---

The waiting room was full, not more than usual, but with more unusual cases. It was loud and it was becoming a bit chaotic. The nurse’s station was becoming the control center of seemingly well coordinated circus: doctors typing away at computer terminals to retrieve data, charts flying in and out, phones ringing incessantly, and admitting nurses shouting information over each other...In the midst of the bustle though, in a quiet bay where Sabrina was scribbling in a patient's chart, machines were sucking and wheezing as they breathed for a sleeping man and kept his heart beating. She glanced to a television set in the waiting room just beyond the pane of glass that separated the two areas. It looked like something boring, some politician or press conference of some kind. She sighed a little...the patients were already sick, why subject them the worst channel on basic cable?

Her concentration was interrupted though as a loud buzzer sounded and two paramedics burst through the doors in a hurry. A 70 year old man visibly unconscious and bleeding was strapped down, his clothes slightly torn. Sabrina jumped from the desk and ran towards them, as the ambulance driver began running down the case. As they ran down the hall, just past a fax machine, a seemingly inconspicuous memo spit out from the paper tray, most of the staff far too busy to notice.

"70 year old male, possible toxic shock, GCS of 6, was attacked two days ago judging by a laceration on his leg. Police found him collapsed in an alley...started seizing on the rig...Pulse is thready, BP sixty over thirty. "

"Jesus, okay lets get him into bay 4..." Sabrina shouted as she and the others jammed the gurney into one of the ER stalls. A pile of nurses and medical staff crowded around the man, throwing ekg leads on his chest, inserting IV's and fiddling with breathing equipment, as the attending doctor gave orders. She stared at the monitor, taking a brief note before observing the man motionless on the bed. Sabrina swallowed hard. Something was happening to her right then, something deep, an experience the other staff were unaware of, but that she could feel creeping up on herself...she began trying not to panic. She snapped out of it.

"I've been reading about real bad H1N1 cases. I bet this is one of 'em. We can't leave him alone his heart could stop any minute..." But seemingly on cue, the life monitor began beeping loudly while the heart rhythm waved erratically. Suddenly, it stopped all together. A nurse shouted out 'Asystole' while the attending gave more orders and Sabrina began chest compressions. A loud announcement was made on the PA and the staff were getting desperate. Milligram after milligram of epinephrine, minute after minute of advanced cardiac support, the little white line on the monitor failed to procure a charge. And after a moment of silently acknowledged concurrence among Sabrina and her attending, Sabrina looked at her watch for the time of death.

"Time of death...eight-for-," but before she could finish, one of the pathologists from the morgue tore open the partition curtain, and began yelling.

"STOP, STOP, HE NEEDS TO BE DOWNSTAIRS!" Bewildered at his unusual statement, Sabrina questioned his urgency.

"Downstairs? What the hell are you-" She asked in a crazed tone before being cut off.

"He could be highly dangerous! The WHO just sent out a memo, something contagious is spreading, and we're starting to see it with the deceased patients! We don't know the incubation period well enough to risk exposure!" And almost without notice, he grabbed the gurney and began dragging it out of the bay, and into the hall where he gathered speed. He glanced back one last time with a desperate look.

"COME ON! WE MIGHT NOT HAVE LONG!" He shouted, and two nurses began helping to wheel the patient towards the elevators. Sabrina was still in shock, almost motionless watching the bed get wheeled away. Suddenly the noise around her came alive...patients and machines in a cacophony of sound. Was it worth waiting around to risk seeing if the guy from the morgue was right? In any case, she began searching for answers while business went on as usual...too usual for comfort.

[The Felan Federation]

Vera Fairbright

---

Vera didn't necessarily understand what was going on - considering that the CDC rarely posted out notices of this scale or type. While normally Vera would have a habit of ignoring such things, as she had been heading home from work yesterday - she had come across a rather...displeasing sight. That idea alone was putting it mildly, as she had born witness to someone...feasting...one the body someone else in the same alleyway that she had always passed by on her way to work.

Needless to say, she ran as quickly and humanly possible as she could back home. Once that sight had happened, she made sure - that the hunting knife she had bought at a Arms Convention was properly secured against her body - as much as she trusted on her skill of running, something...primal...inside of her was telling, that she needed to prepare. Needed something to physically defend herself at that. As it was, she was sharpening her blade, like some doomsday survivalist as the CDC soon made their debut on TV.

The words themselves weren't what scared her - more or less was the threat of this...disease. Some new strain of rabies, influenza, flu? Not one for a coward, yet not stupid in that regard - Vera, soon called in sick. "Yeah. Lou. You heard what they are showing on TV. I don't care if it's fear-mongering or not. I saw shit yesterday. Stuff you only get completely drunk, or shot up on weed and heroine. Bad shit. Hey. I ain't getting this 'flu' over minimum wage! Let Jack handle it. Until then, I'm on sick leave!" she yelled, before hanging up.

As the memories of last night played throughout her head, she almost was wondering if she should getting something bigger to defend herself with.

[The Hoosier Alliance]

Fritz chuckled as the woman yelled at the man banging on the window. "Bums, right?" he said as he placed a ten dollar bill and a quarter on the counter. Once he collected his dollar in change he said, "Thanks. Have a good one," and gave a small nod in greeting to the woman behind him as he left the store. He climbed into his truck and closed his eyes for a moment as his mind drifted back to the man he shot in the alley. The death itself didn't bother him much, but the way that man acted, how he tried to bite Fritz...that shook him. Along with, of course, the bites the man had on his arm and neck. That was eerie. Fritz opened his eyes, turned on his truck, and pulled out of the gas station, heading home.


The next day...
Fritz awoke with a jolt as his alarm went off, it's beeping cut off as Fritz slammed his hand on the off button. He briefly fell back onto his pillow, ready to fall back asleep, when his phone went off. He groaned and checked his message. It was a text from a friend of his, inviting him over to hangout and get wasted. Fredrick texted him back, saying he might be over later but had some stuff to get done. He climbed out of bed and headed for the shower. He cleaned himself, got dressed, and had a bowl of cereal in front of the tv, watching the news people talk about the CDC announcing some sort of epidemic. Fritz, however, barely paid attention as he was sending and receiving texts detailing another meet with some guy looking for a hookup. Fritz raised his eyebrow as the man asked him to bring gun to sell to him. When Fritz asked why he needed a gun, the man said the epidemic was freaking him out and wanted something to protect himself with. Fritz didn't much care, money was money, and agreed to bring the weapon.

An hour later, Fritz was waiting in a small park on a bench. The man arrived, made his purchase quickly and easily, and left the moment he could, too afraid to be on the streets for too long. Fritz just laughed to himself as he light a cigarette and walked away, heading back to his truck. It was almost noon at this point and he decided to head to his friends house, probably get drunk and have fun on his buddy's PlayStation. On his way to his friend's apartment, Fritz noticed a lot of ambulances and police cars racing all around the city. Fritz wondered if it had another to do with this "epidemic", but he quickly decided he didn't care.

