October 26, 2014
O'Brian's Pub - 11:45 AM

With the decision made, Tommy Murphy used his crowbar to pull back the makeshift barricade that had not only kept out any intrusion, but was now indirectly contributing to the certain death of the basement surviviors. With a firm grip on the heavy tool, he yanked the door open, prepared for the worst.

All things considered, the pub itself was in better shape than Murph had figured it might be. Yes, there were broken windows, and yes, the front door hung off of its hinges. Much of the furniture was overturned, and there was a fair amount of broken glass, but by and large, the damage was cosmetic.

A huge, brownish-red stain marred the wooden floor; Murph tried to not dwell too heavily on whose blood that might be. Of Patrick O'Brian, there was no sign.

Quickly, the mechanic set about his intended task to search for weapons - and the quest was a success. O'Brian's Browning BPS - a ten guage, pump action shotgun - lay on the floor near the bar. A quick examination revealed that the shell in the chamber had been discharged, but that four more remained in the weapon. Searching behind the bar was similarly fruitful - not only did Murph locate the Louisville Slugger bat that the owner kept here for intimidation purposes, but also a nearly full box of shutgun shells for the Browning. All told, there were twenty-two rounds of double aught shot; more than enough to handle any immediate threat.

A glance out of the window reveals streets empty of any traffic, vehicle or foot. As a matter of fact, there are no signs of life whatsoever.

ALaster slumped against the wall after being torn into by Murph, he hadnt meant to tear into either of them the way he did he understood how amber had felt and probably wanted to be rid of this place more than murph. but neither had thought anything through clearly we needed a strategy to stay alive its like when you build something you dont just dive head first hoping the pieces match together you make a blu print to help with what your doing.

"Listen Amber you probably won't forgive me for what i said but i am sorry. Hey jake," Alaster continued as he pulled out his hammer "take this and go help Murph out if we are leaving this place we are gonna need more than a crow bar and some pool sticks to save our sorry a**es. and let him know im sorry as well and im ready for his directions."

Alaster sat back trying to sober up as much as possible before the inevitable departure from the place he was ready to call his grave.

Murph came through the door low and with the crowbar at the ready to either strike or defend, whichever might be necessary. Surprisingly enough, there was no need for either; the place was as empty and still as church on Monday. Nothing moved and there were no signs of life in the bar other than those of lives that were already gone… The dark smears of blood on the floor and the smell of death evoked memories of the carnage that was left from an insurgent RPG attack on their post near Tikrit…

Breathe, Sergeant… Keep your focus… Look around… This is different.
…Murph realized he was still holding his breath, then, and that the muscles in his arms were starting to ache from the tension in the muscles that still kept the makeshift weapon ready for action. He tore his gaze from the bloodstains, letting his muscles relax and blowing a relieved breath passed pursed lips as he scanned the place. “This is different,” he mumbled to himself as his eyes swept the barroom and realized that, despite the broken doors, windows, and furniture, the place was in relatively decent shape, “no real structural damage, nothing missing except the people…” He fought off the urge to shudder. “…Friggin’ creepy.

Ah,” he said a little louder as his gaze fell on the shotgun near the bar, “God bless you, Patty O’Brian.” His booted feet crunched across broken glass and debris as Murph made his way over to retrieve and inspect the weapon. It looked to be in good shape and had nearly a full load of shells. Even better, as the mechanic continued on his sweep and clear, he found Patty’s ‘peacekeeper’ in it’s place under the bar along with a near-full box of .00 shells for the 10-gauge. He laid the crowbar and the bat on the bar, jacked a fresh round into the shotguns chamber and loaded the tube with a shell from the box before relegating the remainder to his pockets.

