It had only taken what seemed like a minute to get as far back into the store as they had but, once the screams had started (both the one that rose from Amber and the ones that shrieked from the zombies), the passage of time had slid back into that thick, sluggish, oozing of surrealism and making it back to the front of the demolished Treasure Island Foods felt as if it had taken a lifetime… a lifetime that, when he thought about it, should have ended for all of them somewhere amidst the darkened aisles and rotting groceries…

Stupid, he cursed himself as he took a fraction of a second to skim the scene near the checkout lanes and then cast a glance back at where the cracking and splintering sounds were coming from the back of the store, I should’ve never opened my mouth in that basement? What made me think that dying out here was better than wasting away back there? We can’t even gather supplies… can’t keep everyone together… gets worse every time we run into these things…
Father Ted still stood firm, his elephant gun at the ready, near the limp and still unconscious form of Mac and the upturned wheelbarrow that had dumped the bounty hunter onto the floor. He saw Emily in the parking lot, looking perhaps even paler than he’d remembered her being moments ago, a wisp of smoke still curling from the barrel of the .357 in her hand and dissipating in the air before it reached her shocked face…

“Amber?” he asked no one in particular as he righted the wheelbarrow and hesitantly leaned his shotgun against it… I know she ran… I heard her run… As Murph stooped, took hold of Mac, and hauled the man as best he could back into his makeshift litter, his gaze caught the faint shake of Ted’s head and followed the Reverend’s eyes as they turned towards the street outside. The mechanic’s stomach sank and he scowled as he understood Ted’s unspoken report… She ran too far. Dammit! Dammit, dammit, dammit!
Situating Mac in the wheelbarrow, Murph nodded his thanks to the preacher as he heard Alaster’s footsteps crunching from the store, then, as he laid the shotgun across the bounty hunter so it would be easily accessible while he was pushing the man down the street, Murph glanced toward the back of the store and the source of those foreboding cracking and crunching sounds. “Let’s beat feet, Padre,” he grimaced, taking hold of the barrow’s handles and started for the exit, “Sounds like those things aren’t gonna be held back for much longer…”

((Assuming Ted follows or leads the way out, of course… any interaction here?))

Murph had just gotten the wheelbarrow into the parking lot, was moving towards Emily and had gotten the words ‘Doin’ okay, Doc’ out when he heard it…

“…You killed Joshua! How dare you!? You’ll pay! I’ll make you pay!”

The mechanic’s gaze abandoned Emily, who, other than appearing a bit shocked and horrified, seemed to be uninjured, and swung up the street… Alaster, with his shotgun at the ready, was running towards where Amber was swinging her hatchet wildly at a sword-wielding, armor-clad man with one hand while the other clung to what looked like a child’s body that she had hoisted onto her hip… Oh… Jesus… Oh no…
“S#!^,” Murph cursed aloud, his eyes darting to Emily and Ted as he turned the wheelbarrow north and (probably unnecessarily) said, “C’mon… let’s go…”

The guy with the sword and shield seemed to be trying to talk to Amber even as he defended himself from her attacks and, once, even turned to look in their direction to shout; “This way! Come on!...”

There was more but Murph couldn’t quite comprehend it as he was busy trying to move as fast as he could with the wheelbarrow and making sure that Emily and Father Ted were keeping up. After one of those glances back, though, Murph heard Alaster’s voice join the screeching that was coming from Amber and turned his eyes back to see the carpenter with his shotgun trained on the knight…

“What the hell have you done! Did you hurt her?! I swear to God if you harmed her I'm going to break your legs so Murph can have all the time in the world to do what he wants with you!”

Is the kid seriously going after another survivor? What the hell is wrong with that boy?
“Motherf*****,” Murph growled, his panic and his disappointment with not having been able to get this small group anywhere safer any faster than he had mixed in his gut and boiled into an exasperated anger. His jaw clenched as he set the wheelbarrow down and, without looking back at Ted or Emily, he took up his SLP, grumbled something to them about grabbing the makeshift stretcher and staying on his heels, and then charged up the street towards the human-on-human fracas. As he ran, a question Father Ted had asked him not long ago replayed in his mind… How were you planning on saving these poor unfortunate souls?

