Ash Holloway
Location: Building A (Ash's Home) -> Main Gate, Southern Outer Wall
The cold white-grey of another morning had dawned upon Newnan. Today held promise, though - for the hardships they had to face over the past year, today was a cause for celebration. For the first time since the world turned itself inside out, Ash was to bear sanctioned witness to a wedding. They hadn't a proper Chaplain, so the task of officiating the ceremony was the Commanding Officer of the base, such as it was. Naturally, that meant the task fell to Cap'n Ash.
On the one hand, he was looking forward to performing an official function that had nothing to do with sending out scavenging teams, keeping work groups on task, or ordering the death of others by combat or misadventure. While they had been scraping out a living far better than they would have out on the road, they were still a people struggling. This onset of nasty weather was not good for their collective morale, either. In short, Newnan needed this wedding. Probably just as much as those two needed each other.
On the other hand, their stores has run out of coffee almost two months ago, and Ash was not happy about it.
Ash rolled out of his bed and hit the floor knuckles first. He fired off a fluid series of straining pushups and immediately turned over into an equally daunting set of crunches. When his muscles felt like they were burning, he turned back over and resumed pushups, approximately half of his original set. The point was exercise, not draining the tank completely. It was likely to be a long day. With no coffee to start said day with, as well.
He couldn't stress that point enough. Damned apocalypse.
The next twenty minutes saw his morning rituals completed. Ash clung to his background of military discipline now more than ever, and part of that was zipping through morning constitutionals and dressing in a manner that normal men and women thought impossible without the aid of powerful pharmaceuticals or superpowers. A light breakfast of leftover cornbread and roasted peanuts was followed by a pint of a thick, brown fermentation that, while not the greatest tasting beverage ever, was filling and nutritious. Plus, if he couldn't start his morning with coffee, beer was the next best thing.
Ash dressed smartly in grey ACU Class B's with black, tactical undershirt. It was the same style he generally wore, including an ever-present patrol cap bearing his old insignia of rank. The weather was still inclement enough to warrant something heavier than his standard jacket. With some hesitation, he removed a coat from the standing coatrack next to his front door. It was a much older styled, rich brown leather flight jacket, trimmed with tan fleece. Age had mottled the color slightly; some might say it had character. He had some reservations in putting it on, but it was, without doubt, the best option he had for the freezing weather outside. It belonged to a WWII pilot named McCormick, once upon a time. Ash pushed his hand inside the top breast pocket, feeling the cold but comforting surface of smooth metal. He removed the pieces from his pocket and stared into his hand. They were the silver oak leaves of the original commanding officer of the Newnan Safe Zone, Lieutenant Colonel Leann McCormick.
So many had died. His ascension to running this place happened in much the same way he was promoted from Lieutenant to Captain: People died, and they were left with no better option. Maybe, deep down, Ash was still just a Lieutenant. He preferred field work to administration, preferred beating a direct path to solve problems over bureaucracy. A few people in Newnan urged him to affix Leann's oak leaves to his cap and lapel as soon as he took over, but he didn't feel quite right doing it then. It seemed insulting to her memory somehow. He earned Lieutenant. Had the responsibility of Captain thrust upon him - but it was done through channels. It was his opinion that, unless granted to him by a higher authority, he was no Colonel.
But he
was in charge here. These people were his responsibility, like it or not. And until someone he could trust who was better qualified than himself came along, he would continue to push down his crazy and get the job done.
First things first. Ash intended to continue his morning calisthenics by running a circuit around the secondary wall, getting in his cardio while simultaneously eyeballing the physical status of the physical reason Newnan still stood. He buckled on his utility belt containing radio and personal weapons, tightened the laces on his boots and stepped outside, feeling the buffeting wind of the season drive into his exposed face. Considering the weather, he reached back inside and grabbed a pair of black, wraparound sunglasses, locked his door, and jogged out into the snow. He could smell aromatic woods being burned in addition to the aroma of animal fat vaporizing, indicating that Black James had indeed beat him out of the door that morning. Well, good on him.