[Sraelyn]

Jason Blaire

This had to be it, there was no other alternative. It was oficially the end of the world. The time of judgment had arrived and he would be punished for his sins forevermore. What else could caused such a thing? The nightmarish everyday traffic of L.A. replaced with a modest flow of vehicles on the freeway. Not once since his arrival to the city had he had the pleasure of having what would be considered a normal commute anywhere else. Maybe true bliss really came in the form of the small things in life.

On a more realistic tone however, perhaps all of this was the result of that recent CDC statement. A new disease. Was it really what they were making it out to be? Sure enough, people were starting to freak out nationwide, calling it an epidemic and all, but this wasn’t the first time something like this had happened. Be it Ebola, H1Z1 or SARS, he had seen how a “new plague” managed to captivate the collective fear of the populace. Unless this was the second coming of the black plague or the Spanish flu, the medical face mask and disposable gloves he picked up earlier would suffice. He wasn’t about to waste a sick day just yet.

Rolling down the window of his old Mercedes, Jason took the cigarette he had left earlier above his ear, snuggly placing it in his mouth. With his left hand firmly on the steering wheel, he rummaged through his pockets with the other, in search of his lighter. Another glance at the road was all he needed before focusing on the task at hand. He had already burned his eyelashes once and was not about to-

“Shit!”

He swerved to the left while hitting the brakes. The SUV that he barely avoided continued erratically changing lanes, miraculously not ramming into any other car. Soon overtaking the road maniac he peered into the vehicle, where an older woman seemed to be almost physically attacking the driver, only retrained by the seatbelts. What was wrong with people nowadays?

Grabbing the lit cigarette that had just flown into the dashboard, he took a long drag before his phone started ringing.

“You finally answer asshole, I tried calling you earlier.”

“Hey, what’s up Marcus? I was kind of busy earlier, had to pick up the sabre from your friend’s place. The uh- the blacksmith. You were right though, he is good. Left the edge fucking pristine.”

“What did I tell you dude? Blake’s good. Anyway, I just wanted to let you know that I won’t be coming back just yet. We just took dad to the hospital, some crazy fucker assaulted him in the street out of nowhere. We managed to get him off until a cop arrive, but the dude was feral, even clawing and biting him. Must have been high as balls with bath salts or something like that.”

“Oh shit, is he okay?”

“Just a few stitches, nothing too serious, but I’ll be staying in Denver for a few more days just in case. Guess you’ll get the apartment to yourself just a little bit longer.”

“Okay, sure. Just send Uncle John my best.”

“Will do. And by the way, try to speak to your mom every once in a while, she’s been asking me about you. Auntie is just worried about you, and I’m not your babysitter.”

“Yeah, I know. I know… Hey, I’m almost at Charlie’s, I’ll talk to you later.”

“See ya.”

Once parked, he finished the cigarette before entering Charlie’s, a nice, quaint bookstore. The eponymous owner was a good man, gave Jason a job without much hassle, paid decently, and gave nice discounts to employees. He even abstained from asking many questions and wasn’t bothered by the usual bags under Jason’s eyes. Once in uniform, he started the usual chores, and although the usual cashier, Alan, was nowhere in sight, judging by the few customers, it would be a nice, calm day.

[Idiot People]

Elizah Rhosyn
Los Angeles, California
Day #2

"...the Center for Disease Control would like to make it perfectly clear that this is a contained outbreak, and not an item of national security."

Elizah was tying her hair up again, the weight of her camera missing from her neck. Her friend, Lucan, was playing the news in the other room while she was getting ready for a run.

"Waddya think of it, Eli?" Lucan called out, mouth full of cereal. "The epidemic, I mean."

She came out and shrugged, stretching a little. "Eh. I mean, there've been a few 'epidemics' that haven't really been much. Unless it gets really blown up and becomes an issue, I'm not exactly worried about it."

He thought on it for a moment before shrugging with a small nod. "I s'pose so. Even so, though, might be good to keep on it." She nodded before he went on. "Anyways, be careful on the streets. I hear there's been a couple of assaults lately, some kind of drug or something."

"Around this area? Alright, I guess..." She was skeptical, but kept that in mind as she tucked her phone away in a small pocket and put her earbuds in.

Down the stairs, out the door, and then she was out on the street, jogging along the road towards a small local park. She had run this route before, so she was just retracing her steps from her previous runs, but she focused on her running and her path, tuning out the people as music played softly in her ears.

It wasn't far to the park and she could see it up ahead, taking a moment to look around. Briefly, she passed an alleyway with a couple making out behind a dumpster. As she passed, she saw the man take a breath and look at her, letting her get a view of his face. Deep red lipstick covered his mouth and she swore he had even gotten some on his yellow teeth. His beady yellow-red eyes trailed her as she passed, bags clearly visible under them.

Then there was just wall, the alley closed off and she continued to run her route. She got the whole 'deep kissing' thing, but she couldn't understand some of the extents people go to when making out. She hoped she'd never have to find out. She didn't particularly fancy kissing someone like that anyways.

[Convallaria]

DAY 3
North Los Angeles

"Well good evening, and good morning Los Angeles, you're listening to KCL 101.1, and it's looking like the traffic is clearing up just north of the San Bernadino junction at Montecito Heights this evening with all lanes back to posted limits. Expect delays however on the 110 where a supposed high speed rollover has blocked northbound exit 26B onto I-5. While reports on casualties are still unconfirmed, the LAPD, along with the fire department are seen to be managing damage and re-directing traffic north towards Pasadena...

It was now just past midnight, almost 1 AM, and Sabrina could see the city disappearing behind the mountains as she drove home in her little red Volvo. It was too smoggy to see any stars, but she imagined them all there, one by one...she was just happy to be on her way home. Back at the hospital, things became so chaotic with the new death protocols that she wound up staying several hours past her shift. It wasn't until an hour after the WHO memorandum was faxed in that she actually had a chance to read it. "Remains that are to be removed from the bereaved and restrained by any means necessary"...this was what that medical examiner from the basement was talking about. Whatever the disease was, apparently it was affecting the brain stem post mortem, and causing aggression - nothing that she had ever seen before. On the attending's orders, the code team had already taken several bodies from the ER that night and taken them to the morgue, and according to one of the nurses, there were over a hundred bodies down there. Still, Sabrina hadn't actually seen it yet, and was scared. Should she even head into work the next day? Was it safe for her?

She glanced down the highway; things out here seemed so normal, and it gave Sabrina an uneasy feeling. At this point, it was only the hospital staff that knew what was going on, and they all had orders to try and stay quiet to prevent panic. The CDC was supposedly working on a solution, but how long would that take? Weeks? Months?. She tried to put her mind at ease, and thought about her mother. She really needed her today...just for today.

