[hr][center][h1][color=660099]Jean[/color] & [color=82CA9D]Sammy[/color][/h1][hr][/center]
[i]"We're into the last minute as Jameson finds Jacques with a final throw! Let me tell you Philly, this man is called the Lightning for a reason, one of the biggest men in the field but he flies like he's twinkletoes! Look at him! Dodge left, dodge right, duck under the arm of Cray as the Irishman tries to pull him down! Coming up to 10 meters from the try line, he's facing fierce opposition from the Ottawa Harlequins. Jay Johnson, the captain of the Harlequins looks to tackle Jacques right where it hurts! But with a one, two, three step dodge and he scores a try on the last second! Toronto won and moving on to the finals against their rivals. Lemme tell you Philly, that was one of the best tries I've seen in Canadian Union history! Jacques is a coming star in the League-"[/i]

Indiscernible sounds awoke Jean, the sun peering from the boarded windows into his wide eyes. He hissed quietly, his vision going white before he slowly opened his eyes again. He moaned, holding his head in pain as a small headache struck against him. Sammy didn't know this but he had been drinking the previous night, once they found this house. He let her go to sleep inside the bedroom while sleeping on the couch that faced away from her current position. They had been staying at this house for the night, having run away from the horror of the previous house, and he had found the drinks cabinet. He drank to his sorrows, grieving by stealing from the cabinet and grabbing a few Molsons. He drank and drank until he fell asleep, not content with just one drink. He wasn't a lightweight but the combination of fatigue, heavy drinking and stress turned into one massive hangover. He bit his lip, preventing himself from making another moan.

[color=660099][i]'Oh how the mighty have fallen...'[/i][/color] Jean thought bitterly, massaging his temples subtly, trying not to alert his friend. The pain slowly but surely subsided, now dulled to an almost unnoticeable numbness that he ignored. He sat up, turning to the side to pick up the baseball bat he had received from Connor. Before they set up in the house, the Aussie left for bed and announced that he was going to go around to scout for more information. During that week in the house, they had listened for any radio contacts and government announcements but beyond that, the group's information on the world was limited. All they knew was that when people got sick with whatever disease this was, they turned into some fucked up zombies. The normal ones, called Screechers and Sprinters, like his deceased teammate's daughter he had encountered a week before.

It hadn't felt like a week for the Ivorian. He had taken the leadership in their group before, making sure that everyone was receiving the same amount of rations and was doing alright. It was day after day of getting people to cooperate and stay calm but even under him, several members left in the night. One day, one of the former group members, a man by the name of Daryl had ran away with several weeks worth of food and especially water in a truck. This had left them starved, tensions rose amongst group members and the house was threatening to buckle under the weight of the aggression. Flyback Joe's sudden awakening as one of those damn [i]monsters[/i] only sped the process up, the eventual breaking of the house group. Everyone went out of the house in chaos and panic, some taking whatever supplies were left while others just ran away.

Luckily, Jean, Sammy and Connor made it. They didn't have the chance to get any supplies in the mad escape but found this house to sleep on for the night. And the weapon he was currently eyeing on the coffee table. A Bennelli M3 with six ammunition packs of 12 gauge shells. He had found the gun during his drunken haze yesterday and kept it at his side on the table, now glad that he still had the sense not to shoot the gun. He recognised the weapon from his days back in the Ivory Coast, popular with those territorial gangsters and gangbangers in the slums as well as common people for protection. He had never fired an M3 but he roughly knew how to work it, extracting memories of people he used to know who fired the gun in front of him. It was a powerful weapon but Connor seemed to have left it alone when he went to scout.

