"Rotting people? What the hell are they talking about?" Tiaan said softly to his newfound companion. "I think they just made our decision for us... let's get out of this cesspool of a city."

Assuming Jetta was willing to follow, T started moving slowly but cautiously towards the front where his car was parked. Hopefully this wouldn't turn out like one of those zombie movies. Wal-Mart was not the greatest place to set up a base camp.

It was not that Lucas wasn’t afraid. He just knew how to handle his fear better than others. His ability to shut himself off, in a way, from what was going on was sometimes mistaken by other people for unsociable behaviour. But perhaps that misunderstanding was formed also by the fact that Vandervoort was an uncaring bastard.

So, it was no extraordinary exception that, when the group was under a sudden attack by the grotesque wolves, his first thought was: I’m glad they didn’t pick me. Let them have him, and get the hell out of here..

But of course the rest of the group chose differently, because fear had grabbed them, or because the sergeant was barking them into staying. Vandervoort’s heart was pumping fast, and he feverishly tried to figure out what to do now. He didn’t want to risk getting close to these creatures, but fortunately the soldiers were jumping into action, so he did not have to.
The target of the attack was not going to make it, the scientist concluded in advance. But perhaps there was something he could learn from the situation? While he observed the fight with almost compulsive attention, he moved closer to Carrell. Should there be another attack, then he would throw the man before himself. He needed to get out of these woods and share with the world what he had discovered. What HE, Lucas Vandervoort, had discovered.

How amazingly interesting: their nerve system is still functioning and keeping them up and walking, even after lethal trauma. Just like that deer. There must be some form of contagiousness. He thanked himself for wearing rubber gloves while inspecting the deer.

The fight was over within seconds, and Vandervoort had forgotten his cautiousness for possible new threats. He couldn’t take his eyes of the snapping creature. With its crushed body it looked like an automated stuffed animal that was still functioning after beeing run down by a car. But it was the most gruesome stuffed animal ever.

He motioned at one of the privates. “Hey, you! Grab that thing by the legs and make sure to bring it along.”
Lucas knew what was expected of him next. But the eerie feeling that had crept up his spine when he discovered the nature of the deer had not gone yet. And it was still urging him to get back to the hummers. He shoved the soldiers aside who were crowding the bleeding private, and kneeled next to the kid. He grabbed one of the torn pieces of cloth from Johnson’s hands, and bound it tightly around the private’s neck wound. He looked at the kid as he tightened the knot and said softly:

“You’re not going to die, ok? It’s the time of the season for loving, not dying.”

He didn’t know why he had said that. It was not supposed to be a joke, and Vandervoort was not known for his compassion, so it could not have been meant as a comforting comment.
The other soldiers helped the private to his feet, and Vandervoort was glad to get a move on. He could hear voices on the wind, and was more an more getting aware of his fear that if this disease was contagious, it could possibly spread to humans. If the private made it back to the hummers, he would be put in quarantine as soon as possible.

Lucas moved closer to Johnson as they paced back to the vehicles. He tried to keep his voice low as he spoke:

“When we get back to the hummers, I want you to keep a close eye on that kid. Those things suffered from the same disease that kept the deer walking. We cannot know if he has been infected, and what it will do to him. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Rotting people.

Great. NOW I'm pissed.
Jetta turned sharp on her wheels and swung her bag off her shoulder. Her fingers found the handle of her nailstudded bat, and as she pulled it from the bag, she looked around, scowling.

"Rotting freakin people now? Are you freaking kidding me? That's it, this town has officially become the ninth ring of Suckville! First, no good parties. Then no good sex, and now, i have to deal with rotting freakin humans?!?!

Jetta shoved the new shoes into her bag. If she was going to avoid the freaks, she had to be able to move fast and the pavement outside was similar to what she learned to skate on as a kid.

"I'm good to go when you are, Big T, but ahhh.... you might want to get yourself a weapon. Just incase you need to...you know... crack some skulls or something."

T nodded to his newfound companion. Big T? Eh, he could work with that.
"Don't worry... I've got two pieces in my car. In the meantime..." The south african stuntman grabbed a whatever the first club-like object he came by was and led the way back to his ride. A clothes rack? A bag of dog food perhaps?

Too bad he won't be sleeping tonight, but at least he had company.

"Well, I can tell you I am not goin' out like that, Big T."

She took a few swings of the at and grinned. "Besides, i bet I'm faster than you. I make it to your car first, with completely uneaten brains, and you give me a gun, 'kay?"

Jetta gave him a slow once-over, still grinning. "Or do you think you can beat me?"

In all honesty, she though, he did have longer strides, but she hadn't quite hung up the skates just yet, so she could still beat him.

