The City

Dallen and Raven

The sound of the alarm buzzing gave Dallen an immediate headache to start the day. His hangover didn't help either. The 36 year old lawyer rolled over and turned it off, giving out a sigh as he did so.

"Fuck..." he muttered, massaging his temples as he got up.

Just another day. His morning routine consisted of a warm shower, followed by putting on a suit. He rarely ate breakfast, though he did drink a lot of juice. Partly because he smoked so many cigarettes in a single day that his throat was always dry and ichy, while the other part was his every morning hangover he had to get rid of.

A lawyer should know better than to drink nightly, but at least he didn't drive. Anymore, that is. That's a whole different story. He had no vehicle, instead he took the subway to and from his firm. It was a pain in the ass, but necessary.

His apartment overlooked the entire city, 42 floors above the ground below. Dallen walked out to his balcony, which was his favorite and most visited spot, and lit up the morning's first smoke. The sun was barely dawned over the distant mountains, giving off a gorgeous dim light that sprinkled over different areas. The city was quiet.

He felt his phone vibrate from his pocket as he exhaled. It was his partner at the firm, and the message he texted read: Dal, court at 8:30am. I can't come in today, feeling really, really sick. Sorry buddy, I wouldn't normally do this as you know...if you saw how sick I was you'd understand. Text me the details later.

Fucking great. They had a lose, lose case to deal with as partners, and now he had to gun it alone. Typical. Dallen took one last hit from his cigarette and ashed it out in an ashtray, then started off.

Once he was on the subway train, he noticed something unusual. Looking from his left, then to his right, he saw that everyone on board were all wearing medical masks. A few of them were coughing, though generally everyone was pretty quiet and kept to themselves. At almost every stop on the way to his firm, it was the same thing. People got on wearing masks, all save for this one girl.

She was young, attractive, and dressed like a punk rock kid. Her hair was short and blonde and her arms were covered in tattooes. She had some band shirt on he didn't recognize and was carrying a school bag over one shoulder. The young woman sat directly across from Dallen, and eventually caught eye contact with him. He hadn't even realized he'd been staring at her since she came in, mainly because she wasn't wearing a mask.

"Take a picture, it lasts longer," she told him.

Dallen shook his senses back into him. "No, uh, sorry..." he started. "I was just noticing you...Uhmm..."

"Yeah? Great story," she said with a roll of her eyes. "Well, notice someone else, Suits."

"...Noticing you weren't wearing a mask," he finished. "Not sure what that's about."

The girl looked around and realized what he was talking about now. They were the only two without masks on. "Oh," she said. "Yeah, well I feel fine. What, have you been living under a rock? There's some kind of airborne virus that's been killing people off on the east coast. It only started like, a few nights ago but has escalated quite a lot. I guess, anyway. People are starting to get worries 'round here, is all."

"Oh."

"You have been living under a rock!"

Dallen tried to remember his last few nights. Work, more work. Whiskey. Bed. Lots of cigarettes in between. He had someone under his employ, his secretary, who paid attention to real world events like that for him. Besides, he hated watching the news.

"Just been busy, is all."

"Right, with the suit and all," she said with a smile. "Must be important business. You a salesman or somethin'?"

"Lawyer," he replied. He took a card out from his inner jacket and handed it over to her. "In case you ever need one."

"...the law offices of Forrester and Larson," she read. "Dallen Larson, nice to meet you. I'm Raven." She pulled out a card of her own and handed it over to Dallen. "In case you ever need a cut, man."

The card read: Sun City cuts. Hairstylist. Raven Brinkman.

Dallen nodded as the subway train came to a stop. They both stood up and got out together, then shook each others hand.

"Well, if the world doesn't end soon," she said. "Come on by sometime. Or, you know, maybe I'll spot you back on this subway again. No car, and all. Goodluck with work!"

"Thanks, have a good day."

They then went their separate ways.

Johnny

Ted Nugent's "Stranglehold" blared across the apartments. It was the ghetto, where everything looked old and dirty. It went on for many blocks like this, but this one in particular belonged to Johnny Blackburn and his crew of misfits. The handsome young man sat on his bed only in his boxer shorts, sprawled around pounds of marijuana and cocaine. There was money littered to the floors, as well as some guitars and amplifiers set up. Some uzi's and a few handguns were also sprawled about the place. It was a dump, but it was his dump.

