So Will It Be RP - [IC]

[Recon]

South Willard Street
December 20th, 2020
7:52pm
Conor Foley
The gold road's sure a long road

The app on the phone flickered illuminating the dark room, a green logo with the letters VPR appeared before the player started. Conor waited for the live stream to start, as a pre-recorded message appeared,

“This livestream is brought to you by…”

He took the earpiece out and waited, hearing only the sound of his own breath and then the tiny voice changed and he again brought the bud to his ear,

“We will take you to the Christmas Fair as soon as the Mayor begins his remarks. We don’t know if the Mayor will remark upon today’s reports from Joseph Brant Hospital, with a unconfirmed number of staff reportedly infected in a breach of the quarantine restrictions, the hospital has received nationwide attention for it's treatment of the first confirmed case of the Kongo Virus in the continental United States. A group of concerned Burlington citizens has called for this year’s Christmas Fair and lightening ceremony to be cancelled as a precaution. Security is tight, with National Guard soldiers in attendance…”

Conor closed the app and locked his phone. Placing the second bud in his ear, so he wouldn’t be bothered, he stepped quietly out into the hall. It was silent, empty, he had watched the students leave, laughing and smiling in a large group, easy pickings every year.

Thank god for the fair

He brought out the bike and turned to close the door. It wouldn’t lock; the bump key was still jammed in the door handle, so he forced it closed, holding it tightly until the mechanism sprang back into place. Pulling up his hood and keeping his head down, he placed the backpack on his shoulders, adjusting it as the weight was cutting into his back and he began to walk down the stairs. He had attempted to perfect this, the casual walk, to avoid a watchful eye required confidence, if you believed you were meant to be there, chances were most people would believe it too. There was some difficulty at the door, getting the large bike through. But he persisted and stepped out into the cold.

On the street he kept his eyes down and hurried away from the door. It was only a few minutes on the bike from South Willard Street to the parking garage. Conor weaved on and off the sidewalk, a wide grin on his face as he veered close to passing vehicles and groups of pedestrians before pulling away at the last moment. With only five days before Christmas the city was full, but Conor was enjoying himself too much to care, feeling the wind on his face, taking his hands off the handlebars, blowing through stop signs and red lights, feeling like a kid again. A chorus of car horns followed as he turned off the tree lined street, past the 24 hour parking sign and up the first ramp. The garage was dark and quiet, with only a few cars slowly driving up and down the ramps. Conor lapped the garage twice, just to be safe, but there didn’t seem to be anyone waiting around. He paused at the top of the ramp, listening carefully and rocking in place, expecting for his parole officer to slip out from between the cars, but no one appeared.

Parked far away from the grainy security cameras and buried in a dark corner was a green 2000 Honda Civic, which hadn’t ran for months, it’s tires long gone flat. Feeling relatively safe, Conor rode over and stepped off the bike, dropped it to the floor and quickly walked around to the rear of the car. He knelt down and prised the license plate back; jamming his fingers into the newly revealed space, he fished out the hidden car key. Still breathing heavily from the ride, he stood up and unlocked the trunk. It was reassuringly familiar, grocery bags, a flashlight, a first aid kit and a spare tire. His mouth was dry as he pulled back the plaid woollen blanket,

They were gone

Rising up and down on his tiptoes, he slid the backpack off his shoulder and laid out his latest treasures on the blanket, before covering them again with the plaid. He stood back and closed the trunk. Walking around to the front of the car, his hands trembled as he used the key to unlock the passenger door and slid inside. The air was stale and heavy, Conor kept the door ajar as he opened the glove compartment. Aside from the registration and an owner’s manual, there was an envelope, Conor checked it and retrieved the cash and small wraps of white powder.

He stuffed the envelope into his backpack and stood up. He saw the bike; obviously it wasn’t going to fit in the trunk. So reluctantly, knowing he wouldn’t have a good excuse if he was caught riding it, he stepped on one pedal and rode it slowly down a ramp and onto the lower level. There he discarded it in one of the empty parking spaces, he had liked its distinctive yellow and black stripes and was disappointed to let it go, Cannondale bikes usually were worth something. As he was striding back up the ramp, he began to hear a cracking sound, then again, crack, crack, crack.

