[hr][hr][center][h1][color=DC143C]Dexter Sterling[/color][/h1][/center][hr][hr]
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[quote][right][indent][b]●   Interacting With:[/b] The fray of people in Newnan.
[b]●   Location:[/b] Newnan.
[b]●   Time:[/b] Afternoon.
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Dexter didn't sign up for this. It wasn't the most flattering opening line, given how selfish it was. People were dying with every minute that passed. Did they sign up for that? Did they deserve it? No. For the moment, Dexter overlooked those small details, he'd have time to be empathetic later – when there wasn't dozens of corpses converging on their location.

It was a bitter outcome though, much like the saying of "out of the fire and into the frying pan". Except, shit seemed to be going, "out of the fire, into the frying pan, and then into a blast furnace hurdling towards a dying star". The stress of it all was overwhelming, flooding his mind with anxiety that racked his body with chills and nervous fidgeting.

Dexter felt small again as the world seemed to unfold around their vehicle. His companions at his side didn't feel like companions anymore, but strangers. More and more strangers with strange faces from strange places. Zoie was the first to action as they rolled through the gates of hell, swinging off the truck and onto the ground to join the chaos. He caught a glimpse of a knife, or two, in her hands that looked straight out of Riddick's cooking set. God he loved the Riddick movies, it was the only unrealistic action movie he could ever stomach.

He lost her though as she disappeared out of the view of the cab's window where he sat, and he immediately turned looking onward as he heard an unfamiliar voice. [b]"[/b] [color=steelblue][b] I need you to swing this big bastard around the truck and run blocker for our unit. Destination's the Infirmary. You're taking on passengers, back in the dump body. You read me? Do you fucking read me, James?[/b][/color] [b]"[/b] Dexter kept his eyes between Ash and James as they spoke briefly, not recognizing Alicia's name but eventually putting the image together that she was likely the one who was taken at the Ralls Road manor. Dexter kept his silence as per usual as shit went through the motions, reaching over his shoulder and adjusting his backpack so that he may eventually retrieve his drywall hammer. Without a loaded gun, the Fat-Max was the only decent weapon he had.

The talk drew to an end with Ash as James passed a rifle and its last respective magazine out the driver-side window. Dexter gave a discreet last glance towards Ash as he departed and Black James began to pull the Hordebuster around. He gauged that the guy had some authority here, the way he carried himself and the way he spoke with conviction. Seemed to be a straight-shooter.

Dexter didn't dwell on it though, his thoughts interrupted by a sharp whine from the front end of the truck. The engine rattled, followed by a few metallic pops and then silence. Dexter looked around, out one window and then out the other, turning in his seat uncomfortably. He then looked over James' shoulder, looking for some sort of plan. The hell happened? Were they stuck, or was it just a brief technical difficulty? He glanced sidelong again, seeing all kinds of people moving around outside. Was it safe?

He reached past Richard and put a hand on the handle of the cab door, stopping as he grabbed it for a second. Dexter was scared. He didn't want to go out there, he didn't want to be here. He was helpless.

Jaime must have been thinking the same thing.

Dexter was shouldered slightly as Jaime climbed past when his door wouldn't open, going to the passenger side of the Hordebuster. The kid was fast, or maybe Dexter was just slow and didn't react fast enough. He had the door open and was on his way out in mere moments, and Dexter couldn't help but admire Jaime. The kid was brave, perhaps planning to actually get out there and help someone unlike Dexter who simply sat on his thumbs like a scared child.

Good for him, Dexter thought. The thought however, was quickly taken back as Jaime stumbled out the open doorway onto the ground. He was out of Dexter's vision, but that didn't matter when the screams came.

[b]"[/b] [color=DC143C][b]Oh fuck.[/b][/color] [b]"[/b] Dexter exclaimed, voice cracking as he clambered past Richard to the door, moving like an encumbered crab in the claustrophobic space of the truck cab. He shoved the door open and sprawled out onto the ground, stumbling just like Jaime had done when he got out the side. His palms came down on the rough asphalt, scuffing up his hands as he tumbled out. Dexter straightened up hastily, reaching around his side for his hammer.

He stepped towards the flank of the Hordebuster, hoping to get around to help Jaime when the screams started to muffle. Dexter stopped, his hand still fiddling with the strap holding his hammer to the outside of his backpack. He stood there frozen, looking around, back now to the truck. It was over, and Dexter was finding it difficult to muster up the desire to at least TRY and help. What was the point?

Quickly, he cut out the pessimistic thoughts. It was for his own good, at least now. Dexter backtracked towards the front end of the Buster, putting a hand to the driver's door. Dexter stood to one side of the door, out of the way. His expression was torn as he looked to James, trying to convey his emotions over all the shit going down. Could he just leave Jaime there, a mere couple meters way from where he stood, getting ripped apart as he awkwardly looked upon the man that saved his life at Ralls.

Fuck, this was hard. [b]"[/b] [color=DC143C][b]Tell me what to do. Please.[/b][/color] [b]"[/b] Dexter said urgently, looking over his shoulder briefly towards a pair of unfamiliar folk nearby, then back to James. [b]"[/b] [color=DC143C][b]Just don't make me go over there and put it through Jaime's skull. I can't do it.[/b][/color] [b]"[/b] Dexter felt like a coward. He felt out of touch with what was going on, he had no control and no sense of what was important, and how to react, what to do. He lowered the drywall hammer to his side as he took a step back from the truck, giving ample room for Victor and Richard to exit where he stood before.

[b]"[/b] [color=DC143C][b]Tell me what to do, where to go, who to talk to, whatever it is and I'll do it.[/b][/color] [b]"[/b] The words felt like a nuisance. Dexter viewed himself as a liability, which was a thought he wasn't accustomed to very much. Zoie for example was out in an instant and downing approaching Walkers, clearing the area so that there was one less problem after another. And there were others, others he had not yet acquainted that were doing the same. And here [i]he[/i] was, as useful as a blind, flightless duck out in the open during hunting season.
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