A few other sickly looking crackheads were doped up on the carpet and in the bathroom. A whore lie naked next to Johnny, passed out cold with her bare ass facing the ceiling. Johnny was the only one fully awake, though his mind was also in another place. He lifted a joint to his mouth a took a nice, long drag of it. He then sat up and started playing videogames on an old nintendo system he stole from somewhere a long time ago, specifically he was playing 'Battle toads'.

Suddenly, a car screeched through the parking lot outside. It was a common sound around here, but the gunfire came quickly after. Gunfire was also a very common sound around here, however this time it was directly right outside.

"Johnny! Johnny!" screamed a voice from one of his crew, who was immediately gunned down right after.

Johnny rushed to his window and saw the chaos outside. It was a rival gang, about five or so of them all wearing purple colors. They fired heavy into the apartments, with few unsuccessfully firing back at them.

"Holy fuck!!" Johnny yelled as he jumped to the floor, just barely getting out of the way of the bullets screaming through his window.

"Johnn...??" the whore started to speak as she sat up, but a few rounds flew into her flesh and head, killing her immediately. The crackheads around him were useless and to fucked up to help, instead they made things worse by screaming over the sound of the gunfire.

Johnny rolled over and grabbed an uzi, his back was already bleeding from the broken window glass all over the floor. He got up and fired back down from his second floor apartment and into the parking lot. He shot one of them in the neck, while the others took to cover behind dumpsters and vehicles.

"Yo Johnny mutha fucka, you dead!" yelled one of the purps. "You fucked up!"

"I'm here asshole!" Johnny yelled back. "Come get some."

The sound of police sirens could already be heard as the firefight continued.

Thomas

It was cold. It was always cold in the hospital. Cold, and sterile.

"Damn doctors. Don't know shit about anything. Waste of money. Losy ..." Thomas muttered to himself as he walked out of Room 417. Mom was no better than before. Skin was looking blotchy and jaundice had set in around her eyes and mouth. And her veins. Lord her veins. Swelling in size and making her skin look almost blue. Made it hard to even look at her.

The only good thing was that she didn't appear to be in pain. Sure they had to give her 20ccs of some gawd-awfully-expensive drug, but at least she was asleep, finally. She hadn't slept in three days. Insomnia they were calling it due to the virus that was obviously raking her body. But damn if they weren't stumped on what virus she really had.

'Call House,' Thomas had cried at one point. Yeah the he knew the doctor was only on TV, but surely there had to be a diagnostician somewhere in Mother of Mercy Hospital. He had left that day in such a rage that he dented the south stairwell exit door with his foot. The dent was no longer there today. "Ha!" he cried. All the money goes to making things look all pristine. But nothing can be done for the patients that reside within. Wonderful! This pissed him off even further. So he kicked the door with his steel-toed black boot, left a dent again, and then punched out the light above the door for good measure.

He felt a little better as he exited out onto into the first floor corridor. The tile was freshly polished, and the maintenance man could be seen down near reception installing a new sign. Thomas made sure to pass by the other man and commented, "someone's abusing your building," and hooked a thumb at the southern stairwell.

"Thanks," drawled the maintenance guy in some Middle Eastern accent.

---

Though the sun was out, it was hard to know exactly where it was behind all the tall buildings. But damn if it didn't reflect off the buildings and blind you anyways. Thomas followed Jefferson St. north towards Commerce Blvd. and took a right. Five blocks later he was finally at FastLane.

"Where the hell have you been?" bellowed his boss John Russell, a fat, and mostly lazy, man in his mid-fifties. He was hardly a large man. No, he was the next level up. Gabriel Iglesias said it best, John ranged around the 5th level of Fatness, "DAMN!" He was once skinny, old photos of him were all around the shop , most of them encompassing a prized 2nd level racing trophy that he'd one 'back in the good old days.' But an accident (which was well documented in his office) left him with a bad leg -- and apparently an unquenchable hunger, John was always eating something. Today it was a Pastrami sandwich on Rye, extra everything; some of which was speckled on his shirt and face.

"I told you Mr. Russell," yes, Thomas was formal -- forced formal, but formal nonetheless. "I told you yesterday I was going to see my mother at the hospital. I even put it in writing like you asked." Thomas was trying to control his anger. His fist was aching from being clenched so tightly.

"Never saw it" John Russell said dismissively. "You're fined $300 for being late," he noted sternly. "And if you're late again, you're fired."

"You can't do that!" Thomas roared back.

"Oh I can't?" John Russell's eyes bore daggers. "All you inmates are all the same. You think you're above everyone's laws and rules. One day you'll see that the rules apply to YOU too." John turned on the spot and returned to his office, slamming the door behind him.