He scanned the place, again, from his vantage point behind the bar as he fished a Red Bull from the cooler and chugged it down. “Ack,” he grimaced, tossing the can aside and taking the bat and crowbar from the countertop in his free hand, “That stuffs god-awful.” Murph rounded the bar again, wondering if he’d have been better off to drink the weeks old coffee sludge that still clung to the pot behind the bar, and leaned the bat and crowbar against the wall near the basement door before moving for the front door and cautiously taking a peek at the outside world. When he did, that creepy feeling surged over him again and he wondered if Chi-town had ever been this still…

It took the man another moment to blink away his awe at how dead (for serious lack of a better term) the streets were and, when he did, his stomach grumbled in protest at the huge dose of caffeine and sugar that had just been dumped into it. Murph backed away from the doorway and, when his back hit the opposing wall and the crowbar, jostled by his heel, clanged to the floor, finally managed to glance back over his shoulder and peer down into the dimness of the basement. “We’re clear up here,” he called, “Dunno how long that’ll last, so let’s get a move on folks!”

((OOC: Kind of a back post. Got in a bit late. oh and btw, picture "Billy the Exterminator" as far as my character is concerned))

In the darkest corner of the basment, sits a figure dressed in a black leather trench coat, black leather hat with snakeskin trim, aligator skin boots, black denim pants, and a flannel shirt.

For nine days, he pretty much kept to himself. Sleeping, drinking hot beer and stale beer nuts, and replaying over and over again in his head of the events that led to the loss of his quarry. Ironic. The one that deserved jail time turns into one of those creatures and gets to run free, while the hunter becomes the imprisoned hunted.

He hears the arguments and back and forth bickering from those he is barricaded in with, though tries hard to block it out. What had he done wrong. He should of put one between the eyes of that bounty jumper turned freak. He thought ducking inside the bar would be more beneficial to his health. He had seen the police put the contents of a .38 special in one of those animals. It kept going like the Energizer Bunny and made a meal out of the cop.

Try as he might, he couldn't block them out. Especially when he heard,

“All I wanted was a cold beer, some hot wings, and some highlights from the game,” Murph muttered, pocketing the butt as he blew his last drag into that pitiful ray of light. He ran one grease and oil stained had over the lengthening stubbles of hair that covered his scalp, shook his head, and either snorted or started to chuckle (it was hard to tell, even for Murph) before pushing away from the wall and turning his eyes on the others again. “Then I was gonna go home, watch the news, and probably pass out on the couch so I could get up and go finish that turbo the next day… I usually don’t even come in here on Thursdays,” he smirked as his eyes settled on O’Brian’s barmaid, Amber, “but it ain’t like the Cubbies take the pennant every season, right?”

The mechanic shoved himself to his feet again, snatching the bottle from the kid’s hand and taking a good long pull from it before handing it back and, seriously this time, letting his eyes take in the face of each person in this dismal sanctuary. He winced a bit as the burn of the whiskey surged down his throat and into his near empty stomach, then, looking from the last face to the door that no one had dared to open since Patty hadn’t come back, he set his jaw and nodded once. “All right. We’re gettin’ outta here!”

Mac stood up, dusted off his coat and said," Well it's about damn time! I'm in, what's the plan?"
He pulls from his shoulder holster his pride and joy Smith and Wesson 357 magnum, opens the chamber and checks to make sure he still has 6 shots. Then he pulls out what appears to be a very strange walking stick made apparently out of aluminum.

((Sorry, school and mom prevented earlier posting, but I'm here now!!))

Emily finally seemed to snap out of her coma-like state as she was thrown into a particularly bad fit of coughter, one that left her lips stained black-red with blood. She wiped it away quickly, before the others could see, and shook her head as though to clear her thoughts. "We-we're not gonna get anywhere out there," she half-whispered, her eyes glued to her feet.

"The second we get out there they'll go for the weakest of us, and I'm not stupid, I know it's gonna be me. At least all of you-" Here she had to pause to recatch her breath, her skin taking a temporary green tinge as she looked like she was about to lose her stomach, "have a chance... I'm already half-dead..."

Emily sighed, her breathing became erratic and raspy once again. "Th-th-thanks for your help... B-b-but I'm gonna be gone as s-s-s-s-s-soon as they find us..."