He made his way to the garage’s wall which overlooked downtown Burlington. Below people were running, screaming and panicking. A National Guard helicopter was flying low over the city, its loudhailer message garbled away by the whir of the rotor blades. People seemed to trample and wrestle each other in the panic, all attempting to run from the Christmas Fair. Conor stood back to cast himself in shadow as he watched, strangely excited by the scene in front of him. He stood rooted to the spot as he heard more shots, police officers were shooting at the crowd. They ran for their patrol cars and were firing wildly, some seemed to be overwhelmed by the vengeance of the mob. As more and more people flowed out of downtown, fleeing the gunshots and violence, he remembered his phone. Conor connected his earpieces and booted up the VPR app,

A worried voice was speaking,

“We do not know the Mayor’s status, he was dragged off the stage, but it appears that the annual Christmas Fair was disrupted by rioting. Police and National Guard were on scene at the event and according to eyewitnesses, we are checking social media for updates, we are seeing reports of shootings. This is all unconfirmed but clearly this is dangerous situation downtown, so until the situation is brought under control, you should avoid and leave the downtown area. We will try and reconnect with Barrie on the scene, as soon as it is safe…”

Conor ripped out the earbuds and listened over the sound of his beating heart, he could hear more shooting now, the streets below him were relatively clear, but the shooting continued. The Burlington Police would be rushing reinforcements to the area, locking the area down and arresting everyone in it. He didn’t want to be there when that happened, a convicted felon? He would absolutely catch a charge and be sent back. The Police were shooting unarmed people on the street. He knew they would be out shooting and arresting everyone to try and cover this up. He had known this for a long time, now the people would finally see it. Just how brutally they treated people like him on a daily basis.

As the shooting and screams continued, Conor dragged his eyes away from the flashes below him. He had to get away. Oddly calm he opened his backpack and retrieved his roofing hammer. He ran down the row of parked cars, looking for an easy target. His eyes set on a blue Honda CR-V; he smashed out the driver’s side window, triggering the alarm. He leaned in and opened the door, Conor was halfway in before he remembered the civic key. Apparently alone, he ran back to the Civic, and hastily stored the key beneath the license plate. The car alarm blaring the whole time, he sprinted back to the SUV and climbed inside.

Switching out his hammer for the lock pick set, he took some steading breaths as he opened the leather bound case and selected the lock pick gun. Steadying his hand, he inserted it into the cylinder and turned. Instantly the dashboard lit up, the alarm died and the engine began to idle. Conor put the lock pick back into his backpack and threw it into the front passenger foot well. Closing the door, he put the car in gear and set off. The tires screeched as he drove quickly down the ramps, he accelerated to smash through the exit barrier with a satisfying crunch, laughing Conor turned onto the street.

---

The Evergreen Motel
December 20th, 2020

The streets of Burlington had been filled with fleeing bodies and crashed and abandoned cars, Conor had enjoyed brushing both aside with the SUV, as he worked his way through the maze of darkened streets. He had seen glimpses of people attacking each other. At one junction as he tried to pick his way through the debris, he had his windows smashed out by a group of crazed individuals covered in blood who were trying to steal the car. Conor had just floored the accelerator and after crashing into the sedan in front of him, managed to throw them off and clear a path on through.

As he hit open country, he returned to the radio, twisting the dial. There was no music, on every station was the same message again and again, “Seek shelter, a state of emergency is in place”. After the message, repeated itself on a loop again and again, he switched the radio off.

He would have happily driven on all night, just to put enough distance between himself and the chaos. But far away from the city, a dull headache began to grow as the adrenaline and excitement wore off. The low fuel warning light then had made its appearance. As he drove, it blinked and blinked and no matter how much he willed it, it would always return to blink again. Not eager to stop for gas in the midst of all this and with the fuel tank running dry, he desperately looked for somewhere to pull in. Fortunately he saw a sign, “The Evergreen Motel. Open 24 hours” and he pulled the dying car into a parking space. He was already thinking about booking in for the night, abandoning the car and looking into returning to the city in the morning.

Then he saw the National Guard, weapons out, standing in the parking lot, as if it was the most normal thing in the world. Not wanting to stare, he kept his eyes down, he didn’t need to draw that sort of attention and the trouble that came with it.