Thomas banged his fist against a nearby tool cabinet. "Damn him!" me muttered. "One day he'll get his," he said to Luis, another ex-con who worked at the shop.

"Wouldnt be FastLane if Mr. Russell wasn't yelling at someone," Luis added, "ey Tommy?"

"Life in the FastLane," Thomas mildly chuckled quoting the shop's slogan.

Dallen

The judge wasn't in a very good mood this day, as proven evident by her lashing back at almost everything Dallen had to say concerning the case. It was yet another defeat to him, which yet again stained his resume. He was in the break room of the large judicial building getting a cup of coffee, and he noticed everyone else in the room was fixated on the television. He curiously walked up and saw that there was a major gunfight going on currently in the downtown area. A helicopter camera was catching the live event as it unfolded.

Almost out of nowhere, a few military helicopters passed by the windows of the building, nearly shaking the entire structure where it stood. Something was going on the he couldn't quite understand just yet.

Ethan

"Sit down and shut up!" one of Ethan's fellow co-workers yelled at the high school students causing mayhem on the bus.

They were on a field trip heading to the university, not only for the chance to see the college first hand, but also to watch a play in the Black Box theater. It was a nice change in the day for Ethan, however the kids on his particular bus just happened to be the loudest and most annoying. A balled up piece of paper flew through the air and smacked Ethan's co-worker, Mr. Stein- an older man with little sense of humor, in the back of the head. The teacher raged as he turned to face the young teenagers with a pointed finger. "Who threw that!!"

Ethan couldn't help but to laugh as the kids errupted back into their usual loud noise. His phone began to ring and he answered it, plugging his free ear with his hand so he could hear better.

"Hey honey..." he answered.

"Ethan, how late did you let Jonah and Daniel stay up last night!?" his wife yelled.

He knew from the tone of his wife that he had to be very particular in what he was to say next.

"Uhh, not late at all, why?"

"I just got a call, they're both really sick!" she continued. "They were throwing up in class. They said a lot of kids were..."

Ethan felt a force like never before. A massive CAT bus slammed into their school bus, pushing the entire vehicle on its side. Numerous other cars and trucks smashed brutally into one another, causing a very large accident at one of the intersections directly in the heart of the city. The bus skidded for a few feet before it stopped, and all the noise from the children turned into complete silence.

Slowly his senses came back to him. He brushed off some glass from his face, then attempted to get up. The first thing he saw was the bus driver, the poor man was lain across the steering wheel with his eyes wide opened. He was dead. Then he heard Mr. Stein grumble in pain. The aged man was alive, but his body was stuck half outside a broken window.

"H-help me," he called out.

Ethan could see the legs of many people outside the bus, all running around. It didn't seem like they were coming to help them though, it appeared they were running away in a panic. Maybe to help the others involved in the accident? He nudged his way over to Mr. Stein and grabbed him by his hands.

"It's going to be okay, Mr.Stein, I promise," Ethan assured the man. "Helps on the way."

"Ethan, if I-, if I don't make it...tell my wife..."the man started.

Suddenly he screamed in agonizing pain. Blood spat out from his mouth and onto Ethan's shoulder. Ethan at first thought it was accident related, but he saw a group of shadows just outside the bus where his feet were hanging out. Within seconds, the man was ripped from Ethan's view and out onto the street, as the figures seemed to huddle around him.

"Hey!! Hey! What's going on!?" Ethan yelled, but all he could hear back was the horrifying man screaming, until it stopped.

The back door of the bus opened next, and a ray of sunlight beamed through. Ethan turned his head to see the high school students, some were just getting up, while others lie dead. One of his students, the trouble maker that earlier threw the piece of paper, was the one to open it up.

"Steven, hey wait!" Ethan tried to warn him.

He knew something was terribly wrong. It was to late. Someone jumped on the kid like a ferocious animal. More 'things' joined, as the student screamed just like Mr.Stein had. Ethan's eyes widened as blood and flesh were tossed through the air. More came in and began attacking the helpless and injured students sprawled throughout the bus.

Ethan looked out the large side mirror of the bus and could see the entrance to Mother of Mercy Hospital. They were so close to help, yet so far away. Dozens of patients came rushing down the hospitals staircase, all in groups. Something was wrong with them, though. Their faces were dead-like, and their intent was clear. They were killing everyone.

"Mr.Everend!" a young female student screamed as the infected were getting closer and closer toward them.