Well, he snarled inwardly as he got within arm’s reach of Alaster, starting right now, the plan is to make sure they all f***in’ listen… whether they like it or not…
“Hurt her,” the knight was retorting indignantly when Murph reached them, “I just saved her life and she attacks me!”

For the moment, Murph ignored the short, mail-clad man and Amber… Alaster was closer and, to Murph’s way of thinking at the moment, deserved the most attention. One of Murph’s hands closed on Alaster’s shoulder and started to spin the younger man around as the mechanic’s other hand dropped the SLP, balled into a fist, and as the carpenter’s somewhat surprised eyes met with his, launched with furious quickness… “I’ve had it with your s#!^, Alaster! How about you sit down and shut your g**damn mouth just once!” The force of the punch as it landed, dead center in his face, closed Alaster’s wide eyes for a second and staggered him backwards. “What the f*** is wrong with you, anyway?!”

Murph was glad he dropped the shotgun, at that moment, because, had he not, he very well might have shot the kid as opposed to just punching him in the face. He wanted, more than anything to read Alaster the riot act for all of the random, back-and-forth, knucklehead crap the kid had said and done since they’d left O’Brian’s basement… wanted to let him know that here and now was where it stopped, or, by God, Murph would kill the boy before this city-full of shrieking freaks got to him… but, in his mind (and possibly from somewhere even closer), Murph heard those unearthly wails, saw those flashes of movement that had come close to being the death of them all more than once, already, and, in the periphery of his vision, saw Amber still slashing madly away at the knight… so, he abandoned the ass-whipping he was about to hand the unbalanced carpenter and turned his attentions to the hysterical woman…

“Amber!” He wasn’t gentle when he called her name this time… gentle wasn’t going to crack the manic frenzy that had fallen over her… and the tone of his voice was bolstered by his bearing and the determined look in his eyes when he interposed himself (possibly stupidly) between her and the sword-wielding man… “Amber! Stop!”

((OOC: Okay… ummmm… I guess that’s as far as I dare go for now. Murph will do his best to intercept Amber’s next swing of the axe (preferably when she’s drawing back to swing again as opposed to when it’s on the “business stroke”) and continue to try and get past her hysteria by talking to her as he does (“C’mon, Amber… this guy’s trying to help!”, “That’s not, Joshua…”, “Baby, please!”, that sort of thing)… If that doesn’t work… well, much as Murph and I both would hate to do it, Amber’ll get slapped back to reality herself… or knocked smooth out and slung over a shoulder if that’s what it takes… No time to play around about this as far as Murph’s concerned and, quite frankly, he’s sick and tired of the way things have been going. *nods* You want ruthless and detached? There’s the start… ))

Until Tom stepped into her plane of vision and firmly shouted her name she had only seen the passionate red of anger and grief that was now and then flashed with a bright light as the hatchet she swung hit the shield stopping it from reaching its goal.

“Amber! Stop!” His voice seared through the hysteria for a moment and she looked at his face, flushed, covered in sweat and blood, his eyes fixed intently on her seemingly panicked slightly and concerned under their outward firm resolve. A mixture that was manifesting itself as anger.

The swing of the hatchet stopped above her shoulder for a moment and briefly her dark eyes flashed with some understanding that she was not being rational. Pain surged up her right leg as that realization tried to take hold, and the body in her arms suddenly expressed its weight.

Not just a body... Joshua... Joshua Allen Klein
Her eyes pulled off Tom's only long enough to catch the dark curls pressed close to her cheek and rationality began to slip again.

"No! Get out of my way Tom!" Her arm tightened further around the tiny limp body and she started to bring her other arm back into the arc it had started before. "Out of my way or I'll take you down too, I swear to God!"

