[hr][hr][center][h1][i][b][color=steelblue]Ash Holloway[/color][/b][/i][/h1][img]https://i.pinimg.com/originals/c3/2a/d5/c32ad53279d627f66861cb579e4b3fb8.gif[/img][/center][hr][center][color=steelblue][b]Location:[/b][/color] Hordebuster
[color=steelblue][b]Skills:[/b][/color] Leadership, Mechanic, Engineering [/center][hr][hr]

	Ash lamented the lack of radio contact. It wasn't really anybody's fault; most likely the people at the safehouses powered everything down to save on cell life. Batteries were finite in nature anymore, soon to be a depleted resource in the world as it was. What he wouldn't give to get his hands on an operable solar system... but again, that was a dream for a day when he could settle his people behind walls again with a stable food supply. Hell, maybe the next time out he'd do the Robin Hood thing and establish a treehouse village. 

	Ok, so he wasn't thinking straight. That was a mental diversion to keep his thoughts away from the mindblowing manner in which they were (and would continue to be) screwed right then. Much as a series of treehouses, interconnected with a series of rope bridges and rough hewn walkways with rope-and-pulley elevators, preferably with solar backup and engineered water systems sounded damn near idyllic, especially with a mighty oak serving as the support for a mighty Distillery, the goal at hand was to move himself and his people to safety. Specifically, [i]away[/i] from the massive horde of gnawing, drooling Dead that seemed to stretch across the entire county. He wished he could tell these people that they were coming and why, that they might be ready to move with a bit more notice than he and his Hordebuster crew had, but wishes didn't mean a whole lot anymore. All that mattered was that he put as much space between his people and the Dead as he could. 

	In that regard, he fell upon a stroke of luck. Heading south from Smith Chapel, things seemed quiet. Quieter than the last few minutes, anyway. The situation was still a raving shit show; it was merely a less soggy one at that point. Ash strained every so often to catch a glimpse of the roads behind them, to be met occasionally with the telltale shuffling movement of a wall of rot, unerringly moving in their general direction. The bit of luck that finally struck them - Welcome Road. It was a wide circumvention of their old home, but likely necessary. They may even be able to use the terrain to their advantage; the chasm that was Newnan and the lakes to the immediate south of the settlement should provide a break against the massive uprising of the Dead. In any case, Welcome Road was smooth, even, and clear. Not quite rural and not quite suburban, it provided some cover with good visibility to their immediate surroundings. 

	[color=steelblue]"Okay, we'e going to go west for a little bit and cut a hard turn south. Get some space between us and Hell back there."[/color] Ash jerked a thumb back behind them, indicating the dying grounds that used to be their home territory. [color=steelblue]"Kill the radio, Jack. Save the batteries. We'll just have to drop in unannounced."[/color] It was a horrifying moment for Ash to realize that he had the barest of smiles on his face. Maybe it was the touch of sarcasm he just slipped into the conversation. Or just maybe, someplace in his psyche, he took an element of joy in overcoming mortal obstacles. Surviving and thumbing his nose at Death. Hell, maybe he was just grateful that he was able to save people that night. He was tired, sore, emotionally drained and worried as hell about people he cared about (one in particular) and others he had just met, but he was [i]living[/i].

	A few minutes on Welcome Road had Ash gunning the Hordebuster, pushing through the straightaways with haste fueled by the fact that they were being followed by corpses. After those minutes, he slowed to turn onto the next part of their Great Escape: Providence Church Road. Scattered trees and more rural residences greeted them in the gloom of the evening, illuminated by the forward lamps of the Hordebuster. [color=steelblue]"Coming up on Providence Baptist. Keep feeding me those directions."[/color] 






[hr][hr][center][h1][b][i][color=dc143c]Thalia Carmichael[/color][/i][/b][/h1][img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/e4117d5f-65c8-4b8e-98df-5810a59267c5.jpg[/img][hr][b][color=crimson]Location:[/color][/b] Eden, Adamm's Wing
[b][color=dc143c]Skills:[/color][/b] Stealth, Survival, Pistol [hr][hr][/center]

	There was maybe a second's worth of hesitation as Thalia struggled to decide whether to withdraw and lend her gunpoint assistance to the part of their group behind her, or continue to push forward as she had intended to in the first place. She wanted to be the kind of person who worked well with a group, team player and all that, but experience really only gave her two "teams" she had ever operated with that wasn't out to screw her over when things got heavy. One was her uncle's people. Maybe not everyone in his company, but the core people in her Familia from Mexico. The other... She carried a shield on her back to remember them. Yeah, screw that. Most of them had earned her respect in varying degrees, but she came to this place for her own reasons. 

	Thalia had already made the decision to follow Thana. If for no other reason, Navy Chick's arm was perforated and she was going forward alone. She needed help more than those behind her. She began jogging as softly as she could to bring up Thana's six, eyes brightly observant and guns at the ready. None of this "sneaking out of the side rooms" bullshit anymore, not if she could help it. A tiny piece of good news came in the form of a huge crashing sound, then the indistinct sound of Alexander's voice from behind her. No screaming, no begging for backup, and most importantly [i]no more gunshots[/i]. That was good enough for her. [color=crimson]"Cubriendo tus seis."[/color][sub]1[/sub] she spoke, coming up behind Thana. 

	When all this was over, it was going to be a round of stitches, followed by name-brand canned pasta and peanut butter straight from the jar. First, there was [i]at least[/i] one more asshat who needed the back of their skull removed with a 9mm NATO round. 

[hider=Translations]
1	=	Covering your six.
[/hider]