October 26, 2014
Ace Hardware - 1:35 PM

As the rest of the survivors wandered through the hardware store, Steve mutters to himself. "Been here already... wasting time..." However, the auburn-haired man seems to understand that the others had not yet had the chance to stock up on supplies, and so he moves to the back of the store and hunkered down in the shadows, waiting for the rest to comeplete their "shopping."

Emily browses the aisles, but decides that, for her, the tire iron is the best choice for an ongoing weapon. Mac distributes flashlights and laser devices to the others, explaining his thinking as he does so. Group members fashion loops and figure out creative ways to carry various items with rope and duct tape. Murph moves close to Amber, and the two of them share a private moment or two.

Jake grits his teeth against the heat in the hardware store - it is far more stifling here than the drugstore had even begun to be. Armageddon must truly be here, he muses, the dead walk the land, the whole world will burn soon...
Gripping his newfound axe tightly in his hands, the soccer player stares at the back of Mac's head. That bossy sonof@#$@*! Handing out lights and pointers, acting like any of this matters...
Jake grimaces against a sudden, splitting pain in his head and wipes his flushed face. Sudden fury courses through his veins; he can almost taste the hate. The rage was eating him up inside, begging to be released.... the bounty hunter's #*(*@$ aim had caused Jake to be bitten, he deserved death, Jake wouldn't die alone...
Wrapped up in their own concerns, seeing to their own gear, soothing their own fears, no one immediately notices Jake as he steps up and brings the axe down in a vicious, overhand arc toward the back of Adrian MacGregor's head. At the last possible instant, instincts scream at the bounty hunter and he turns to his left just enough to prevent the weapon from splitting his head like a ripe watermelon - but it still punches deep into his flesh, penetrating into the upper chest area until the axe head is buried there.

Time seems to freeze for a moment as Mac stares, uncomprehending, into the dilated eyes of the man who had shared drinks, stale food, and stories with him for the past week and a half, the man who had now decided to kill him. Jake's hands shake, he hyperventilates for a moment, and then Mac's knees buckle and the bounty hunter slumps to the floor. Jake releases the axe handle, leaving it wedged in Mac's chest, then screams... a horrible sound of hate and anguish.

Before anyone can react to the horrifying scene, Jake leaps through the plate glass storefront and crashes into the sidewalk beyond. He picks himself up off of the ground and screams again, but this time, the scream is far less human. This time, it is more a bloodcurdling shriek bereft of any semblance of humanity.

This time, a chorus of shrieks answer - very near a half dozen in number. Footsteps can be heard as the zombies - for surely, that is what these things are - come rushing in response to Jake's call. There are mere moments, at best, until they are upon you all.

At the party scrambles to take up defensive positions, the first of the attackers comes into view, moving at a dead run for the door. Suddenly, it jerks as if yanked back by an invisible rope as a massive hole - big enough for a man's fist to fit through - opens in its chest. A roar like that of thunder can be heard, followed by a deep voice shouting into the madness.

"Call ye on the name of your gods, and I will call on the name of the LORD! And the God that answereth by fire," there is a slight pause in the statement; if a person were close enough to hear above the chaos, then the listener could have detected the sound of another round being chambered before the voice continues, "let him be God!"

And then, the zombies are upon you.

It had been ten days since God had taken away the light. Ten days since hell opened up and dragged Chicago into its midst. Ten days since the first test.

~~~~~
He had taken to bed early that night. The plebeians and sinners had taken to the streets, engaging in debauched celebrations over some sporting event Teddy had to admit he’d scarcely even been aware was occurring. He’d long reprimanded his TV crew for their casual declarations that it would take the return of the Christ himself to propel the Cubs to a pennant, and marvelled at how the proud Christian evangelical program he’d long headed had allowed itself to become full with those less devout and full of ignorance. Beyond the blasphemy inherent in their statement, the Christ would return only at the end of days. Teddy would have thought someone who so readily speaks of sin would not be so ready to face the Reckoning.

