[hr][center][h1][color=660099]Jean[/color] & [color=82CA9D]Sammy[/color][/h1][hr][sub]A collab between the wonderful [@Stekkmen] and I[/sub][hr][/center]
This was wrong. Everything, this whole damn thing was wrong. One moment, he passing the try line, cheered on by his good buddy George. He was a giant of man, broad shoulders, bushy beard and bulging muscles. A perfect prop for the team, one of the rising stars of the Wolfpack. He was a softie at heart, everyone in the club knew so. They knew about his wife and kid, little Emily had visited the club frequently. They remembered when she caught her first pass, and proceeded to tackle her father for the first time. They remembered the sound of her laughter mixed with his, the little girl propped up on his shoulders as they ran around the pitch. They saw her skeletal fingers grab at her father’s throat, pulling him back with inhuman strength as she ravaged his face on the ground. The blood spilling on the green grass. The pained cries of a friend. A comrade. A mate.

One of the watching fans, people who had been watching them train for their upcoming finals, reacted first. He shouted at her, telling her to stop. She continued eating like there was nothing wrong, digging into her father’s eye sockets, his screaming dying down. He approached her and tried to pull her off, gripping her shoulders. The little girl finally stopped and turned, before lunging at the spectator. This was when everyone started running. Jean dropped the ball and ran past the scenes, eyes taking on a detached look, trying not to stare at the scene in front of him. He heard shouting, screaming. People running away. The girl munching on the two corpses. 

Jean had seen some gruesome things in the slums. Murder was a regular occurrence, orphans were regularly abused by their very own caretakers. He himself, when he was very young, had witnessed the death of his birth mother. But this horror, this panic. The impending doom he felt in his stomach, these feelings are unmatched in his mind. He shouted at the rest of his team that were still on the pitch, some running like he was, others dumbfounded as they watched their friend’s dead body writhing in front of them. 

[color=660099][b]”Don't just stand there boys! Head to my house, pick up people who need a lift, we need to find out what the fuck is happening!”[/b][/color] Jean forced them into action. He didn't know what was happening, why George’s little princess was in the middle of eating someone, but he knew he needed to get people going. Snap them out of their trauma. Tell them what to do so that they forgot what just happened, let them focus on other tasks. It was his decisiveness under pressure that made him a good winger. He just hoped that this would pay off.

Slamming the door of his car, awakening the vehicle into a roar. Jean brought out his phone, hearing the commotions outside as friends took people into their cars and drove off. Dialling 911, he felt his breath accelerate, hands shaking. He was nervous, anticipating the worst. That when he hit "call", no one would answer. This was real [i]fear[/i]. The kind that fucked with your head, that rising feeling in your stomach. He shook his head, pressing the green call button and brought his phone to his ear. He had lived through Abidjan, there was no way he could be fearful of this.

No one answered. Instead, an automated voice message ringed through his ear. Jean dropped his phone and swore under his breath, drooping his head down on to the steering wheel. There was no helping them then, it was up to the common people for now. Whatever was happening, it screwed with the emergency services. The sound of cars firing up brought him out, springing him into action. With one last look towards Emily and her father's twitching corpse, he floored it towards his house.

[color=660099][b]"Fuck! What the fuck!?"[/b][/color] He felt like screaming his voice raw. This was his friend, a man he has known for three years now, even before rugby entered his life. And now he was gone, killed by his own grotesque daughter. Police sirens in the background, fires in the surrounding neighbourhood, this was carnage. Whatever was happening, it was something big. Ahead of all his friends, they had formed a line of cars, weaving through abandoned and burning vehicles. His mind focused on the scenes playing out before him, he had forgotten what day it was.

Driving down the highway, speeding across miles of land in a small car with songs reverberating in the small earbuds resting in her ears; That was when Samantha felt the deep feeling of dread flash, like an eye-burning glare off a car’s windshield. Gone as soon as it came; she’d go on to forget about it a few short minutes after. Whatever it was, it proved to be an inconsequential warning. No one, it seemed, was prepared for the downfall of civilization. 