They’re here too

Doing his best to ignore the world outside, Conor used the car’s interior light; he reached into his backpack and with a rolling tip, rolled up a joint. It was only after a few draws did he begin to calm down and get up the courage to even think about stepping outside. As he reached for the door handle, he caught sight of the monitor around his ankle, he paused,

I could just slip it off

It was tempting; it offered the freedom he had desired for years. Perhaps in all the confusion, the Federal Courthouse would get burned up with his file in it. He could dream. But in the end, that was all it was, dreams, tomorrow or the day after, the city would be crawling with police and National Guard. He had seen the documentary on the LA Riots, it had all been fun and games for a day or two before the Humvees and trucks came rolling in.

Making sure to smooth down his jeans to cover the tag, he took one last draw on the joint before tossing it. He cleared his throat and stepped out onto the asphalt.

Here I go

[Alozia]

"But for now the situation is hectic and unpredictable, but we are outside of the hot zone for now so what is best is that we keep ourselves grounded and work together and I assure you that we will see rescue soon enough!"

"So, what's your plan?" Ben asked, his arms crossed at his chest.

[Hastur]

Burlington, Vermont, Evergreen Motel
December 20, 2020
DSS Special Agent Esther Pryzbylewski
One Foot In The Grave

---

The guard will come!

Esther knew by that statement that he was uncertain. Fake words to keep up the element of stability and control. It wouldn’t be long before it all came plummeting down, the fragile veneer of normalcy being shattered by the realism of the situation. The sergeant didn’t know what was going to happen in the coming days. Just like Esther herself. She’d lost contact with her bosses, her radio now giving off nothing but a void. Deriving from the fact that he wasn’t scrabbling to get someone down here, he was in the same boat. They were alone in the thick of it with a multitude of fearful people enveloping them, people who’d call for answers that they just wouldn’t be able to give.

What’s going on? Why is this happening? Where is our rescue? What is the government going to do about it? When will they help us?

Esther kept her mouth shut in the crowd. Standing steady. She’d seen the looks she was receiving from a few of the others. Demanding her to turn over answers. Her carrier rig with a very clear police patch provided that expectation off to them. But Esther knew she had arguably less information than the guard did. They’d been at ground zero. She had not. They should have communication with their commanding element. She did not. Esther wasn’t even sure what she could say, but she sure as shit wasn’t about to lie to these people. She saw no point in it, so she paid them no quarter. A short glance back before going back to doing nothing. Awaiting everyone to receiving their standing orders on what the guardsman expected them to do.

Her attention was quickly grabbed by the woman that she had t-boned tonight. Now dawning what looked like a set of PPE. Her frightened and tired eyes from behind a set of protective goggles bearing into Esther as she asked if she was a cop.

“Kinda. Federal agent.” Esther responded, turning her head to better face the girl before pointing downwards towards her belt. Finger aimed at the small golden shield that remained clipped to her belt. “Diplomatic security service.” She added, keeping her cajun voice low to make it harder on eavesdroppers. Not that it wasn’t information that was impossible to garner just be looking hard enough. “We protect diplomatic assets. So I’m more of a bodyguard.” Esther moved her hand back onto the fore grip of her rifle. Now no longer paying attention to the girl as she scanned the area again. “But don’t tell anyone. I’m a little out of my jurisdiction.” Esther joked dryly, her voice bland as she struggled to neutralize the tension in the air.

A vehicle past the compound quickly caught Esthers eye. Seeing what looked like a battered SUV that was now parked. She hadn’t seen it before. Esther stepped away from the crowd, leveling her rifle briefly to examine it through her scope. A man sat in the seat. Looking on at the motel. She found it strange, but thought nothing of it as she lowered her rifle. Taking a walk out to the road which approached the motel. Watching the SUV as it drove forward. Esther stood steady, weapon pointed groundward as she watched cautiously. Signalling the vehicle down with her free hand.

[Recon]

The Evergreen Motel
December 20th, 2020
Conor Foley
Winds on through the hills for 15 days

He was half way out of the SUV intent on sleeping the day off in a blissful haze, before he saw the body. It was laid out alone on the ground, covered in what looked like aluminium foil. His fingers gripping tightly on the door, Conor froze, the hairs on his arms standing up. At first he hoped it was an injury or someone who had collapsed, perhaps they were waiting for the EMTs, it wouldn't matter when he could finally close his motel room door. But the slivery foil did not move, it just lay there draped over the human form, only ruffled by the wind, otherwise there were no signs of life.

