[center][hr][h3][color=c4df9b]Martin Cromwell.[/color][/h3]
In the male cabins.
[hider=Interactions.][@Atrophy] & [@FernStone] & [@Surtr Inc][/hider][hr]

Rita was panicking, he didn't blame her. 

Her body was huddled against his, he'd unthinkingly wrapped an arm around her to keep her close. If he kept her close then she wouldn't get hurt, or at least that's how his anxiety riddled brain was reasoning this. He [i]had[/i] to keep her safe, she was the first person that he'd met that he'd ever felt so fiercely protective over. He wasn't about to let that [i]creature[/i] make her into mincemeat. He needed time to breathe, to [i]think[/i], to stop the whirling in his own head before he could help anyone else. 

The only thing he could focus on right now was the girl that he was holding close to him and the trembles that were running through him. Her nails bit into his arm and he ran his fingertips lightly over her back. He was trying to soothe her about as much as he was trying to ground himself. The images of what he'd seen were flashing through his head, almost taunting him with their presence. 

The reality of the situation was overwhelming. This was [i]real[/i], terrifyingly, horribly, [i]real.[/i] He could cling to Rita like a lifeboat in a treacherous sea but it didn't change that this was [i]all [b]so[/b] real.[/i] This stuff didn't happen, not in [i]his[/i] life, not in his boring, isolated, life. This was something out of a horror movie, but if it was a movie then he would have stepped up, he would have done something to stop it. 

He would have been bolder, he would have been more reckless. He would have rushed straight into that axe bearing maniac and- [i]And what?[/i] He was just Martin Cromwell, the local, lesser known punching bag. Even if this had been a movie, his character would have just been Martin Cromwell. He was only lucky that he hadn't been sliced into two equal halves by that monster out there. 

That wouldn't be a fitting enough end for a movie though, if this was a movie then it would have been more poetic. He'd be killed alone, there wouldn't be any witnesses, it would be off screen and some unfortunate person would find his body later. Strange to think of how insignificant he was while the world was going mad around him.

"[color=c4df9b]Everything is going to be okay, Rita.[/color]" he said quietly, his voice gentle. "[color=c4df9b]If I can help it, we're going to be just fine.[/color]"

He had to focus on getting out of this alive. He couldn't stew in this terror, he had to make it his goal to get to safety. That meant that he had to draw himself out of this shell of self hatred and misery that he was trying to retreat into. He had to figure this out or he was basically damning himself to the same fate of the teacher outside.

He attempted to return his attention to Kimberly and the girl with the limp. He barely knew Kimberly, she was a passing acquaintance. They kept it friendly but distant, he liked her though, admired her skill with a camera. He wondered if he should tell her that in case they were all inevitably hacked to bits. [i]Best to keep it easy going though, right? That wasn't positive thinking.[/i]

He glanced around the cabin, trying to think quickly. What did they do in the movies when they were cornered in a house type area? [i]Board up the windows, wait it out, don't try to leave too quickly or you might get axed.[/i] "[color=c4df9b]Hiding is definitely important, just in case. Is there anything we can break up to get over the windows? We'd need something to secure it in place, of course, but there's got to be loose nails somewhere in these old walls. I can't imagine that this cabin has held up perfectly all these years.[/color]"

He had started to chew his thumbnail as he thought, gaze scanning over the walls. "[color=c4df9b]Kimberly had the right idea with the cabinet, is there anything we can wedge under the knob? Or maybe you can move the cabinet at a slight incline so it's wedged beneath the knob? It'll make it harder for him to turn it if he decides to come in by average means.[/color]"

[i]If he doesn't decide to hack the door open,[/i] he thought, feeling just a little bit wretched. 

[/center]

[center][hr][h3][color=8882be]Aliana Agüero.[/color][/h3]
By the docks.
[hider=Interactions][@Surtr Inc] & [@Zombiedude101][/hider][hr]

Lynette's echoed response peaked her interest, she couldn't help but wonder what the girl had on her mind. That was the fun thing about Lynette, Aliana couldn't quite read her. If the other girl had something planned, it would be a pleasant surprise. She was just about bored enough to do anything at this point, she was about to ask if Lynette had any ideas but she paused when she heard footsteps.

The approach of the boy startled her initially, the dark had masked his features so that he looked like nothing more than a shadowy silohouette. It reminded her why she hated darkness. It took her a second for her eyes to adjust and to see him more clearly. He was large, built kind of like a linebacker without the muscle and he had brown hair that looked like it could have used a trim about a month ago. He didn't strike her as threatening though which was the iniative that she needed to ease up a bit. 

It was easy to get a little nervy out here but having Lynette nearby made her more comfortable. Lynette responded to the boy easily, her words light-hearted. Aliana opened her mouth to introduce herself to the boy before she noticed the sound, freezing in place for a moment. The calm atmosphere was immediately broken by the ruckus from beyond the docks. 

Fear washed through Aliana, her gaze flickering over to Lynette. "[color=8882be]Call me chicken shit but I really don't want to find out.[/color]"
[/center]