[u][color=82ca9d]Samantha Park[/color][/u]


[i]Hey, little sis, got any change?

No Steve. Am only six.

What? What kind of lame person has no money when they're six? I was a millionaire at your age.

No you weren't!

Yes I was. Probably because of my magic powers.

You don't have majigal powers, Steve.

Yes, I do. Watch.

What?

Just watch my face. It's a magic power. See? I pulled a quarter out of your ear.

Wow! How did you do that!? Can you teach me?

Maybe some day.[/i]

[color=82ca9d]"Hey, Jean?"[/color] Sammy pulled back the covers of the house they made themselves at home in. The early morning sun was peaking in through the wooden boards someone had nailed at some point. The morning sun slipping through the boards created a line pattern on her face, of dark and light. The home was empty- the only thing left was pictures of the family that had lived here. Sad stuff. She tried not to think about what was happening to her family until they got there. It'd do no good to worry about them, would it? Just a lot of bother. She was lucky to be with Jean, though. For the first few days there she was just as panicked as anyone. Like a big...a big herd mentality across the whole world just overtook her like anyone else. Panic, panic, panic! Everyone's going to die! You should turn on your friends and dropkick your grandma down the stairs. No thanks, she'll pass.

[color=82ca9d]"Jean?"[/color] Maybe he wasn't awake yet. Or probably not paying attention. Or being quiet and sulky. Didn't really matter, she supposed.

She had her eyes right up between the boards, looking at the empty street in front of her. A bird fluttered it's pretty blue wings up in a tree. The sun was shining, the clouds were puffy white. The grass was green and glittering with morning due- and there was an ominous small blood stain on the neighbor's drive way. The earth doesn't give a shit. I mean, darn. The earth doesn't give a darn. Sorry, Dad.

[color=82ca9d]"When we have to fight those sick people again..." And she knew they would have too at some point. "Do you think they'll be like zombies in all those movies? Is it 'go for the head rules'? Or is it 'you cannot kill that which has no life' rules?" [/color]

Her tone was joking, but there was genuine curiosity and worry in it as well. Are these sick people unstoppable? Is the world over? Or is there something someone could do about it? She wasn't sure why she thought Jean had an answer. She just wanted to talk to someone about it.