Ethan brought his knees to his chest and began kicking the front window as hard as he could. Finally, it gave way and created an opening.

"Come on!" he grabbed the girl, Ashley, and yanked her up with him through the window.

Frank

Ugh.

As if that sound were created for the sole purpose of describing his third-shift job at the plant. Frank strode home in the early light, tired feet giving their last strength to carry him to sanctuary. Heh. Sanctuary. Sure, the rent was cheap, but what did he expect? To not be living in a second-rate crack den? No, it was home to the peons, social burnouts, and the ones who'd totally given up. It was home.

A sudden thundercrack of gunfire snapped Frank from his thoughts.

Ugh.

Shots weren't an unusual sound in this part of the city, but this sounded close to his home. He hoped Johnny was ok. Not that he particularly liked Johnny, but he was just about the only one who would tolerate someone like Frank. Someone who doesn't buy drugs is someone you can't make money off of. Frank quickened his pace.

More gunshots, followed by indistinct yelling. It was probably that other gang, the hoodlums in purple. They'd been making life hell for Johnny and his cohorts, and by extension, Frank, for months now. And it seems now they weren't playing anymore.

Ugh.

Frank grabs a pipe from a nearby scrap pile and now runs towards the sounds.

"What am I doing?" Frank thought aloud. "Risking my life for someone who might not even remember my name?"

Wasn't long before he could hear sirens in the distance. Local law making their way towards the inevitable slaughter. And Frank was going to get caught right in the crossfire. But what else could he do? Run away? No. Frank had more integrity than that. Or maybe stupidity. Who knows. All Frank knows is that he was tired of the repetition. Tired of going to work at the same time and putting the same part together over and over again every night. It may be suicide, but it was also a chance at change.

Ugh.

So, best case scenario, he'll be tied up with police all day instead of going to bed and worst case... Well, you know. Frank sidles up to the corner of the building and peers around to get a grasp of the situation.

"Aw, shit"

There were about five of them, armed with small automatic weapons, trained on Johnny's place, firing sporadically.

"Well, I guess Johnny's alive and well" Frank scoffs as one of the hoodlum's neck explodes in a red mist. The rest dove for cover, and Frank knew he wasn't going to get a better shot. Hellhole it may be, this is his home. His sanctuary. And like hell he'd lose it to some jealous punks.

Frank bolted from cover to the nearest hoodlum, raising his pipe above his head, and swinging it with all the force he could muster. Well, I guess it can't get any worse, right?

Ugh.

Thomas

"What the hell is going on out there!" thundered John Russell from his office. Crashes and bangs shortly followed as the heavy-set man made his way out.

Thomas was already standing at the entrance to one Bay #2, his arm rested high against the support, his head resting against it. He gave Mr. Russell a side glance, and returned to looking at the chaos unfolding in front of him.

Only ten minutes ago all was 'peaceful' and 'business as usual at FastLane. But then gun fire erupted and out came the sirens. "Seems like hell has broken loose Mr. Russell," Thomas muttered as his boss had come to stand just behind Thomas's right shoulder.

"Don't get smart with me!" It was a half-hearted attempt at a comeback, but John Russel was too stunned by what he saw. "Go check it out." he said to Thomas, shoving him with a beefy arm.

"Hey!" Thomas stammered as he caught his balance and glared back at the shop owner.

"Go! Make sure no one comes near the shop." John Russell stated to Thomas. "Luis! Close Bay 1!" And without word FastLane was closed off to Thomas.

"Bring a knife to a gun fight, and I don't even have a knife. Beautiful." Thomas wasn't thrilled about going into the fray with just bare hands, but it wouldn't be the first time.

Down the street Thomas could see cars piled up and flashes of gun fire. He looked around and saw numerous people standing around, apparently too stunned to move. Others were walking quickly away. Cars were at a standstill, but that wasn't really anything new in the city. In the building surrounding curious people had their faces pressed against the windows. The look on most faces, whether inside or outside, we of mixed emotions. It was almost impossible on what to think or even do next.

The next thing he knew Luis was standing next to him. A large wrench was in one hand, and he was handing Thomas a tire iron. Thomas took it without thinking and the two walked slowly towards the unknown.

Frank

The moment the pipe connected with the mook's head, Frank's world shattered. A cacophony of terrifying noises erupted around Frank. Cars colliding, gunfire, and screams. The screams were the worst.