It make Sammy a little uncomfortable seeing a lethal weapon right out in the open for all to see. She turned around from the boarded up window and hauntingly empty street to glance at her old friend. Just a little click of the trigger and someone far away from you dies. That one was a shotgun from what she could tell. You pumped the pumper thing- [i] chk-chk [/i] Boom! Repeat until all terrorists are dead. She day dreamed for a brief moment of her blasting away Flyback Joe after Flyback Joe as they kept coming after her. She blinked the thought away and kept trying to keep the mood light as Jean who looked up at her. No need for constant depression all the time- Jean looked like that was the last thing he needed. She couldn’t be sure but she had a sense he had been drinking. Maybe it was from how tired he looked; but that could just be the whole end of the world thing. 

Jean was brought out of his thoughts by the sound of Sammy speaking, turning his head towards her. He smirked standing slightly, greeting her and slowly walking towards the kitchen to start cooking, bringing a pan and oil out. He took a swig of the bottle of water on the counter, letting out a small sigh before indicating towards the bat and gun. [color=660099][b]"Well, we've dealt with these fuckers before haven't we? These guys seem to be following zombie movie and show rules, like the Walking Dead. There's probably a protagonist, main lover and everything right now, probably planning to save the world."[/b][/color] He failed to mention the futility of the people in  the Walking Dead but he kept with his light tone, bringing out a can of corned beef in the unfortunately emptying pantry.

[color=660099][b]"Hey, you think we're the protagonists? Me, the stunning, awesome main character and you, my awesome sidekick?"[/b][/color] He poked back at her, trying to keep the conversation from anything deep. Letting the moment settle into a sort of normality, he let himself relax to the sound of sizzling oil and beef.

[color=82CA9D]”If you’re the protagonist then I think the world is-”[/color] fucked. That’s what she almost said. She had to keep her swearing down. Jean was a bad influence! If Dad found out...well...try not to think about Dad. We have to find Jean’s brother first, right?

[color=82CA9D]”...then the world is done for.”[/color] She finished quickly.

Jean chuckled, smiling while shakily pointing his hand ‘threateningly’ at her [color=660099]”Hey, listen here missy. I can smash a few zombie heads and save a few princesses.”[/color] He paused, adding the corned beef to the sizzling oil, swirling the pan around as he turned to face her again. [color=660099]”And stop the smart talk or no breakfast for you.”[/color] The whole conversation felt surprisingly normal. It was as if the world [i]wasn’t[/i] breaking apart around them. It was… comforting, to them both.

However, the moment was broken with a crash from one of the back rooms and the sounds of a screecher filled the house. Coming from a door nearer to the kitchen countertop, the monster lunged at Jean, growling and shouting with fierce determination. The monster had seemingly come out of nowhere and looked slightly familiar to the Ivorian but before he could dwell on this, the thing pounced on him and tried to pin him on the table.

The rugby player's eyes widened in surprise, gasping as he pushed against the massive mass of muscle. [color=660099][b]"Connor?! What the fuck?!?!"[/b][/color] He struggled against the former Aussie, trembling against the bigger zombie. He tried to look for a weapon but had to keep his eyes on the monster in front of him, shoving him away and grappling him. He took a moment to glance towards Sammy before being pinned successfully on the counter, Connor's jaws opening wider than they should.

[color=660099][b]"SAMMY!"[/b][/color] Jean fought against the former human but was slowly losing. Either from the fatigue or the mild headache, his strength seemed to have been sapped from him. Staring at the hungry, open mouth of his former friend, he could think of only one word. [i]Fuck[/i].

[i]Fuck[/i]. It was a surprisingly common thought in the room at the moment. When Jean’s eyes locked with her own for a brief moment, things seemed to go in slow motion. First she checked to see if Connor hadn’t already chomped down on her friend and the fight was over; it hadn’t, thank the Lord. She still had a chance to react. Then she thought about how Connor was dead and it upset her. Then she thought about how Jean would be dead pretty fucking quick if she didn’t do anything right now.

Jean roared, pushing the thing back to the wall before going for a punch to the head. However, as zombie-Connor staggered back from the shove, it tipped the pan full of oil and beef on to the floor. He had put the handle outwards and it was bumped into. As the alive rugby player went for the lunging blow, he slipped on beef, falling face first on the floor as the monster hit the opposing wall. Scrambling to his feet, ignoring the smell of processed meat on his face, he faced a charging dead Australian.