Down the road, she could see some kind of commotion on the off ramp. As she pulled closer, she realized the entire exit was blocked, and at a standstill. Down the long line of stopped vehicles, headlights reflecting off bumpers, the sound of helicopter rotors resonating off the asphalt, stood an overturned car. The lights flashed from an ambulance and a few police cars, but there were more sirens off in the distance. Sabrina thought about merging back into the highway and getting off at 7th Street instead, but instead she sat. It wasn't like she was in a hurry or anything. She listened to the helicopter cut the air above her, when she glanced up, it looked like ABC news. She stared between the gridlocked cars, trying to catch a glance of the accident, but she assumed that whoever was involved had already been taken to LA County. She rolled stations, looking for the broadway channel. Suddenly a scream erupted from the scene of the accident. There was another scream, and some shouting following. Sabrina couldn't make out the words -- but she knew what was happening. It wasn't just in the hospitals anymore...it was in the streets. She started breathing heavily; if what was happening in the morgue was happening at the accident, did they have enough time to restrain them? In front of her though, some guy and his wife in an old pickup truck opened their doors, leaning out while trying to see ahead. Others began following, like a can of tuna being opened. Sabrina got out nervously, looking well ahead. People were asking if anyone else saw anything...she remained silent.

On a police loudspeaker, an officer was telling people to remain in their cars. Sabrina could the flashing lights of the emergency vehicles, but nothing else, no movement until some highway troopers began running around, guns in hand. She was getting ready to bolt...there was only one reason for them to have weapons out. A panicked driver closer to the scene ran out of his car, obviously spooked so much at what he had witnessed that he abandoned his vehicle. Sabrina swung back into her seat just as gunshots erupted from the scene, several pops echoing off the overpass. More bystanders began bolting as another gunshot was heard. Not wasting any time, she turned over the ignition, following several other vehicles who also had the same idea, before speeding north down the highway towards Pasadena.

[Sudbrazil]

Murata Hardware Store
Suburban L.A. ~ 07:00 AM

---

With a loud, satisfactory ratchet, the last roller shutter shot up under the pressure of Mr. Murata’s arms. Inside the storeroom, a few fluorescent lamps had started humming their monotone tune which brightened the day of the screws, pipes and tools residing in the shelves below. Having finished restocking the storefront, his employee, a certain Charles Baxton, hurried behind the counter where an unfinished game sat. He was soon joined by his young employer, who served them two cups of matcha and resumed the struggle on the checkered wood by inching forward a provocative pawn. Whichever thoughts occupied Baxton’s mind quickly vanished as the cuckoo clock, always late by a couple minutes, chimed in. One idea sprang up, clouding his judgement and urging him to speak.
“Bill isn't coming tonight, is he?” said Baxton in a condescending tone, "That kid always runs away when things calm down.”
“Bill is sick, Charlie,” came the swift reprimand, commanding an astonished response from Baxton.
“Say, you don’t think it’s that fever?”
“No, his roommate phoned in yesterday. It's pneumonia. He’ll be alright, stop worrying and make your move.
Charles sunk back. Murata understood that pneumonia was pretty serious, and Bill had been working around the clock juggling his studies alongside work, but it had distracted Baxton too much. He soon noticed that his own thoughts were drifting away from the game, which probably would not go well. As his fellow made a clumsy move, Murata sat up and extracted several bills, which he then thrusted into a surprised Baxton’s hand.
“This is your monthly salary in advance, plus a bonus,” he explained calmly, coldly, “Take your wife and kids to the countryside. I apologise for being so sudden and late, but wait for things to blow over.”
Baxton stuttered, unconvinced. “But what about –”
“Ah, just go you stubborn bastard! You haven't had a proper holiday in a month! I can run the store alone, I just wanted a resident handyman with whom to play chess. Besides, you won’t win this one: you are too distraught.”
The employee objected once more, but Murata threatened to give him more cash. As the doorbell rang, he glanced down under the counter, at the large, grey rifle case which he had so indiscreetly stuffed into his bag earlier that morning. There was something on the air, that same breeze his eloquent great-grandfather had trouble expressing in his journal. The old Murata had fled from it, leaving his ancestral lands. But Hiroshi was young and arrogant. He would stand his ground.

[Monfrox]

"Hey mom...yeah...yeah I know....I know mom...hey...mom! ...mo-...mother! ....can you let me talk, please? ...thank you. Look, I know. It's a bad time. Listen, I'm fine, okay? ...yeah, everything's fine...well...as fine as it can be...yeah...look, I just wanted to call and let you know I'm alright...yeah, I'm in a hotel...yes, I have all my stuff...no, nothing's really been happening...it's been pretty quiet...yeah, I've been watching the news...it seems serious, but I'm okay...mom, really...I know, but...I don't know if I can make it back right now...all the highways are jammed up so not really anywhere I can go as it is...I'm pretty sure the backroads are being monitored by the cops, too...yeah...yeah, I know...I'm probably gonna just going to try to wait this out for now...yeah, I know, believe me if I knew this was going to happen, I wouldn't have drove all the way here. This is the last place I wanna be right now...mhm...yeah, of course...I'll try to get back but it's going to be...well, it ain't gonna be easy...mhm...right...don't worry, I at least got something to defend myself with...I know mom, but just in case...I know...hey, mom? ...I just want you to know...I love you, okay? ...yeah, I know, but still...okay...I'll try to call back as soon as possible...love you too, bye."

Suzanne sighed as she ended the call on her phone. It was a clusterfuck, and she was right in the center. Damn, she hated this so much. With everything going on, she knew there was no damn way she'd be able to get out in her car. She needed to prepare for the worst. A quick trip down to her car and she snuck her M1 and 1911 into her hotel room while the staff were busy worrying about when they were getting off. She was out of state and had nowhere to go. Her friends had all said they were leaving with the evacuation as well, so little chance she could meet up with them. Whatever. For now, she locked the door and kept an eye on the news reports with her phone and the TV, and chanced a look outside every so often.

"This is gonna suck..."

[Convallaria]

Sabrina's Apartment
Highland Park ~ 12:45 PM

---

The sun was shining bright through Sabrina's living room window, reflecting off of her faded floor rug. It was her day off, and she sat in the kitchen with a coffee cup in one hand and her cellphone in the other. The image of the highway ramp earlier that day was still firmly soldered into her mind, causing nothing but worry. It didn't take an idiot to see what was going on, but it also didn't take a genius to know that the CDC tended to overreact, and that contained diseases spread from time to time. Still, this didn't seem like just another case of SARS...this was something serious...something serious that could potentially kill a lot of people. Over the past 24 hours, seemingly all there was in the news were reports of the outbreak, strange shootings, and so called experts deferring their fear into hastily constructed words of comfort for the public. She dialed her roommate Christine for the third time...the circuits were overloaded the past half hour, presumably with 911 calls and friendly check ins to make sure family on the other side of town were okay and such.

Finally, her call managed to get through, but Sabrina was greeted with a warm voicemail, rather than a warm hello.

"Hey Christine, it's Sabrina and look, I'm just calling to make sure you've gotten to the airport okay. My calls have been getting dropped from all this crazy stuff happening out here, and I could really use you, so just call me once you're at LAX. Be careful okay, the roads are getting pretty congested, and I don't want you to miss your flight. See you soon..."