Samantha would wonder how she could not have seen the signs. A fire in the second to top story of a skyscraper in the distance? Police cruiser upon police cruiser, zooming to a disaster so far away, and yet so close by? Helicopters buzzing overhead, jets flying high, high above the clouds- just dots against an uncaring blue sky. Traffic would slow to a halt behind her- Samantha was lucky enough to get through before the sudden spike in car accidents brought all automobiles to a stand still. So many wrecks of vehicles- and not a single ambulance. How hadn’t she noticed something was wrong? How hadn’t anyone else? The national emergency tones blaring through the radio came much, much too late.

The high pitched tones emitting from her radio were background noise, to the sight of an overweight man sinking his bloody teeth into the horrified face of a young woman, a bag of groceries scattered along the ground. Her car was pulled alongside Jean’s house, and Samantha Park sat behind the wheel of her car staring catatonic at the gruesome sight. It was the first time she’d ever seen that much blood- the first time she’d ever seen someone die. It was, for everyone, the first time they’d ever seen someone turn on their loved ones so savagely, so feral, and cannibalize them without hesitation. The first time anyone had ever frantically dialed 911, only to be told that all cruisers were deployed already- and that there’d be no help coming.

So when Sammy saw that poor woman being devoured by a neighbor she knew only as Paul, her brain drew a blank. There was no precedent for this- no course of action! Ever as her knuckles turned white and tears began streaming down her face, she could not bring herself to turn around and drive away. The thoughts of calling the police had not even entered her mind- she didn’t know it but it would be an effort in vain anyway. 

It was more than likely that she would sit there and stare for the rest of time- but it was but one and a half minute later of watching this macabre scene unfold that the man she was there to see, Jean, would snap her out of her stupor. 

Pulling over a dozen meters from his house, Jean peered at the car in front of him. This was unusual, why would a car stop like that right in front of his driveway? He heard screaming and his memories finally kicked in. Sammy. Visiting in August. In front of his house. Swearing, he feared the worst as he opened his car door, causing confusion in the cars behind him. He ran to his house at full sprint, realising the situation in front of him.

[color=660099][b]”SAMMY! Snap out of it!”[/b][/color] Not thinking straight, Jean warned his friend to get her mind in control in front of her car but also got the attention of the overweight infected man in the process. He turned to face him and screeched, raising his arms towards him, disgusting face filled with hunger. Without hesitation, without even threatening the man, he charged and went for a jab at the man’s stomach. Expecting him to keel over, the rugby player was caught off guard when the man simply took the blow and grabbed him. He was pushed against Sammy’s car, back hitting the door with a thud.

Recovering quickly, Jean prepped a haymaker and wildly swung at the man’s head. The blow struck against his neck, making a sickening crack sound as it bent on an awkward angle. Unfortunately, instead of killing this creature, this just angered it. Screeching even louder, the now identified monster slammed him against Sammy’s car, it’s high pitched screeches sending him reeling. The thing pinned him by the shoulders as he struggled against its weight and strength, mouth wide open as it bent forward to bite his neck. The Ivoirian glared at it, squirming and wriggling against the car.

[i]Crack![/i] Jean stared as it’s head caved in completely, an overhead swing ending its life as blood sprayed all over him and the car behind him. He felt it slump against him, pushing him against Sammy’s door before shoving the corpse away. He directed a small smile at his saviour, Connor the Aussie prop. “I always have to fuckin’ save you mate, every single time.” 

Jean pushed off of the door, staring at the large corpse on the ground before spitting on it, making Connor scoff at him before he turned around and headed into the house. Shaking his head, the Ivoirian turned, oblivious to the scary amount of blood on his clothes and face, opening Sammy’s bloodstained door and grinning weakly at her. [color=660099][b]”Hey pretty girl, enjoying the view?”[/b][/color] He coughed, trying in vain to look cool in front of his friend.