She said nothing, just made a kind of frightened noise, and dashed clumsily over to the pump shotgun on the table. Thoughts of dislocated shoulders popped into her head because of poor firing posture but she could suffer the consequences of her inexperience later. She caught a glimpse of Jean faceplanting the floor as she gripped the metal cylinder in her hands.

Right. Brace the shoulder. Arms tight. No, wait, arms loose. Fuck it, just fire! 

Jean swung at the monster’s side but was parried and shoved backwards. Glancing at the pan, he grabbed it quickly and went for an overhead swing at Connor’s head. The blow was blocked and the pan was taken from the Ivorian, and in a clumsy series of grapples and strikes, the pan kept swapping users. At one point, zombie-Connor tried to backhand him with it but slipped on the oil, missing completely and spinning a whole 360 degrees. In the end, the pan was flung out of the window in frustration and they faced each other off once more.

[i] Click. [/i] Fuck. There was the F word again. The safety! Right!? Of course the safety was on! It had to be on! Shit! Shit! Where was it? She frantically scanned the weapon that felt heavy in her hands for the safety. There! By the trigger on the right hand side. She pressed it in and the plastic switch showed green. Firing mode. Okay! Okay! In the brief second or two of this scramble for firepower the brutal fist fight had developed some more and Sammy had to re-adjust her aim.

Now!

[i] Click. [/i] [i] FUCK! [/i] Sammy let out a brief yelp of frustration and fear as the shotgun did not respond to her command a second time. Jean! Dead! From her own incompetence! It was all over! Despair filled her veins, but her eyes refocused from her terrible future and onto the terrible present Jean was still in a desperate struggle for survival while Sammy was in a struggle over getting a stupid gosh darn weapon to fire!

Hindsight is 20/20, of course, and Sammy realized instantly that there was no shell in the shotgun. No shell- no fire. They were there on the table, and the woman grabbed a bright red and yellow cylinder and crammed it into the chamber that she knew was there from all the actions movies she watched. 

This was it! Everything was ready. A shell in the chamber, the safety was off. She pulled tightly back on the pump handle and the recognizable noise of a shotgun ready to fire rang around the house.  Now, the only task ahead of her was firing the weapon in such a way as to slay Connor but spare her friend. Perhaps the hardest part of all? Her shotgun swiveled this way and that as she tried to line up the shot, trying not to just panick. 

The monster charged, screeching louder and louder, making sure that it didn't slip on the stupid oil again. Jean grinned as he heard the satisfying [i]ca-chunk[/i] of a pumped shotgun and he dodged right, letting zombie-Connor’s gut hit the edge of the counter. He ducked downwards, hiding from any shots while looking at the monster stumbling backwards in surprise. [color=660099][b]”Sammy, fire now!”[/b][/color]

[color=82CA9D]”Okay!”[/color] She actually, literally said aloud. With a powerful blast, the shotgun pellets exploded out of the barrel. In close unison with each other they collided with Connor’s shoulder and lower arm that were facing Samantha. They ripped through flesh- but blood did not come spraying out of the wounds. Instead he bloodlessly stumbled to the ground. Because of the nature of the infection and much to Sammy’s chagrin, he squirmed on the ground desperately clawing to his feet. 

That was what Sammy saw as she fell backwards onto the couch behind her. Holy shit. That fucking hurt. She must have held that wrong. It went way high into the air after she shot it and the metal part slammed into her shoulder. There’d be a bruise there for sure. And the bastard wasn’t even dead!

Oh, Connor. Why? She thought with sudden sadness once again. Still, the fight wasn’t over. She quickly snatched another shotgun shell from the table as Connor got to his feet. The former rugby player glared at Sammy with such an incredibly furious expression that she almost froze up and didn’t put the shell into the gun. There was a brief moment where they locked gazes didn’t move. That didn’t last long.

