KingOfNowhere

"Aftermath" (closed, but feel free to read along)

King’s heart leapt as Annie blew into the horn; he knew immediately, even without her explanation, that she was reporting him to others.

“I'm not going to hurt you,” he told her. “I'm not a threat.”

Whether she believed him or not, King couldn't tell. She simply stood there tall over him, watching him, the bow in her hands.

A figure appeared in the distance behind her, a man. He stopped a moment at the sight of King. Then, after speaking to someone King couldn't see, the man hurried Annie’s direction, a pair of spears clutched in one hand. He covered the rough ground easily and quickly, both familiar with the trail and simply nimble.

Others began to appear, from both that same direction and from up the beach. King noted that nearly all of them carried weapons, either bows, spears, knives, or a combination therein. He wondered whether they were for combat, hunting, or both.

When the first man arrived, King repeated, “I'm not going to hurt you. I'm not a threat. I'm just a survivor of a ship wreck. I'd like to search for my companions.”

"Aftermath" (closed, but feel free to read along)

"My name Annie."

“Nice to meet you, Annie,” King said with a smile.

When he asked about the others aboard the Elizabeth, Annie said, "You are the first person to come from the sea. Did you swim here?"

King laughed. “From Newfoundland…? No.”

He noticed she didn't react to his mentioning of the island from which he and the others had departed. He wondered if she had ever heard the name. Another time, King told himself.

“Can we walk the shoreline?” he asked. “I'd like to see if anyone else made it. I can't believe I'm the only one.”

"Aftermath" (closed, but feel free to read along)

Craig King

Physical Description:

• 42 years old
• Ruggedly handsome, physically fit.
• Curly brunette hair, green eyes.

Personality:

• Charismatic, charming.
• Adventurous, courageous.
• Flirtatious, but respectful of boundaries.
• Intelligent, well educated.

Education, training, and experience.

• Yet to be revealed.

His personal history:

• He is a wandering adventurer who has visited many places over the last 20 years.
• How he got here:
  
  • He arrived here after the two masted schooner he was on, the Elizabeth, was caught in a storm, tossing her, breaking her up, and ultimately sinking her.
  • The storm took hold of them between Newfoundland and Ireland and ended hundreds of miles off course to the north, somewhere off the coast of Greenland.
  • It was earlier stated that he had been with 36 others, but -- forgetting that I had done this -- I edited later to indicate that he had had "4 accomplices" who'd helped him hijack the ship that was carrying "12 female sex slaves" who he was trying to rescue. I don't think I spoke of any others on board, so it could have been higher.
  • So far, King is the only one to wash up on the southeastern shore of Greenland alive. Three other bodies have been found thus far.
• He has been to many places over the last 20 years (see this post), including:
  
  • New Eastport, Newfoundland:
    
    • New Eastport replaced the Newfoundland Island city of Eastport when rising ocean levels flooded the original city.
    • King stayed there about a year.
    • He described it as "... Nice people. Safe community. They fished and grew terraced crops."
    • On another occasion, while answering Annie's questions about his past, he spoke vaguely and mused in more detail about Eastport being a port with many merchant ships ... and a center for human smuggling. (See this post.
  • Nova Scotia, about which he has not yet spoken.
  • New England, again without detail.
  • The Carolines, which obviously is in the area of North and South Carolina, though that hasn't been expanded on yet.
  • New Mephis, which replaced Memphis, Tennessee. He mused about New Memphis: he ..."didn't explain that New Memphis, Tennessee, was now a coastal city. Rising ocean levels had driven the Gulf of Mexico north up the Mississippi until Old Mephis had disappeared, first into the Mississippi River itself and then -- after continually rebuilding on higher and higher ground -- into the waters of the unrelenting and expanding Gulf."

"Aftermath" (closed, but feel free to read along)

Craig King took a long moment between regaining consciousness and regaining his senses to lift himself into a sitting position. His entire body ached. Fuck, even his eyelids hurt.

He was lying on a beach of pebbles well worn down by the action of the waves upon them. Looking out at the bay, he saw no signs of wreckage from his ship. There was no sign of the storm that had torn it apart either. How long had he been adrift on that piece of debris? How long had he been unconscious? How much time had passed since he'd first thought his life would end with drowning?