Heartsick, Murph watched Amber’s hold on the dead toddler tighten as she glanced at the dark curls that hung from it’s tiny skull… he knew what she was thinking… understood how she had been led to think it… and tried not to think it, himself… That’s not Joshua… Please, God, don’t let it be him…
When her dark eyes came back to his, he offered her a faint shake of his head in response to her threat. “You do what you need to do,” he said flatly, “I’m not movin’, Amber… I’m not lettin’ you do this… to him or yourself…” Murph’s mind registered the backswing on the hatchet even if his eyes never left Amber’s face and, nearly as quickly as he could think it, he caught her arm before it could release that chambered strike, and held it tight.

She gave him a half hearted struggle for control of the weapon, but her strength was waning. Her arm stopped locked in his grip midair.

“Listen to me,” he almost growled the words as he stepped in closer to her, doing his best to keep the axe from swinging… he didn’t want to but, just then, he made himself look into the pitiful face of the toddler that she carried – he had to be sure before he said anything more…

She followed his gaze. The boy's head swiveled back lifelessly and revealed the flushed and slightly bloated face. His eyes were closed, blood gathered at the edges of his lips and puss gathered in creases in his chubby cheeks.

“That’s not our Joshua, baby,” he insisted, his tone a bit softer but no less firm, “This man didn’t kill our Joshua…”

Tears boiled up in her eyes as her fingers relaxed and let the hatchet fall out of her grip. Letting it fall aimlessly like she had the crowbar earlier in the day. Using what strength she had left she pulled her arm free of his grip and supported the toddler's head, pulling him closer as she closed her eyes and placed a tender kiss to the corpse's forehead.

“Mine... he's always been mine... my Joshua...” her voice lowered from the murderous hysteria it had held a moment before and fell towards pitiful grief.

As Amber let go of the hatchet and the tears in her eyes welled in her eyes, Murph, too, fought against the anguish of the moment. The perceived loss and the all too real grief that exuded from her in heart-wrenching waves crashed into and around him as he relinquished his grip and, for just a moment, let her cradle the twice-dead toddler; his own hands held open and away from her to show that he wasn’t going to try to snatch the kid from her or anything. His lower lip trembled a bit as he watched her, and his eyes stung more than a little as he tried to hold his own tears at bay… even if the pathetic little thing in her arms wasn’t truly her son, Murph imagined, Amber needed this moment to tell the boy she was sorry… that she missed him… that she loved him… whatever she needed to say and do to get her to a point where she might at least try to listen to him.

“Okay,” he conceded after a moment, his tone softer still, “Okay. Yours. You’re right, Amber… Josh is yours… always has been… always will be… but,” he swallowed a lump in his throat and allowed his hands to move toward her again… one tentatively (but, still, warmly) coming to rest on her shoulder and gently pulling her closer to him as the other hand – and he almost shivered when it happened – found it’s way to the toddler’s head and forlornly, almost apologetically, stroked the dark curls that hung from it, “But this… this isn’t Josh, Amber…

…It looks like him, I know… But it isn’t, baby… I promise you it’s not…”

God, please… tell me it’s not, he begged even as he continued to reel Amber and the dead boy in, don’t let me be lying to her, now… not over this…
“Come here,” he continued, his voice softening even more, now, as his arm wrapped around her and the other slipped from the toddler’s head to cradle the limp thing’s back. The tears were harder to hold back, now, as he held Amber and the dead boy just as he had held Jenny and Mickey close to him just before he deployed… like a family… “I want you to look at him, Amber,” he almost whispered, then, “really look at him, okay? And you’ll see that this is not Joshua… Do those look like clothes you ever bought him? Do those look like anything he had at your brother’s house…”

Murph was hoping against hope that the answers would be ‘no’…

Murph would get the answer he hoped for but not in the way he had hoped for it. Reality had begun to unravel when the riots had broken out and it was getting harder and harder to grasp ahold of the frayed edges. Besides, what if the insanity was easier to deal with?

Tom was holding her and the child, as Daniel should have. Tom had never even met her son and yet he seemed to care more about the boy than his real father had. But... but something was wrong about the situation, because Tom was trying to convince her that the child in her arms was not Josh. She listened to the arguments. The answers that came to mind when he did tied her closer to reality, and told her that he was probably right. But reality was a dark coarse cloth that held so little hope and even less answers.