She hacked again, the wet-cough making her fear for the worst, and her wheezing increased.

"I'll go, though... I can still walk..." She climbed to her feet shakily, regaining her balance after a few seconds, then looked at Amber, "Thanks for helping me..."

Emily sighed once again and pushed her hair off her slick forehead, "If anyone cares, I think we should get medical supplies first. If this thing isn't a virus, we'll at least have to worry about infection and opening veins. And I'll need a lighter or two to cauterize, bandages, simple medicines...." She slowly trailed off into space, then shook her head again, "I just think we should try and get to the medicine first, then food. I mean, we won't be that motivated after fulll stomachs... Will we?"

Amber felt her bladder clench when the doors had finally been broken open and the dusty light of late morning filtered down the stairs. But nothing had happened, her bladder had relaxed as did her grip on the pool stick. The next few minutes were spent coaxing Emily to her feet, and then up into the strip of daylight.

Upstairs she paused a moment to look around at what was left of the bar she worked in, then drew a deep breath, trying not to lose it again. A quick survey found a chair of some structural integrity which she righted and helped Emily down into. The girl was wheezing about medical supplies…

And what about whatever you have child? she thought to herself, but just nodded.

“Don’t worry. I think a drug store is the top of everyone’s list. I’ll go talk to Murph about it, he’s kind of taking charge here. You just rest there for a bit. We’ll try to find something for you to use as a weapon too… just in case.” She offered a smile that felt nearly as fake as it looked, patted the girl’s shoulder and then went to find Murph while he rummaged through the ruins.

She glanced at the small mountain of things he had already gathered on the bar then looked at him. “My purse is in the back office… it should hold most of that… if you want to come back with me, we could get loaded up.” She said and gave him a long look that seemed to ask him to come back for more than just her purse, she needed a moment to talk to him.

((Assuming a positive response here))

Once in the back she hesitated long enough to find her purse, a bright purple leather bag decked out in silver chains with plastic jeweled hearts dangling from them the size of a small duffle bag, only the frays around the edges spoke of how long she had been holding onto that designer bag.

“A little girly… but…” she shrugged as she began to dump the contents onto Patty’s desk. It truly is amazing what one woman can carry around with her in one of those bags. Her entire life before this spilled out: Makeup, hairbrushes, jewelry and hair ties, a magazine, wallet, keys, receipts like confetti, gum wrappers, a whole package of wet wipes, a pair of socks, three boxes of crayons, and six army men were at the top of the pile.

She picked up one of the army men and then handed him the bag to fill with ammo. It didn’t take long for her eyes to start to gloss over.

“Look… I’m… sorry about… the phone and… ehhh…” she shook her head and sighed a bit. “I’m just scared. No… terrified. So I wanted to apologize, and say thank you as well.” Her bottom lip was nibbled slightly as she looked up at him.

“Thanks for talking some sense into me… and everyone else.” She held up her hand when it looked like he might comment on that.

“Don’t. Just take it and you don’t have to say anything. I know that this is the right thing. And I don’t know what you have planned, if anything. But… it doesn’t matter that I want to find Joshua more than anything in the world right now… or anyone else’s loved ones they want to find, or wherever they might want to head to for our next hole up… we have to get some medicine for Emily. She’s coughing up blood.” Amber looked at him with genuine concern for the girl. “She’s playing it off some, but… that has to be our priority. I won’t have her death on my conscience. I’m trusting that Phillip on Connie have Joshua safe… and will until we can get to them. So… there is my opinion… penicillin and then…” she shrugged and brushed a lock of her dark hair from her face.

“They should be waiting for us… and we should get moving.”

But before heading out of the room she tucked her cracked cell phone, and the army man into a pocket on the side of the purse, giving him a slightly embarrassed look before hurrying back out to the others.