((assuming positive response))

With a grin, she skated towards the doors, keeping her eyes peeled for any danger.

"A race? I guess you should know I do this kind of stuff for a living. I may be getting old, but I'm not past my prime yet.

Don't worry though, if there really are zombies, I won't let you get eaten. It's a long drive and all the guys on talk radio are starting to get boring."

At this point, T was just playing along. As his newfound friend darted off on her skates, he grabbed the nearest object - a stick of pepperoni, and swallowing his pride dashed off after her, no longer caring about the state in which he left this backwoods department store. Wal-Mart prides themselves on their cheap labor. They have the manpower to clean up. The employees don't seem too concerned.

His only fear was whatever virus was going around making people appear to be rotting didn't infect him or his friend he would be spending some time in the car with.

His message imparted, Bryson eyed his assembled congregation somewhat appensively, uncertain as to how they might respond. A solitary bead of perspiration trickled down the back of the minister’s neck, and, as he watched the church empty, he wondered if the choice he had made had indeed been the correct one. Still, what was done was done. Gathering up his notes, Bryson moved the now lukewarm coffee pots off to one side, scooping up the remaining boxes of donuts to dispose of later. No sense leaving them here overnight, they might attract rats.

Outside, a low, incessant droning was calling harshly on the wind, audible even below the electric howling of the police sirens. Bryson locked the church doors behind him, the first time he could recall having done so since he moved here. He had no way of knowing for sure what might be going on out there, but the minister had a strong gut feeling that whatever was going to come a-calling on his church tonight was unlikely to be a penitent in search of prayer, or drunken student looking for a place to sleep their revels off. John jangled the keys pensively in his hand for a heartbeat, weighing the moment over, but stuck to his guns: depositing them snugly back into his jacket pocket.

“John, I’m sorry but can you give me a ride? I walked here.” It was Lisa Neiman.

“No problem, Lisa,” he replied, “just hop in.” In all honesty he didn’t much care for the company, not that it mattered. He needed time alone, to put the situation neatly into place in his own mind before he could think about offering his council to others. Without much thinking about it, Bryson held his passenger door open for her to get inside. He wasn’t coming on to her, John was quite sure of that much, but he’d been raised to be polite and was operating almost on auto-pilot at the moment.

Dropping the uneaten boxes of donuts in the back, the pastor walked back around his car to the driver’s seat. “What the hell do you think is going on?” “I don’t know,” Bryson shrugged, starting the engine. “But I can tell you I don’t much care to be there to find out.” As the car revved to life, the audio continued from the point where he’d left it: an old Johnny Cash CD he must have bought almost ten years ago. John killed it: he didn’t need the distraction at the moment. The police sirens were still going as they turned up the road, shrieking ceaselessly from all direction. Still, no matter how things turned out it seemed unlikely that he’d be lambasted for scare mongering- it looked as though half the town must have reached the same conclusion.

The sedan pulled into the parking lot and, as the pair stepped outside, the wave of surrounding disquiet hit them like a jackhammer. The droning was almost overpowering here, sweeping over the area as though it was alive with an army of insects and, above it, the sounds of breaking glass and screaming voices could be heard from the main supermarket building. A crowd of individuals, maybe four dozen strong- he certainly wasn’t going to take the time to stop and count them- were busy wreaking havoc. If Bryson hadn’t known better he could have sworn that they were the ones making the inhuman droning sound which rose incessantly over the area. The pastor’s breath caught slightly in his throat as he took in the eerie scene, uncertain what to make of it. One thing was sure, however, this certainly wasn’t the time to pick up the groceries he’d intended.

“We should go.” John suggested, turning back to Lisa with a short, curt nod. They’d head on, out of town, before the madness spread. They could decide where to head next on the road. (Assuming they are both able to get back into the car.) As he veered the sedan back towards the parking lot exit, Bryson reached back inside his jacket to hand his cell phone to Lisa. Struggling to maintain a calm and level tone despite the obvious disquiet outside he asked, “Lisa, could you dial 911? Ask them if anything similar’s going on across the valley, and where we should head on to next?

OOC: If Bryson sees anyone get hurt in the parking lot then he might turn back

If anyone’s caught without transport or otherwise in need of help then he’ll offer them a lift. Otherwise, he’s just getting the hell out of Dodge.

Forest off Route 5S, Herkimer
Upstate New York September 14th, Sunday, 10:16 pm

The group simply stared at Vandervoort for what seemed long moments, when he demanded one of the privates drag the still snapping, paralyzed wolf to the hummers. One by one their gazes dropped to the beast. If this was Mange, it was the worst case in recorded history. The creatures body lay in an unnatural, contorted angel; it’s spine clearly snapped. Yet it’s head lolled back and forth, losely, and it’s jaws opened and closed more like those of a gasping fish pulled onto land, then a snapping wolf. It’s fur clung to it in patches, and beneath, the skin was a yellow brown, and mottled with a sickening brownish purple. It’s ears…simply didn’t exist. They had rotted away, along with the tip of it’s nose. It’s eyes gleamed white in the flash-light. They were clouded over like white quartz.