Willfully she let that tenuous grasp on the truth slip. Tears spilled down her cheeks as she shook her head. "No... no..."

One of the arms wrapped around the boy let go of him to push Tom back. "No... you can't take him from me. He came back to me out of the shadows... I won't let you take him from me. Mine I tell you."

Stepping back from him she held onto the body tightly and fixed her dark raved eyes on everyone that had gathered around, no doubt being the center of attention now. "None of you will." She said firmly.

Her next move was to bend down, grabbing her bag by the strap and hauling it up over her free shoulder, and then with sensibility that was too complete (and perhaps more frightening therefore) considering the fact that she was now carrying a dead toddler in her arms turned and started walking in the direction the knight had suggested they go. She limped slightly as she went, favoring her right leg and leaving a bloody foot print on pavement as she went. The hatchet gleamed in the patch of sunlight she had found, left behind with a few other items that spilled out of her bag when she fell.

Pushed away.

Again, Murph thought as Amber shoved him back.

She had started to come back, he thought, at one point… seemed to understand that what he had told her was truth… but, she didn’t want to hold on to the reality of it any longer than it took to see it for what it was. Right now, none of his talking would matter… nothing he could do would matter. Right now, Amber needed this escape from one nightmare into another, for some reason, and it was going to take more time than they had to convince her otherwise. After she told them in no uncertain terms that no one would be taking the child from her, Murph watched her gather up her things, situate the lifeless toddler on her hip, and start to walk away…

Story of my life, he sighed inwardly, watching her for a moment…

At least she’s movin’, Sarge. That’s somethin’…
…Murph’s gaze fell away from Amber and found her hatchet where it had been dropped at his feet. Yeah… somethin’, he answered through the sick sludge of memories from another life that overlapped the surreal moments of this one… He stooped to retrieve the axe…

C’mon, Sarge… don’t let that crap start gettin’ to ya, now… I mean…what? Did ya think there was gonna be some kinda ‘ride off into the sunset’ moment comin’ outta all this?
…He turned, then, and reached for where he’d dropped the SLP. I don’t know what I thought, he replied, his gaze flicking back to Amber, momentarily, as he shouldered the shotgun…

S#!^! You’ll be lucky if any of you make it til sunset. Forget any kinda ridin’ into it…
Tom Murphy’s eyes found the others, one by one, then… Father Ted, Emily, Mac, Alaster… then, flicked back towards the grocery store for an instant before coming back to the ‘knight’ who had appeared to rescue Amber from the tiny zombie she now carried. “My people need some quiet,” he said simply, forgoing any introductions or other pleasantries for the moment, “If you know some place we can do that, lead on…” he gestured towards the retreating woman with the twice-dead boy at her hip. “If not, we’re headin’ for the harbor and you’re welcome to come along…”

((OOC: Figure that Murph will take the wheelbarrow back, at this point, and either follow the Knight to whereever he was planning on going or, per the groups most recent plan, continue on to the harbor... And so long as no one tries to interfere with her taking the corpse along Amber will follow quietly.))

“My people need some quiet,” said the man who intercepted the hatchet and brought order to this group. He had slugged the man who threatened him (well deserved too) and then talked calm to the crazy woman with the dead child. Poor dude Brian thought, Saddled with a bunch of lunatics in a crazy world . He (Tom. Brian was sure he heard Tom) continued to speak, “If you know some place we can do that, lead on…” he gestured towards the retreating woman, “If not, we’re headin’ for the harbor and you’re welcome to come along…”

"Harbour eh?. Excellent idea, at least it worked for Athens. I'm a stranger here so I'll take your lead - I don't know my way aboot so just point the way eh. The name's Brian by the way. Thanks for the offer Tom."

The short man said watching the woman wandering off. He wanted to warn this Tom about the danger of forming attachments right now and how he would probably have to leave the injured and loony toonies behind, but something in his eyes made Brian hold his tongue. Time enough later, for Brian had found some survivors and that was a good thing.