Mac was the last up the basement stairs. He was used to being ignored, not being taken notice of. He was a stuntman first and a bounty hunter second. A hero wasn't what he was supposed to be. Always behind the scenes, he was paid to take the lumps for the heroes and Mac took many in both lines of work.

As Amber and Murph went into the office, Mac cast a look of concern towards Emily.

"What happened to her? Was she attacked by those freaks out there?"

A flood of negative thoughts began to fill his head. Taking her with us, are we carrying our demise as well? She might die and become one of those things.

Turning to Emily he says,"Are you gonna be alright? Are you cold?"

(contingent on a positive answer he will offer his coat to her.)

He makes his presence known to all as best as he can by asserting his voice and says,"I realize we are gathering supplies but, I believe the use of more alacrity to get to the nearest pharmacy is in order. I don't rightly know what's wrong with this girl beyond the obvious, but we need to get going, NOW!"

He knew those monsters may be laying in wait to finish the girl off. He wouldn't let that happen if he had anything to do with it. They needed to get going and get off the streets as soon as they can. No need to be a walking buffett.

Murph stood between the top of the basement steps and the bar, shotgun trained on the broken door and windows at the front of what was once O’Brian’s Pub, and waited for the others. They came up one by one for the most part… first, squinting against the light, hammer at the ready, and looking pretty rough from the drinking, Alaster trudged into the remains of the bar … then Jake with a couple of makeshift molotov’s clutched in his hands... Amber, helping the ailing Emily (who looked even worse in the daylight than she had in the gloom of the basement) along, came next… and, then, with a big .357 in one hand, the leather, denim, and flannel clad bounty-hunter whose name Murph couldn’t remember. Murph watched as Amber got Emily settled and then padded towards him.

She glanced at the small mountain of things he had already gathered on the bar then looked at him. “My purse is in the back office… it should hold most of that… if you want to come back with me, we could get loaded up.” She said and gave him a long look that seemed to ask him to come back for more than just her purse, she needed a moment to talk to him.

“Yeah,” he nodded, glancing towards the office after sweeping the rag-tag group of survivors and the unsecured entryway with a wary eye, “sure… C’mon…”

He went down the narrow hall ahead of her, nudged to door open with a toe and lead the way into the office with the barrel of the shotgun… he didn’t enter or let her do so until he was sure one of those things wasn’t waiting for them inside… and let out a small sigh of relief when there wasn’t. Once inside, Murph kept watch while Amber found her bag.

“A little girly… but…” she shrugged as she began to dump the contents onto Patty’s desk.

“Never been one to worry about being fashion forward,” he chuckled dryly, his eyes flicking from the conglomeration of stuff that spilled from the purple bag, to the office door, and back to Amber. Perched on the edge of the desk, Murph pulled the pack of Pall Malls from his pocket, looked at how many smokes were left inside, and decided that he really didn’t want one right now. He returned the pack to his pocket as Amber handed the now empty bag over to him and watched as she fidgeted with one of the little plastic army men that had been dumped out of the thing. “Thanks,” he nodded faintly, his eyes moving from the plastic soldier, to the woman’s eyes, and then to the spilled contents of the bag as he set the bag on the desk. He returned the socks, wet wipes, hair ties, and crayons (all things he figured might come in handy) to the bag’s interior before he took the box of shells from his pocket and added it to the bounty.

“Look… I’m… sorry about… the phone and… ehhh…” she shook her head and sighed a bit. “I’m just scared. No… terrified. So I wanted to apologize, and say thank you as well.”

Murph, trying not to watch her chewing on her lip or to linger too long in her eyes as Amber looked at him, shrugged and waved a hand in a gesture that said, ‘don’t worry about it’

“Thanks for talking some sense into me,” she continued anyway, “and everyone else.”

I dunno how sensible it’s gonna turn out to be, he thought, Haven’t done much but get us out of the basement where we’re more likely to get torn apart as opposed to starving… His mouth opened to say so but she waved him down.