Sabrina's best friend had been in Seattle for the past 3 days on a business trip to oversee the construction of a factory, and she was supposed to be heading back to LA today, but she hadn't heard from her since the previous day. She looked at the photo of them pinned to the fridge and sighed, before taking another drink of her coffee. Suddenly, her phone rang, and Sabrina picked up quickly. It was one of the nurses she worked with, and she sounded stressed.

"Sabrina? I know you're off today, but six people called in sick, and we're having trouble managing the 'situation'. The waiting room's full and we just really need you here right now. Administration is talking about redirecting patients to LA County."

She sighed, and thought about her mother. This entire situation was getting out of hand everywhere, so why would it be any different at the hospital? How long they couldn't manage the dead? Was it professionally acceptable to simply say no? Sabrina knew that if she went in, she might not get back out...but still, something about her oath spoke to her.

"Fuck, I'll be right over," she said before hanging up. This was not good...not good at all. She quickly got in her car, and headed toward the 134, usually faster than taking the 110 south. As she passed the big shopping plaza on the corner near her house, Sabrina noticed a few people shoving cartloads of canned food, water and so in into their trunks. Some were filling cans of gas at the gas station. Smart or delusional? She kept driving...no point in getting paranoid yet. She could hear sirens in the distance, and helicopters everywhere...but things still seemed at least relatively normal. How long could normal last though? On the sidewalk, a young woman, visibly distressed, was running...running from only one possible thing. Sabrina sped toward the highway.

---

"While there still hasn't been any official statement given by the directors of the major LA school districts, school closures on both the elementary and high school level were announced today as a prudent, precautionary measure in the midst of the recent unrest to have affected Los Angeles and beyond. There is still no word from the Governor as of yet in regards to government intervention, but a spokesperson for the Department of Homeland security has mentioned the possibility of cross-border travel restrictions to prevent the further spread of illness should Washington decide to intervene. The Center for Disease Control, meanwhile, is expected to make an official statement in the coming hours, but continue to assure the public that they are 'committed to the utmost care and urgency in finding a quick, and effective solution to the recent epidemic.'

"In the latest of police shootings to befall Los Angeles this week, protesters are forming downtown in opposition to the killing of a homeless man near Grand Avenue that occured twenty minutes ago following an altercation that left two paramedics injured. While protest numbers are still small, authorities are recommending that people avoid the general area until the affected streets are cleared. Various activist organizations have joined the movement following the news, but at this point are said to be remaining peaceful in their demonstrations against police violence. KCL 101.1 will keep you updated on further developments of this story as they come to us."

[The Hoosier Alliance]

Vera pulled her hood more over her head - trying not to stand out or in essence, be spotted by any police cars passing by the streets - which seemed to be more and more filled with police cars, fire trucks and a few ambulances as well. Namely, this meeting she had set up had been through - an unused contact of her. The typical guy dropping off his phone number contact type.

Needless to say, things started to sound more and more worse - so much so, that she had even gone down to the local gun store to find any kind of gun to protect herself with. After she had seen a rather - graphic - recording of having Jack get his arm bitten and nearly torn off by someone 'sick'. As she waited there, she kept herself alert also for any 'sickos' - as nobody knew if they were sick or whackos - thus she figured a perfect name for what was going on.

"Oy! You still breathing?" she asked, seeing soon enough someone approach her with a rather...calm pace...although even that could be mistaken in the dark.

Fredrick had been a little uneasy when he was contacted by someone he barely knew. A text from out of no where came while he was hanging out with some friends. It was from some chick who had gotten him number, somehow, and wanted to know if he could get her a gun. Usually, the people texting him were, to some extent, known to him and wanted drugs. However, he was known to sell guns here and there. So, after giving it some thought, decided to go with it. He doubted the police would be setting up sting operations during an “epidemic”. So, he set up a time and place to meet her.

When the time came, Fritz arrived at the meet up point, an old alley he had used several times to unload some...merchandise. As he neared a hooded figure in the agreed upon spot, he was hoping it was her. When she yelled out to him, he stopped.

“Yeah,” he said, “What kind of question is that?” He took a few more steps toward her until he could clearly see her face. Then, he recognized her. “Hey, I know you,” he said, “You’re that woman from the 7-11.” He chuckled to himself, “How ya been sweetie?”

"Shhhh! Keep it down," she hissed, looking as scared as the many other people in the city currently. "And yeah I am. You're the guy whose buying smokes usually from my place. I don't care if you selling illegal or not. I need some heat. Small or big, long as it can kill..."

"You may think me crazy. But all the gun stores are empty. Pawn shops too. Plus...let's just say - seeing your co-worker suddenly munched on, can make someone lose their cool too."

Namely it explained why the 7/11 had a 'Closed' sign hanging from the front door. Considering that they almost never closed up, unless something serious happened.

"Okay. Enough storytime. I got $500 here. You got anything go-" she said, although froze up when she heard...moaning and someone stomping forward.

It didn't take her long before she whipped around and saw one individual...shamble...towards them. "Shit! It's a fucking sicko," she replied, quickly pulling out a knife and taking cover behind Fritz. "You gotta gun? Fucking kill it."

Vera didn't know what had gotten over her, yet it was a primal fear that ignored any laws or decency rules in this situation.

Fritz turned around, startled briefly at the noise behind him. As the woman took cover behind him, Frtiz pulled out his PPQ and took aim. "Listen pal," he said, "If you're not one of the...sick people, just turn around and leave." When the figure continued to shamble towards him, Fritz shook his head and muttered to himself, "Fine then." He pulled the trigger, sending a bullet through the man's head, dropping him right away. Fritz looked around, hoping no one was near. "Listen," he said to Vera, "We gotta get out of here. Now. I have a semi automatic Smith & Wesson in my truck for ya. Come with me, hand over the cash, and we got ourselves a deal."

[The Felan Federation]

"You better...have some ammo to go along with it," replied Vera, groaning slightly, since soon enough the dead body began to stink. Or rather, it stopped long enough for the wind to pick up his stench and let it spread around the place. As the two of them would head on over to Fritz' truck and she kept her eyes open for any of the other 'sickos' that might have heard the shot or be in the area.

"I don't care if it's hot or not. Or used to shoot a cop yesterday ago, you saw what I saw?" she replied, keeping a iron grip on her knife - in case someone jumped her or if Fritz wanted to screw her over. "I don't know my biology, but one doesn't stink like a trashcan unless they are dead. That guy...smelled of death...yet came at us like we were an all-eat drive-through at McDonalds..."

"Yeah," he said as he unlocked his truck, "Some strange ass shit goin' on. Some fucker tried to bite me the other day. He had bite marks of his own, on his neck and arm. I shot that fucker like three times, twice right in the chest. He just flinched until I shot 'im in his fuckin' head. Scary shit. Starting to doubt it's drugs." As he talked he was going through his glove box until he pulled out the Smith & Wesson with two magizines of ammo. "It's loaded," he said, handing it to her, "Plus I got these," he finished, giving her the two extra clips. "Listen, I get things are scary as hell and you wanna defend yourself, so I ain't gonna extort you. One fifty for all of it. But, uh, I do have some...other items for purchase," he said with a wink, "Something to...take the edge off?