Perhaps most interesting was the fact that it’s throat had been torn out days before, and the trachea, a shriveled, blue tube, hung limply from the huge gash where it’s neck had been shredded open. A sickening flapping sound fluttered from within it’s throat every few seconds, as a gurgling growl pushed it’s way to the surface.

“You grab it if it means so much to you.”

One of the privates was glaring at Vandervoort. It was the fair haired Clayton. The young man with the map, and the one and only soldier who had stepped in to help Johnson. It was he who had brought the rock down on the creatures spine. Glancing form Vandervoort to Johnson he quickly continued, as if afraid he’d overstepped his boundaries.

“It’ll only slow us down. I don’t think anyone expected….rotting…dead thing’s to be attacking us. This mission has to be over….right Serge?”

Johnson seemed to hesitate a moment before trudging past everyone and up the hill. As he walked he said.

“You’ve got your samples, Dr. This mission is a botch. We’ve got more important things to see to. Like telling the goddamn world that dead animals are walking through our forests.”

The soldiers began to follow, Mosher, Carrell, and Vandervoort exchanged glances, before Carrell quickly stepped behind the creature and grabbed it’s hind leg.

“Well don’t just stand there. Mosher come help.”

Without hesitation the young scientist moved in and grabbed the other hind leg, and the two began to drag the slobbering, snapping beast up the hill. With two people pulling it, they could easily keep pace, with the group. It was only moments though, before the group came to a dead halt, with the break in the forest in sight, the sound of something crashing through the underbrush caused them to halt, and slowly, fearfully turn in the direction.

First one, then a second. A third staggered from the darkness between the pale trunks, then they were in clear view, arms outstretched, blackened, nearly skeletal faces twisted in open jawed gapes. They were wearing dress close…like what one would wear to church on Easter Sunday…if following the sermon, said individual decided to roll in the mud for a few hours. Leaves and soil clung to their clothes, and their stringy, ancient hair hung like cobwebs from peeling scalps. The flash-lights landed on their blank, crusted eyes, and they let out three, simultaneous moans. Heavy, gurgling moans. The moan forced by a maggot infested lung, through lax, decayed vocal chords.

The Team of trained US Soldiers, and professional Scientists became a gaggle of screaming, hysterics, scrabbling through the trees and towards the clearing, with no regard for one another. Mosher first, then Carrell, let go of the wolf, and bolted for the clearing. The team of soldiers were quick to follow, with Private Waltkins (Vandervoort could finally see the wounded soldier’s nametag) staggering as fast as he damn well could behind them.

(You may opt to bolt when Mosher and Carrel do, and thus be in the front of the pack, or you may be in the center or in the back, with Waltkins if you wish. Or you may act in any other way as you please)
They had just started to run, when the sounds of shouts, and gunshots began ringing from the road…where the hummers were located.

Pushing through the trees, and into the 50 or so yards of clearing, the group stared in horror as a mob of staggering, moaning figures that had surrounded the Teams caravan slowly closed in on it. The Van that contained the laboratory sat, dark and unoccupied in front of the three hummers. One of which had either Clarke of Shafer propped through the (don’t know what you call it :/) roof door, (the circular door on the top of military hummers). He had an MA 16 clutched in his hands and was unloading on the crowd.

The headlights suddenly flashed to life. If Shafer was in shooting at the…crowd, then Clarke must be in the drivers seat. They must have switched vehicles at some point during the teams trek into the forest.

***The situation Is this. A mob of dead humans are staggering towards the caravan, and have already encircled it pretty well. The caravan is about 50 feet away, with the nearest zombies being half that distance. Carrell has the keys to the Laboratory Van. Johnson has the keys to one hummer, and Clayton has the keys to another. The third hummer is occupied by Clarke and Shafer, and if they notice you, they haven’t said anything. They look like they’re about to drive off. In order to get to the vehicles, you will need to manuver past a few zombies, and while they appear slow and unsteady, god forbid you trip, or one happens to grab you. Also, you don’t know if the van doors are locked, which would take…a little bit more time to get the door opened. The Van has a portable laboratory, and everything you could want, including high tech computer analyzing technology, while the Hummer’s have weapons and ammunition. Course you can always just run down the road, away from all of this towards Herkimer…..You could very well encounter houses along the way as you’re a good 3 miles outside town…..I DO roll for things if you decide to fight/run/manuever/what have you. Just remember this is not free form, and it is survival horror. Good luck from this point on***