“Don’t. Just take it and you don’t have to say anything. I know that this is the right thing. And I don’t know what you have planned, if anything. But… it doesn’t matter that I want to find Joshua more than anything in the world right now… or anyone else’s loved ones they want to find, or wherever they might want to head to for our next hole up… we have to get some medicine for Emily. She’s coughing up blood.” Amber looked at him with genuine concern for the girl. “She’s playing it off some, but… that has to be our priority. I won’t have her death on my conscience. I’m trusting that Phillip and Connie have Joshua safe… and will until we can get to them. So… there is my opinion… penicillin and then…” she shrugged and brushed a lock of her dark hair from her face.

“They should be waiting for us… and we should get moving.”

“Yeah,” Murph nodded, blinking and sliding off the desk, “I guess so.”

She stuffed her cell phone and one of those green plastic army men into a pocket on the purse, offered up an almost embarrassed smile, and then hurried out of the room.

He waited until she had disappeared through the door before scooping up the remainder of the army men and studied them in the palm of his hand for a moment. Funny how they always make the grunts, he thought, eyeballing two of the little figures (one prone and the other kneeling) with M-16s, and never the guys that fix the crap they break… Funny how nine days and a handful of plastic can bring back the tour in Iraq… the way I missed Jenny and Mickey… the way it hurt when the rocket attack took my buddies… and the way it hurt more when I got the letter from Jenny telling me she was taking off with Bob Somers and going to make a life in Pittsburgh… her and Mickey… with Bob (SOB was supposed to be my friend)… in Pittsburgh…
The thought brought Murph’s fingers closing tight around the small squad of plastic troops and his eyes, sprung wide open, flicked toward the door…

I wonder if this is happening everywhere?
For a moment, the thought of what was happening here happening everywhere else overwhelmed him to the point where he started to doubt that getting out of that basement was the better option when compared to just staying put and dying down there…

… I don’t know what you have planned, Amber’s voice echoed in his mind, if anything…
Murph opened his hand, looked again at the army men sprawled across his palm, and made a face that described the line between determination and uncertainty. I’d rather die up here, finding help for Emily and getting Amber back to her kid than down in that basement, he reminded himself as he tried to scour the uncertainty from his mind. With that, he stuffed the remainder of the little plastic guys into the purse with their partner, took up the bag, and followed Amber’s tracks back out into the barroom.

“All right, people,” he said, his hazel eyes skimming from face to face as he emerged from the hallway, “My thoughts are we make for Wrigley. There should be food and water enough there to hold us out for a little while and we should be able to carve ourselves a little piece of it that’s easy enough to defend until we find out what the hell’s going on and what our best options are for getting ourselves safe. On our way we’re going to see what we can do about getting ourselves supplied in case we have to dig in for the long haul, so we may not be taking a direct route.” He trudged towards the door, peered outside again, and then turned back to regard the others again. “We’ll need medical supplies,” he said, his gaze fixing on Emily for an instant, any bottled water and food we can dig up, and maybe some more weapons if we can find any, so, as we go, I want everyone’s eyes peeled for police cars, ambulances, anything that might cough up anything we can use, okay?”

Murph’s eyes found Mac and his .357 then; “That thing loaded?”

((Assuming a positive response))

He nodded at the reply. “You bring up the rear then,” Murph said, “and I’ll take point. We keep the rest of them between us… and us between them and whatever the hell comes at us, right?

The rest of you, there’s a bat and a crowbar there,” he pointed with the shotgun to where he’d set those items down, “and there’s plenty of other stuff here that’ll serve in a pinch. Get yourself armed and we’re outta here…”

Alaster watched as Amber came through the back door and Murph a couple moments after. He took a good long look outside before turning to the rest of us with eyes fixed on Amber and Emily as if silently promising to save them. He then turned to the rest of us speaking.