Frank scrabbled to recollect himself, noticing the hoodlums noticing him. Without thinking, Frank darted towards home, the ground behind him erupting with gunfire, asphalt flying. Frank barely made it into the door, gasping and wheezing through smoker's lung. The stairs up should be the easy part, though.

Frank works his way up, occasionally impeded by neighbors and strangers going down, carrying luggage and children. A chill down his spine tells Frank all he needs to know: He needs to get out, now.

As he reaches the door, his thoughts go back to Johnny. Did he survive the shooting? Would he help Frank escape? Doubt it. But where's the harm in trying? He's only probably paranoid and recovering, not to mention the shootout, and the... screaming.

"John, you in here?" Frank calls out as he slowly opens the door.

Reena

The sound of hooves muffled by the sandy arena was all that reached her ears. A cloudy overcast yet the sky did not seem to be pregnant with rain, the best day for a ride. Without the sun beating unforgivingly on your back and the animal's flanks, yet still absent of the falling rain that would soak one to the bone.

A careful hand on the leather rain, Reena looked between her mount's ears. Confusion still pulling at her mind at the entire story of why she had him. He stood quietly, his neck arched and stance calm, ears flicking at the sounds around them as he played with the bit in his teeth. He was a stunning creature, his coat was a perfect gleaming ebony, his body of nothing by muscle with long thick legs and a kept mane and tail, his breathing as strong and steady as the rhythmic beats within her own chest.

"Easy boy, forward" with a kick of her leg she brought him to a canter. His movements smooth, beautiful even as they headed to the three foot jump, clearing it finely with room to spare and not a single ounce of insubordination. "Why the hell are you even here? You're better tempered than a old blind man."
She was supposed to help the creature beneath her, nick named Vader his owner brought him in with an expensive looking trailer and high quality feed and strict training regimen. Worried words of how he lost control and attacked his rider no matter what he did, that the horse who did not so much as blink on his own was out of control.
It just didn't make sense.

"Hello? Reena are you here?"
Looking over her shoulder the red head spotted an older man. Her neighbour hobbling over with a worried expression on his features. "Yeah mr Holgen? What's that matter?" Riding to the fence line she waited as he leaned over, reaching out he gave the creature a pat before speaking, his voice tired with frustration.
"I just came to warn you about whats going on. Something is wrong with the city, no one is coming into my farm, cattle can't be controlled with no riders. But thats the least of it, got a news story that the entire free way is blocked with some crash."

"Oh no, oh I just hope things are okay."
Yet she only got a shaking head as a answer. "Afraid not dear, just be careful with who you let in and don't let any other animal on the property, I don't want to see your stock ruined because you opened your gate to the wrong beast. Some sickness is spreading down there"

Speaking for a few more moments the old man began to leave. Warning her to watch the horses in the pasture and to not go to the city. "If you need anything come over, me and the wife are more than happy to help you out."

Watching him leave she was about to ride for another round after saying her thanks. "Oh, and Mr Holgen? Can you do me a favour and lock the gate than? Guess the barn is closed for now."

Hours passing she put the thoroughbred back in the barn, bringing in the others for the day and turning on the TV in her home. Towel drying her hair she watched the screen only to see that the old man was right. Something was wrong, vary wrong.
Already taking a phone she began to call her clients, yet for some reason their line was dead.

"Put the weapons down!!" one of the swat officers commanded from the gangsters, who immediately fired back.

Cop cars attempted to make a barricade around the area to protect the curious fools that were trying to watch. People everywhere were hiding behind anything they could as the gunfire continued to erupt. Before to long, the swat team had control of the situation, as they gunned down everybody firing back at them. They began to carefully work their way up to the rooms while the police blocked off the scene.

Johnny was attempting to follow his crack head friends out the back window of the apartment, but just as he was about to flee, he saw more officers swarm around the building and take down the addicts who just left before him.

"Fucking shit!" Johnny muttered in defeat, hearing one of his friends call out to him shortly after. It was Frank. Johnny went back into the room and tossed his gun into the shower. He quickly put on some brown pants that were sprawled on the floor and tossed on a white tank top. He knew he didn't want to go back to jail half naked. "Yeah, I'm here Frank."

He grabbed the nearest bowl of weed and took a nice, long hit. Then he came out of the bathroom, coughing up a little as he looked over to Frank.

"You shouldn't have come back, man," he said. "We're fucked. For life, this time."

"We have the place surrounded," came a voice from outside. "Put away your weapons and come out with your hands up!"

"I'm sorry, I'm a fuck up. You don't deserve this. Fuck it all to hell. I'll tell them you weren't involved, but I'm not sure that would matter much."