Alaster lay on the ground where he had fallen back after the powerful hit of the mechanic had launched him from his right footing. Thr browning lay a foot or two away from his body.

Alaster continued to lay throughout the fight. He remembered hearing the screamings that it was her son Joshua and the pleadings from Murph trying to snap Amber back to some sense of reality. Then it had gone quiet and Alaster saw Amber start walking past him the lifeless child clenched in her arms.

"My people need somewhere quiet." That's what Alaster heard from Murph. Yes quiet that is what i need just somwhere quiet.

Alaster was still to stunned to actually move from his spot he had managed to move up on his elbows and held an almost shocked look on his face.

Murphs eyes scanned the small crowd even meeting his own and Alaster looked down to ashamed to even look the mechanic in the eyes. Alaster picked himself up off the ground taking the browning in his hands and loading the last few shells into the gun trying to give his hands something else to do then shake.

The others were slowly moving quietly down the road. We even abandoned our formation. Is this what we have become? Wandering around with no sense?

“Harbour eh? Excellent idea,” the knight replied…

Damn, Murph scowled faintly at that response. He had truly hoped that this guy might know of a safe place that was closer to their present position so the group wouldn’t have to march another two blocks before they had the chance to recuperate.

“…at least it worked for Athens,” the armored man continued, “I'm a stranger here so I'll take your lead - I don't know my way aboot so just point the way eh. The name's Brian by the way. Thanks for the offer Tom.”

“Good to meet you, Brian. Thanks for the assist,” Murph nodded almost absently before gesturing towards where Cornelia Avenue stretched eastward toward Lake Shore Drive and Lake Michigan beyond, “Belmont Harbor’s a couple of blocks that way.”

The mechanic turned, then, and, after a glance and a nod to Ted and Emily where they lingered by the wheelbarrow-borne Mac, took a few steps towards where Alaster still lay on the ground and held out a hand, wordlessly offering to help the kid back to his feet. “Let’s fall in and get our a$$es movin’, people,” he rumbled, turning towards Brian again, “Time’s runnin’ short.

Alaster, here, will be bringing up the rear,” Murph informed the knight, “and I’m tryin’ to keep the unarmed and injured in the middle as we move. If you wanna find a spot in the formation that’ll keep you between them and whatever might come at us, I’d appreciate it…”

The mechanic offered another fractional nod to the troupe’s latest addition, flicked glances around to make sure the others were forming up and ready to move out, then, without another word, jogged off to retrieve Amber who was still wandering northwards up Broadway.

((OOC: Just a little fluffiness for the sake of fluffiness… Hopefully Murph will get Amber back to the party and we’ll be able to get motoring towards the harbor before we get pounced again…If it makes more sense to do so, Murph will push the wheelbarrow and let Father Ted or Alaster take point and have the other at rear-guard as appropriate... Same general marching order as we've been trying to follow, though... More combat ready folks on the "outside" with the infirm and/or temporarily insane in the middle... ))

“Shhh… I know baby… it’s okay though… it’s okay…” Amber whispered in a soft tone to the limp figure in her arms as she rubbed his back.

When Murph’s hand lightly laid itself on her shoulder she paused and looked back at him, eyes loaded with tears. “Amber… this way babe…”

She looked at him a little, hearing the sympathy in his voice, and then nodded. Her feet shifted directions and she slowly started heading to where the rest of their little broken down band was walking.

“Where… where are we going?”

“The harbor, hopefully we can find someplace quiet there to rest up.”

Behind the tears her eyes were growing more and more void. She nodded. “Okay. I… I hurt my leg… my foot…” she paused a moment as her brow furrowed as if she was trying to decide what body part was actually in pain, then gave up with a slight shrug, “when I fell… hurts…”

Amber could read the curse that flashed through Murph’s mind on his face, “Can you make it a few more blocks?”