Looking back and upward at the cliffs that surrounded him even more than the sea, King was startled to find a young woman with a loaded bow looking down at him. Great! I survive the wreck only to be skewered. I wonder if they eat people here like they do in other parts of this fucking mad world.

King couldn't help but notice that she was a pretty young thing. She was in her teens he was certain. Beautiful face, beautiful hair, beautiful body -- that of it he could see, anyway. Being a typical, red-blooded male, he couldn't help but imagine lying between the parted thighs of the young woman as she herself lay back upon the smooth, round-stone beach. King would have found it ironic that she had already imagined her own father wanting the same thing of the pair of them once she was of age.

She spoke to him with an accent that sounded Scandinavian or perhaps Germanic, not that King really knew the difference between them. "Hej. Forstår du mig?"

King tried to imagine what she was trying to get across to him. She continued, "Dansk...? Íslenska...?"

He tensed up a bit as she handled her bow but then relaxed as he realized she was disarming it. She continued, "Engelsk...? English?"

"English," King repeated without hesitation, thinking finally, something I understand. "English, yes. I speak English."

He stretched his arms, then his legs, then slowly stood; he didn't want to startle her in any way. Looking about for signs of others, he determined that she was likely alone. He smiled to her. "My name is Craig. Craig King. People call me King."

He paused to see if she would tell him her own name. He looked around yet again. He asked, "Where am I? And ... where's everyone else? There were 36 of us aboard the Elizabeth. Am I the only one who made it?"

"Pulse" (a story of the apocalypse)

Day 1: September 12, 2024
The Capital Building
Washington D.C.

Kendall Thomas had spent almost two hours searching the building and the grounds just beyond it for his primary. Speaker Timms had always hated having Secret Service protection. He understood that, of course. After all, who wanted a handful of men and/or women following you around all day, every day. Well, maybe rock stars with their entourages or high school hotties with their BFFs. But a junior Congresswoman who'd shot to stardom by becoming Speaker of the House faster than any other Member of the House in history...?

Capitol Police, D.C. Police, and remnants of a locally stationed National Guard unit were guarding the Capitol. There wasn't a great deal of mayhem on the grounds. That surprised Kendall. He'd been on the grounds during the January 6th insurrection. As soon as the lights went out today, he expected the same again. But D.C.'s troubles today were out in the city. That was bad news for the people of D.C., obviously. But Kendall's concerns were for his charge, and finding and protecting her was the only thing on his mind.

Amazingly, after completing a circle around the building and preparing to head back inside, he looked up to find Caroline ambling his direction. She was injured, that was obvious. He hurried to her, thinking maybe she'd been attacked. He took her into his arms, asking what had happened and if she was injured. After just a few steps, the tall, strong Agent swept the smallish woman up into his arms.

"Let's get you to your office, Speaker," he told her as he made his way toward the building. Others helped the pair through doors, but Kendall managed to get Caroline all the way to her office without stopping. He was exhausted and sweating by the time he put her on a couch and fell into one of the adjacent armchairs. "I'm going to go find you a doctor. But, for a moment, I ... I just need a moment."

"Pulse" (a story of the apocalypse)

FYI, I was going to finish the post for Willie, but I can't keep my eyes open. Annie, if you want to move on to Day 2, don't worry about me. I can finish my post in flashback from Day 2.

@KingOfNowhere

Okay, I'm done with Willie for now. I'm good until Day 2 or beyond. I am thinking about creating two more characters, though, in case you are okay with putting off Day 2 until later today, Annie.

"Pulse" (a story of the apocalypse)

Day 1, 2100 hours
International Product Distribution, LLC
Monroeville, Pennsylvania (east of Pittsburgh)

Sergeant William Peterson and his team had begun their mission on foot, double timing it. Along the way, though, they began acquiring bicycles through various means. Stealing might have been a more appropriate word. But it wasn't as if they'd ripped a rider off the two wheeled vehicles. They'd simply nabbed the bikes when found unguarded.

Riding a bicycle with a full pack, arms, and armor wasn't the easiest thing to do. It certainly wasn't something for which they'd been trained. And yet, somehow -- with just two spills for which laughter and recovery came -- they'd managed to reach IPC after less than an hour. Dismounting and checking their surroundings, they continued the last quarter mile on foot.