Walmart Supercenter,
103 N Caroline Street, Herkimer,
Upstate New York September 14th, Sunday, 10:16pm

With a giddiness that can almost be considered disturbing, the pair of newfound friends, decided to race back to Tiann’s car. They had decided it was time to get the hell out of this town. They didn’t know what was going on, but it was all too George Romero for them. Whipping out a cruel looking club, from her purse, Jetta began to skate her way down the Action Alley of the Walmart, towards the exit. It would be a straight shot from here. In her wake, Tiann had a brief second to grab the nearest weapon he could find, a 3 foot long pepperoni stick, before he was running behind her.

They had really only just started towards the exit, when the screams and the hysteria began. Once long lines broke as people scattered and began running in the opposite direction as the exit. A rather large man sprinted down the isle, along with several others, towards Jetta, with Tiann just behind her. She would have dodged him, but there was a particularly large display of Bushes Baked Beans in her way, and his shoulder slammed into her chest hard. She could feel the air rushing from her lungs, but she had too many years of practice put into Roller Dirby to let herself lose her balance. Spinning and doing what would have been a donut if she were in a car, Jetta put her arms out and caught the bean display. Tiann caught up with her then, and they could see…was it a fight?

In the entranceway, three figures had hold of the door greeter, and had dragged him to the ground. A crowd had gathered, and people were screaming in terror as they watched. What were the three figures doing to the man? Tiann and Jetta could not tell, but they appeared to be hunched over him. A figure stepped through the entrance beside the commotion and promptly lurched onto a by standing woman, who shrieked and tried to pull herself free, before tumbling to the ground. The crowd scattered in a fashion that resembled a herd of wildebeest after one of their own has been pounced on by a lion. Another figure staggered through the doorway in a fashion that was all too unsteady and unnatural.

This was the entrance outside of which Tiann’s car was parked.

****** ****** ******

Her decision as easy enough. As bewildering, confusing, and absolutely horrifying as the site of three dead men staggering through a dunkin donuts towards you was, Melina was quick to follow the young boy out the EXIT in the side of the lobby. Darting through the door, she let him slam the door shut behind her.

“What the hell man!? What the hell!”

The boy was holding his hands up near his face, as if he wanted to cup it. They were shaking violently. His voice had reached the pinnacle of pubescent shriekhood, and his blue eyes were like saucers.

Melina however, was busy staring at the parking lot. Directly ahead of her, and parallel to the side of the Walmart and it’s parking lot were the Herkimer sports fields. Through a hole in the fence, a rather large mob of…rotting, moaning, people had staggered, and had promptly began dragging fanatically shrieking Walmart Shoppers to the pavement. She could see a group of four..people, huddled over a fallen body. What they were doing, she could not tell, but a river of blood ran from the body and into a sewer drain. This was only 70 feet away perhaps. Not 15 feet from this first site, a dark blue Saturn sat, half over the curb and wedged into the wooden fence that bordered the parking lot. She couldn’t see within, but a man was busy leaning threw the drivers side window…which appeared to be shattered.

A good dozen figures were shuffling about between cars, and the walmart entrance. Melina didn’t want to believe it. It simply couldn’t be possible. And yet as many times as she would close her eyes and wish this away, when she opened them, rotting corpses still walked the parking-lot, and as much as she tried to cover her ears, that horrible droning moan still hung in the air.

***Melina, you passed through a side exit to walmart. All walmarts have a wrapping driveway, so you can follow it behind the walmart and away from this carnage if you wish. What lays behind the walmart, you don’t know. Probably loading trucks, back entrances, maybe scattered walmart tools…hopefully no zombies. There is a wall that wraps around the walmart, and in the back it becomes concrete, perhaps 20 feet high. The driveway is not entirely in your view, from this angle, because the walmart is in your way. You do see the first 4 parking lanes, and a good sized mob of dead people have passed through it and into the entrance. Stragglers remain shuffling about, and you can see there are over a dozen of them between you and the cars. They don’t notice you but who knows when they will. You also have a panicking teenager with you. Directly ahead of you, is the fence that wraps around the walmart. It is wooden planked, maybe 8 feet high, and easily climbed. Should you do so, you will be in the fields depicted in the map that Al posted in Q/A. First glances around your immediate vicinity don’t present weapon options. Any other questions or concerns, just ask! And remember…I do roll. This isn’t free form. Good luck! ***

***Jetta/Tiann, I know you wanted to go to your car, but I wanted you to witness the dangers of this entrance. More zombies are passing through by the second. You can opt to fight your way though, skirt around and go through the other entrance, or stay inside the store. If you have any questions, ask em! Remember I roll, and this is a survival horror! Good luck!***

Melina tried to think, tried to find some sanity in the midst of this chaos. The drone of the moaning, the shrieking boy, the smell of decay, the sight of blood… it all made the suburbia housewife’s head spin.