“I can… it’s not… not that bad… but… Joshua is tired… cold too…” she paused here to turn her lips to the dead child, placing them in another kiss on his forehead, then smoothed her cheek against it, as mother’s will do to check the temperature of their children. “I hope he isn’t sick…”

"I'm sure he'll be fine, baby... we all just need some rest, I think... come on…" she did not have to look into his eyes to see how shattered they were, his voice betrayed him well enough.

Something happened… he was getting so close… now… he’s pulled back…
But her mind refused to focus on what had happened. Instead an easy explanation floated to the top of her thoughts like oil in water.

Jealous. I have Josh back and he’s jealous I can’t give him all my attentions…

Joshua is dead. another, mockingly rational, voice spoke up from the darkness.

She pressed the child even closer, as if to protect him from some illness, or thought, with the proximity of her own body and continued walking in the direction Murph had pointed her in.

Let me have him a little longer… just a little longer please God…

C'mon Em... You're gonna be fine...
She felt a tickling sensation on her neck though, telling her she wasn't, and glanced over her shoulder. The zombie in pursuit was too fast, so without a second thought, she whipped her pistol up and turned, firing; and brains, blood, and other obscenities splattered on the pavement. Emily panted, trying to steady herself, and shook her head, gripping the pistol tightly and closing her eyes to calm down. You're fine, you saved yourself, you're okay. But...

I can't believe nobody tried to stop me from leaving.
She smiled; it wasn't that strange, since they had been attacked, but still. No one had yelled, or anything; she didn't feel guilty. Emily looked at the store idly, then cautiously began heading back. She couldn't hear their undead attackers, so she figured it would be safe enough.

As soon as she got close, she met Murph's gaze and watched him open his mouth, and she squared her shoulders when-

“…You killed Joshua! How dare you!? You’ll pay! I’ll make you pay!”

Emily shivered at the tone of Amber's voice and glanced at Murph, but the mechanic had already turned the wheelbarrow and was dashing to where Amber stood in front of an -OH MY GOD!- knight. She quickly followed, gritting her teeth; Amber looked like she was about to murder the guy, and something was pressed against her...

That's a child! Oh my god, she's got one of those THINGS!
Emily felt bile rising in her, and she tried to distract herself from Amber clinging the child zombie. She zoned out, glancing away, shutting out the conversation between the rest of them.

She's holding it, she's holding it, she's holding it, she's-
“My people need some quiet. If you know some place we can do that, lead on… If not, we’re headin’ for the harbor and you’re welcome to come along…”

Emily glanced at Murph, watching him speaking to the knight, and bit her lip. After meeting that last survivor... Steve?... She was wary of this strange, armor-clad figure. S*&^, she was even getting spooked by HER group, and they were supposedly trying to keep her alive. Em, don't get all crazy, you can't turn into another Amber!
"Harbour eh?. Excellent idea, at least it worked for Athens. I'm a stranger here so I'll take your lead - I don't know my way aboot so just point the way eh. The name's Brian by the way. Thanks for the offer Tom," The knight watched Amber move away, and Emily coughed. Apparently, Murph was just going to let him join them without any question... But she had no reason not to trust him, so she shrugged and turned away from the exchange once more, looking at Mac. He was still silent and unaware of the world around him; Emily smiled coldly, remembering how she had just seconds been willing to leave him for dead. Now, however, seeing him so fragile... She felt a spark of guilt inside her. How could she have just left him and Father Ted to defend themselves?

“Let’s fall in and get our a$$es movin’, people."

Emily coughed once more and looked away from Mac, situating herself a bit closer to the wheelbarrow and the priest. Murph headed off, and Emily shivered a bit, anxious to get moving. She glanced once more at Brian and grimaced slightly, then forced a smile.

"I'm Emily, and I'm kinda the group doctor. If you get hurt, just tell me, and I should be able to patch you up," Her voice was strained, and Emily's eyes dark with mistrust, "And... If you hurt any of the others, I swear, you're gonna regret it. Now's not the time to get all buddy-buddy, so don't plan on it with me. Murph might trust you, but I sure as hell don't, and I won't."