The musician raised his arms in surrender, ready to go outside.

"We're coming out, don't shoot!" he yelled. "I can explain everything...kinda."

He opened the bullet ridden door and did just that, but as he walked outside something he would have never expected happened. The crowd of people standing beyond the police barricades started rushing in a craze. He saw a few unaware cops get taken over by many of them, and within seconds they turned and started firing into the people.

...the fuck!?" Johnny began to wonder what exactly was in the dope he was smoking.

The police changed their attention to the mob. One by one they fell, as the people began tearing into them. Johnny dropped back down and gave Frank a bewildered look.

"Lets get the fuck outta here, NOW!"

"Fuck, come on pick up pick up...Fuck!"

She was already shaking as story after story began to grow worse. People being gunned down and warnings telling them to stay inside. She was safe, she was good. She didn't need to worry, they were in the "hic" area. Cattle, horses, forest, thats all that was here, hardly any people she was good.

But stable hand wasn't.
A young thing of only 18 years old. He was suck a sweet kid who's parents would drive him here. Living on the outskirts, near the getto he was closer than the heart. She could go out there and pick him and his family up.
"No I can't...."

Eyes going wide at an idea she rushed to her room. Her back up phone in the back she diled the number. "Come on James, your smart you should have this right now."

"Hello? Reena!? Reena! Pleas, please come help!"

The fear in his voice made her blood run cold as she held the device to her face with all her strength. "James calm down, tell me what's happening?"

"Everyone went insane! Mom's gone, place is burning! Reen..Oh man I can't take this."

"No, no you can take this. James listen to me. If everything is insane than get to the first car, tell whoever is driving where I am and get your ass over here do you understand?"

----
A young blond shakily nodded his head. The shitty apartment him and his mother lived in burning behind him. Some druggies were being shot up in the building next door only for the crowed to go crazy. "I gotta run" with that he hung up on his life line, the only number saved inside the emergency phone as he took off after the only sane people he saw. Just two people who were originally the last he would want to deal with but from the looks of the hell he was in were his only hope.

"Wait! Slow down, please! I know a place that's safe!"

@Sol Grim

Ethan

"Just keep running!" Ethan called out to Ashley.

There was panic all around them. His lungs burned in pain, but they couldn't stop. People were killing people everywhere. One of the crazed infected grabbed a hold of the young student and bit deep into her arm, tearing out a piece of her flesh as it yanked its head back. The poor girl screamed a blood chilling tone as Ethan push kicked the attacker away. He pulled her with him as they continued on.

"He...bit me!??" she squealed, tears falling down her cheeks.

Ethan looked behind him to see the attacker jump onto another random person.

"We have to find a place to rest," Ethan said, though he wasn't even sure where he was at this point.

There were large buildings on either side of them, with helicopters swarming through the air. People running into others, people eating people, and vehicles backed up unable to move. The sound of sirens filled the air as an ambulance came around the bend at a quick speed, but it lost control and drove directly into a nearby gas station pump. The explosion could be felt from where they were, as fire erupted to the sky.

They ran by a building called FastLane, and saw two men there armed with melee weapons. Ethan could hardly breathe as he dragged Ashley with him to the pair. She herself could barely stand.

"She's injured!" Ethan called out to one of the men. "We have to get inside, please. Help us!"

Ashley screamed again, as a few of the infected were running directly at them.

Frank

Frank had well past hit his limit. Johnny was steadily pulling ahead, and Frank was either too winded or too proud to ask for a break. Then, a word shot through all the noise and chaos. The last word Frank expected to hear, honestly.

Safe.

Frank came to a stop and immediately doubled over, gasping for breath.

"John, wait!" he yelled between breaths. Once he'd caught his breath enough to stand upright, he turned to see who was trying to get his attention.

The scene was graphic and tragic. It was the first chance Frank got to see the carnage from a distance. And in the middle of his vision, almost framed by the chaos, was a young boy. A kid, looked no older than 18. And the look in his eyes.

Somehow Frank almost convinced himself this was a dream. It wasn't real, or it was one of those viral video things he'd heard coworkers talk about. But the look of utter horror in this boy's eyes hit it home for Frank. He doesn't know why this is happening but he knows the rules have changed.

"Did you say safe?"

@AccursedBiscuit

The kid nodded shakily, holding his arm he licked his chapped lips as he tried to get his words about him. "I work for the woman, she just, just called me. See we have this phone for emergency and well..Listen its a barn, its outside of the city, its where those farms are at that teens would sneak to during prom. One of em is called Misty Meadow and the owner told me to get there. I can show you the way but I can't go alone."

