Black James!
Location: Newnan Courthouse Clocktower
Interacting With: His Thoughts, Ash, Zoie
The Esteemed Mr. James Mandingo Grady sat alone in his perch, high above Newnan proper. His time on watch passed by with a stillness that was contrary to the events earlier in the day. He surveyed the grounds around him, periodically checking in with Zoie at the gate and Ash as he moved about the scene, always returning to his vehicle, now immobile in the street near the motor pool. The vast majority of his conversations consisted of him checking in, receiving an all clear, and responding in kind. This work was necessary, but dull.
Though James took the responsibility of scanning the full circumference of the walls seriously, he had to admit a draw to the southern end of the settlement. It was so much more interesting in that direction. Firstly, he got to see Ash milling around, mumbling to himself when he wasn't giving the occasional terse order. He was moving from the Courthouse to the Hordebuster, to the motor pool, back to the Hordebuster, in a meandering path.
Secondly, there was a cow, seriously injured, caught in the lower branches of a tree near Agriculture. The beast was occasionally rousing conscious for brief moments, shaking and causing all manner of noise, and lapsing back into a near-coma. More and more of the Dead took note of this, crowding under he tree and reaching upward in an attempt at fresher meat than themselves, each one falling far short of their prize. One very curious Walker in the group seemed to have been, in life, a Caucasian male of middle age and average height. He had hair that may remind one of sports announcer Harry Caray after tonguing a lightbulb socket, and a filthy yellow t-shirt depicting pop icon Britney Spears. James wondered if the man was equally as creepy when he was alive.
Thirdly, in the same general vicinity as the line of smoke from earlier, there appeared to be a group of extras from The Lord of the Rings approaching the wall, though he wasn't certain that Arwen rode an imported motorcycle. James maxed out the scope on his rifle, trying to take in more detail. Ok, not LotR, but something told him that if he ever needed a coastal village raided, he'd know with whom to speak. On the one hand, they could be trouble. On the other hand ...
Damn. The second James moved to alert the group below, Zoie's particularly accented voice came over the walkie.
"Boss, ya think that whole mess we done gone through been that Ragnarok shit they be talkin' about on the history channel? Cause, we got's Vikings at the gate...." Vikings. Yeah. Just when the Apocalypse couldn't get
any weirder, Newnan was being beset by an all-female Viking war party.
"Ya know what, y'all?" James spoke into the walkie,
"I'll just cover from here. Moment we're in the clear, one a y'all's sending me up a replacement. We cool?"
Ashton Holloway
Location:
Interacting With: Newnanites, Zoie, James, Valkyries At The Gate
The Hordebuster was down. Non-operational, and Ash had zero idea why. I mean, it was a diesel frigging engine, modified just enough to accept alcohol as an alternative. The problem should be a simple matter of servicing or replacing a part. Hell, more often than not, all Ash had to do was clean a connection or drain a hose. But this problem... It was troublesome.
On the one hand, the Captain's plan involved getting this massively protected vehicle out between the Newnan walls and leading the Dead away. It could be accomplished with other vehicles, true, but the 'Buster represented the best chance they had of doing so with expedience and safety. On the other hand, he couldn't squander all of his time glued to his Truck of Insurmountable Badassery when more immediate concerns were in play.
He was their leader now, whether we wanted the job or not. It was time to act like one.
Ash had long since removed the full riot armor, stashing it in his truck. It was useful in a firefight; not so much when probing about under a hood or running mundane errands. He had recovered his weapons and most of his personal belongings (minus his jacket, of course), restocked from Newnan's supplies, and set about the confines of the Inner Wall making sure that his people were fed, armed, and vigilant.
His path crossed with the two helpers from the infirmary, some several times. They were still gathering blood samples for typing. Ever the realist, Ash considered the possibilities as to why they were still out there, looking for donors. They obviously didn't have someone matching Maria's blood type in the Newnan so far. It was possible that they were double checking names on the list, hoping to find someone they had missed earlier. It was also possible that they were pissing against the tide of the inevitable; Maria was not long for this world unless a proper donor could be found - apparently, that donor would have to come from outside of Newnan's walls.