I need to get a grip! I NEED to be in control! she thought to herself. Grabbing the boy by the shoulders, she gave him a violent shake (and slapped him across the face too, if necessary), “Get a grip, kid! I can’t think with you screaming!”

[OOC: Regardless of whether he stops…]

Melina tried to grab all her multidirectional thoughts and focus her mind for a moment. “We need to move. We need to get out of here.”

She scanned her surroundings. The mob of rotting people were coming in from the sports fields and flooding into the parking lot and entrance. “D***!” They had better not be scratching the Jeep!
Looking the other direction, Melina spoke to the kid, “What’s your name, kid?”

[OOC: Regardless of his answer…]

“And any idea what’s behind the store?”

[OOC: I’ll stop here… see if the kid has any extra information]

She saw the blow before it came, and though she tried to bend herself into it, to lessen the effect, it came nonetheless. Air rushed from her lungs in a woosh of pain, and she fought to maintain her balance.

Unable, for the time being, to form a coherent vocalized thought, she gasped for air and pointed behind them to the back of the store.

Come on, Big T, don't make me go out the front door, she prayed, and pointed to the fron. She shook her head violently, and pointed back to the back of the store.

Such a strange day... so grotesque. She obviously didn't want to fight through, but they had to get to his car. Tiaan grabbed her arm and started running the other direction, knowing she would follow.

"Change of plan... hunting supplies for some rifles and then out the garden center. It's so cliche but we can get a chainsaw there. Then we can get to my car through the garden exit.

Sound like a plan?"

It was a freaking nightmare, that’s what it was. A nightmare with opportunities. One moment he was on what promised to be another mind-numbing routine inspired job, the next he was flushed down a drain of horrors, swirling faster and faster. Clues and realizations were untwirling before him so rapidly that Lucas was starting to lose his mind. If he hadn’t lost it already, years ago, on that dreadful yet liberating evening that his landlord came to complain about rent.

rent…

Who would worry about rent in this kind of situation? And so the sudden doom of undeath slowly started changing into a wave of chance. Vandervoort was starting to see the benefits. And it helped him clear his mind.

That’s right, drop the damn animal. he thought as both his colleagues let go of the wolf. Who needed a dead wolf when soon he would have a real specimen.

But then they became aware of the mob surrounding the vehicles. Most of all, Vandervoort was focused on the mobile lab. If he could get the injured private in there, bound and well, he would surely find out a lot more about the disease and how it affects those it infested. For he was now convinced, by experience or inspired by the zombie movies he had seen, that the soldier did not have long to live. And he wouldn’t have long to die either, if he was going to become one of those wandering corpses.

Vandervoort looked around, and saw the fear and horror on his companions’ faces. He himself most surely was as pale as them, apparently shocked at the horrific sight before them. But he was going to use them, if he wanted to stay alive; if he wanted to do the research he was born to do!

“Sergeant! We need the lab so I can work on your private’s wounds! If we don’t get him in there, he will surely die. And if you don’t get your men straight, we will all die! I don’t want to die right now! Can you clear a path to the lab?”

(OOC: IF a path is formed leading towards the lab, Lucas will stay in the center of the action, staying as far away from reaching zombie hands as possible. But if he needs to duck to get to the lab, he will do so. His research is too important for him, his goals too single-optioned. He will shout to Shafer for keys, if the sergeant doesn’t do that already. And I also hope he’s not going to get infected on his first real zombie encounter!)

Forest off Route 5S, Herkimer
Upstate New York September 14th, Sunday, 10:18 pm
They had been released from their day jobs as biological chemists at the Albany Environmental Observatory Center, or in Dr. Mosher’s case, the State University of New York at Albany (or SUNY Albany), by the US Military, just one day prior. They had been summoned to three classified meetings, and had been dispatched with a team of 10 members of the 361st infantry division of the US Army, plastic briefcases containing extraction tools, and a vague idea about some sort of mange or rabies break out in the woodlands surrounding the town of Herkimer New York.
What they faced now was a nightmare. Death incarnate quite literally walked among them. Or rather, death walked towards them, longing, and utterly terrifying. After the experiences with first the deer, then the wolves, Dr Vandervoort now stood on the edge of the forest with a group of terrified, inexperienced young men in soldier uniforms, toting tranquilizer guns, and two whimpering scientists. One of the men, Private Waltkins, was bleeding profusely from the neck, and was limping severely on a ravaged leg.