Vera quickly produced out the cash, a bit happy to hear that she was getting a good discount on it. As she quickly checked the revolver over and made sure it was loaded and soon checked out everything about it - one good thing about the internet, it helped even a monkey learn anything in ten minutes at that. As she quickly pulled on the safety on it, before holstering it inside her jacket and the ammunition, before producing out the bills for the item. "Thanks. I doubt I will be skilled or able to use it - but I feel like I need a horse kicking these sickos than my toothpick..."

Although when he offered other stuff with a wink, she went slightly squeamish at that. "Wait...you sell yourself out too?" she asked, a bit confused at that.

Fritz leaned his head back and let out a good laugh. "Baby," he said, looking her in the eye with a wicked grin, "If that's what you want, you ain't gotta pay. I got a nice place real close to here. What I'm selling though is..." He paused for a second, wanting to think of a good metapor or whatever to say what he wanted to say, but decided against it since he was unsure she'd understand, so he went in directly. "I got drugs, all kinds. I doubt you're some sort of heavy user, so the only thing I'm really willing to give you is dope. I don't wanna mess up that pretty face with some hardcore shit," he said, with yet another wink.

"Oh..." she replied, blushing slightly at that comment. "Uhm. No thank you, I don't do drugs of any kind. One hit is usually enough to fuck up anyone. Seen it plenty of times pass my store here..."

Granted when it came to the first offer, she was a bit tempted. Seeing as everywhere that someone went, there seemed to be 'sickos' roaming around the place. Although before she could voice her opinion, she heard more shambling nearby at that. "Fuck. Change of plans. Drive...over to my place. Now!" she ordered, quickly grabbing her stuff and jumping into the truck.

Fritz laughed as she invited herself into his truck. "You got it baby," he said as he got into the drivers seat. He turned the key and peeled out of there, getting onto the road as quickly as possible to get away from the scene of the shooting and illegal firearm sale. Fritz drove, following her directions to her place. As he pulled onto the side of the street in front of her place, he put the truck in park and turned to her. "So, here we are. What's next?" He smiled and leaned in towards Vera.

Vera didn't want to argue that much, thus she did the obvious point and invited him up to her flat. "The way I see it, it's best not to travel solo or at night..." she explained, allowing him inside to her place - which was ten times better than his own place, granted, it had the same spots of laziness here and there. As once that was done, Vera locked the door and made sure it was bolted shut. "Now, let us hope those sickos aren't good climbers..."

[Kentucky Fried Land]

Samantha Wickham
1:33 PM
Biding Time

I am okay. I am alive. I am free. A bird released from a cage, a cat from its carrier, a petal from its stem.

Samantha Wickham was not okay.

She was lying on her back, eyes aimed at the ceiling. Rough carpet rubbed against her elbows, forearms stretched into the air. It was a lazy day at the apartment, today. Her roommates had left. They had flocked to family and friends in these trying times, attempting to escape LA in any way they could. There had been three others living with her in the complex and now... empty. Devoid of life, beyond Samantha herself and a couple potted plants scattered around. Shelby's Venus Flytrap that she had lovingly named Muncher. Samantha thought it was a stupid name, but nobody could hear this opinion in confidence. Trusting with secrets was how secrets were leaked and Sam didn't hold any ill will towards Shelby... just her stupid fucking planet. She'd dream of it sometimes, tricking her with sweet secretions before trapping her in the jowels of its green teeth, moments before she'd wake up, unable to move.

Now, she was free. She had been awake since ten, saying her goodbyes to the last of her roommates. She hadn't chosen to go home; she could make it out here all by herself. The military were untrustworthy; they were the ones who probably released this thing in the first place, after all. The government always had their claws sunk into the public, testing their weapons or accidentally letting out biological (Sam also considered Ebola, H1N1, and other viruses as having been released from the CDC; accidentally, of course). She clicked her tongue as she left her spot on her floor, earbuds in as she moved about the apartment. Classes had been canceled as of late, which was fine as far as she was concerned. There was too much to think about nowadays, too much to dwell upon. Her family would have to make do up north, because she wasn't budging.

They called her a few times. Luke called her from New York and they talked for near ten minutes before hanging up. Her parents called and they talked for near twenty, including time with her younger brother Derek. Sam was adamant; she was not moving. Her parents were stuck up north due to prior obligations, obligations they had begged for a reason to break, but Sam gave them none. She was a-okay. Her daily dosage of pills and small portion of food in the morning gave her some energy as she peered down at the street, a normally bustling avenue even more lively with activity. Impending doom had always done wonders for movement.

Sam continued her daily routines. She cocked her head at herself in the mirror before breaking into a dance cycle; she had never taken lessons before and it certainly showed. She brushed her teeth, yet still they shone a tint of yellow film. Her head bobbed to the music as she finished her routine, plopping down on the couch in silence. Her fingers crossed over her face, running through her hair, eyes open between the fingers. "I'm awake. I am awake." She was speaking to herself, muttered breaths as not to wake the shadows in the corners of her eyes. In four minutes she had broken down crying; in five she had burst into a fit. "FUCK! FUCK! What the fuck is wrong with me? Why the fuck... what the fuck is wrong with me!"

Within ten minutes, she had left her apartment no worse for wear. The girl pulled her coat on, a new hoodie she had bought with the little money she had left over after Los Angeles rent. The best thing for her would be a drive, wouldn't it? A drive... a simple drive around town for the next few hours might do a body good. She might even see what all the ruckus was about. She'd read on many of the forums she frequented oh so often that the infected were clinically dead; an anomaly, improbable beyond all belief yet still an intriguing concept.

The thought gnawed at her as she stepped into the parking lot, nearing her car.

[Convallaria]

Downtown LA
East Temple Street ~ 4:46 PM

---

"What we're seeing here, David, is certainly something unlike what we're used to, and seemingly, what the LAPD is used to. While civil unrest seems to dissipate just near the LA river, we are now starting to see rioting moving westward from the scene of the earlier shooting at Grand Avenue. Exit ramps onto the 101 and 110 have become entirely impassable in the past hour as literally thousands of people are attempting to evacuate the downtown core towards their homes. Two blocks from here, riot police are literally shooting tear gas into the crowds in the attempts that protesters dissipate before nightfall, but from what we're seeing, the recent mass hysteria brought on by this outbreak only seems to be fueling an ongoing inferno that is only making rioters more violent. As events have unfolded, we have begun to see more and more officers pulling out of South Central to assist with riot control, leaving many to wonder whether the LAPD is able to handle an event of such magnitude. Standing beside me is Louis Kaplan, who has recently travelled from USC Medical Center in Boyle Heights before stopping here. Can you tell us a bit about what you've seen on your way?