He looked like he was about to cry, his mother was gone, probably killed, only way he worked there was caused Reena took in "troubled teens" for her stable. And now he had no idea what to do, he was no gang member, he was just a kid who smoked pot when no one was looking and skipped school.
His shoulders shaking he began to mumble, yet he clung to that phone for dear life. "Please, please just help me get out of here, please!"

Frank

"Look, son, we need to know how far away this barn is." Frank turns to Johnny "Do you think we can get a car somehow?"

Sure, Frank was helping himself. He didn't know where he was going or who this kid was, but safe was safe, right? And the kid doesn't look like he could tell a convincing lie in a normal situation, let alone this hell. But Frank wasn't just helping himself. Or Johnny, really. No, Frank had a new mission.

He was going to help this boy. Frank never had kids of his own, although maybe some illegitimate. But this boy triggered a previously untapped paternal instinct in Frank. Maybe it was the eyes, the phone clutched with white knuckles, or the trembling in his voice, Frank didn't know. What Frank did know, however, was he was going to help this kid, and any kid they might come across. Not just protect them, but make them know things will be okay.

"It's gonna be ok, son" Frank said as he put his hand on the kids shoulder. He didn't know who he was trying to convince. "But first things first. What's your name?"

"James...I'm, I'm James.."

Every gun fire caused the poor thing to flinch, eyes going around trying to get a glimpse of his mother somewhere. She had to be somewhere, maybe she was already on her way to the farm areas. She's forgotten him at the store a few times, and at school, and at his dad's house...

Tensing for a moment at pat he looked up, taking a deep breath to try and calm himself down. Right, he had to get this right. The taller of the two were listening to him at least, but he didn't know about the other guy.

"Its a half hour drive from here..right off of exit 132 down south lake road...."
As if to make sure he was right he flipped open the phone again, should he call Reena again? Bringing a hand to his left arm he took in a sharp breath when his boss sent him a text.
"Take the back roads, never go anywhere near the main road or the city, get out now."

Holding out the phone he shook his head. "Look she's back at the barn right now, shes probably watching the news right now."

@AccursedBiscuit

Thomas

"She's injured!" Ethan called out to one of the men. "We have to get inside, please. Help us!"

Ashley screamed again, as a few of the infected were running directly at them.

There was no doubt about it, the girl was badly hurt. In the Yard, injures like this needed proper attention. But proper attention was blocks away.

"Here!" Thomas cried to the unknown couple, and guided them towards Bay #2 at FastLane. "John! Open the bay!" he yelled pounding on the large slated door. There was no time for pleasantries, this was now a matter of life or death.

His banging went unanswered. So Luis checked the Entrance door, it opened with ease.

Rushing everyone inside Thomas led the girl to the 'Lounge' couch. It wasn't much, nor in good shape, but a faux red leather couch is the next best thing to a hospital bed when there's nothing better around.

"Luis, quick, get the First Aid kit," Thomas ordered the Latino. "You," he said at the man, "There's bottled water in fridge on the other side of the bays. Bring whatever you can." He needed to clean the wound, least that's what they do in the TV shows. Tearing away the cloth from the wound, Thomas could now see how serious the wound really was, she needed a hospital. But in the chaos outside they were the best hope she had at surviving.

"She better not get any blood on my couch! I paid good money for it." John Russell had entered unnoticed.

"Shut the hell up John!" Thomas shot back. "Lend a hand, or stand back." Luis handed over the First Aid kit, which was void of anything really useful, so Thomas tossed it aside. "Damn-it John, couldn't you squeeze one fucking nickle out of that fat ass of yours and buy us some supplies!" Anger rose in Thomas' voice.

@Sol Grim

Johnny

Johnny's first initial reaction was to leave them both. Not far off in the distance he could see a dead man lying in the street, his guts spilling out from his torn open chest. As Frank and the kid continued to speak, he focused in on the dead guy. He was still moving. A few seconds later the dead guy attempted to get up, with his arms moving aimlessly in search for flesh.

"What the fuck!?" He mumbled to himself.

They were reanimating. Whatever the hell they were, they were multiplying right before his eyes. He turned his focus back to the survivors next to him. The kid spoke of a farm, not unreasonably far from here. However, the getting there part seemed to be a problem. They needed a ride, but even still, the roads were backed up making it nearly impossible to get out.