Ahead of them lay the road and their caravan. Three hummers rallied behind a white Field Van, and the two soldiers who had been left to man the equipment of the van were now inside the hummer behind it, firing away at a growing ring of corpses that had encircled them. Vandervoort knew immediately what he intended to do, but he would need the cooperation of the others.

“Sergeant! We need the lab so I can work on your private’s wounds! If we don’t get him in there, he will surely die. And if you don’t get your men straight, we will all die! I don’t want to die right now! Can you clear a path to the lab?”

Johnson tore his eyes away from the nightmare they faced and eyed Vandervoort, then his wounded soldier. Nodding, he cocked his pistol and, gripping it in both hands at his waist, and with no small effort, began to trot towards the ring of ghouls.

“Private Schafer! Point that gun over here! Clear us a path to the van. Damn you Clarke don’t you dare drive that hummer out of here soldier!”

At the sound of his voice, some of the ghouls began to turn, slowly but methodically towards their group. More were stumbling from the trees, in the darkness to their left. Vandervoort could hear the guttural, dead moans.
Grudgingly, the rest of the company began to follow Johnson, in a tight circle. Their backs to one another and their guns raised like clubs. Vandervoort found himself in the center, alongside Carrell and Mosher.

From his place at the crown of the hummer, Shafer began popping rounds at the ghouls congregated around the van. Johnson fired a few rounds at the nearest, and Vandervoort noted that he shot only for the head. Shots bored through decayed cheek bone and forhead. Leathery skin splayed and brittle, yellow gray cranium cracked into black craters. Above the cacophony of moans and gunshots, he heard sobbing. It was Mosher.

In seconds, their side of the van had been cleared, but only for a time. A crowd had gathered around Shafer and Clarkes hummer, but many were turning now towards the easier, more plentiful prey that were approaching the nearby van. Still more were staggering from all sides, from the darkness of the field and the forest.

Vandervoort stepped over a fallen, well decayed form, now just a handful of yards from the van. Waving the arm that wasn’t wielding his briefcase, he shouted
“Private Shafer, you must toss me the keys to the van!”
The soldier paused, leaning on the roof of his hummer, with his MA 16 propped tightly at his shoulder.
“The keys are in.”

Without hesitation, Johnson hit the van and spun his back to it’s passenger door, gun extended and ready. He spoke quickly, and his men reacted quickly.

“Slide the door open, get Waltkins and the scientists inside. Clayton you too. Radio on. We drive the hell out of here when we’re ready.”

The side door was slid open, and Clayton and another soldier helped the wounded Waltkins in before Clayton hopped in and rushed for the driver seat in the front. They hurriedly motioned for the scientists to follow, and Carrell and Mosher did so.

Johnson was already shouting to his remaining 5 soldiers on foot, as well as Schafer and Clarke (He had commanded Clark to roll a window down and start firing). They would try and make their way to the rear hummer. The plan, as Vandervoort understood it, was for he to get his ass into the van, close the door, and wait for the rest of the company to get safely into the rear hummer. From Johnsons orders it seemed very clear he intended to be in charge, and he intended for them to leave as a group. Leave for where?

(I don’t know what exactly you plan. Johnson has not yet begun to make his way around the caravan, and you stand with the side door to the van open. Whatever your plans, post em and I shall respond accordingly!)

Christ Episcopal Church-Route 5, 1 Mile outside Herkimer,
Upstate New York September 14th, Sunday, 10:13 -10:33pm “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.”

Jay McConnor’s radio crackled to life on the table behind him, and Bryson’s brow furrowed slightly at the unexpected news.

Perhaps something in the words struck a chord with him, or perhaps the minister was merely beginning to crack under the past months’ accumulated stress, but like a bolt from the blue, he was struck by an immediate flash of revelation. His own experience with the military, near two decades distant now, had been sufficient to curry distrust at the ordered efficiency of the broadcast’s tone. Some kind of horrible disaster was befalling the town, and he had a duty to warn these people as best he could and get them out before anything worse happened.

Raising his voice slightly to begin a speech, determined to inject a measured and orderly tone into the words that he could scarcely feel, Bryson glanced across what remained of his gathered congregation, trying to gauge their response to his words.

“Ladies, gentlemen, could I have your attention for a moment please? From the sound of that broadcast, and the police cars running up and down the street outside, I’d say that something quite significant has happened- or might be about to happen- somewhere across town.”
“Now, while we can’t say for certain what’s going on out there yet- it could be a bomb alert, it might just be a major waste spill- I’d suggest that none of us are going to want to be there when it goes off. According to that radio we’ve still got an hour, I’d suggest that we all just gather up our things and reconvene somewhere on the edge of town. The Walmart there might be a good spot. If any of you have friends or family that you’ll need to call or bring along then this might be a good time.”