"It was absolutely nothing short of chaos, I was bringing my neighbor to the ER, and almost everywhere, doctors were running, moving dead patients between rooms...but in the waiting room, there were fights breaking out, and people yelling at each other. Some crazed woman came in from the street and started attacking a nurse, that's when I ran for the parking lot...I can't even describe it...she was, well, she was..."

"And how did you make it here?"

"I was able to drive west just until Grand Avenue, all the ramps onto the 110 were blocked, but when I tried turning back around, I got stuck. People were running between cars, throwing bricks through windows, setting things on fire. I couldn't even back up, there was so much commotion. Just across from me, I saw a guy , one of those 'things', come out of nowhere and start biting a cop next to his squad car. I had to abandon my car right there in the street! I don't even know how I got out..."

"Thank you for sharing your experience. This story is seemingly part of the endless stream of chaos that LA has been experiencing today, and in all my years as a journalist I can assure you that I have never seen anything like it, nor I imagine has anyone else. These attacks that are being seen increasingly are unprovoked, and potentially dangerous. While the governor is expected to speak within the hour, I can tell you what we already know. Seek shelter immediately and remain indoors, don't travel unless you have to, especially the 110 and the roads leading downtown. If you can avoid the riots, do so. Do not under any circumstances provide assistance to persons afflicted with violence. If at all possible, avoid travelling to hospitals unless you have a dire need for medical attention, we've been seeing that the emergency services are understaffed and facing enormous volumes of calls. Right now, the safest place is your home. We will continue to keep you updated on further developments as they come to us. Back to you, David."

---

Thanks Jim, this is certainly startling news we're seeing at this time, and we will continue to stay with you as we receive further information. It is still unknown whether the Governor will declare a state of emergency, however we have received reports that the FAA is considering grounding flights, and diverting international carriers elsewhere in attempts to control the spread of this disease. The CDC has given the press very limited information in regards to this virus, continuing to assure the public that they are committed to finding a vaccine. While major satellite uplinks have been faced with technical interruptions, our correspondents in London, Moscow, and New Delhi have been reporting similar rioting and mass evacuations similar to what we've been seeing locally. In the Vatican, there has been no official word on the religious implications of the phenomenon, however we-...

---

Downtown LA
Sabrina ~ 5:19 PM

Sabrina was at a standstill in her car as traffic came to a stop. She was still in disbelief. Not even an hour ago, she had seen her coworker be eaten right in front of her. As they chaotically attempted to throw a deceased man into the basement stairwell, the patient reanimated, broke through his restraints, and grabbed Ramona. She simply wasn't strong enough. and got pulled right in. Sabrina panicked. All around her, people were dying, fighting, and reanimating. If she stayed any longer, it was a veritable death sentence... helping people who couldn't be helped...so she ran. She ran to her car, and raced towards a way back to Pasadena...until she hit the traffic. The police had put up some sort of cordon, and all around her, there were people running, looting, and screaming. She couldn't find a way out. Riot police were shouting, and protesters were throwing pieces of debris. A brick hit her windshield, leaving a large webbing of cracks. She was motionless...it was happening. She was going to die. There was no way out. Suddenly, a man with a bandana over his face smashed her drivers window, opened the door and dragged her out as she kicked and screamed. He left her on the sidewalk and went for the car, only to find that it was useless as a getaway, and running off. Sabrina crawled backwards frightened before bumping into a wall. It was surreal. She wondered if she was dreaming. But wait, someone was walking towards her. a police officer, he looked injured, walking with a slight limp. But wait, as it got closer, she began noticing its eyes...cloudy, disoriented. This wasn't a person, it was one of the dead! She looked around her, the closest thing to a weapon was a broken bit of a drain pipe, not very sharp but still quite blunt. She got to her feet just as the lurker pushed into her, knocking her back down. With one good swing, she hit the object across its head stunning it, but not killing it. She crawled back up, using a dumpster for support, and ran down the adjoining alley. The building on the right looked like some sort of old warehouse. Luckily, there was a fire escape...accessible by climbing on a parked SUV. She climbed up the narrow ladder and broke the window leading inside. It turned out that it wasn't a warehouse, it was an old radio station; albeit devoid of workers. Empty, but safe...at least for the time being. Finally, she sat down. People were still rioting outside, and she would likely have to stay the night, so the only option was to explore the building. How safe could it really be?

[Sudbrazil]

Murata Hardware Store backrooms
Suburban L.A. ~ 03:34 PM

---

Hiroshi Murata prayed. He prayed that Baxton and Bill had gotten away, that father and grandfather had stayed at the farm, and he prayed even more that the LAPD would be too busy to burst down his door looking for assault weapons as he modified his rifle magazines. The welded aluminium bar ceded to his drill, and after some careful filing and polishing, the follower was free to travel beyond its legal and physical limits. Realising that he had just broken at least a handful of state laws, he hesitated before reloading one of the magazines with a handful of charger clips, which he in turn inserted into the SAFN rifle. He cycled the action until it was empty, confirming that all was in working order.
Satisfied with his job, he deposited it with the others. Now, he just had to head downtown for more ammo.

~

“Yes, father, do not worry, I’ll be alright. Take good care of grandfather. Yes… yes… God bless you too.”

He was not going to be alright. The streets were filled with abandoned cars, and his cargo had begun to weigh down on him: His duffel bag, stuffed with food and water picked up along the way, a toolbox from the store, along with a half-filled ammo can strapped to his bicycle. That old bastard had asked fifty bucks for those hundred cartridges, but he knew that was the last open store in town. The air was filled with rumours, terrible ones: thousands of dead walking, and not just in California: in New York, in San Francisco, in Europe and Asia, everywhere. If they were true, he wouldn't even last a month.
Turning down a street, he finally found signs of life in the concrete jungle: a melee among the cars. But before he could take in the dreadful spectacle, Hiroshi was thrown off the bicycle by a man. He was a morbid sight to behold, all ragged and covered in blood which clashing with the good business suit he wore. And his eyes, his eyes had not the keen spark of intelligence which shines in ours. Rather, they were foggy, lost. Dead.
Realising that his foe was not longer a Man, he unslung the rifle and walked away as he chambered a round. He aimed and pressed the trigger, incinerating the propellant within it. The projectile teared through the air with unmatched fury, tearing his arm off and leaving behind the smell of nitrocellulose and its reverberating thunder. But the target still stood, still shambled awkwardly towards Murata with a missing arm. Fascinating, he thought he as he aimed. Once more the Belgian barrel flowed with flame, punching a hole in the ghoul’s spine, who fell down paralyzed and thrashed around with its mouth, before he was struck once more in the head by lead. Hiroshi then scurried away, hurrying towards what could be a safe building. He spotted a warehouse in a discreet alleyway and ran towards it. Along its side, he found a padlocked door with he broke open with two wrenches. The bowel of the building revealed radio equipment – an abandoned broadcasting center. With his tired lungs, Murata hailed any eventual dweller:

“Hello! Is there anyone home?”