Ash had gotten about five good steps away from his front door before being stopped by his radio.
"Boss... you need to get up here... Now." Jim always did bring him the most interesting news. Might as well take his jog south.
"Heard. In route." The Captain checked his sidearm, slung his machete across his back, and made for Jim's Tower on the Wall.
When he reached the main gate and ascended the stairs, Jim leaned in to Ash, whispering something with no small amount of urgency. Ash lost the stern, granite look he commonly assumed when dealing with new people. Just for a moment, a look of pure, confounding shock crossed his features. He didn't bother asking questions - two very important facts could be ascertained by this new arrival: She had to get inside, and he and James needed to see this, immediately.
"Jim, admit this lady at once." He pitched his voice a bit louder so that their guest could hear,
"My name is Captain Ashton Jameson Holloway, formerly of the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers. Please come inside, and leave all weapons inside of your... ...vehicle. We are painfully out of coffee in the meantime, but you can find shelter here. And I have a lot of questions." Ash spoke into his radio, trying to keep his voice casual.
"James? James, I'm going to need your assistance with something. Please meet us at the Gate asap."
Black James(!)
Location: The Hordebuster, Building 4 Parking Lot -> Main Gate, Southern Outer Wall
James had been awake before dawn. He knew what today was special, and he had so many more to prepare for than he ordinarily would have a few months ago. Time would be growing short soon enough.
The bombastic southern Hogger cracked his door open just enough to get a keen and painful view of the weather, prompting a direct utterance of
"Naw, that's a whole boot full of Fuck and That." James wasn't a big fan of cold weather, one of the reasons he rarely ventured too far north unless he absolutely had to. No, James shut the door smartly, tore into his cold weather clothes, and layered on a thick pair of tan Carhartt coveralls. He drew the hood up over his head and pulled the strings on either side until the front only showed his eyes and most of his nose, and shoved his cowboy hat down on top of the whole awkward setup. Like hell he was going to freeze his nuts off in the small hours of a frozen February predawn morning. He might look goofy, but that was one man who was keeping the frost off of himself.
He spent the first bit of his waking hours gathering what he needed to get his part of one hell of a wedding feast together, and in hindsight was exceptionally glad that he convinced Ash to run Newnan on slightly reduced rations in preparation for this day. They would have a feast, all right. James just hoped that these everyone liked sausage and grits, whole roast hog, and fried yam dumplings. Basically, the same ingredients they had to work with before, but in elevated amounts and prepared in different ways. Work with what you had, keep everyone fed. Sometimes, you even get to make people happy.
James had to peel back two of the three pair of gloves he sandwiched over his wide fingers to better light and manipulate his extra large smoker, but he got it done - bitching about the bitter weather all the while. It wasn't until he got a really good stock of heat going that he felt comfortable enough removing his gloves entirely and bringing down his hood. With his stetson now comfortably perched atop his head, the open and jolly blackneck began to hum a little tune, eventually breaking into song while dealing with the pork and deer forcemeats over his low but hot fire.
"Oooh baby... gonna work my sausagey magic with you... like nobody knooooooooow. Yeah, yeah, yeah... Gonna get my meeeat a'burnin', oh baby. (That means two things!) Aw, baby you know, you got ta got-ta got-ta got-ta.." His inexpert and oft painful singing was cut off by Ash's voice over the radio, urging him to come to the gate. Funny, he must have missed the gruff man pass by earlier, else he was off finding scraps of fragrant woods and/or booze at the time (for cooking purposes, mind you) and wasn't precisely at his smoker.
"James? James, I'm going to need your assistance with something. Please meet us at the Gate asap." "It's 'cause I'm black, isn't it?" James sarcastically responded, also trying to keep a casual voice despite the ever widening grin on his face.
"...damnit... Yes Mr. Grady, it's because you're black." quipped back Ash with equal amounts of sarcasm and impatience. Nevertheless, he tried to keep his voice even.
"Please move your ass." "Aw, shit. Breaking out the Mr. Grady on me. Aight, sorry boss. Be there in a minute." By the time he actually got there, James was speechless.
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