They have already started

What unsettled Conor the most was just how routine it all seemed to the people in the parking lot, he looked at them all standing around, a blond girl, a dark haired woman, the military guys, some were talking, some just staring off into space, as if the body wasn't lying there. But it was. It wasn’t like back in the city, no one was screaming or running from the police this time.

Do they even see it?

After hours of driving out from the city and even here, in a sleepy small motel, they were killing. It was much bigger than he had ever imagined. He doubted there was any rioting out here. A question flashed across his mind, what had started all this? He knew it was only a month until the next President came in, had they used the virus as an excuse? The dark haired woman stood in front of him, one hand waving to him, the other ominously kept on her rifle.

She was one of them

Conor didn’t need the police cruiser or the woman’s POLICE identifier patch, all the police looked the same, thought the same, talked the same and walked the same. When they put on their uniforms, they became untouchable.

He thought of fleeing, but the SUV was already running on fumes and it would be riddled with bullets before he could get back onto the street. So reluctantly he hitched the backpack onto his shoulder and closed the car door.

“Is this place open? I saw the sign on the highway,”

Connor attempted to keep his voice light, as if this all was the most normal thing in the world, dead body and all. He was looked around for the Motel’s office, a plan forming in his mind, to book in, smoke his weed and keep a low profile until the police left in the morning. Finding the office, he began to walk towards it,

“I`ve been driving all night, just looking for somewhere for the night”,

As he walked, he looked up at the hotel sign, the rooms, the vehicles, anywhere but the body lying prone on the ground or the rifle in the officer’s hand. When he was closer, he noticed the woman’s golden badge, blue eyes and what looked like dark stains on her clothing. As soon as he saw it, instinctively he knew it was blood.

Clutching his backpack, he kept his eyes down and headed quickly towards the office.

[Alozia]

Evergreen Motel,
Burlington, VT
December 20, 2020

Survivors poured in, one after another, as the group meeting went on. Strangers who came across similar horrors sought shelter at what just hours before was a mere C-class motel. Desperate, tired, scared and hungry they hung around as the more "veteran" members worked out a strategy. Screen, clear, secure - those were the three guiding principles of the plan, headed by the National Guardsmen. Firstly, screen - every newcomer was checked for bites and those on their way towards the safe haven were watched by a small group of newly appointed watchmen for behavior similar to that of the Christmas Fair attackers. Secondly, clear - the encounter with Annie Calder put everyone on edge. Whatever was happening in the city was also happening in other places, motel included. News reports coming through the Internet made the group even more paranoid and suspicious of potential dangers. In order to prevent anyone else from getting harmed, the members of the group went door to door to check if everyone was okay. Sadly, at least two tenants came down with the virus, as well as the aging owner of the motel Henry Calder. The trio was, to mildly put it, "terminated", their bodies moved out of sight. Secure - the last pillar of the Guardsmen's strategy involved the majority of the group. In order to prevent whoever was wrecking havoc from sneaking up on the unsuspecting residents, the Sergeant ordered everyone to create a barricade. Work lasted until late in the night, leaving everyone exhausted. Thankfully for most of the group, the Guardsmen agreed to keep watch for the night.

***

December 24, 2020

Three days had passed and help was nowhere to be seen. The survivors started to get restless and the National Guardsmen were being flooded with questions, most of which they couldn't answer. Everyone assumed that whatever was happening would have passed by now, yet the majority of radio stations continued to play the same message. "The civil authorities have declared a state of emergency in Chittenden County, Vermont..." Most of the people taking shelter at the Evergreen could recite the whole message from their memory by now. Internet proved more useful, until it went out that is. Journalists were reporting on similar events to those in Burlington in other cities, curfews, police and military brutality, violence and looting. Reporter after reporter slowly went silent, some assumed missing, some confirmed as dead, others presumed to be taking a break with all that's happened.

The world as we know it was ending quickly.

