[hr][center][color=lightgreen][h3]E L I[/h3][/color][/center][right][color=lightgreen]Monday, June 1[sup]st[/sup], 2111[/color][/right]
[color=wheat] Unfortunately, Eli noted it was still dark outside as her creaked open the rear exit slowly. Unconsciously, he had been hoping to see the brilliant, muted rays of light streaming through the foliage clogged alleyway. He hadn't even realized that particular thought had lived within him until the disappointment hit him. He signaled for those immediately behind him to move out into the narrow space between the buildings. He was acting as the pointman, of course. This was a dangerous, and delicate situation. It was one that had everybody scared, including himself. He peered upwards into the afternoon night, thinking about the paradox that statement created. He was overwhelmed with the failure to come to any logical, reasonable conclusions. Even one of Washington's legendary storms, it shouldn't have been this dark. In fact, it had grown even darker.

Eli squinted towards the opening leading out towards the street. Shadows flickered across worn bricks and clusters of plants. Vines snaked their way down the sides of the buildings, but thankfully they remained stationary. Eli crouched against a thick cluster of ferns as he tried to see down the road before him. It was just too dark. He strained his ears instead, listening for the tell-tale signs of ghouls lurking around the bend. Nothing. That was strange, they had moved on rather quickly. Had that noise earlier really drawn all of them off, or had they migrated on their own, seeking easier prey? Either way, that was fortunate news for the group.

He turned to face the group and found himself face-to-face with Garsin and Geo, whom he had just met moments prior as he conversed with the other members of their little ragtag group. Fortunately, a few of these others seemed a little more capable than Eli had thought at first glance, but none of that would matter if they ran into a horde of ghouls. "Stay low, stay quiet," He said, following his own instructions as he dipped out into the street. He hugged the wall, moving slowly, ignoring the whispers of grass as he passed through their long, still stalks.

Eli skirted around a rather large root protruding forcefully from the wall, and soon found himself closer to the firelight and the dancing shadows. There were no other sounds, no growling or shuffling, not even the rustle of an occasional bush. He dared a glance around the corner. There was literally nothing but the gruesome scenery of mangled corpses. He wait, yet nothing stirred—Not even the bodies, at least, not yet. Some of them looked too damaged to resurrect as a ghoul anyways. Still, how much time had passed? How long did they have before those corpses woke up, hungry and pissed?

He was about to turn around, satisfied there was nobody else he could save when he caught the sight of a personnel truck buried halfway into a brick wall, shrouded by hanging vines, rubble, and tall fens waving slightly with the breeze. As if trying to subdue his glimmer of hope, he felt a cold, wet droplet splatter on his cheek. Confused, he looked around, before he noticed that it had begun to sprinkle. [i]'So that storm has finally decided to hit, eh?'[/i] he thought resolutely to himself.

"We got a mechanic?" He asked, turning back to the group of bodies behind him, most of which were cowering within the grass, trying to seem small and hide within their poor excuse for shelter.

"I am," A quiet voice spoke up. A woman shuffled to the forefront of the group.

"What's your name?" Eli asked, taking in the lithe woman with stormy, gray eyes.

"Abigail," She said through a noticeable, but light French accent, "Just call me Abi."

"Alright Abi, you think you can make sure that truck will get us home?" Eli asked, motioning behind him with thumb. She peeked around his shoulders, her face contorting as she studied the wreckage.

"Hard to tell from her, but my instincts say it doesn't look good."

"Well, it's that or we have a long hike back in this," He paused, "Darkness.."

"Right," She said, obviously thinking along the same lines. It was near suicide.

"Garsin, watch her back. Make sure nothing kills our only mechanic. Geo and.." Eli looked through his pool of candidates, "You there. Yes, you. Go up the rubble, quietly, keep and eye out. If you see something amiss don't yell, use a flashlight to signal us."

Eli stood, peering once more over his shoulder, "You two-" He said, pointing "-Watch the southern intersection. The rest of you stay near the truck, keep eyes on the windows and alleys. Lets try to get home in one piece, yea?" He finished with a soft, lighthearted chuckle. 

For Eli however, he was going to make sure those bodies stayed dead.

