Van Kirk Apartments,
240 North Mainstreet, Herkimer,
Upstate New York September 14th, Sunday, 9:50 pm
“Hey! You know Angie? She still up at Kacee’s?”

The woman’s dark eyes were bouncing between the third floor, and the shattered window right before them, but it was evident she was talking to Jetta, and therefore warranted a response. Like it or not.

“Lady," she laughed, "I don't know a soul here. But there's a party back there, so maybe she's still playing beer pong or whatever?"

Another snarl rolled through the broken window, followed by a stream of curses. Jetta paused to glance at the window, before looking back at Melina.

"Wherever she is," Jetta advised, "maybe she has a cellphone? Cause this place seems a little too cinamon schanpps for a Wisteria Lane chick. No offense."

Whatever that meant…But there was no time to ponder. The sounds of scuffling and bodies crashing into furniture heightened. A woman screamed. It was that scream you get from a wife who walks into the bedroom to see her husband hanging from the rafters by his neck. However, her husband clearly wasn’t hanging.

“Oh shut up..and…help!“

A hard thud. Another, harder thud. The growling turned into a gurgle. A third, wet slapping sound, and both Jetta and Melina thought they heard a wet crunch.

“Oh my god what happened!?”

“How the hell should I know!? He’s your friggen dog! Bastard just attacked me!.”

The sounds of a door opening. Melina and Jetta watched then as a figure appeared in the hallway through the glass door into Van Kirk Apartments. Staggering towards them, the figure pushed open the door and stared at them, then at the flashing lights of the police cars, not 100 feet away.

The figure was clearly the man they had been listening to. He was cradling his left arm, and half of his shirt, which he had ripped off, against it. It was clear though, that he had taken a deep flesh wound. The cloth was already soaked red. Blood spattered his bare chest and unshaven face. He looked at them with hard eyes. The door opened again and a blonde woman with skin far more leathery then any woman her age should have, stared at him with concern written into her…possibly intoxicated eyes.

“Friggen Pinchers. Never own one.”

He was talking to them. Melina and Jetta both couldn’t help but glance at the “No Pets Allowed.” Sign on the glass door behind the man.

Turning from them, he started towards the lights of the police cars, but the woman was on his heels, begging him to reconsider. All the women could catch was his angered retort of.

“I don’t give a damn! I’m’a bleed to death if I don’t!”

Looking back at the apartment building, Melina noticed the glass door hadn’t shut all the way…

((I know I didn’t’ give much options, but you can converse, you can opt to go into the building, you can follow the two to the police, or you can do whatever other ideas you might have.))

As the man and the woman came out of VanKirk’s, Melina noticed the door to the building was still ajar. It crossed her mind that she’d be able to get in no problem and just head up stairs…

But that thought lasted only a second as the wave of fear overtook the suburbia housewife. The sight of blood covering the man, the sounds that had come from within VanKirk’s, the thought of rabid dog still on the loose… it was all too much for Melina.

She backed away from the apartment building, keeping her distance from the bleeding guy… Who knows, he may have aids or something… and made her way back to the safety of her jeep. The party girl’s suggestion to give Angie a call sounded a whole lot better.

Once in the jeep, Melina locked the doors and fumbled in her purse for her cell phone. She speed-dialed Angie cell. Pick up, Angie! You better not be passed out on the floor somewhere!

Christ Episcopal Church,
North Mainstreet, Herkimer,
Upstate New York September 14th, Sunday, 10:00 pm

The clean chime of the bells within the stone tower above the sanctuary rang suddenly through the air as Father Bryson started across the front lawn towards the street. It was ten O’clock. Ordinarily the night would have been a pleasant one. The calm serenity within the cool stone walls of the church. The reassuring singing of Gods bells. Fellowship with the Lord’s Flock. But as he made his way across the yard, the flashing lights of two police cars caught his attention and caused him to glance down North Mainstreet, on his left.