Sammy’s wet, dead eyes met with Jean’s. For a moment, there was no recognition. Then, like headlights piercing a fog, Samantha’s sanity returned. She was afraid- anyone could see it in her eyes- but she was obviously relieved to see Jean. Without meaning too- the images and sounds of that last minute and a half had been completely wiped from her brain. A repressed memory, lost from the archives. Still, her senses returned. 

Samantha slammed her left hand down on the unlock button by her hand. What he was doing out there? Trying to look cool!? She had [i] NO [/i] idea what the hell was going on, but he needed to get into the [i]fucking[/i] car, right fucking now! She rolled down the window and began to shout at him.

[color=a2d39c]“Get in! Get in! Get- get the heck in here!”[/color] She decided to not let her inner swearing get the best of her. Wiping at her wet face, Samantha briefly wondered what exactly it was she was so afraid of earlier. After unlocking the door, she frantically dialed 911. A deep dread spread across her face when she was met with a busy tone. She set it to speaker, and let the dial tone play loudly so Jean could hear it.

[color=a2d39c]“What’s happening, Jean? What has happened?”[/color] She said, showing him the responseless emergency number through the window.

Grimacing, Jean shook his head and sighed, running a hand through his hair as further police sirens and explosions sounded in the background. [color=660099][b]”I don't know Sammy. There's no emergency services and there was one of those…”[/b][/color] He paused, hesitating to call these thing’s people, thinking back to Emily’s skeletal face. [color=660099][b]”Monsters. Toronto’s a mess Sammy, nothing works. Please don't do anything drastic, I'm not getting in the car. Please get into the house, we can hole up in there with a few other people before all this blows over.”[/b][/color] He frankly wasn’t sure whether this event was short or long term but he didn't give a damn, he wanted his friend safe in his house before the military came to deal with this

[color=a2d39c]"Jesus..."[/color] From the look on Jean’s face, he’s clearly seen something Sammy hasn’t. She supposed she was going to go in anyway...It was probably only a matter of time until the army shows up or something, right? Frowning worriedly, she clicked open her car door and closed it behind her, remotely locking it.

Jean stepped backward to let her open the door, patiently waiting for her to lock her car before leading Sammy to his house. It was a quaint little thing, a house built very similar to those around it. White picket fencing, white porch, white boards and a green fresh lawn. He absently thought about mowing that lawn the weekend before, how normal it was back then. The nice wave to his neighbour Paul, putting his muddy rugby boots on the mat before the house, following his normal afternoon rituals. Now the neighbourhood was on fire, a friend had just cracked Paul’s skull and he was covered in thick blood.

He lead her to his front door, opening into his living room where many people currently resided. He directed her to sit on the couch before standing before everyone. Sammy slowly sat down glancing up at the worried looking people around the room. All eyes were on him, including her own. It seemed Jean was the leader here, now. She frowned- poor Jean. There were seven people in his rugby team who were all standing with varied expression on their faces, information that he physically frowned at but kept it to himself. He would be mourning much in the coming days it seemed. However, many other people were sat around the room, the general atmosphere being panic. It seemed as though that whatever… event that just took place affected everyone present and was hitting them hard. He heard harsh whispers from where he stood, crying and sniffling, others fiddling with their phones in their hands. He cleared his throat.

Everyone turned their attention towards him, Jean suddenly feeling a sudden pressure as lost eyes locked onto him. He addressed the room with a careful voice [color=660099][b]”I-I’m not sure what's happening. I don't know why my neighbour just…[/b]”[/color] He paused, swallowing the swirling saliva before continuing [color=660099][b]”Tried to eat me and why there are burning cars in my street. I'm just as confused as all of you. But, I ask you to just stay in my house for now until the military or law enforcement deals with whatever is happening.[/b]”[/color]

A woman stood up, bags under her eyes with dry tears on her cheeks. She was one of the ones fiddling with her phone, looking mad in her stress, blonde hair seemingly unkempt. She stood up straighter as she realised that everyone was looking at her. “W-What about my son? He was at s-school today! I need to get him!” Outcry was bursting throughout the room, concerned people looking out for their loved ones. Jean concerningly looked behind him, checking if the noises attracted any unwanted attention. He waved his arms in a quieting motion, telling everyone to calm down and pointing at the corpse viewable through the living room glass. Once they were more settled, he cleared his throat once more.