[Sraelyn]

Jason Blaire
5:47 PM

“Hey Mom, it’s uh- it’s me, Jason. I know I haven’t called you in a while, but uh- I just wanted to knows how were you doing over there. Between this new disease and the sudden outburst of violence… I don’t know. Things in LA are getting weird, it’s like the whole city is losing it’s damn mind. Something awful is brewing over here. I’ll try to get to Denver as soon as possible, before things get any worse. Call me when you hear this.”

Straight to voicemail was he best Jason got after the multiple attempts to call her weren’t able to connect. Phone service must have gone to shit or something must have happened to her to not… No, it must be that the network was oversaturated. That was surely the case.

Granted, he had underestimated The gravity of the situation mere hours earlier, but that was until he saw that video. He had seen his fair share of police brutality on tape, but it wasn’t really that. The leaked footage seemed to be taken from a helicopter, and showed an incident that took place at the highway last night. In it, an injured man in a stretcher is seen while being treated by an EMT, only to regain consciousness and start attacking the people there to help him. Seemingly impervious to the police officers beating him with batons, the injured man even shrugged off several rounds to the chest, only going down after being shot in the face. It was fucking crazy.

Internet forums were becoming ablaze with similar stories. Police shootings, random attacks, even people disappearing. At this point, drugs were obviously out of the question. Could it be the epidemic? He had suffered fever hallucinations and night terrors, although mostly when he was younger. He would sometimes run across the house to lock himself in the bathroom, crying and screaming like a madman along the way, haunted by a warped version of reality he couldn’t even remember when he woke up. The mind was a feeble thing. Was this virus jaywiring people’s brains into attacking others? Was that the cause behind the whole world suddenly going rabid? At this point it was anyone’s guess what the fuck was going on.

Jason had left his appartment earlier, taking some spare clothes, a few of his favorite books and personal items, his cavalry sword, and his padded fencing jacket which he wore in the hope that it would offer some form of protection. Luckily, the Korean store down the street was still open despite everything. The owner graceful enough to sell him a couple packs of cigarettes, some cans of food and a few bottles of water at exorbitant prices. Greed and panic went hand in hand.

Despite the numerous roadblocks, police controls, abandoned cars and panicked people, he had managed to reach downtown, now cruising the chaotic streets in his old Mercedes, searching for an available exit to the city. Adding to the ensuing mayhem, now protestors were gathering just a few blocks away to march against the recent actions of the police. From outside the car he could hear screaming and shouting, but he wasn’t sure if it was because of the looting, the growing protest that threatened to turn into a riot, or the police sent to contain it. Maybe it was all of that and something more.

As he was crossing an intersection, a woman stumbled out of as building and into the street, causing the car in front to hit the brakes, stopping inches away from her. The woman seemed unfettered with being nearly being run over. Unbothered by the insults screamed at her by the driver. Uninterested by the car that sped up and dodged her. Unknowing of Jason, who fixated upon her from the stopped car at the intersection. Undisturbed by the car that barreled down from the street to the left, slamming into the old Mercedes in front of her.

---

The tapping and cracking brought him back into his senses. The taste of iron. The hurting body. The pained face. The muffled sounds. With a groan he turned his head to the left. There she was, on the other side of the glass, with her mouth open and bloodied hands slapping against the heavily cracked side window. Unnatural was the woman with only death in her eyes.

[Convallaria]

KTLO Broadcast Building
East Grand Avenue ~ 5:59 PM

---

Things were desolate in the station, no DJ's, reporters, producers, engineers or anyone else were anywhere to be found. The lights were off, except for a studio in the back where Sabrina had been holding up for the past half hour, protected by the heavy soundproof door. The equipment looked fairly old, maybe thirty years old, and had a thin layer of dust on it. Nevertheless, the scripts strewn about the control room were all dated this week, indicating that the crew had only abandoned it earlier that day...possibly when the rioting started. It was a small three story building, with a large transmission tower on the top. Sabrina had already searched the building top to bottom, only to find nothing. The ground floor seemed to be some sort of storage area where the station had been storing old equipment, with their actual studios on the second floor, and offices on the third. There was a break room too with some food in the cupboards, but not enough to last very long. Luckily, the freezer still worked, so Sabrina cherished what was left of the Haagen Dazs.

With her phone still working, she tried calling Christine again in the attempts of reaching her, only for the call to get dropped again, making her wonder if there was any point in trying at all. All she hoped for was that Christine managed to get back to LA safely, or at least somewhere else that was safe. With the rioting happening all over the country, was anywhere safe anymore? Would the government start grounding aircraft? It was only a matter of time, and things only seemed to be getting worse. As she continued to eat, she noticed a large red stain of blood on her scrub top from where her coworker had been attacked in front of her. She was now getting emotional, crying as she tried to rub it out with a tissue. This had really taken the cake for horrible days...

Sabrina decided to leave the room in search of a sink or a new shirt. Her eyes were still teary. As she was walking down the hall however, she suddenly heard something downstairs, as she listened carefully, the noise was followed by a door shutting. Sabrina froze. It couldn't be one of the dead, as they weren't developed enough to open doors, but if it was a looter, they might try to rob and hurt her. She stayed quiet as she gripped the span of pipe that she had been using as a weapon. But wait...there was another sound...

“Hello! Is there anyone home?”

It was a mans voice...sounding noticeably strained, as if he had been running. Sabrina loosened her guard...violent looters would never ask a question like that, they would steal and ask questions later right? Regardless, she lowered the stairs carefully, still guarded, but eager to make contact with someone who wasn't smashing windows or gorging on humans. As she got to the last step, she began speaking.

"Hello, I don't mean any harm! I'm just lost, and trying to hold out!"

[Sudbrazil]

KTLO Broadcast Building
East Grand Avenue ~ 6:05 PM

---

As the adrenaline in his blood began to loose its effect, so did his countenance begin to wane. Murata’s actions suddenly caught up to him, and hit him like thunder upon a tree. He had just shot a sick man, who might’ve been dead or not, then fled the scene hauling some twenty-odd kilos to a building which he broke into using only two wrenches. All things considered, he had fared admirably, but now the cold and serious facade he held had begun to melt away as he slumped down amongst the things his aching back had carried. As his call echoed through the building, his eyes darted towards movement: a figure had just climbed down a flight of stairs and issued her answer. She seemed rather wary and nervous, as indicated by her voice as well as the pipe in her hand. Murata reasoned that he should be careful yet dignified when answering her. Instead, he spat out a clumsy response.

“Ooh, sorry miss… I, uh… I broke your padlock out there...” Murata paused for a while, struggling to find words as his breath clogged his mouth. “I’m terribly sorry… say... you… you don't look quite well. Would you like some help with that?”

Slightly better, yet damnably clumsy. He raised himself up, and motioned towards the barely distinguishable blood stain on her clothing. The woman responded timidly.

"Oh, er, it's not my blood...but thanks. And don't apologize, I broke in here to get away from the chaos in the street too. (sighs) The city seems so unrecognizable. How does it look out there right now?"