A girl, clearly lost to the lord, was leaning against the big, brick, Van Kirk building, and another woman was hurrying to her Jeep. A window was broken and a man and a woman were rushing towards the police cars. The man was spattered in blood and gripping his arm. What a night.

Continuing towards the ambulance lights in the other direction, he passed through the empty MnT Bank parking lot. Glancing back he could see that Alan Moore had taken over his position in greeting the parishioners. He couldn’t help but notice how out of place the gothic, medieval architecture and the soft, delicate Cherry Trees that glowed in the light that shown through the stained glass windows, was among the bank and office buildings to one side, and the big, ugly brick apartment buildings and tattoo shops and bars on the other. The church had been there first of course. So it begged the question. ‘Just how much did people care about God anymore?’

He had passed through the parking lot, and stood now on North Prospect Street, which ran parallel with Nmain Street. Two ambulances sat before the cream colored house, and on either side rested two police cruisers. Their lights lit the darkness that had settled over the village with an otherworldly, strobe-like tint of blue and green. The house was not Mrs. Johanson’s. Infact he could see Mrs. Johanson from here, peering through the shades of her own home, three doors down. He did not know who’s house this was, but he was surprised to see the police had put up a yellow taped barricade, around the house.

No paramedics could be found, but it looked like every light in the house was on. Three police officers stood before the barricade, conversing in low tones. One was speaking into his radio. Bryson recognized the pot bellied, older man as Officer McDaniel. He had counciled the man over a good six month period two years ago after his wife left him. Of course it was more complicated then that. The man had a drinking problem, and according to his wife, a habit of disappearing for nights on end, leaving her and their two teenaged kids to worry. He had a 20 something year old mistress. The whole situation was just bad. He had however, been remotely cooperative during counseling, and after his wife divorced him, he had still thanked Bryson. They were on decent terms.

Glory Days Bar and Grill,
North Mainstreet, Herkimer,
Upstate New York, September 14th, Sunday, 10:00Pm
He was on maybe his third drink. Glory Days had a decent selection of alcoholic beverages to choose from, and unlike some parts of the Southern United States, New York didn’t close it’s bars on Sundays. A damn good thing. Passing through this part of New York on this particular weekend would make anyone want to drink. More then likely you would also want to hurry up and pass through. Judging by the local news reports, it was like some new Black Plague was on the rise, engulfing the entire valley in two days time. Though of course…it only effected animals. Or so far only animals had been accounted for. Problem was they damn well attacked people! A news clip half a minute ago showed how 30 people had been bitten by rodents in the last two days! Thirty People! Rodents! Ridiculous statistics. Almost made you wonder if this was a county-wide prank.

Well if it was, Tiaan Maasdorp, had to concede that it was a damn well played one. Glancing over his shoulder, he noted the police officer that sauntered into the bar/restaurant, and clapped his hands, gathering everyone’s attention. What now?

“Listen folks! Hey! Attention! Over here please. Thank you.”

The bar was silent. This was big, whatever it was. Police officers didn’t just stroll into bars and demand everyone’s attention for burglaries.

“I’m sorry to do this, but town officials just announced a curfew. We gotta shut down every store for the night, and Ya’ll gotta go home. If you cant’ go home, stay indoors. I can’t say too much cuz I don’t know too much myself, but we’ve had our first human infection, just a few hours ago. So animals can spread it to humans. We ask that everyone stay away from any and all animals that are not your pets. Keep your pets in doors, and stay indoors yourselves. We’ve got a team of experts from Albany working on identifying the disease…or bacteria…or whatever the hell it is, right now as we speak. It’ll take us a while to get every place notified and shut down, so If you need to buy anything for the night, Walmart is still open. Go do it now.”

The murmer that spread over the crowd was in it’s own right, like a contagion, and Tiaan couldn’t help the chill that crept up his spine.