Of course, what were the chances of something like that happening?
Ash made an appearance in the Courthouse. It was the central hub from which the community now operated, now that everyone had retreated inside the inner wall. If the Newnanites weren't busily engaged in a project, patrol, or manning a post, chances are they'd be found here. He inquired into the status of the building and its present inhabitants, the prisoner, etc. Even poked his head into the Infirmary, if just to risk a glance. The new Doctor was nowhere to be found, but there was a guard on the prisoner. Maria was pale. Kris was beside herself. Ash nodded patiently at her, and wordlessly exited the room.
Yeah, Maria was dying. If she slipped away in the next couple of hours, it would be tragic for her sister. If she pulled through, she would have to answer for ignoring orders. Her outcome was uncertain. However, his duty was not. Until any sentence is passed, she was part of Newnan. Captain Holloway had an obligation to her, and the rest of the community. If a way presented itself, he was going to jump on it.
Ash walked back out to the Hordebuster, pondering his lack of options on the matter. He opened the driver's side door, pulled out a bottle of water, and took a long drink. Debating his next move, his radio sounded. It was Zoie's voice. And he was pretty sure she had been in the sun for too long.
"Boss, ya think that whole mess we done gone through been that Ragnarok shit they be talkin' about on the history channel? Cause, we got's Vikings at the gate...." Before he could reply, Ash heard James's retort,
"I'll just cover from here. Moment we're in the clear, one a y'all's sending me up a replacement. We cool?" Mild irritation flashed across Ashton's face, both at the new wrinkle in their day and James taking liberties with his speech. Still, he made a point. James was the best shot they had left, after Alicia. Best man to be in that tower, but he was due for relief. Vikings at the gate. That was a new one. It was a potentially dangerous novelty that had to be addressed. Ash spoke into his walkie in clear, decisive tones,
"Yeah James, 'we cool'. I'll be at the gate presently." Ash stood atop the gate post, next to Zoie, looking down at the women assembled below. Before he spoke, Ash looked to Zoie. He scanned the lady's face for any glimmer of recognition of these new people. Seeing blank confusion, he came to the deduction that the women below them were likely not from Eden. Earlier description had Edenites as fanatics, serving under a charismatic and sadistic leader that, like many cult leaders of the past, demanded conformity. To look at them, Ash figured that if someone told these women to conform, they'd respond with rude gestures and rectal trauma.
He had heard frantic screaming on the way up. Something about medicine. By the time Ash had ascended the rampart, all had gone quiet, like they were waiting on something to happen. Ash's guess: they were waiting on him.
"Who speaks for your group?"
Bridgette Vinters
Location: Smokey Road, Southwest of Newnan, At Newnan Gates
Interacting With: Astrid, Bryn, The Assholes On The Wall
Bridgette supposed that if she'd lost a hand and had the stump burned shut, she'd scream like it was Buy One, Get One Free Day at Crazy Edd's Dark Chocolate and Pelvic Massage Emporium (now with espresso bar), too. The fact that she didn't pass out after both stages of the roadside operation was nothing short of impressive. Now that they were all fit to travel and the Biters were distracted, it was time to hoof it. Literally.
Cadence seemed to know what was about to happen, instinctively taking deep breaths and flaring his nostrils. This buzz of emotion and urgency in the air meant that the noble horse was about to make a charge, whether toward an enemy or away notwithstanding. The horse's intuition proved correct.
"Brig, take point!" "On it, Sis." she responded flatly. It was time to go to work.