“Terrible.... The streets are filled with empty cars, broken storefronts and people fighting. I, uh, I think many of them are sick... We should not leave yet. It's terribly dangerous.” Murata paused to recollect his thoughts, then bowed slightly “Ahm, I am being awfully rude. My name is Hiroshi Murata. It is a pleasure meeting you, eh...”

"Oh, yes, Sabrina...Kae. I'd say its a pleasure as well if it weren't for the circumstances," she said while pointing toward the street. "I think you're right though, staying here is a good idea. The building seems secure enough and there aren't many doors...how did you end up down here in the riot?"

“Well, all the stores in the neighborhood had closed down, so I had to go get stuff near the downtown. I was running out of time so I took a shortcut and ended up in this mess. Hm.”

An awkward silence befell Murata. Knowing not what to say, he slipped out a magazine which had been stuffed tightly in one of his best pockets and loaded it with a few rounds from his luggage. The small aluminum box emitted a satifsying click with each round, as if it were some critter pleased with its food. It then struck him that this was somewhat weird behaviour, and he broke the silence with a proposal:

“I suppose we should barricade this door and find you some clean clothes.”

Sabrina appeared slightly surprised at the sight of him handling the ammunition, but agreed with a nod.

"Those filing cabinets by the wall look fairly heavy, they should hold it," she said politely while starting to push it towards the door. "Here, help me with this," she asked as the cabinet inched forward. Murata quickly joined her, and with much noise on the cabinets' part, it was pushed to block the doorway. He hoped that, despite all the fighting, water and electricity would still run for some time.

[Monfrox]

As things usually go, things had gone from bad to worse. And Murphy was alive and well and frankly just hated Suzanne right now. Not only did someone end up setting the hotel on fire through some sheer feat of stupidity, but some of the other residents had been infected. Suzanne had played this game and seen this movie and knew exactly what was going to happen. Still, she was good-natured, and went down every hall she could find, trying to announce the state of the building to anyone else still alive and try to get them out. What good it'd do, she didn't know. Whether it would prolong their life by a few hours or days wasn't on her mind. She was just trying to help. Of course, she had taken the time to get into her gear and uniform and was currently walking around with her M1 Garand out. Times like this made her wish she had a bayonet for it.

When all was said and done, as far as she could see, she decided it was her turn. Suzanne ran down the stairs and tripped over someone clutching their neck as it bled profusely. She was about to help him before she realized he was already dead. Not wanting to stick around, she continued down to the first floor. The front entrance was packed, and so she left out the back. Her car wasn't going to go anywhere at this rate, and not like she cared anyway. She took to a light jog down the street, trying to distance herself from others. Especially the ones who were busy waving their guns around and stealing things out of stores. Well she tried to stay away from them. Being in uniform, most people didn't give her much trouble, but of course this was Cali and not everyone liked a uniform. WW2 or not, they didn't like it. Or maybe they wanted her rifle and gear.

"Hey you!"

Suzanne turned around and one of the rioters shot at her. She didn't understand why he would do such a thing, nor did she stop to focus on who he was. She dropped to a knee, shouldered her rifle, and felt it kick when she pulled the trigger. The man dropped after getting a thirty aught six round through the chest. She didn't stick around after that. She didn't want to either. Her legs carried her off back down the road. Her helmet bounced on her head and her gear jingled and jumped. Her mind was going a mile a minute and she had no time to focus on the whys or whos or whats of the whole ordeal. The only thing she needed to know was how she was going to get out of here and how she was going to wait this all out. She ran until she noticed that the amount of people had suddenly dipped and drastically. Suzanne's running slowed down to a power walk as she started taking in her surroundings. She couldn't get over the feeling that she was being watched, and her adrenaline was heightening her senses.

She had to take shelter somewhere and fast. A building with an empty parking lot seemed ideal, so she made for it. Once she arrived at the doors, she took time to go around. The surrounding area was immediately clear for now. Once that was done, she turned around. Back door. Her jump boot went up and kicked it square in. Her rifle went in second with it in her shoulder and pointed it at the nearest human-shaped figure she found. She said nothing and just panted. Out of her peripheral vision she saw another figure and her Garand's barrel swung to point at it too. She then moved it back to the first figure and looked at him from under her helmet adorned with a first aid kit in the netting.

"Show me your hands. Both of you." She ordered, talking fast but in a low tone.

[Sudbrazil]

KLTO Broadcast building
East Grand Avenue ~ 06:07 PM

---

“Fiat Lux”, proclaimed Hiroshi, and out from his pocket came a torch. Its thin yellowed beam pierced the darkness, passing among the filing cabinets and crates of equipment as it looked for other entrances to barricade. As he found a door, a small woman suddenly burst in with a rifle in hand. Hiroshi’s heart jumped into his throat and he dropped the torch, which fortunately had a sturdy metal casing. She told them to raise their hands, and so he did. He could probably duck down behind some crate and return fire, but none of the furniture present would stop rifle bullets reliably. Besides, one should never draw on someone who had the drop on you. As he examined the intruder, Murata attempted to buy time by talking:

“Hello, miss. It’s a bit impolite to go around pointing guns at other people” Of course, no one cared about politeness anymore. Especially not in California. His eyes caught on to her weapon’s silhouette, and the thoughts in his mind quickly slipped down into his mouth: “Though that's a nice Garand. Is the kit original?”

[Convallaria]

KLTO Broadcast Building
East Grand Avenue ~ 06:07 PM

---

After a day of rioting, people killing each other and god only knew what else, it really shouldn't have surprised Sabrina if she were held at gunpoint; nevertheless, the real thing was never like she had seen it in the movies...this was a person who could actually shoot at any instance, not some two dimensional cowboy on the 'Cheap Tuesdays' screen of the South Street Cinema in Sacramento. What did surprise her though, was just how easy it was to get through the back door, with a kick nonetheless. The frame looked strong, the door had a lock on it...but with a strong kick in the right place, perhaps anything was breakable. In an attempt to not completely lose her shit, she breathed slowly and carefully. Now was not the time or place to panic. At first glance, Sabrina thought that maybe she was military, but that didn't seem right...her getup was...older. She couldn't tell what era the uniform was, but it didn't take a historian to notice that it wasn't standard issue equipment for soldiers, at least in this decade...

With no escape route, and no chance of her little pipe being able to win against a rifle, Sabrina complied with the woman's stern order, as did Hiroshi. Anyone could be reasoned with, and maybe the woman was just as scared as she was. Desperate times always called for desperate measures, but without knowing the intruder's true motives, the safest thing to do was to listen to what she said and not to make any sudden movements. Suddenly, Hiroshi started speaking though, straight up disparaging her for drawing her weapon, which made Sabrina very nervous. Why risk getting on the woman's bad side? Even more confusingly, he complimented her 'Garand' which to Sabrina sounded like some sort of banana flavoured liqueur, but that she figured must be the gun she was holding.

"Please! Do-Don't shoot! We're just trying to escape from the crazy stuff in the street!" she said desperately, but while still remaining calm. "There was nowhere else to go, the freeway was blocked!"