Well this was a fine little stretch of nowhere. Why did I leave the city again? Tiaan thought to himself. Sure, he had a decent living doing stunts and special effects back in the city, but he was a businessman now... or an actor. Or both. New York City was flooded with hopefuls trying to get their face on the screen, all of them younger and more fit that him. To hell with experience they said!

Tiaan Maasdorp could keep pace with any of these 20 somethings green out of college. Plus T could work up a bomb and explode a car without actually destroying it. They don't teach that in school - you can't. It just comes from years of experience of doing it the wrong way. T had the scars to prove it.

Why did I stop in this backwater town anyway... It seemed the questions were more common than answers in T's mind. Well yes, he knew *why* he was there. After leaving New York City to become an actor, he landed that gig last year in Albany teaching stunts to theater actors. Stages were so much less forgiving than film was, it just wasn't very realistic to fulfill his destiny teaching in the shadow of Broadway. He was never going to make it in the big city... he needed to get to California, where all the action is.

In what seems like a stupid move now, he booked a flight out of Syracuse. His old college fling was now working as a researcher at the Orange, and they recently found each other on Facebook. Lucky for him she's going through a very nasty divorce. He's looking forward to meeting up before his flight leaves, but man it's going to be rough to hear all those "I told you so" stories. T slammed back another shot as he heard her voice in his head... There's no future in the arts! It's all going digital! Technology is the future!
He couldn't help but blame her a bit for putting him almost out of business, being a physicist and all. It's not really her fault though... she makes hearing aids or something. Meh, he'll get over it once he sees her again. Just a little bit longer to drive. He still needed to find a motel for the night. Another night in the rental car would not do well for his already sore body, battered from years of torturous maneuvers on a daily basis.

Hmm... what's the cops want? T looked up from his thoughts. There was a cop trying to get everyone to leave? It was hitting humans now? Great. No chance of finding a place to sleep now.

Wait a sec... if they quarantine all the buildings, they can't kick people out. T remembered the old days of starting out. Basically homeless, sleeping wherever they would let him. Mattress stores, theater lightning stations, and yes, even Wal Mart lounge chairs for sale.

He had to get moving pretty quickly though. Good thing he was a professional driver. Honda doesn't seem like such a bad company anymore. All that training might just come in handy afterall.

To the Wal-Mart!

A Pin did that? A Doberman? Jetta didn't quite understand but followed Melina's gaze to the partly open door. Jetta's fingers tightened around the handle of her nailstudded bat in her backpack. If it was in there, it could be alive still, a probably more than a little pissed off. She had no plans on losing a chick of her body in this backwater little burg, no way no how.

The housewife looking for some lost woman left, went back to her van, and Jetta turned back to the injured guy.

Jetta watched him bleed, watched him shamble onward.

"Are you telling me your dog did that? Is it on crack?"

this was too much fo rher. Jetta shook her head, recalling something she had overheard. Some of the Sci majors at the party had been geeking out about some rabies outbreak, and some technoscibabble about molecular virology and whatnot that only the nerdiest understood. Maybe the dog had rabies.

Jetta had no idea, being a city chick, how rabies worked. Maybe when people were bit, she worried, they went all Cujo too. Or mean drunk violent. No, she really didn't want to find out.

"Look, man, you need some help..." she offered weakly, and skated over to the minivan. Maybe the housewife could give her a lift somewhere. After all, it was getting late and she needed a place to crash. And some new threads. The ones she wore wer getting a little ripe, and she couldn't spend all her time in this podunk with wheels on her feet. Too bad all her gear was back on the bus, like her regulation 4wheel skates, and her sneakers...

She pulled up in front of Melina's window and cranked her hand in an unrool the window motion.

"Hey, listen, you know where I can find like a Wal-Mart or something?"

Van Kirk Apartments,
240 North Mainstreet, Herkimer,
Upstate New York September 14th, Sunday, 10:00 pm
Pick up, Angie! You better not be passed out on the floor somewhere!
The monotonous drone of the ringback played over and over again into her ear. Where was the girl? Maybe the music was too loud..Yes. Or perhaps her phone was in her purse and she just couldn’t hear it.