All right, people,” he said, his hazel eyes skimming from face to face as he emerged from the hallway, “My thoughts are we make for Wrigley. There should be food and water enough there to hold us out for a little while and we should be able to carve ourselves a little piece of it that’s easy enough to defend until we find out what the hell’s going on and what our best options are for getting ourselves safe. On our way we’re going to see what we can do about getting ourselves supplied in case we have to dig in for the long haul, so we may not be taking a direct route.” He trudged towards the door, peered outside again, and then turned back to regard the others again. “We’ll need medical supplies,” he said, his gaze fixing on Emily for an instant, any bottled water and food we can dig up, and maybe some more weapons if we can find any, so, as we go, I want everyone’s eyes peeled for police cars, ambulances, anything that might cough up anything we can use, okay?”

then he turned to the only other man with a gun and asked if it was loaded. and then told him to take up the rear. a great plan hopefully.

He told the rest of us scanning the darkened room at each one of us as to mentally take a picture of the last people he might ever see on this Earth to take up arms my hammer, the bat, a crowbar and any makeshift weapons we can use.

While Amber scanned the room looking and that man with the .357 made sure his gun was fit as a whistle, Emily who could barely stand trying to show her strength in the whole matter by offering any assistance possible and jake made sure his hand made bombs would work that I would talk to Murph.

I walked over half sobered up and half stumbling because of the light to the window where murph stood waiting for everyone to be prepped and waiting.

"Is it alright if i talk to you Murph?

((Assuming a slightly positive response))

"I just wanted to let you know I'm sorry for what i said back there. You were just doing what you thought was right and i acted like... Well i acted like an a** to you and Amber. Im just scared man it isnt the alcohol that made me say those things it was my own fear. I was hoping to die in this bar and here i am one of the only still living in this god foresaken city. i just wanted you to know that, and that im behind you one hundred percent now where do you need me I can put some nails in bar stools to make a stabbing weapon or something like that. Just point me in the right direction. Just steer me clear of Amber Ill talk to her when she isnt bound to tear me limb from limb."

Emily was gracious for Mac's coat, and drew it tightly around herself, eyes still downcast. She was even happier when Amber finally released her, it made her feel even worse with someone toting her around like she was a simpleton and incapable of basic motion. While Murphy was telling them all where to stand and his plans, Emily realized something and looked up, trying to figure which of them she should talk to. Sighing, she strode over to mac, then tapped his shoulder.

"Umm... I think that someone else should know, I don't think we're gonna find a pharmacy or grocery store or anything on the way to Wrigley... It's pretty close, if I can remember right from my childhood. B-but I don't think that Murph would listen to me, c-can you bring it up?" She looked up at him, her cocoa eyes pleading.

(Assuming a positive response.)

Emily smiled softly and stepped back, feeling the pain in the back of her throat. She quickly turned away and covered her mouth with her hands, coughing again. She suddenly felt extremely cold inside, with fear, as she fully realized what a target she would be. If those... Those things couldn't tell she was weak from a distance, they'd definitley be able to see from up close. And all her coughing was just going to draw attention...

Am I gonna be the reason all of them get killed?

Emily turned away to cough semi violently. She covered her cough as best she could to prevent anyone from seeing the blood...but Mac saw it once before.

"There is a bandana in the inside pocket of that coat, if you need it."

He knew Emily was right about the pharmacy. The bounty jumper he was after had ran into Wrigley Stadium and he lost him there for a few hours. So he staked out at a
7-11 across the street. He walks over to Murph.

"Hey, Murph. I got good news, and bad news. The good news is that we're all behind you here and Wrigley field IS a good idea.....but, here's where the bad news comes in.
Before I ducked in here days ago, I chased a bounty jumper into Wrigley. There was no pharmacy nearby. Just a
7-11. So it appears we will have to take a more rounded route if we're going to hit a pharmacy first.":-/

Amber came back into the main room and quietly began to look around for an improved weapon. The crowbar was still sitting on the counter she noticed and after a moment of weighing it out she went over and picked it up.

After that she went over to Emily and offered a small smile.