[hr][center][color=lightgreen][h3]R E F U G E[/h3][/color][/center]

	Sergeant Docker grimaced at the papers held before him in thick, calloused fingers. Smoked streamed through his teeth, currently clenched around the thick end of a cigar. He slapped the papers down, scattering some small objects on his desk, and moved his massive frame from the chair struggling to hold him, to the window. It's not that he was fat, but he was bulky. Years of serving in the military, combined with a mixture of Germanic and Icelandic heritage, would do that to a man. The paper he had been reading was a dossier on none other than Eli Shuppert, and frankly, Docker didn't know what the mayor saw in him. Yet, he shrugged. The mayor was entitled to her fancies, even if that meant letting some soldier start his own special operatives unit.

That worried him, somewhat. Though, Eli didn't look capable to enact a militaristic coup. On the other hand, Mayor Guzman didn't seem capable to resist a well organized mutiny within the structure of her own settlement. He grimaced, fingering the stubble along the edges of his jawline. Then there was that fellow, what was his name.. Theron? Jackson Theron. That's right. He was starting some sort of unionized movement, something about better pay for unskilled laborers. Docker shook his head slightly, people always wanted what others had. It was a wonder this place was holding together at all.

As he contemplated the rising problems of the town, a shadow cast itself over the immediate area he had been observing. He hadn't actually been looking at anything special, in fact it was just the parking lot in front of the command center, with few vehicles and even fewer bodies milling about. He let out another heavy sigh, turning back to the reports on his desk. He should be out there, reassuring the people and forming bonds with them that wouldn't break instead of staring at the reasons why the fishermen weren't hauling in as much as they used to. More pay this, more food that. This whole system of self-management was a farce, but Guzman insisted it made the people happy.

"If it made them so fucking happy why do I have a desk full of problems?" He grumbled. Arguably, some of them were small problems, like the petty theft census. People didn't want to work together, they wanted to work for themselves and take what others had. He knew first hand what happened when you let all of these little problems stack up. He had just sat down to starting cleaning up some of those problems when his door burst open. The cigar shot from his mouth, flipping end over end as it spiraled into a stack of papers.

"For fuck's sake man! Can't you knock?" Docker shouted, getting up to retrieve his cigar from where it had rolled onto the floor.

"Eh..S-sorry VP, It's just.." The boy stammered, he couldn't have been past twenty, "It's about the convoy. They established radio communication, but it was garbled.. full of white noise. I couldn't make out anything but the screams really, and then the transmissions stopped altogether."

"The screams, son?" Docker questioned in a more fatherly way. The kid seemed to respond better to that.

"Yes sir, they were under attack, we think by ghouls."

"Ghouls? Ghouls?" Docker questioned, his face scrunching in confusion, "How could there be ghouls out in the middle of the afternoon?"

The kid looked taken aback at that, he had to take a moment to recompose himself, "Uh.. Sir.. have you looked outside?"

Docker's eyebrow rose as he looked over at his window. It was dark, not like a cloud passing in front of the sun, but actually dark. "How the fuck?" He asked, before the gears and cogs began whirling in his mind.

"Fuck me. Kid," He began, striding forward and taking a quick moment to catch the boy's name. "Cadet Wilson, radio the other lawkeepers, even those off duty, I want the night curfew enacted now."

"Yes sir!" The cadet said with a reassured nod. That's what kids like him were good for, taking orders. He'd grow up to be a fine enforcer.

Docker left his office only to nearly run into Mayor Guzman's thin, rail-like figure.

"What's happening Docker?" She asked neutrally. No panic, always the proper delegate.

"Do I look like a fucking scientist to you? It's night, in the afternoon, I'm enacting the night curfew."

He moved to step around her but she slipped before him again, blocking his path. "What about the convoy?"

"I don't know, we haven't heard back yet," Docker said irritably, weaving himself around he with surprising grace. "Now if you'll excuse me," He said curtly.

Docker made his way outside. There were other people here, some of which were just standing there staring at the sky, shocked in stillness by disbelief. Docker clapped his hands together, starling them out of their trances. "Sullivan!"

"Yes sir?" Sully replied, jogging to close the small gap between himself and the VP.