Zombie-Connor growled, a hideous screeching sound like nails against a blackboard. Jean glared at it from his position and lunged from a crouch, aiming to tackle the thing to the ground for a fierce melee. Unfortunately, the Aussie bastard dodged him and ran at Sammy, it’s right arm wide for a heavy swing. It was a terrifying sight, a tall, muscular zombie charging like a drunkard, yelling out a monstrous war cry. As the Ivorian landed on the ground after the failed tackle, he just stared at the following encounter, hoping that Sammy will put his former teammate down.

Sammy was still sitting on the plush couch- reaching out for the shell on the table when the towering figure sprinted towards her. As she desperately plugged the second shell into the chamber, an odd thought entered her mind for a brief second.

Huh. He runs like a rugby player.

Then, he was almost upon her, the height difference doubled by her sitting on the couch. A quick pump of the shotgun- a tremendous effort normally but with all of the adrenaline running through her veins it was nothing- she raised the shotgun upwards with a terrified expression. Connor practically ate the barrel. 

Another explosion rang out as everything above Connor’s lower lip vanished into thin air. With a shocking lack of blood or even gore. the rugby monster stood for a brief moment. The headless figure took two slow steps backwards as if backing out of an awkward social interaction, then collapsed to the floor like a puppet with its strings cut.
Sammy dropped the shotgun that had once again buried itself into her shoulder. It fell softly onto the soft rug.

[color=82CA9D]”...Jean?”[/color] Sammy spoke out meekly. He rose upwards from the kitchen ground, staring at his former friend’s corpse. A good man, bit of an idiot but a good man and an even better friend. Unwilling to give any signs of grief, he strode towards his friend and picked up the shotgun on the ground before extending a hand to his thankfully living friend. Maybe the last of his living friends. He smiled like Prince Charming, trying his hardest to stop the tears in his eyes. The trembling hand gave it away but he still managed to keep the rest of him under a cool façade. [color=660099][b]”Hey, let’s go Sammy. Every fucker in a mile radius could've heard that shot, we need to move hun. Let's grab all our things and go.”[/b][/color]

Sammy wanted to say something to her friend. Have a moment of silence. She wanted to...apologize. If that made sense. But nothing came out but a croak of agreement- there were more of the sick people coming. They had to escape before something terrible happened. They’d talk about it later. She crammed her emotions into a box and shelved it for now. For when it was safe, okay? 

Underneath her white t-shirt, her right shoulder was already turning purple. Still, she scrambled and shoved everything she could into a backpack. 

Jean watched Sammy go into a bedroom to grab her stuff before grabbing his own bag which was leaning against the couch. Shoving shotgun shells in there, he moved on to the kitchen and grabbed any supplies. Cans of food, bottles of water, anything that could last them. He arrived to the drink cabinet and looked around. Seeing that no one was looking, he added a beer into his pack before zipping it up, satisfied that they now had enough rations to last a day or two. He turned to grab the baseball bat near the couches before stepping over Connor’s corpse. He stared at it blankly for a moment, spotting two Snickers bars in it’s pants. He picked them up and put it in his pockets, turning to face a ready Sammy.

He handed her the baseball bat with a small nod before turning and opening the door. He walked out, letting his friend go out behind him He gripped the shotgun loosely in his hands, pumping it to release any empty shells before reloading. He counted six before stopping, noting that they only had 24 shells left other than the gun. He looked up and nodded at Samantha, a grim expression quickly replaced with another bright smile. A little too bright, she would notice. [color=660099][b]”Let's go Sam, last I heard the government was making some sorta safe zone out in the city center, near some apartments. We can head there, I'm sure we’ll encounter people on the way.”[/b][/color] He prepared himself, taking a deep breath before letting his friend take his side. They walked together, avoiding and dodging any screeching sounds, looking warily around their surroundings. This would be their time. 

They hoped someone would be at the apartments, that they weren't alone. But hey. It's a lonely world out here.