[b]Lillah[/b]

The message was out. Lillah wasn't a super but she made a great scout: lean, unassuming, quick, and so it was one of her expectations to keep an eye out for others--wanted or otherwise. And as the fireworks lit up the sky, she was already out and looking for stragglers to help escort to the casino. Zombies were attracted to noise and color and stimulation in general, so the buddy system was pretty important in post-outbreak America. She had been followed the spray paint guides in their opposite direction, hoping to meet someone following them, but now she slowed to a stop at a street corner. 

Her light brown eyes gazed about slowly, and she pulled the single barrel shotgun off her back. And waited quietly, attentive for any sign of movement or sound. The young woman wasn't tense--in fact, her slumped shoulders and lazy frown indicated boredom [i]if[/i] any feeling. After several minutes, with no sign of movement, Lillah slung the shotgun over her shoulder and started moving again. When she came to another stop, it was at another corner--with various abandoned streets all leading to her. She was visible to anyone--or anything--in any of them. 

So she dropped the shotgun back into her hands and waited. Again.

[hr]
[b]Vivian[/b]

Fresh blood pooled around the body, his blank eyes widened at the fireworks above. Vivian stood over the man, gaze raised at the message in the sky. "Poor boy, just missed your chance," she commented as she holstered the pistol under her jacket. She crouched and pulled his bag off his limp body, pulling it open and dropping its contents onto the grass. They were in the park; she had been warming up to the guy and the wanker had finally let his guard down around her. [i]His mistake,[/i] she thought now, shaking the new water bottle before taking a swig. 

Her nose wrinkled and she coughed, barely keeping the liquid down. That wasn't water. She sniffed the opening and looked again at the plain plastic bottle. "Nice," she decided, capping the alcohol and dropping it into her own bag. Everything else? Useless: a wedding ring, a family photo, and a dead cell phone. [i]What the fuck was this guy even doing?[/i] she thought, then narrowed her eyes at the corpse. [i]Probably planning on mooching off me,[/i] she realized, standing up again as she slung her canvas bag over her back. 

Brown eyes rose again to the sky where the message had been and she started in that general direction.