~~~~~
The irony of their unwittingly apocalyptic musings was not lost on Father Theodore Gregory now. He could still recall the names of some those who had fled to his home that night. There were Susan and her husband Timothy, the couple from the floor below. There was Eric, the building’s police assigned riot officer, a nice fellow Ted had only just met days previous, as well as his young girlfriend Tiffany, who Ted was quite certain he’d not met before yet seemed quite friendly. There was Jonas, a man beyond even Teddy’s advanced years, who had lived in the building back before anyone could remember. Then there were the others. He didn’t know their names or where they’d come from, and at first he’d not understood why the others had brought them. As they’d explained the situation in the streets he knew they’d need him more than ever.

~~~~~
They’d stayed in his suite for six days, Teddy and his “flock”. They looked for him for guidance, for leadership, and with God as his witness he’d not let them down. He read to them from the New Testament, teaching them of what was to come. The devastation on the streets was God’s way of punishing the wicked, and soon the Lord would come to reward the faithful and lead them to salvation. They needed only to wait until the sign was given. At the dawn the next day, he’d headed to the pantry only to find it empty. Taking it as a sign they needed no longer hide within his tower. He woke the others and they gathered supplies. At noon, Teddy led them outside to receive their salvation.

He’d been on his own now for four days.

~~~~~
”God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble…”, he spoke quietly, ”Psalms 46:1.” He had needed God more than ever these last four days. This was his test, like Job he would suffer without complaint, never turning his back on God, it was expected on him. Many were the times he stopped a moment to question why he had been chosen, before dismissing the thought. He had known for years God saw greatness in him, and had given him the gifts to excel at His work. God had wanted him to be successful, and now he was seeing if he was deserving of the success he’d had. Ted would not, could not fail in His eyes.

And many of them that sleep in the dust of the earth shall awake, some to everlasting life, and some to shame and everlasting contempt. Daniel 12:2.. The passage flashed through his mind. If ever there was a more literal sign of God’s word he had yet to see it. The streets were strewn with death. Cars burned, bodies festered, and the silence that blanketed the city was total. Or at least Teddy had wished it would remain silent. The cries of the damned echoed through the city at night. Soulless abominations formed in the image of demons, humans found unworthy in His eyes. They stalked the streets like animals, and he had seen the remains of those they caught. Once one had come close to his hiding spot, and he was sure it would be upon him. He had held his sweet Maria before him, ready if so needed to banish the demon back to whence it had came.

He was grateful he had brought Maria with him. Though he knew he couldn’t bring her with him, he had brought her with him when God told him to leave the safety of his home. Her smooth ivory skin comforted him, and he had fond memories of their many hunting safaris in Africa together. The thought of leaving her behind for the sinners and non-believers to spoil appalled him. No, better she serve God at his side then be left hanging majestically above his mantle. He snapped her open quickly, ensuring her chambers were filled. One 950 shell in the barrel, nine more in his side-bag, he’d kept what shells he’d had left from their last trip abroad with her on the mantle, and he was glad he had. Maria would surely bring forth a wrath of God on anyone who sought to cause him harm.

Though Jesus walked the desert for forty days and God nourished Ted’s mind and body with his light, his powerful hunger drove him from his shelter, an apartment rooftop just off Broadway St.. Waiting until mid-day, he surveyed the neighbourhood from his perch before slowly making his way down the fire escape and toward the grocery on the main road. He suspected there would be no manna from heaven this time.

He approached the store from the rear, peering in through a large plate glass window. His eyes were not as strong as they once were, and the darkness inside didn’t help, but it looked to him as if he’d be safe inside. He was about to begin searching for a door when he first heard the screams.

The first one was angry, a scream of rage and hatred that cut Teddy to the bone. The second one was far more inhuman, the unmistakable wailing of the damned. The screams that answered were far more terrifying. A half dozen, maybe more, but certainly called the source of the original screams. Panicking, Teddy searched about desperately for a place to hide. Unable to locate a door, he found himself the next best thing.

At 56, he wasn’t quite as spry as he once was, and his years of idle pleasure had admittedly contributed to his ballooning gut, but God still quickened his blood in this time of need. He managed to climb onto the roof of a supply truck just as he saw them approach. Strangely, they seemed not to have spotted him, instead fixating on the hardware store across the road, the one with the shattered window. A bloodied figure was tearing away from the window at a frenetic pace, and from his angle atop the truck he couldn’t tell whether it was man or beast, but his attention was soon grabbed by the ones running past him, six or seven abominations tearing towards the open window.