Glancing out the window she saw the gothic looking girl on rollerblades talking to the injured man. He seemed in no mood for chit chat, and was rushing away…

The phone continued to ring….

++++++ ++++++ ++++++

"Are you telling me your dog did that? Is it on crack?"

He didn’t seem to hear her. He was busy yelling at his wife, or girlfriend, or whatever the hell she was. Something about insurance.

"Look, man, you need some help..."

He had started to turn towards the police cruisers, but glanced at her with one eyebrow raised, and his eyes flashing feverishly. She couldn’t help but notice the single vein that bulged through the skin on his sweaty forhead like a fat worm.

“No s***? You think I need help? I think I’ll just sew my arm up with a friggen crochet kit!”

Swinging around he stormed towards the flashing lights. His woman towing behind him, glanced back at Jetta and mouthed a silent apology.

++++++ ++++++ ++++++

We’re sorry. The person you are trying to reach. “Angie!!” is not available. Please leave a message after the tone.
The for-warned tone ensued, and at the same time, a sudden knocking at her passengers side window caught her attention. It was the goth chick.

"D@%# it." Melina cursed quietly as she got Angie's voicemail. As she left her message for her sister, Melina noticed the goth chick approaching her Jeep. "Angie! It's Melina. I'm outside of VanKirk's. Where are you, girl? I'm not coming up to get you. Some guy's dog's loose... and... mean, too. I'll..."

"Beep..."

"D@%#!" Melina cursed again as she dailed Angie's number again. The goth chick was at her window now, given her the sign to rolled it down. Melina held up her index finger, telling her to wait a moment. Angie's voicemail kicked in again. "Angie, I'm gonna get us some coffees. I know you're gonna need it anyway. I'll be back in 20 minutes. You don't call me in 20, and I'm heading home, girl. Call me."

Melina flipped closed her phone and rolled down her window.

"Hey, listen, you know where I can find, like, a Wal-Mart or something?" the goth chick asked simply.

Melina, obviously a bit flustered, quickly answered, "Sure" and proceeded to give the stranger directions to Walmart. She finished with, "It's a bit of a hike."

Jetta frowned and looked down at her rollerblades. she guessed that, from the frustrated look on the housewife's face, asking for a ride would be recieved about as well as aking to chainsaw the family cat. Still, it sounded pretty far for rollerblades, and if there really was a rabies rampage, she didn't want to be out there. She sighed and managed a polite smile.

"Gee, thanks, ma'am. Listen, hey i hope you find your friend alright, but I'm not from around here. I play on a roller-derby team in the Big Apple. I can give you gas money if you can just drop me off there."

Melina looked at the girl, looked back up at Kacee's apartment, and sighed. Picking up hitchhikers was NOT like her... still, "party girl" seemed harmly enough. And she suspected the girl might actually be pretty even... if she'd just scrub away that make up and put on some decent clothes.

"Sure, hun, get in. I can pick up a coffee there, I suppose."

Melina unlocked the doors and waited for the "party girl" to get in. Once the stranger was in the Jeep, Melina shifted it into drive, the doors automatically locking again. Checking her rearview mirror, Melina caught the flashing lights of the cops again. "Buckle up, honey. Cops are out in full tonight."

Once they got on the road a bit, Melina aske, "So, what's your name, hun?"

[OOC: I figure Melina will make casual conversation with the girl, trade a bit of information, i.e. names, occupations, where you from, what brings you here, etc, etc. We can RP it if you like. If not, by the end of the Jeep ride, Jetta will know Melina's first name, that she works in real estate, she's married with no kids, and grew up in Herkimer.]

Forest off Route 5S, Herkimer
Upstate New York September 14th, Sunday, 10:05 pm
Vandervoort looked at his team. They stood in a semi-circle, a good ten paces away from both him and the fallen deer. Even Johnson had backed away from it once Vandervoort approached. Of course he had taken enough of a precaution as to look somewhat relaxed as he did so. The crackle of the hand radios broke the suddenly uneasy silence.