Monroeville was a quiet suburb of Pittsburgh with a population of less than 30,000. On any other Thursday night at 9pm, the city was relatively quiet. Tonight, though, there was activity in just about every direction. The people wanted to know what was happening to their world. Most of them by now knew what Willie had realized hours earlier: an attack or strange phenomenon was about to change their lives.

As they reached the entry gate to IPC, Willie ordered a perimeter guard set. Moving to the gate himself, he found it very well secured. As he and two others attempted to lift the leading end of the rolling gate out of its track, gunfire suddenly erupted from beyond it. Without even thinking, he threw himself to the ground as he hollered out, "Cover! Cover!"

A moment later, half of his Guardsmen were firing their automatic weapons in the general direction of the enemy fire. He commanded, "Cease fire! Cease fire! Jesus fucking Christ, cease fire!"

As the guns went silent one by one, he chastised, "What the fuck are you doing? Who ya shooting at?" Around him he could see sheepish expressions illuminated by the bright moonlight. He ordered quietly, "Reload ... and fucking relax."

Scanning the parking and working area beyond the gate, Willie hollered out, "My name is Sergeant William Peterson! I'm from the Pennsylvania National Guard, from the Training Center just on the other side of town."

He paused a moment and was about to continue when a voice from the dark called out, "Willie Pete...? Is that you?"

It took Willie a moment to realize who it was. He chuckled, answering back, "Crabgrass?"

"Yeah!" the unseen man confirmed. "What the fuck? What's going on?"

To his men, Willie said softly, "Relax, guys. He's one of our own." Sitting up to look toward the distribution center, he explained, "I'm here to secure IPC ... to prevent it from being looted. You okay with that?"

"You gonna shoot at me again if I say I'm not?"

"Probably," Willie said, hoping the humor was obvious in the single word. He stood tall, saying, "Come let us in, Crabgrass. I'll catch you up on what's going on. I mean, as much as I can."

Ten minutes later, with pairs of Guardsmen on the corners of the distribution center's roof, Willie told Craig Grassman all that he knew about the current situation. It wasn't much more than Craig already knew, unfortunately. "What I can tell you is that if this continues any longer, people are going to come here, looking for food. We were tasked with ensuring the peaceful distribution of your warehouse's contents."

"Company's not gonna be happy with you just giving away their shit," the former National Guardsman told the current one. "They aren't as patriotic as you and I."

Willie thought about his friend's comment on patriotism. Patriotism wasn't what had kept Willie in the Guard all these years. He'd served his time in Iraq and Syria. He'd even done a quick stint in Gaza when the army helped with the distribution of food and water there. He'd seen all he wanted to see in warzones and other areas of strife.

No, Willie had remained in the Guard simply for the paycheck. As a Sergeant with 18 years in, he made more money for less work and far better security than he would out in the private sector. He'd contemplated becoming a Private Contractor when invited to do so by a friend. And he'd been close to signing up. Then, that same friend was blown into a billion little pieces by a suicide bomber in northeast Syria. Suddenly, Pittsburgh seemed like a pretty nice place to live and work.

A pounding sound caught Willie's attention. He gestured Craig to be silent and listened closely to the Morse Code being pounded onto the roof. When silence returned, Willie told Craig simply, "Reinforcements."

Returning to the gate, he laughed at the sight. One of the two Guardsmen who had arrived at Natgat that afternoon on horseback was once again in the saddle. Behind him were two more soldiers in a golf cart overloaded with gear, arms, and ammo. The horse was noticeably unhappy with the extra load trailing behind it by rope.

"Eleven more arrived," the newly arrived soldier reported, quickly listing names. Speaking about the Corporal in charge at the Training Center, he said, "Connors split them up between the three sites. You get us."

In the distance, a bright light revealed itself to be a rising fireball. A moment later, an explosive boom washed over them. They couldn't know for certain yet, but Willie was pretty sure it was a gas station or maybe an above ground fuel tank. Shit's seriously hitting the fan, he thought to himself.

He and the rider talked over commands and communications before the latter again rode off into the night. Willie and the two newly arrived soldiers used pallet jacks to move crates from the building to the parking lot. They set up a machine gun nest of sorts to watch not just the gate but a good portion of the two fences to their left and right flanks. With the other 8 men on the roof, he felt certain that they were ready for whatever might come their way tonight.