Squinting, he thought he could see shadows within, perhaps survivors? More souls given into his care, or perhaps more sacrifices to test his resolve. Regardless, they needed His light, and as his agent, Father Ted would deliver them to salvation.

Father Ted stood atop the truck, swinging Maria to bear in front of him. He cracked her breach open, already knowing she was loaded, and levelled her at the lead creature. He traced its path along the street, gave it half a foot of leadoff and pulled back the trigger.

The barrel recoiled violently, pushing into his shoulder as the force of the blast ejected the solid slug round. It traced a line through the air and struck the creature in the back, and like so many large game on the African plains, tore the beasts body apart. The body flopped in the air a moment before landing with a dull, wet thud on the sidewalk. Standing atop the truck, Ted called out to those in the hardware store.

” Call ye on the name of your gods, and I will call on the name of the LORD! And the God that answereth by fire,…”, he paused for a moment to crack Maria open, ejecting a shell will sliding a second one into the breach.”let him be God!"
He drew his gun back up to his shoulder, drawing a bead on another of the creatures, he prepared to unleash all the fury of the Lord.

(OOC: Teddy's going to draw sightlines on the beasts, doing his best to kill any that remain outside the store. If any come at him he'll give them preference of course. He'll be keeping his ears open from the chaps in the store, listening to them if they respond to his call. Oh god I'm in this game I'm so excited.)

Murph allowed himself a somewhat satisfied grin as the rest of the troupe seemed to respond pretty quickly to his prodding. Those that didn’t answer out loud had at least shown their faces and indicated that he had been heard and had made himself clear and, best of all, none of them had taken too long about moving towards the front of the store to regroup. He had started to turn his head in order to smile at Amber and offer some kind of hope-filled commentary on the fact that the group had maybe started to work as a group but, before he could do so, his attentions were snatched back by the frail but determined Emily as she almost stomped to a stop before him and, with her hand on her hips, stated with no doubt as to her seriousness; “I want a gun.”

“Wow, Doc,” he chuffed, his grin stretching into a full-fledged smile as he blinked up at the tiny girl and then got to his feet, “why don’t ya tell me what’s really on your mind?”

“Heh. I'd give you mine,” Alaster’s voice drifted into the conversation from an aisle or so away, “but I'm not ready to feel safe without it.”

Murph’s hazel eyes ticked towards the carpenter for only an instant before returning to Emily. “To be honest, Em,” he told her, “I wish all of us had guns, right now…”

Although, I don’t know if that would make me worry less about having to watch everyone else’s backs or more about having to watch my own.
“…but, people in Hell are wishin’ for ice water, as the saying goes. Unfortunately, there’s nothin’ we can do about that right now… but, I promise you, we’re keeping a look out and, as soon as we can make it happen, we’re gonna get everybody armed as best we can. Until then, you just stay safe and let us take care of ya, huh?”

He had been prepared to add a comment in there to reassure the girl that he wasn’t telling her ‘no’ because he didn’t think she could handle a gun but Mac appeared with flashlights and laser levels just then and sidelined the thought.

“You might want to tape this on your gun,” the bounty hunter suggested handing Murph one of the flashlights, “it'll leave your hands free to handle the gun.”

“Good thinkin’, Mac,” he nodded, taking the light and relegating it to his pack’s pocket for the moment, “thanks.”

He listened, too, as Mac explained his ideas concerning the laser levels and, following that, allowed his focus to slip all the more when the other man leaned in and whispered; “Keep an eye on Jake; he's got death in his eyes. I've seen that look before.”

Murph offered a faint nod in reply. “Yeah,” he muttered, his gaze flicking to where Jake, now armed with an axe, was still making his way to the front of the store, “I’ve been watchin’. He doesn’t look good.

Thanks, Mac,” he clapped the bounty hunter on the shoulder, “Let’s square this up and roll out, huh?”

Murph’s attention was drawn to Alaster, then, as the kid said something about cigarettes. Murph smirked, shook his head a little, and flicked a glance in the still straggling Jake’s direction before he looked back in the carpenter’s direction prepared to say something in reply. His mind was split between what words he was going to jab at Alaster with and the fact that Jake really looked like…

“S#*^!!!”