“What the hell? What were the gunshots for? What’s happening!”

Mosher and Carrell both looked at their radios, but didn’t speak. Vandervoort noted how pale Carrell looked in the cold, unsteady light. His face was waxy and beaded with sweat, and his fiery hair was wild. At that moment he looked like a clown out of a child’s nightmare. Imagine their reactions if he told them about the state this deer was in…

The voice that lifted from the darkness beyond the silent trees just then caused him to shiver. The others snapped their heads (and subsequently, their lights) in the direction. The water pouring through the stone wall glimmered momentarily in the beams, before the forest beyond flicked into view. A breeze swept through the underbrush, rustling the foliage. The dry hiss and the creak of the forest was like the dead breath of an ancient corpse rising suddenly from it’s tomb. The smell that rolled on that breeze only heightened the affect. Vandervoort spoke

“I think there is somebody in trouble. Johnson, we go to the hummers right now to get this sample looked after. You can send two of your men to check out what that noise was, maybe? If there are any people out there, maybe also attacked, I would like them to be brought along with us, so we can examine them too.”

Johnson looked at him. His thin lips were drawn in a tight line and his tan face was drained of color. He looked stressed more then anything, however.

“No point in sending any men in that direction, Doc. I’m the only one with live ammo, remember? We could return the sample, load up, and then investigate.”

Nine beams of light simultaneously snapped onto his face.

“Your kidding!”

Private Clayton had put his map away and now gripped his empty tranquilizer in both hands.

“Sarge, there’s too much weirdness going on tonight. Why not-”

“Are you in charge, or am I?”

The soldier who had been speaking; a handsome young man with black hair that rode the border between acceptable and too long for military standards, snapped to attention.

“We don’t need to return down here, that’s correct. But we should head on over to whatever building would be over there.”

Johnson pointed through the trees, in the direction that the dog yelps, the screams, and the most recent, moan, had come from.

“What was it? A monastery?”

“Well this says it’s a Lutheran Church, but It could be a Monastery.”
Clayton had his map back out.

Both his scientific colleagues had been silent. Johnson was eyeing Vandervoort, as if expecting his input.

Suddenly a thought hit him. Turning and kneeling down once more beside the deer, he drew what turned out to be the fairly helpful beams of light back to himself. Holding his breath from the stink, he grabbed for a stick.

“What are you doing?”

It was Carrell.

“We have our sample. Lets return to the road and the vehicles!”

The severed and leaking entrails dangled from the crevice in it’s bloated stomach. The stick pressed against the crusty, half dried tissue that made up the lip of the wound. Shining his light within the darkness, he could see only the gleam of decayed flesh…at first. Wait…something was wrong. Very wrong. What was all this…pulp of mangled tissue? It was as if the deer’s organs had nawed and grounded themselves into-No…

Vandervoorts eyes widened, and this time, he couldn’t help it. He turned to the side and emptied his own stomach.

From what he could make out, the beasts belly hadn’t burst from simple bloating. Granted that had been a possibility. Yet now he saw the true cause. Wiping his mouth against his shoulder to avoid having to touch his hands, he splayed the wound open further. Mosher had built up the nut-power to lean in beside him. His light helping to illuminate stomach cavity. The stomach lay farther in, but from here it looked more like what one would expect from a balloon pumped with the grizzly leftovers of a butcher shop until it burst then an actual organ. There was infact, a tear running along it’s black veined wall, and there was infact, mounds of pulpy, mangled flesh spilling through this tear, and essentially filling the entirety of the beasts stomach cavity. It had eaten…so much flesh..that it’s stomach had burst. It had continued to eat, to the point where the flesh it consumed was forced into it’s stomach cavity to the point of tearing open it’s belly. The shriveled, brown, green organs were coated in red pulp and green liquid bile.