Ben Wilson
December 23, 2020

Having participated in the efforts to build the barricade and gathering supplies, Ben's profile among the members of the group rose somewhat. Executing his duties diligently, somewhat out of fear for his well-being and somewhat out of disobeying the Guardsmen, he seems to have gained their trust or, at the very least, their respect. Wilson wasn't getting along well with McRay who personally killed Annie and authorized his men to "clear the building", knowing well what it meant. Deep down inside Ben knew that what was being done was necessary, however he found the lack of hesitation on behalf of the Guardsmen somewhat concerning. He decided to keep his distance, not wanting to get on their bad side and not entirely sure how their good side looked exactly.

Looking over the food "stockpile" the Sergeant ordered to assembly, Ben couldn't help but frown. On the second day of the stakeout, Ben and another member of the group went out to scavenge for food. Deciding to stop by a nearby convenience store, safely distant from the city, the pair discovered that the establishment had been seemingly abandoned. The door were open, but the owners were nowhere to be found. Regardless, the scavenging "team" decided to take only as much as needed, leaving the majority of goods as they were, assuming that help would arrive. Now disillusioned, Ben started to regret that decision knowing that the stockpile wouldn't last much longer.

[Arengin Union]

Evergreen Motel
Burlington, Vermont
December 20, 2020
Echo Squad (McRay, Speck, Reynolds, Harrison, Mendez,Nonato)

---

McRay had taken up the main lobby as a sort of personal office, the last couple of days had proven more chaotic than he’d ever expect as he sat at the desk once belonging to the woman he had shot not long ago. McRay pondered on the state of things, how most communication had been cut and all they had was the same looped message over the radios. He felt impotent and as if things were closing in on them and once food became a problem he’d be the first to be sent to the gallows if the situation wasn’t fixed soon.

Overlooking a map of the local region McRay marked each possible location to scavenge and possibly relocate, nothing was certain but he knew that they’d have to go out scavenging soon for food, supplies, and weapons. Tapping on his head with his pen and running his hand across his grown stubble McRay rested back on the chair, rubbing his eyes in exhaustion as he’d barely gotten no more than perhaps 10 hours of sleep in the last two days all together.

“Sarge?” A voice called out as the door to the office opened, McRay went back to his focused and stern self as he looked towards the arrival. Corporal Harrison walked slowly into the room, his rifle strapped onto his back.

“What is it, Corporal?” McRay asked, obviously he was in no mood to be disturbed right now.

“Some of the folk are asking when lunch will be distributed, group A got done setting up the last of the barricade, kind of did a sloppy job if i'm honest…”

McRay let out a sigh as he looked over to a list of all recently counted supplies by Wilson, who’d become the de-facto civilian spokesperson and was who had helped keep things calm between the refugees and the national guardsmen. Food was only enough for a week, a week and a half at most if they rationed it, McRay knew that ordering such would only prove to the refugees that things were bad so he would hold off for now.

“Go get Mendez, we’ll start giving out lunch in 30 but I wanna talk with Wilson first…”

“I’ll go get him for you then, I don't know where Mendez is though, last time I saw her was at the early morning guard shift…” Harrison answered with an uncertain tone.

“Well then go find her,” Was McRay’s sole response as he was trying to get a signal other than the usual emergency message over the radio at the desk.

“Yes sir,” Harrison said as he began to head out.

Shortly after heading out, Harrison would bring Ben to the lobby. The young man had trouble sleeping the last few days, the imagery of the victims still weighing heavy on his mind. Heading inside alone - his companion having left to attend to his other duties - Wilson rang the bell installed above the door, thus notifying the Sergeant of his presence.

“Sergeant. I believe you wanted to speak with me?” Ben’s tone was formal, a noticeable amount of tension present in his voice.

“That’s right Ben,” McRay answered as he gestured for Ben to head in, he was still tinkering with the radio, trying desperately to find any kind of signal other than constant government emergency broadcasts. At last once Ben approached closer to the counter McRay finally snapped as he simply slammed the radio off the desk and rubbed his hair back in noticeable frustration.

“Alright here’s the deal, food’s running out as you possibly already noticed… and I’ll be frank with you, there’s no help coming anytime soon…” McRay spelled out nice and straight to Ben, it was for the best for the two men to be on the same page, though Ben was not a military man he seemed to be the intelligent type and could hopefully encourage the refugees to take part of scavenger runs more often now, at least that’s what McRay hoped.