Bridgette reigned her horse back up the road and took off at a gallop. It was open road, mostly, except for a couple of stragglers a little ways up. The purpose of running point, in the manner they often did, was so that the swifter rider could reasonably assure a path for their wagon. In this instance, it made certain that zero dead people were around to slow the progress of their belongings nor their new guests. She took this job seriously. Sometimes though, just sometimes, she really enjoyed it.
The charging warrior maiden brought her spear close in and slid it into a cavalry spear carrier attached to her animal's tack. Ordinarily a difficult maneuver while riding, practice had taught Bridgette that all she needed do was bring the shaft of her weapon along her forearm and point her elbow down. Gravity handled the rest. She still had a readily available spear, but more importantly, a free hand. She used her free hand to draw out her
axe, making herself available to perform sweeping attacks without having to break stride.
It was then that she heard the mechanical growl of a motorcycle engine pull up alongside her. The horse didn't seem to mind the extra noise or the company. Batgirl (as that was the name she chose, due to a lack of formal introduction) had apparently decided to take point with her. New experience, but what the hell? It was time to clear the road.
Bridgette spotted a lone Biter in the road just ahead. She looked to her vanguard buddy with eyes twinkling, a look of nigh sadistic glee splitting her face with a cheshire grin. She urged Cadence faster. Now, an attack at this speed with a spear ran the risk of snagging a bone and damaging the weapon, or more likely, wrenching it from her grasp. It was a calculated risk usually taken by one with more than a single spear at their disposal. The axe, though... sacrificing vastly superior range, it was far less likely to lose itself at higher speeds. Leaning from the horse just a bit, Bridgette cleanly removed the top of the corpse's skull as she passed by, its dark cerebral ichors splatting across the blacktop even as its skullcap spun upon the road like a gruesome top. This was the stuff she lived for.
Bridgette paused three or four times to make sure that Astrid and the wagon were still rolling forward. Not a true pause, mind you, more of a substantial lessening of equine velocity to give Astrid & Co. an opportunity to close some of the distance. One of those pauses, the last one, had Bridgette catching sight of the walls.
These were different from the walls they had spotted all that time ago. Farther out, different construction - and damaged. A sigh escaped her lips. Had they come this way for nothing? Was this opportunity for safety more bullshit in a broken world? Hell, if they did set foot inside the damaged walls and the horde caught up with them, would those walls just box them in? No, this was a massive risk. Too massive to just play it on faith.
Then another thought came to her: That truck had to come from somewhere. And it had to go
to somewhere. The recent storm may very well have damaged those walls just recently - if there was a viable community still inside, they would have a Plan B. They might have time to restore the downed section, maybe something basic with cars propping it up until the horde could be dealt with. The people inside Newnan, if indeed there were any, would have to be warned. Especially with down walls. They needed to know just as much as Bridgette and the others needed to be inside.
Ok, decision made. They check it out. If there aren't people there, they move on to their own Plan B and return to Fairburn, dig up their supplies, and hole up. It wasn't ideal, obviously.
Bridgette rummaged through her pack and brought out a plain white t-shirt. She tied it to the head of her spear, just above the wings and below the blade proper, and hefted it to flap in the breeze. Parley flag. Lovely word, no matter what the Pirates of the Caribbean had to say about it. She took a few moments to wait for the wagon to catch up fully, and the group entered the Newnan Settlement by means of the downed wall to the south.
Fast forward through the next few awkward moments, the sudden outburst of the redhead in the wagon and the whimpering of the recently hand-depreciated lady. Desperation sounded in the redhead's voice. In Bridgette's opinion, desperation was not the best way to start off a negotiation. This looked like it was going to be exactly that, negotiation. Damnit.
If she were being honest, Bridgette's own skills on the negotiating table weren't much better. Dropping any pretense of meaningful discourse with civilized people worried about offending one another, she untied the t-shirt from her spear and tucked it away. At that moment, another head appeared from behind the wall, next to the lady with the impressive southern drawl. He looked a lot like that guy from the first Terminator movie, she mentally noted, the whiny protagonist.