[color=660099][b]"Please, just calm down. I'm sure the authorities would have picked your children or your loved ones to a safe location just like we did. All I ask is that you calm down. We’ll hunker down as this will all blow over soon.”[/b][/color] He hoped. This was a large amount of people and he only had food for one person. Sure, emergency supplies could be used and rationed but such a thing could only last a month. As the room quieted down significantly, Connor motioned for the Ivoirian to follow him as he started walking towards one of the various bedrooms connected to the living room via hallway.

Jean nodded and started walking towards him, glancing back at Sammy and giving her a small smile of assurance. She returned a small smile. He was lead into a bedroom with one of his teammates in the bed, covered in blankets and looking extremely sick. He looked at Connor with a quizzical look before closing the door behind him. “He was bitten Jean, by one of those fuckin’ things. One of the boys did sum First Aid and shit but his fever’s gettin’ worse. What do we do?”

Jean looked incredulous before glancing at the sick form of Flyback Joe in the bed. [color=660099][b]"We take care of him until the authorities arrive of course. Ask one of the people out there if they have anything they need too. It's gonna be a long couple of days till the government deal with this shit, we just need to hang in there.”[/b][/color] He ran a hand through his hair, praying to some sort of deity for hope. But Lady Luck was not on his side that day.

Sammy couldn’t exactly remember how long they were all crammed in that house. Tensions were high- as the day crawled on there was still no word from the authorities. No one was coming to save them. When they all went to bed, and when they all woke up and found their nightmares were not over, that must have pushed things over the edge. They needed to do something said some, but it was too dangerous, said others. Sammy didn’t participate in the arguments, and just tried to help Jean to not go crazy from his apparent leadership role in a house full of panicked people. 

Then, she heard groaning from the man who was named Flyback Joe amid the arguing. Their sentences and cries were muffled as if she were underwater. But the strange noises Flyback Joe was making seemed obvious only to Sammy. Saying nothing, she creeped over to the room where he was being kept. She’d overheard that he was bitten by one of those...sick people. 

But maybe, she thought, maybe he’d be fine. He was in bed- healing. He’d be better, had too. But those thoughts melted away and all that came into her core was a bitter dread. She grabbed a kitchen knife and held it in front of her. She peeked around the corner.

…

[color=a2d39c]"Joe?"[/color] She asked. All that returned was a horrible, gurgling groan. Flashing her head back to Jean, they made eye contact. He understood. He quickly paced into a room, and someone screamed. It was Joe’s scream, then it was Jean’s scream, then it was Sammy’s scream. Blood from the mouth and eyes, Joe had tackled Jean like some kind of rabid dog. They slammed into the wall and to the floor in a heap of limbs. Joe was biting at him with a furious anger, but Jean had his forearm lodged under his throat, keeping him at bay.

In a split second, Sammy had to make a decision. She stepped forward and cut the man in the head, splitting his scalp. He looked up, oblivious to the pain, apparently- or too angry to care. He looked at her with cold, hungry eyes- and the last thing they saw was her knife. She plunged it to the hilt into his right eye and he fell backwards, staring angrily into space. Jean pushed him off, and just then Connor emerged into the room a split second too late to help. There was a knife in Flyback Joe’s eye, a Jean struggling to his feet, and a Samantha with a bloody hand. He made the connection.

“What the fuck happened in here!?” He yelled.

Then it was all over. Sammy kept her head down when it devolved into chaos.  A few moments later, Jean had stuffed some random things into his bag and left, Sammy close behind. Something crashed behind them. It was go go go go. What just happened? How can everyone be so aggressive? Why are people turning into [i] monsters?[/i]