“Our only choice is to hike out of here, but that’s not an option until possibly March, and in the meantime we’re gonna have to organize more supply runs,” McRay continued as he turned the map around and showed it to Ben, “So far I’ve figured some of the nearby suburbs and unincorporated towns are the best bet, but we’ll have to ration everything we can until winter passes…”

Ben was confused by McRay’s admission, he attempted to speak, but stopped himself deciding that following his gut wasn’t the best strategy. He pondered his words for the next couple of seconds, brow furrowed. “There’s a lot to unpack here, so let’s start from the beginning. You’re saying we could be stuck here until March? Is there something I don’t know? I know these people were… odd, but… that was only Burlington. For all we know, that is. I mean there are Guardsmen all around us, right? …Right?” He looked at the Sergeant hoping for a positive answer.

"There could be… but there's also a high possibility that the Guard might have pulled out to cut their losses." McRay really could not come up with a positive on this one, he was as realist and pragmatist as they came. The reality of it all was that they were stranded and Burlington was probably not the only place this was happening at.

"I dont know if this is only in Burlington or nation wide, the fact the guard has taken this long to react tells me it could be the latter. Knowing Driscoll he likely pulled all the guard out from the city as soon as things got heated…"

Ben sighed in disbelief. “I… I’ve read some reports on riots in other towns, something like in Burlington, but… Christ.” Wilson wasn’t religious by any means, but positive providence couldn’t hurt at this point. “Honestly? I don’t know what to say, what to do... “ He ran his hand down his face, trying to figure out what to do next. “I would call my mom, but reception has been awful ever since things went to shit… I can’t stay here. We can’t stay here. I need to check up on so many people… And food. I’m guessing you know about our situation by now?”

McRay nodded, he understood what Ben was going through, they were all going through it. The sense of isolation, dread, impotency was all too much to bear as he too wondered on the people he cared for, part of him regretting to be part of the guard but he knew that was too late. Now was the time to get a move on and hopefully make the best of things.

"We need to gather some scavenge groups, organize a few small parties and get all we can." McRay said as he stood up from the desk, "I'll need your help in getting people to join into this because they will ask questions, so I think its for the best to-"

“Sergeant McRay!” A breathless refugee stormed into the lobby, struggling to get a word out. “Sergeant… these people… they are coming… lots of them…”

“What, what do you mean by them?” McRay rose up from his seat, hand on one holster as he kept the other onto the table. The refugee seemed distraught and scared out of their mind as he struggled to come up with words, McRay was quick to realize what he meant as he looked over to Wilson.

“Get a weapon!” The Sergeant said as he took hold of his M4 rifle hanging on the wall behind him, the National Guardsmen was fast to make his way out of the office and into the hellscape that was unfolding.

Grabbing his baseball bat, Ben followed McRay outside only to witness a pandemonium. Countless people of all shapes and sizes, wearing rugged clothes stained with blood pounded on the barricade as hopeless defenders struggled to keep them out.

Anyone watching the scene that was unfolding could tell what was about to happen. “This doesn’t look good, Sergeant.” Ben stated, his bat providing little comfort in face of the assault.

"W-what the hell…" McRay uttered as he rubbed his hair back, looking in disbelief and pure dismay at the chaos. The refugees that had depended on him and his squad to protect them trying their best to keep those monsters at bay.

"Where the fuck is Harrison and Mendez!" The Sergeant yelled out as he racked his M4s bolt and moved up onto the back of one of the parked trucks. He fired once, then twice, each shot aimed at the mass of hundreds of crazed infected.

"Everyone with a gun, aim at the head!" McRay yelled out, hoping that those who had firearms would start helping out.

"Wilson, get those people away from the barricade and to the rooms!" McRay ordered as he fired another shot, hitting an infected right in the head.

“Are you sure? The barricade will give out without support!” Ben didn’t feel great about the order.

And that was the problem, if they kept holding it up the infected could eventually break in and kill several of the refugees, but if they let the barricade go the refugees would have a running start but the attackers would get in. McRay tried to think through his every possible choice while he also kept scanning around for Harrison and Mendez, he felt frustrated as the infected kept forcing their way against the barricade.

"Alright, just tell them to keep the barricade up, everyone with a rifle make your shots count!" McRay shouted as he fired once more.