“I know that some of you will have work tomorrow, but if the town’s being closed down tonight, then things won’t be up and running again for at least another day. If I’m wrong, and I most sincerely hope that I am, the worst that can happen is that we’ll all lose a couple of hours’ sleep and take a couple more tins of food home with us tomorrow. If I am right, then who knows? Whatever’s going on here,, it sounds serious, and they wouldn’t be shutting the town without good reason.”
His congregation stared at him for long moments. Even Harold Redridge, the old wise-crack, said nothing. Then they were all on their feet and heading to the door, leaving half eaten, frosted donuts on the tables. A couple people, farmers, mumbled to him that they would just head on home, since they lived a good half hour away.

Outside it was clear something horrible had washed over the village. The twenty or so members of his church were standing like a flock of sheep (HAH!) on the church yard, silently listening. Faces were ashen, and filled with confusion. At first Bryson didn’t understand why, until he made his way down the steps and stood among them. The wailing of sirens was incessant, and was coming from many directions at once, but beneath it, low, relentless. A strange, drone drifted on the wind. What the hell was it? He couldn’t tell, but it gave him chills. It sounded like a thousand muttering old shamans.

“I’m out!”

It was Jason Patterson. A young man with a pretty girlfriend that looked like she had been the queen of prisses in Highschool, and a bright red, Dodge neon with a customized fin. Yes…he had decked out a neon. As he spoke, he and his girlfriend, someone who didn’t come to church often, and Bryson couldn’t remember her name, Lindsey? Linda?, got into his car.

The others acted on queue, crossing the street to their vehicles, in the bank parking lot, and pulling out one by one. Bryson approached his own little green sedan, and had unlocked the drivers-side door, when he himself was approached by one of his congregation, Lisa Neiman. A middle aged woman, beautiful for her age, who’s husband had left her years ago for an even more beautiful, younger woman. Bryson knew Lisa well, because he had counseled her often in the year following her divorce. She had her share of problems, though, he knew. One was that she dressed all too much like a scantily clad teenager, rather than a middle aged woman, no matter her beauty. Another was that she…from what he had seen, was incredibly flirtatious. He didn’t know much about her life at home, but he knew she had dated a bit, and was often seen with one male companion or another, but never settled down. He also knew that she would occasionally throw him looks during sermons that definitely caused him to wonder what she was imagining of him…

“John, I’m sorry but can you give me a ride? I walked here.”

She also called him by his first name. (I’m going to just assume you say yes). He waited for the other cars to leave, to be sure noone else needed a ride. Lisa sat in the passenger seat, nervously rolling her long black hair around one slender finger. “What the hell do you think is going on?”

The church yard was empty. Flicking his lights on, the pastor pulled out of the driveway and onto North Mainstreet. There were of course, several ways to get to Walmart, but the quickest was simply to just cut a block down North Mainstreet, and to hop onto the main road, State Street. That is indeed what Bryson did….or intended to do. As the car approached the crossway, he was shocked to see the traffic. It looked to him as if everyone in town was out. Traffic was backed up, and with lights every 100 feet, anxious drivers were beeping at one another. On the sidewalks, people were walking, or riding bikes. Only about half of the traffic was headed to Walmart though….were people ignoring the curfew? Were people leaving? Either way, Bryson was in position to cut the traffic well, by pulling into the driveway of the many strip malls and diners that lined State street. Cruising parallel with the road, for a few minutes, before coming to a T that was connected to both State Street and the Walmart parking lot, as well as a Mcdonalds and an Applebees, he pulled the vehicle back on the road and made his way into the vast expanse that was Walmart’s parking lot.

“Oh s***!” She liked to swear too…but this time, Bryson didn’t seem to notice her. He was quite possibly thinking the same thing. The parking lot was not only quickly filling up, but what appeared to be a mob of people was pouring into it from the Herkimer Highschool’s sport’s fields that rested beside the parking lot. Cars skirting the parking lots lanes were forced to stop as the mob swept around them with total disregard, and as the two peered through their windows, it actually seemed as if people carrying Walmart bags were fleeing from the crowd. (all walmarts have two front entrances, Grocery and…the other, this ones Grocery side is on the right if your facing walmart.)
The Grocery Side entrance was being flooded by the mob as well.

Skirting to the other side of the large parking lot, Bryson realized he would need to park far from the entrance, and did so anyways. Putting the vehicle in park, a good 60 yards away from the building, the two exited their vehicle, and immediately heard the chaos.