"Up on the wall, make sure it's properly manned. I sense a shit-storm."

		[color=lightgreen]* * * A Few Hours Later * * *[/color]

"Just treat it like any other night," Docker told himself. He wasn't smart enough to contemplate what had happened, nor was he philosophical. He'd just spent the last few hours organizing his forces to contain the spread of panic and get everyone situation within their homes. Thankfully, things had been quiet so far. Since it wasn't technically night yet, Docker was considering allowing the public back out into the streets, as long as they maintained a relatively low level of noise. Refuge was far enough out of the way that they didn't necessarily have to whisper, but there was to be no loud work like forging, or god forbid, gunfire.

Docker found himself outside the command center, taking stock of the situation. He caught sight of Guzman making her way over to him, her strides purposeful and her sharp eyes were set on Docker. He sighed inwardly, would the woman ever stop nagging him? Before she could pin him down with more of her bureaucratic crap or questions, a guardsman called down from the tower" 

"Truck coming!"

"Thank God," Guzman breathed.

Docker came over, scaled the ladder up the watchtower with ease, and peered out into the direction the soldier was pointing at. Sure enough there were a pair of headlights coming closer, approaching with enough speed to churn up the smaller plants that broke through the asphalt. Docker couldn't help noticed the light, feminine huffs coming up the ladder behind him. Didn't she have babies to kiss or something?

"There's only one," Guzman observed.

"There's a second one coming from the other end," The soldier noted.

"Why would they-" Guzman pondered, but Docker cut her off.

"Ghouls," he breathed.

"What?" Guzman asked, confused.

"Ghouls. Look, behind the trucks," He handed her a pair of binoculars, her eyes weren't attuned like his were to notice things like that. From this distance, it was minute, but noticeable. It had been days since ghouls had found their way to the wall, and even then that had just been a small, roaming pack. This.. this was.. 

"Radio the wall teams, and tell them to stop by the armory.. We're going to need bigger guns."

"What about the trucks?" The soldier asked Docker as the VP began his descent down the ladder.

"They've got a little bit of a lead but there's not enough time for the trucks. Open the gates just enough for them to squeeze through, no bigger than a person. Even if the ghouls catch up we can still get them closed."

"Yes sir," The soldier nodded. 

Docker was barely halfway to the armory, connected to the Command Center, before bodies began streaming in. Soldiers in fatigues, lawkeepers in trench coats and vests and distinguished hats, and other volunteers. By the time the soldiers shouted out a warning that the gates were opening, bodies were flowing towards the wall laden with gear and ammo. There was a lot of wall to protect, they were undermanned and under-gunned. They didn't have enough resources, holding back a tide of ghouls like that would be a miracle. Every god forsaken ghoul in the city must be stampeding towards the gates. He was going to have some very unpleasant words with whoever was driving those fucking trucks when this was all over. If he was still alive. 

"This is going to be one hell of a fight," He said with a grimace, flipping open his tin of cigars. [i]I don't even like cigars,[/i] he thought as he trudged towards the wall.

[hr][center][color=lightgreen][h3]I N   T H E    T R U C K    W I T H   F R E D[/h3][/color][color=lightgreen]* * * A Few Hours Later * * *[/color][/center] 

	The driver was panicking, his heart was thumping out of control, as if it were trying to rip its way from his chest. There was a guy sitting next to him, he didn't know who he was. The guy was one of those types with a strong chin, like a hero, but with a scar through it. He looked tough, like he knew his shit. That didn't help. The driver's hands were shaking so badly it was a wonder he could keep the truck on the rough, bumpy road. Plants whipped by, each one sending tremors through the terrified man. At times, the vines were so thick, or the fens and ferns were so tall he couldn't see through them. Still, he plowed onwards, uncaring of what was before him because he knew what was behind—The tide of ghouls.

And they were leading them straight home.

To his home.

They were all going to die.

He was going to die.

The better man in him knew he should just throw the wheel to the side, wreck the truck into something thick and large and hope that killed him. But, inside, everybody wanted to live, right? It wasn't just him, right? No.. no.. the walls would hold. They'd shoot back all the ghouls, he'd live, they'd all live.

...Right?[/color]