[hr][center][h1][color=orangered]Caesar Gonzalez[/color][/h1]
[img]http://media.giphy.com/media/wbomIbUs5Bc2I/giphy.gif[/img][/center]
[hr][center][b]Location:[/b] Church Street - Whitesburg
[b]Interacting With:[/b] Meg, Survivors
[/center][hr]

Their journey up Highway 27 had to be diverted, if but a bit, owing to a concentration of dead people on the road. Luckily, Church Street ran almost exactly parallel to both 27 and the train tracks leading into Carrollton, and was significantly less populated by rotting, shambling, former humans. 

At least, for the moment. 

Caesar's eyes were open before Meg's nudge made connection. As an older man with a lifetime of conflict resolution experience behind him, he knew the value of getting rest at every opportunity. Likewise, he knew the value of getting that rest very lightly. Within a second, he had appraised himself of the situation and sprung to immediate action. 

An only slightly suicidal plan forming, he slid open the back window and tossed his weapons into the truck bed, following close behind. [color=orangered]"Get ahead of the herd! Cover me if you can. I'll be right back."[/color] He kicked open the tailgate and moved out with pure physicality which defied his advancing age. 

The two survivors were tired. Hurt. They were barely moving faster than the Walkers pursuing them, and sweet, merciful Bacon it was a LOT of them. They'd be outmaneuvered by pure numbers and, sometime the next day, be excreted as so many useless lumps of zombie shit unless someone intervened. This was the precise recitation of Caesar's job description, down to the asterix-marked footnotes. It was time to intervene. 

Caesar hit the ground, rolling once before springing back up, trademark machete in hand. He hauled much ass. 

Now, ordinarily, when a man who looks very much like the indomitable El Jefe runs dead at you with a long blade, it's best to run the other direction as fast as humanly possible. There were extenuating circumstances to this situation, granted. Nonetheless, as Caesar neared, he lowered his weapon and extended his free hand. 

[color=orangered]"YOU! Give her to me, and get in the truck. MOVE."[/color] 

[hr][center][h1][color=steelblue]Ashton Holloway[/color][/h1]
[img]http://vignette3.wikia.nocookie.net/avp/images/9/92/Mike_aliens_3.jpg/revision/latest?cb=20130414051040[/img][/center]
[hr][center][b]Location:[/b] Hwy 34, just outside of Franklin, GA
[b]Interacting With:[/b] Maria, Kristina, Lorna
[/center][hr]

Before speaking to his new companions, Ashton retrieved and holstered his sidearm. [color=steelblue]"Name's Ash. Engineering."[/color]

He accepted Kristina's hand, shook it once, and pressed a little harder on the accelerator. He wanted to put some distance between himself and the Dead; with luck the thunderstorm would cause them enough confusion as to make them forget about their Meals On Wheels. Ash didn't give any response to their polite intonations of gratitude. For all he knew, he just postponed their horrible, tearing death by an hour or two. That, and he would need their help coming up here in a bit. 

Shaking his head, Ash mused that he'd feel a lot better when they were done with this run and back to the relative safety of Newnan. Much more work to be done. The upside to this meeting: The newcomers were friends and family with someone he trusted not to immediately shoot him in the back, Maria. With that, the likelihood that the survivors would try to rob and/or kill them lessened, he could breathe a little easier. In that realization, he was very glad that their newest member volunteered to come with him. 

[color=steelblue]"I think I can help you out with the drinks,"[/color] he began, regarding Lorna, [color=steelblue]"if you don't mind homemade, that is. But that'll have to wait, we're actually out this way on task. Can use some help, if you're up for it."[/color]

[color=steelblue]"Hey, do either of you need food or water? Medical? Oh yeah, mind my M4, if you would please. Just set it to the side."[/color]