He caught the swing of the axe in his peripheral vision just as his gaze had framed Alaster and the realization of what was happening hit his body a split second slower that it had hit his mind… Mac’s, too, apparently because, before anyone knew what was happening, Jake had buried his new axe in Mac’s chest… And when it did hit, Murph was too shocked and sickened to make his muscles do what he knew they needed to do. It wasn’t until Jake let loose with that first scream that the horror of it all jumpstarted him…

“Mac…”

Shoulda killed him when he first got bit, Sarge! Deny it all you want… if you still can… but you knew this was gonna happen! You knew…
“JAKE!!!”

…Jake was already charging for the window by the time Murph got the SLP in his hands again… and through it before Murph could draw a bead and fire… and Jake’s second scream – that soulless, inhuman scream – froze Murph’s blood in his veins long enough that he couldn’t pull the trigger. The cries that answered when Jake… Not-Jake… charged out of sight, though, thawed him with a quickness.

“Fall back,” he heard himself shout as he found himself remembering how to fire the shotgun and charging towards the now broken window, “Move to the back of the store! Emily! Amber! Move those a**es! Drag Mac if you have to,” he was vaguely aware of shoving each of them urgently towards the depths of the shore as he passed by the women and lifted the SLP to target the first of the zombies… yes, zombies… he saw charging the storefront. “Alaster! Cover fire!”

BOOOM!!!
The zombie exploded, twisted through the air, and splatted to the pavement before the words had even finished bellowing past Murph’s lips. The shot had come too quickly and from the wrong direction for it to have been Alaster following orders… Too powerful for a ten gauge, too… Somebody else?... S#!^… Kramer… where’s Kramer?
“Steve?...” Murph didn’t dare tear his gaze from the scene beyond the broken window to see if the ‘new guy’ had miraculously produced a hand-cannon, let alone where the man might be… he was too busy tracking the next inbound screamer and listening for the tell-tale sounds behind him that would let him know when everyone had moved… besides, another voice alerted Murph to the fact that there was another shooter out there…

"Call ye on the name of your gods, and I will call on the name of the LORD! And the God that answereth by fire…"

What the… There was a slight pause in the biblical evocation, then, and in that instant, Murph determined that the devastating rifleshot… along with the voice… had come from somewhere near the grocery across the street…

Could work out well, Sarge… you keep ‘em comin’ this way and let Reverend Artillery out there pick ‘em off as they come… a little crossfire bait and switch…
Reverend Artillery’s voice finished the verse as Murph finished the thought; “…let him be God!”

“Amen, Father!” Murph shouted just before he targeted the next zombie in the wave descending on the storefront and pulled the trigger… How’s that for answereth by fire?
((OOC: Okay… there’s that… Murph’s actions are pretty much as posted; keep himself between the window and the others as, hopefully, they at least try to fall back to a more defensible position… Target the flesh eaters by proximity and fall back himself, as he can, until they’re too close for the boomstick… ))

A smirk that's all Alaster remembered seeing before it all happened. Five minutes ago he seemed fine and now... now this?!

"Alaster cover fire!" Murph screamed charging towards the window that "he" ran through. Can it still be called a he, a human. How could he kill someone he just told everyone to not kill? Was it his fault? Had Alasters attempt at saving him doomed them all? He was the one defending him after all.

That's right. You're fault all your fault.

No not right now Alaster was thinking as he put himself between the girls, mac and the blood curdling screams.

"I got your back you want me up there or back there with them?" Alaster asked barely waiting for the reply to make sure there was nothing behind them and turning back to the window.

"EMily, Amber one of you take that gun and use it NOW!" Alaster screamed and then a discharge went off.

What? That wasnt the slp?

"Call ye on the name of your gods, and I will call on the name of the LORD! And the God that answereth by fire…"

And then another powerful discharge and Alaster watched as a large hole was produced from one of the zombies charging towards the shop.

"WHO THE HELL IS THAT MURPH?"

“…let him be God!”

“Amen, Father!” Murph shouted just before he targeted the next zombie in the wave descending on the storefront and pulled the trigger…

"Well I aint one for the verses of jesus but you gotta admit the man knows how to set the mood!" Alaster called lowering his gun and taking aim at the zombie closest the shop and cracked off a round.

"Keep an eye on Jake, he's got death in his eyes. I've seen that look before."
Mac was concentrating on setting up his pack and weapons, keeping an ear out for conversation from the others. Emily had "requested" a gun.