October 26, 2014
Intersection of Broadway and Cornelia - 2:25 PM

No good deed goes unpunished...
Brian undoubtedly saves Amber's life. For this, he is verbally assaulted, has his motives questioned, he is even physically attacked. A sane person might wonder what sort of treatment he would have gotten had he simply avoided the situation and left this group of lunatics to their own devices.

Meanwhile, Murph lays down the law and desperately attempts to maintain some sense of order in the small band of survivors. Father Ted catches up, the unconscious form of Mac still slumped in the wheelbarrow. Shrieks of the damned grow closer, from several directions. A quick consensus is reached to head for the harbor, so the group heads as fast as possible in an eastern direction down Cornelia.

They make it perhaps a half block when the first pair of zombies rounds a corner at the far intersection (Pine Grove). If not for the terror and exhaustion, it might have otherwise been frustrating - only a solitary block remains bewteen that intersection and Lakeshore Drive itself.

A veritable chorus of shrieks sounds from behind you. No zombies are yet visible, but it is obvious that the survivors are being followed, and that the monsters will be here soon.

A glace to your right reveals that one of the smaller apartment buildings on this street has an open door leading to a basement entrance.

"I'm Emily, and I'm kinda the group doctor. If you get hurt, just tell me, and I should be able to patch you up," Her voice was strained, and Emily's eyes dark with mistrust, "And... If you hurt any of the others, I swear, you're gonna regret it. Now's not the time to get all buddy-buddy, so don't plan on it with me. Murph might trust you, but I sure as hell don't, and I won't."
Brian laughed ruefully out loud at Emily statement, “Really! Civilization is gone to hell in a handbasket, creatures are stalking us and you want to make me the enemy? That’s the best you got? You all need to get your priorities straight. I came here to help you in case you missed it. Does the armour bother you? Because it has kept me alive and if mankind manages to put aside their petty misgivings, paranoia and gathers together as a whole again, this armour will become all the fashion rage for the next 20 years!”

“Let’s fall in and get our a$$es movin’, people." Tom called out and Brian fell in at the rear to defend the back.

This is bad, he thought to himself, Very bad. as he watched behind him. The chain mail protected him well but it also slowed him down. When two of them came around the corner, Brian felt confident that he could take them out but the cries told a story of many more coming.

“We need a defensible area Tom! The wounded need to rest!” Brian yelled out. Actually we need to dump the wounded as bait and run but you aren’t ready for that decision yet are you?

The harbor… we are headed to the harbor.

Why?

… Rest? I am tired… he’s getting heavy.

Who?

Joshua.

Are you sure?

Sure he is getting heavy… yes… especially with my leg, he’s getting very heavy.

Sure he’s Joshua?

Who else would I be carrying?
Silence.

They were walking towards Lake Michigan in patches of sunlight that streaked the streets in these passing hours of daylight. Amber bounced the ‘sleeping child’ on her hip slightly as she walked, barely conscious of the instinctual movement. The walk had helped Joshua fall asleep thousands of times over his short life, and perhaps it was working now for she noted that he had not moved much recently.

It was hard to focus on anything for two long. Reality seemed to swim in and out of the sunlight as they got closer and closer to the harbor. They were close though, that much she was sure of. Very close to the water, she could smell it from here and even though things were much too quiet, from Josh and the city, to really make her comfortable the smell was familiar enough to bring a small sense of calm to her nerves.

A calm that was suddenly shattered as two figures moved out before them and the shrieks began behind them.

Her feet stopped. She leaned heavily on her left leg, the right was still sending messages of pain, and adjusted the child in her arms to get a more secure grip on him. Seconds ticked by as she stood in the middle of the street grasping at the loose edges of sanity and rational thought.

Deep down it registered that she simply could not handle facing more of them today. What they were exactly she was having difficulties putting her finger on, not that she tried too hard because she knew she wouldn’t like the answer.

There had to be an alternative to dealing with them. Her dark eyes scoured the area and finally fixed on a door. It was draped in shadows, but she had to think of more than just herself right now. Calmly she started her feet in motion again and began walking toward the door.