"Here... it's rather light... and well... you can probably use it to help keep you steady too." And handed over the pool stick.

That done she leaned up against one of the columns, staring out the broken front door at the deserted street laying there in the pale morning light, lost in thoughts and memories until everyone began to move out.

Alaster watched Amber walk over to the window and star off as if lost in some memory. She did alot to help Emily even though her chances were slim. It was about time he talked things over clear the air so that she didn't feed him to a zombie the first chance she got. picking up the bat off the counter Alaster made his way over to the window where Amber stood.

"Umm, Amber would it be alright if i talked to you alone for a sec?"

(positve reply willing)

Alaster leaned against the window and in a hushed tone plead wiht amber for forgiveness "I-i wanted to let you know I'm sorry I have no excuse for my actions but i feel bad for what I said. I cant even imagine what it must be like to... well not be in control of a personal situation. I just wanted to let you know I've got your back no matter what I'm not going to let anything happen to you or the rest of them especially Emily. With your permission she's quite frail and as you seem to be the one with her if she needs it i can carry her im sober enough for that. And built quite well..." Alaster chuckled hesitantly to himself before continuing "anyways I just want to make things right and if that means me following you to find your boy I'll be there for you to deffend you and your kin if it means me die. and you know they can get things together at Wrigley if you want to see if your boy is where you left him. I know its a long shot but its worth a try and i can help fend anyone off... just please give me a chance to make up for what i said i know it hurt you and im sorry."

Alaster waited for Ambers response quite hoping to take him up on her offer if the others could get to safety then they could bring the boy and anyone else back maybe even with weapons, and he could prove he isnt just a drunkard in a bar hoping to die. His own pact was made to live until he saw ambers child no matter the outcome.

The smell of French Toast filled up the tiny bedroom, spreading from one dinosaur poster to the next. A lump was curled up under the blue comforter, only a mop of dark curls and one tiny little hand poking out of the top. Amber sat down at the end of the bed, near the bottom of that lump and laid the plate of steaming French Toast on the banged up bedside table.
“Wake up…” She whispered and nudged the lump a few times before finally a pair of dazzeling green eyes blearily peered out from the shadows of the comforter.
A bright smile spread across her face and she leaned over, grasping the comforter and pulling it down only to attack the exposed belly under it with tickles. “Good morning my big birthday boy!” She hailed over the run of giggles that erupted from the little boy. “Got you breakfast in bed…”
Alaster was standing across from her, he had just spoken to her she realized. Blinking twice she swept the smell of French Toast from her mind and stared blankly at him.

Alaster leaned against the window and in a hushed tone plead wiht amber for forgiveness "I-i wanted to let you know I'm sorry I have no excuse for my actions but i feel bad for what I said. I cant even imagine what it must be like to... well not be in control of a personal situation. I just wanted to let you know I've got your back no matter what I'm not going to let anything happen to you or the rest of them especially Emily. With your permission she's quite frail and as you seem to be the one with her if she needs it i can carry her im sober enough for that. And built quite well..." Alaster chuckled hesitantly to himself before continuing "anyways I just want to make things right and if that means me following you to find your boy I'll be there for you to deffend you and your kin if it means me die. and you know they can get things together at Wrigley if you want to see if your boy is where you left him. I know its a long shot but its worth a try and i can help fend anyone off... just please give me a chance to make up for what i said i know it hurt you and im sorry."

She slowly sighed, her expression had softened some as he spoke. “Joshua… his name is Joshua. He’s three…” Her eyes closed a moment when they threatened to yet again spill over and she shook her head.

“I’m not with Emily any more than I’m with any of you really. She’s sick though… and… you know I was going to be a nurse once.” She shrugged. “I am a mother though, so… I can’t help taking care of her some.”