"Who speaks for your group?" he asked. His tone was direct and no-nonsense.
"Look duder, you got a bigass problem here." started Bridgette. She supposed she was speaking for the group, at least for the moment.
"Some big diesel Dumptrain managed to piss off more Biters than I've seen together, ever, and they're coming up the road right fucking now. Girly-girl here got bit and had to have a lumberjack handectomy. We're all about to have a real bad day." There was a glimmer of recognition in the man's face when Bridgette said Big Diesel Dumptrain, followed by what looked like annoyance. Yeah, that truck came from here.
"We've already had a 'real bad day', Miss. Lot worse then than losing a hand and having to run." The man's voice had a tinge of anger and sorrow, mostly the latter. These people had lost something today, and were remarkably high strung for all their efforts to seem sarcastic and nonchalant.
"I'll be real open with you. We've already dealing with one horde today. Had to repel an attack by the living too, so your arrival right now is suspect. I've got no reason to trust you and a couple says it'd be smart not to. You need to convince me otherwise." Rising anger took Bridgette.
"Goddamnit, aren't you listening? Lemme "Army of Darkness" this for you: THE DEADITES ARE COMING! They were a half hour behind us. We set a house on fire to distract them, but we're not sure how long they're going to give a fuck. Look, you have enemies, and you have losses. You need people like us to survive, and we need walls if we're going to make it through the fucking hour." The man seemed unimpressed. His gaze rose to the horizon, at the line of smoke in the distance.
"Well, that explains that." he quietly intoned, and looked back at the women below. He said nothing else for a moment, regarding the situation. Mulling it over. It seemed a little less likely that they were affiliated with those who had done them harm earlier. If their story was true, as supported by the smoke in the distance, that would put them far away from the fighting when all hell broke loose. His outer visage didn't give the impression of thought, though. From people who didn't know the man, it looked more like he was stonefaced waiting for the next thing to happen, without intent of adding anything new to the conversation.
Bridgette wasn't having it.
"Fuck this. We don't have time for this bullshit, and I'm sure as hell not sticking around for Walldick up there to make up his mind and tell us we're not welcome. I hope the Biters eat him cockfirst and complain it's a small fucking meal." She reared her horse around, intent on leaving the potential deathtrap before the horde rounded the bend and noticed them.
"Come on, girls. There's another place we can try. Fuck these guys." "Blood." he monotoned. It was enough to halt the shieldmaiden. She turned her head to show that she was listening. He continued,
"That's the cost of entry. You all will submit to blood typing, and make yourselves available to donate if called upon. That's condition one." Bridgette turned her horse around. Unexpected, but okay.
"What's condition two?" "Two, you lose any firearms you have with you. Put them in the wagon, submit to a search. You will be at the end of a scope at all times, and guarded besides, until I feel I can trust you. Good so far?" Bridgette nodded. There was some defiance in the motion, but it was an act of acquiescence. Fury mixed with resignation, if you will. They needed those walls.
"I will speak to my people. If they convince me that further precautions should be imposed, they will be imposed. If it's too much for you to cope with, you are free to leave." He looked the women again, pausing to lock eyes with each one of them.
"My name is Ash. Captain Ashton Holloway, formerly of the United States Army Corps of Engineers. If you can agree to the conditions set, we will receive you. Welcome to Newnan." Bridgette turned Cadence around and began a slow ride toward the gate. She paused just long enough to toss her packs and shotgun into the back of the wagon Astrid was leading and meet her gaze. She was wary. This guy Ash didn't trust them, and that road ran both ways. But so far the conditions weren't unbearable. The wall of corpses coming at them limited their time and options in that time. This was their best choice, given the circumstances, but they each had to make up their own minds about it.
"Hell, I'm in if you are, Astrid." Bridgette said quitely. She nudged her destrier forward.
Welcome to Newnan.
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Zman
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Fetzen
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Lady Absinthia