“Come on babe… we should just take a little break in here…”

This is all comin’ apart at the seams, Murph thought, trying for just a brief second to not think about the insanity of the whole situation but, despite those best efforts, finding himself unable to think about anything else… They hadn’t been out of O’Brian’s cellar for more than a few hours and already Jake was dead… undead… whatever… Mac might as well be… Alaster, it seemed, couldn’t make up his mind whether or not he even wanted to live or die and Amber… Amber had lost her damn mind and was lugging around a dead kid she thought was her own son… and everyone else seemed to be looking to him for answers that he had no clue how to give… And the way they keep snipin’ at each other, Sarge, it wouldn’t do no good to give ‘em… Comin’ apart at the seams…
Murph sighed and cast a look back over the rag-tag party as they trudged along toward Belmont Harbor, wondering what he would finally have to do to get them out of this mess… wondering what survival would cost… wondering, now, if it had even been worth it to come out of that basement… and when he turned his gaze back in the direction of Lakeshore and the harbor beyond, he came really close to doubting that it had been worth it at all. A pair of zombies had just appeared at the intersection with Pine and effectively put another speedbump in the party’s path… shrieks from behind told him, too, that the bunch that had been mercifully held back at the grocery store had managed to get themselves free and were likely not far behind…

“F#*^!” Murph cursed not so much under his breath as without it. There was no way in hell these people were going to make it… There’s no way in hell any of you are going to make it… not without fighting through another wave of those things… “Ain’t no way…” He held the shotgun at the ready and stopped in his tracks, turning to look at the others behind him…

“We need a defensible area, Tom,” the Knight called out, “The wounded need to rest!”

Voice of reason, right there, Sarge…
Murph nodded, his gaze sweeping the immediate area in hopes of finding just such a place. Not many options… nothing looking better than anything else… His eyes slid nervously back towards the undead duo up the street and then towards the shrieks that drew nearer from the other end, trying to decide what their safest bet might be… and Amber made the decision for them in that second and a half as she absently limped towards the open door of an apartment building that he’d noted as an option just a moment ago…

“Everybody inside,” he said, pointing towards the doorway, “keep an eye out and keep it quiet… we’re finding a place to settle for while…”

((OOC: Sorry… been a killer couple weeks… Anyhoo… Let’s head inside the “obvious choice” of the apartment building… Recommend armed folk taking point and bringing up the rear as we file in… folks in front bash the brains out of any Zed that may pop out, folks in the back keeping us covered until we’re all inside… then, find a suitable shack, barricades ourselves in, and take a breather…))

'Well this just sucks' Alaster had thought to himself. 'A few hours ago we were bickering about whether to leave or not, and now Amber is "gone" one man is dead another two injured. We have possibly mental paitent in armor. Which isn't a bad thing fits with our group. I'm not sure what to do. Maybe I should have stayed at the bar. At least I would be to drunk to feel the bites.'

Alaster watched murph reposition himself and head towards an abandoned building as the roars of more zombie freaks entransed the quiet street from the rear and the point.

"Dear God almighty in heaven what are we going to do?" Al had said only loud enough that he could make sure that he wasn't completely numb to the effects. Alaster positioned himself at the rear. It was his place the back behind everyone else hoping he could still help. No time to think though from all directions it seemed that every zombie in the tri state area was closing in. And we didn't have ammo enough for that. Time to just shut the hell up and do what you gotta do Al.

October 26, 2014
Cornelia - 2:26 PM

The unearthly howls spawn echoes and replies from the surrounding neighborhood, leading to a bloodcurdling, unholy crescendo of screams from the damned. All orderly thought flees in the face of this terror, of this certain death - or fate even worse than it.

The wearied group of survivors makes for the open door in the middle of the block. There is no more discussion, there is no plan. That portal, uncertain though it may be, it the only possible hope for survival. Perhaps the door can be barred. Perhaps there is some other way out. Perhaps...

The survivors run for it as best they can, while more and more of the creatures take up the cry. A trickle of sprinting zombies gives way first to a tide, then a flood that no force could hope to withstand...




>>>End<<<