“Let’s go now. Please.”

Mosher stood very quickly, as soon as the information registered, and began hastily through the group and toward the hill and the road beyond. The soldiers stared at Vandervoort.

“What is it doctor?”

Carrell was rushing toward the carcass now, and the soldiers were still staring at Vandervoort. Probably awaiting an explanation.

A sudden, rocky, crash echoed from down the watery canyon. The direction the deer had come from. The beams of light that subsequently spilled down the stream cast the forty foot high, stone walls in shivering shades of gray and black, but nothing could be seen.

“What the..”

Another moan tore through the night, much closer, and in the opposite direction of the sound of the falling rock…but back where the last moan had come from. It was..so…monotonous. So void of any and all humanity. Was it even human? It sounded more like reverberating chords within a flesh-tube.

“Come on guys…Lets go..Now…Please.”

Mosher stood slightly up the hill, just fight feet outside the ring of soldiers, squirming like a 12 year old in line to piss.

The soldiers were looking at one another, and Johnson was studying Vandervoort, and Carrell, who was currently kneeling beside the deer.

Walmart Supercenter,
103 N Caroline Street, Herkimer,
Upstate New York September 14th, Sunday, 10:06 pm


Without hesitation, Jetta slide into the passenger seat and buckled herself in. Melina had to admit, the girl wore her skates about as well as sneakers. Not that she would be allowed to wear them in Wal-mart….

Turning the jeep around, Melina slowed the vehicle down as they passed the two Police Cruisers parked outside of the Glory Days grill and bar. A crowd was spilling onto the sidewalk through the open doors. Looked like they were clearing the place out…A fight maybe?

The radio suddenly cut into their thoughts with an alarming, piercing tone that interrupted whatever serene song that had been playing and caught both of their attention like a net. As they listened, the crackling, disembodied voice sent numbing chills over their skin. Whatever was happening, it had become serious…

“This is HCOB announcement for the Herkimer, Mohawk Valley. The Herkimer, Mohawk Valley has been placed under Severe Environmental Hazard Watch for the evening of September the fourteenth. All business are instructed to be closed by 10:30 PM, and an 11:00 curfew is being implemented on the residents of the Herkimer, Mohawk, Ilion, and Frankfort villages. Residents are asked to avoid contact with any and all unfamiliar animals, and to keep pets inside. Residents are also asked to avoid contact with strangers. If you have been bitten by an animal, or attacked by a person in the past 24 hours, seek medical attention immediately at the Faxton, Healthcare Facility on 201, East State Street. All emergency services will be fully functioning throughout the night.”

They had driven down North Mainstreet and had taken a right onto State Street towards Walmart. They had passed the numerous small diners on their right, and the Burger King, the Fast Trac (Gas station), and the fenced off, soon to be a Walgreens on their right. They passed Rahmans Liquor on their right, and Mcdonald’s, and the giant, red white and blue beacon that was the Walmart Supercenter had risen before them. The announcement ended as they turned into the vast parking lot. A little bit busier looking then normal, but otherwise not bad.

They even found a parking space four cars down from the Grocery side entrance. It was then that Melina’s phone went off. It was Angie.
“Melinaaa!”
She sounded drunkenly oblivious to the crumbling of the world around her.

“Sorry I missed your call…The music’s pretty loud and I guess a kid is pretty sick. I think it’s time for me to get myself on out o’ here! So hurry up with the coffees! Melina?”

Walmart Supercenter,
103 N Caroline Street, Herkimer,
Upstate New York September 14th, Sunday, 10:06 pm

Tiaan’s bright red, rental was the first car to peel out from in front of Glory Days. With screaming rubber, and bald head gleaming in the flashing light of the Police Cruisers, he was tearing down North Mainstreet, and onto State, westward to Walmart.