Finally she nodded and offered the forgiveness she could presently. “I know you didn’t mean what you said. It did hurt though. Joshua is my world… but…” Her eyes closed again as she continued to speak. “I know how upset all of are, and scared. Despite that… we have to try and work together and… and be reasonable. Joshua was with my brother and his family the night… that night. They are good people. If…” she swallowed down her next words,

if he’s still alive now it’s because of them… if not…
“Phillip will keep Joshua safe as long as he has to.” She said out loud, trying to sound firm in that belief. “Our best chances are to stay together for now. It won’t do any good to go running off without supplies or other people just to get ourselves killed… but… thank you. Your offer means a lot. And perhaps there will come a time to take you up on it. For now… we have to all work together, get Emily some medicine and set up a base with supplies. One hour at a time… Joshua will be okay. He will…” Her eyes opened slowly as she made herself believe that and offered Alaster a weak smile.

“Is it all right if I talk to you, Murph?”

Tommy Murphy turned when Alaster approached; “Sure,” he nodded.

“I just wanted to let you know that I’m sorry for what I said back there…”

He listened as the younger man made his mea culpa and tried to explain away the reasons behind his earlier actions. “Don’t sweat it, kid,” Murph shrugged, clapping Alaster on the shoulder, “I think we’re all pretty much scared s***less, right now. Just keep it locked down until we find us a safe place, all right? Right now, all I want you to think about is staying close and keeping an open eye… none of the rest of it matters until we’re stocked up and dug in…”

“Hey, Murph!”

Murphy turned his head to regard the guy with the hat as he approached, then looked back at Alaster and gave the man another reassuring nod; “We’re gonna get through this, man… Just keep reminding yourself of that and you’re a step ahead.” He released Alaster’s shoulder, then. “Go ahead and get your stuff together,” he said, adding as the carpenter started off, “Stick close to Emily.”

He turned his attentions to the bounty-hunter, then… What the hell is that guy’s name? Mike? Mark?… and lifted a brow; “Yeah.”

“I got good news, and bad news,” the man with the pistol said, “The good news is that we're all behind you here and Wrigley field IS a good idea.....but, here's where the bad news comes in.

Before I ducked in here days ago, I chased a bounty jumper into Wrigley. There was no pharmacy nearby. Just a 7-11. So it appears we will have to take a more rounded route if we're going to hit a pharmacy first.”

“Yeah,” Murph nodded faintly, his gaze drifting over Mac’s shoulder to regard Emily for a second, “I know…” He looked back at the other man, then; “There’s a Save Rite over towards Broadway that sits right next to a hardware store. It’ll take us a few blocks out of our way but, hopefully, it’ll pay off… Meds and such at the pharmacy… maybe some other useful crap at the Ace…” His eyes flicked towards the .357 in the other man’s hand for an instant, then around the room at the rest of the group… “You just keep our backside covered and keep the rest tight between us, cool? We’ll get there…”

((Assuming no objections on Mac’s part))

I hope, he added internally.

As the skip-tracer nodded and turned away, Murph’s eyes skimmed the group again and, despite the general sense of disbelief and uncertainty that seemed to hang over all of them (himself included), saw that they had all outfitted themselves as best they could and were silently waiting for him to lead them out of here. How did that happen? the mechanic wondered for a second, Can’t stand wasting away in the basement any more and, now, they’re all looking to me to get ‘em out of here…
“Everybody ready,” he asked, trying to distract himself from the thoughts that, for some crazy reason, all of these people were ready to follow him out into god-only-knew-what.

((Assuming, of course, that everyone is, Murph will lay out the plan per my post in the Q&A… Marching order, route, keep an eye out for stuff along the way, etc…))

“Okay,” he nodded, heaving a sigh as he turned and, for the first time in days, set a foot into the world outside of O’Brian’s Pub, “let’s move…”

His boots crunched across the glass and debris that littered the sidewalk along Cornelia Avenue and, shotgun at the ready, began the trek towards Broadway… Oh, Tommy-boy, he sighed inwardly as the barrel of the Browning swept a slow arc over the deathly still road ahead, what in the hell are you doin’?