"Pulse" (a story of the apocalypse)

FYI, I was going to finish the post for Willie, but I can't keep my eyes open. Annie, if you want to move on to Day 2, don't worry about me. I can finish my post in flashback from Day 2.

"Pulse" (a story of the apocalypse)

Day 1, 1400 hours
National Guard Armory and Training Center
Monroeville, Pennsylvania (east of Pittsburgh)

The power outage had been caused by an electromagnetic pulse. Sergeant William Peterson was certain of that. He had no proof, but it only made sense. The power grid, cell and satellite phones, automobiles: they'd all quit working in an instant. There was a question in Willie's mind, though. EMPs were only supposed to work on solid state electronics, not electrical devices in general. Yet anything and everything that ran off electricity had ceased working. There wasn't supposed to be a weapon that could do that.

Willie was at the National Guard Armory and Training Center -- nicknamed Natgat -- when the Pulse occurred. Most of the Guardsmen under him reported to Natgat a weekend a month and a month during the summer. Willie, though, was on active duty. He reported to the center Mondays through Fridays from 7am to 5pm.

He wasn't sure what to do without communications. Surprising him, though, Guardsmen began arriving, one after another. They came in from all over the county, on foot, on bicycles, on horses. Willie wasted no time, putting them to work organizing arms and other supplies. The men -- and eventually two women as well -- questioned what they were supposed to do.

"Our jobs," Willie told them, clarifying, "Operation Preservation is still a go."

"But we don't have any equipment," one soldier reminded Willie. "No Humvees, no APCs, no radios. None of it works."

Willie pulled his sidearm -- a Beretta Model FS92 -- and lifted both it and his M4 rifle, telling his subordinates, "These still work." They'd already taken them to the indoor range and fired off rounds to ensure that the Company had at least those to work with. "We put Preservation into operation without the heavy equipment. It's not like we're going into a warzone against a heavily armed enemy. It's Steeler fans and the Amish, for fuck's sake."

Operation Preservation had been designed to deal with extreme examples of civil unrest, with or without the additional threat of foreign military involvement. It included securing five features in the Greater Monroeville area:

• The National Guard Center, obviously, which included an armory with over 2,000 firearms and 1 million rounds of ammunition.
• A local food distribution center, the largest in the southwest corner of Pennsylvania.
• A petroleum distillation facility that produced all grades of gasoline, diesel, kerosene, etc.
• The Monroeville water facility and waste treatment plant.
• A central electrical power distribution hub.
• A similar plant that supplied natural gas across the region.
• And key freeway and highway interchanges and major intersections.

"We're not going to be able to control and protect it all," Willie told his Guardsmen at 1900 hours, when their numbers had reached just 25, including him. "Natgat, obviously. The food warehouse. The oil plant. The rest we'll skip for now."

"Why do we need to protect the petro plant?" he was asked. "Cars and trucks don't work."

"I'm not trying to protect the oil and gas for use," Willie said, adding with humor, "This isn't Mad Max, the Road Warrior. I just don't want some loonies blowing the place up because they like pretty explosions."

He gave out assignments, told the Guardsmen to double and triple check their gear, then told them, "Okay, let's get this done."

He had split the 24 others into even 3 teams of 8. One team under a Corporal would remain here at Natgat to protect the armory. A second team, also under a Corporal, would head for the oil plant. The third team Willie could lead himself to the food warehouse.

Int. Chk: "Pulse", an apocalypse story

...Out of curiosity, how long between the Pulse and the start of the RP has occurred?

@Cleveraptor

I'm not your hostess, but I think I can answer that question. Annie's first post IS the moment of the Pulse, Day 1, so I think it just happened.

On another note, I decided that my first character will be a National Guard Non-Com who leads his unit to secure horses, a food distribution center, a fueling station, and, of course, their Armory.

His storyline will begin as one of peace maker, preventing looting and distributing goods. But as time goes on and the situation worsens, he will become more of a Nathan Hogue character, from "The Postman". He'll get his due in the end, as all dictators do.

The question is this: do I put him in/near NYC or Pittsburgh, near one of the current characters for interactive RP? Or do I put him in a different area and write him independently?