The drone was loud, and washing over the parking lot from the mob. The mutter and moan of so many voices acting as one. Over the drone were screams of utter and total terror. Bryson heard the sound of glass breaking, and tires screaming. It sounded like someone was trying to push or pull something too heavy to move with their vehicle.

As it was, the Grocery side parking lot was a bit on the hectic side. A good 50 or so people had flooded through the fence, and were apparently causing chaos. Breaking glass and making people scream is fairly chaotic when it takes place in a walmart parking lot. Nomatter, the other entrance was ahead of them, and fairly clear. People stood outside it, gawking at the other side of the parking lot, but at least there was no violence.
It didn’t matter to Father Bryson. Something about a mob of fifty or so people, in a Walmart parking lot was…well, VERY wrong. Turning to Lisa, who stood beside him, hugging her purse and staring at the distant crowd, he said “We should go.”
“Why? What do you think is-“
He had was already opening the passenger side door for her and ushering her in. The slam of the door cut her off, and when he opened his own door and slid in, she could only stare at him.
Checking for vehicles and pedestrians, he pulled the vehicle out of its spot and rolled towards the stop sign that stood sentinel at the end of the parking lot. A small line of vehicles had already begun to form, and as he pulled in behind a big, red, chevy pick up, he reached into his coat and withdrew his cellphone. Lisa was turned around in her seat, trying to see what the mob was all about. Too many vehicles blocked their view however. Handing her the phone, Bryson willed his voice to be calm.
“Lisa, could you dial 911? Ask them if anything similar’s going on across the valley, and where we should head on to next?”
“Yeah ok.”
She began dialing, and John tried to focus on the traffic. It was hardly moving. A traffic light sat a good 30 yards beyond the stop sign, at the merge with State Street, which lead out of town, becoming Route 5. Even from here he could see though that the highway was laden with traffic.
Someone must have answered her call, because Lisa was speaking with someone, inquiring as he had asked her to. The light turned green, and traffic began to move. He had a choice to make. Turn left and make his way through the town of Herkimer, over the Mohawk River, and into the town of Mohawk, or turn right onto the highway, which could take him to the city of Utica. At the moment nothing mattered to him more then getting out of this town, and so he turned the green sedan right, merged onto the highway, and hit the gas.
The highway gently hugged Walmart’s south side, and did so from an elevated point. As they passed, he tried catching signs of the mob through the passenger window, but saw only cars and scattered figures. The mob, it seemed, had dissipated, or had headed into the store.
A moment later, she hung up the phone and handed him back his phone. “The woman said that this was the first they had heard of any sort of riot. She said it might have been looters, or protesters to the curfew, which makes sense. I just don’t understand what that noise was. It sounded like they were all humming, or moaning. But they all sounded so….old. Maybe we should have stayed to see what was going on?”
She awaits his response.
“Also the woman said that we aren’t supposed to leave Herkimer. Another announcement is going to be made in a few minutes, insisting that people stay in the town. “
She pauses as the car flies by a sign that says “Welcome to Ilion”, before slowing and coming to a stop behind a small train of vehicles at a stop light that merged German Street to Route 5 (Your on Route 5). This would be the last turn into Herkimer, if John wished to go back. German street forms the northern border of the town, passing through it’s entirety, and merging onto route 28, which headed north, through scattered small, isolated towns into the wilderness of Northern New York. German street also passes Herkimer County Community College, which crowns one of the tallest, steepest hills in the valley, and which brags all of the conveniences a community college has to offer.
“Should we go back John?”
The highway they were on would take them along the Mohawk River, and alongside connected towns such as Ilion, and Frankfort, before bleeding into the city of Utica.

((The Decision is yours, my friend. A list of landmarks on either road are as follows-
Route 5- An exit which will take you into the town of Ilion. Ilion itself is mostly residential, but it does offer Remington Arms. The biggest gun making factory in New York. Remington is a fenced off fortress…as it should be. Beyond Ilion is a great deal of hilly, wooded country and farmland.
An exit into Frankfort. This is about 3 minutes beyond Ilion, whose exit is literally 30 seconds outside of Herkimer. Frankfort offers nothing but Residential, and pizza shops.
Open highway for 10 minutes, on which there are no exits. The highway will take you right into downtown Utica, which is businesses, a train station, banks, whatnot. Typical city with typical city accommodations.
German Street-You would make whats almost a U-turn onto German street, which goes up a steep hill, and wraps around Herkimer. It passes Herkimer High school on the right, A very large Graveyard on the left, Walmart a block down and on the right, and then the road to the college which sits atop a very steep hill. Then you pass through several blocks (with stop signs) of residential, before being able to merge on to Route 28 N, which leads through small, creepy villages (I find em creepy…banjo villages if ya get my drift), and miles upon miles of wilderness.))