"Wait a minute," he muttered. He had an idea. It was a shit idea, but an idea nonetheless. "Come on!"

He led them down the street heading North, staying quick but also using anything for cover that they passed. A few moments later they could see a broken sign on top of a tavern that said: Hog Haven. It was a local downtown bar he used to frequent, but more importantly it was a biker bar. Sure enough, there were still a bunch of bikes parked out front.

"It'll be easier to get out on a bike," he told Frank. "If we can get two running, you take the kid and I'll follow. Besides, I think the bartender used to have a shotgun under the register."

He also knew that the bikers loved their motorcycles more than life itself here. If the bikes were still in the parking lot, it either meant they were still inside, or already dead. Either way, Johnny ran up and opened the door.

Silence.

"Wait here, I'll be right back," he told Frank.

The first thing he noticed was the blood on the floor, then the smell of death soon after. Then he heard the sound of something crunching, it was faint at first, but quickly it became louder. As he walked further in he could see the corpses. He knelt down and searched a few of their pockets, successfully picking up a few keys.

Mission accomplished.

Johnny half grinned as he stood back up, ready to get back to the others. Something else stood though, he caught its figure rise from his peripheral vision. He took a deep breath then turned to face it.

It was one of the regulars. A large man wearing a vest that read: Hell's Reaper, on the back. The biker's entire cheek on the left side of his face was torn off, revealing flesh and bone. His eyes were pale white and he seemed to be smiling back at Johnny. He began to stagger forward.

"My God you're ugly," Johnny said.

The undead biker gave off a bone chilling shrieking noise, then quickened its pace as it lunged toward him. Johnny dove over the bar without hesitation, immediately in search of the shotgun he knew once stayed somewhere down here.

The infected man leapt over the bar after him, sloppily landing on his face near Johnnys feet. In a panic, Johnny grabbed a bottle of Irish whiskey and smashed it half open against the floor. As the creature grabbed at his legs, he began to continuously stab at it. Over and over again, he stabbed the infecteds throat, his shoulders, his face and eyes. Blood showered all over Johnny as he did so, until finally, the dead guy seemed dead again; unmoving.

"Asshole," Johnny said, wiping away some blood from his face.

He then opened the nearest bottle of rum and took a nice, long swig of it. Standing up he called out to the others. "It's clear."

He figured they had a few moments to gather some supplies, by that he was thinking booze. Lots of booze. As the two came in, he took it upon himself to put on some of one of the dead guy's clothes. He threw on some jeans and boots, as well as a 'hells reaper' biker vest. He also got a fresh pack of marlboro reds and a silver zippo that had the word 'groovy' engraved on it. He lit a cigarette and took a moment to enjoy the hit.

"Couldn't find the shotgun, but we have keys," he said, tossing one over to Frank. "Lets ride."

Frank

Frank caught the keys and looked at them. Bikes were a much better idea. Hopefully James would be able handle it, he seems like he scares easy.

"Nice look" Frank chuckled as he began looking for anything useful. What the hell do you think this is, anyways? People eating people?" Frank grimaced as he rolled over a particularly large biker. The throat had been ripped out. Looked like an animal attack, but Frank knew better.

Clutched in his hand, though, was a wooden baseball bat. It looked pretty worn, but solid. As he stood up, inspecting the bat, he turns to Johnny.

"So, we get to the farm, and then what? What if they don't let us in?"

The kid following both of them kept close, hands to himself as he watched in horror of everything that was going on. Yeah he wasn't the nerd of useless guy back when things were normal but no number of school fights and tagging houses could have ever prepared him for this kind of terror.
The one he assumed was Jhonny caused him to flinch when he saw the blood splatter on his face, shaking his head he looked away, right, he needed to find something, anything.
"My boss is the owner of the place and shes the one who's been texting me warnings about whats being closed and what's not. Shes not a bitch so I'm pretty sure she won't turn us away after what shes doing here."

Seeing a body he grimaced once more, he had to get used to this. About to continue to find something else though a holster on it's hip caught his eye. Leaning down to reach he found his hands grasping for what he assumed was a weapon, relief on his features when he felt the trigger.
Yet relief turned to horror when the body moved, a scream escaping him he found the body grabbing his arm, trying to bite at him with it's teeth slamming together like rocks. lashing out James began to kick, trying to get leverage he freed himself and scurried away from what he began to notice was missing it's legs.
"Fuck, fuck fuck fuck, guys..that thing has a pistol on it's hip...."