It was dark by now, and the streetlights and shop lights that spilled onto the road were complimented by headlights of the fairly heavy traffic that was currently passing through this main road through Herkimer. He found himself caught behind a speed limit abiding, green Jeep Wrangler, which he happened to follow all the way to walmart and parked not 3 spaces away from.

In the meantime However, he too was subjected to the public announcement that crackled over the radio.

“This is HCOB announcement for the Herkimer, Mohawk Valley. The Herkimer, Mohawk Valley has been placed under Severe Environmental Hazard Watch for the evening of September the fourteenth. All business are instructed to be closed by 10:30 PM, and an 11:00 curfew is being implemented on the residents of the Herkimer, Mohawk, Ilion, and Frankfort villages. Residents are asked to avoid contact with any and all unfamiliar animals, and to keep pets inside. Residents are also asked to avoid contact with strangers. If you have been bitten by an animal, or attacked by a person in the past 24 hours, seek medical attention immediately at the Faxton, Healthcare Facility on 201, East State Street. All emergency services will be fully functioning throughout the night.”

When the announcement had finished, he found himself getting out of his vehicle beside two, fairly attractive women who appeared to have come together form opposite sides of the social spectrum. One being a dark, gothy looking girl in her early twenties perhaps, while the other, talking on the phone, could be a mother. A house-wife probably. She looked too tame. At least in public.

His shoes drumming a neat staccato along the pavement, Bryson paused briefly in astonishment to take in the spectacle provided. The minister wasn’t quite sure exactly what he’d expected to find: an old lady being carried downstairs on a stretcher with a broken hip perhaps, or two cars enmeshed together after an unfortunate collision. A regrettable accident no doubt, which could be transcribed neatly in the prayers’ section of next week’s pew sheets, along with a warm entreaty for those involved to make a speedy recovery in God’s sight.

The scene which greeted his incredulous eyes, however, was something he’d have been more ready to find somewhere out in the projects back in Atlanta. A young couple were engaged in a heated argument, and the man had obviously been stabbed as a steady trickle of blood snaked from a gash in his arm to stain his shirt and trousers. For an instant John was tempted to approach the pair, but quickly thought better of it: what could he possibly say? In any case, the police and ambulance services obviously had the situation under control and would, no doubt, want to move the pair on as soon as possible.

The minister shrugged slightly and looked away, suddenly conscious that he’d been staring at the scene somewhat longer than was polite. He’d still have a good dozen parishioners waiting to talk to him over coffee, and no doubt his absence must seem odd enough already. Once that familiar ritual was completed, he head home, perhaps grab a takeaway on the way from that new Indian place that had just opened around the corner, and watch a few reruns on Sky. Bryson yawned slightly, readjusting his tie as he stepped back inside the church, it had been a long enough day already and he’d been feeling a bit out of sorts lately, probably as a consequence of a few too many restless nights. Perhaps the doctor could proscribe him something a bit stronger at his next check up? Forcing his body to relax, affixing another tired grin on his face, the Minister strode back through the church doors. He’d remember the pair in his prayers tonight, that much he could do for them at least, but beyond that, he was content enough to leave the matter in God’s hands. And now it was time for some coffee.

OOC: Chances are, Bryson wouldn’t even make it as far as the house. The domestic disturbance on the way would probably be quite enough, given that he’s just out to get a breath of fresh air anyway.

At least there would be entertainment if we do get trapped here together.
T pulled into the parking lot and locked his firearm in the glove compartment. He wouldn't make it through the metal detectors with it. It was only one night anyway. Hmmm, he still had half an hour to find a good place to settle in. Just like the old days. Good thing he didn't live here, the radio said the curfew was for residents :GRIN:

Tiaan made his way calmly into the Wal-mart, saying hi to the greeter. Then came the difficult task of scouting out a place to hide. Perhaps inside a clothes rack, behind some large boxes in the furnature isle... or even behind the counter in the now closed snack shop. He had hid in every one before, but each store was different. Maybe this one would have some new place for him to wait out closing until he could stretch out and relax in a lawn chair or something.