"Heh. I'd give you mine but I'm not ready to feel safe without it." Alaster called across the distance and in a slightly playful tone.

Sluggish footsteps from behind....

'TURN AROUND, MAN!', something in the back of Mac's head seemed to scream at him. Involuntarily his legs moved for him as he began to shake, somehow knowing something awful was about to happen and he wouldn't be ready for it......

He turned and faced the man...."Keep an eye on Jake, he's got death in his eyes. I've seen that look before...."
"Oh Sh**!", Mac heard screamed out, but the disembodied voice didn't seem to come from anywhere.

SHUNK! A harsh wet noise, like one would hear in a butcher shop when the butcher would cut a roast with a cleaver right through the bone.

"HUT!HUUUUUUUUUUUGH!", Mac inhaled what he thought would be his last breath. The new axe cut easily through the collar bone and what seemed like at least two ribs, and buried itself into Mac's Pectoral, just inches above his heart. As the realization of what just happened to him set in, so did the pain. He fell to his knees and had no control of where he would fall after. The axe dislodged itself from his chest as he hit rather solidly on the ground with a wet sounding thud.

Of all the things that could have happened to him, the water he drank in the drug store finally hit him. With the intense effort exerted not to let the girls see him cry from pain, he lost control of his faculties, urinating himself, and thereby darkening his black jeans a little more.

Mac had once heard that, animals urinate and defecate themselves when in severe pain or fear for their life in order to not be eaten, or to stop an attack on them. Maybe that's why he did it. Maybe he thought he would die. Maybe that's why he did next, what he did....

Murph's voice was the "disembodied" voice he had heard before and he was hearing it again all surreal and dreamlike, “Fall back,” he heard Murph shout and charging towards the now broken window, “Move to the back of the store! Emily! Amber! Move those a**es! Drag Mac if you have to,”

Drag me? "Like hell, you will." Mac slurred.

Mac pulled his gun from its holster with his right hand and called to Emily, "Emily, Take this!", and he slid his gun to her on the floor, "It's yours, now. Now get to the back like Murph told you to!"

To Mac, if felt like death was coming for him, he wasn't sure.

He crawled like a one armed dog towards the back of the store, finally making it behind the paint mixing counter, vaguely aware that he was shivering, shaking, and breathing heavy the entire way. When he made it to his destination, he just collapsed, yelping in pain.

The pain, it was too much. His mind just shut down and he passed out.

Amber had stood up in order to head out of the hardware store when the others were ready. In her head the thoughts of small children in horror films kept flashing through her mind. Around her she knew that things were happening, people moving and speaking, but she had lost her ability to currently focus on it too much. Standing while she considered the possibility of her son’s death was enough for her to worry about right then.

It was not until the curses ran out through the air that she even tried to consider any of the people she was traveling with. Reality dug into her like a shard of glass with the curses. She had turned toward them just in time to witness Jake burying an axe into Mac’s chest.

That feeling of being in a fish tank returned just as the soft fleshy thud of the impact hit her ears, and she was grateful for it this time. Somehow the slow swimmy feeling where noise was filtered out was comforting. The sounds of breaking glass, distant inhuman screams, familiar human commands, and finally gunshots came to her but from another dimension.

We should have killed him… we should have killed him. We are in a Triple B, and I don’t know who the hero is. Sometimes there wasn’t one… sometimes the point was simply to kill all the characters off gruesomely… we should have killed him, but it won’t matter. We’ll all die…
But Mac, it seemed, was not dead, even after the violent hit from the axe. He had gotten up, kind of, and was making his way to the back of the hardware store, a trail of hot sticky blood following him as he went.

The gun Jake had been carrying was on the ground now, hadn’t Emily wanted a gun? Mac was bleeding, he needed help, he wouldn’t be able to stop that bleeding alone.

Terrible luck really… that axe coming out… it was holding his arteries closed. Arteries? Or veins? Capillaries? No capillaries were the little ones, where oxygen and nutrients were passed from the blood to the cells, bathing us in life… they were important though… and they could bleed…
She stood frozen there where Tom had left her momentarily considering an anatomy class she had taken in college.

Then again… maybe he was lucky. He hadn’t been bitten, just wounded. Perhaps the merciful thing was to simply let him crawl into the back, into the shadows and disappear.

What if he doesn’t want to die?

Who wouldn’t want to die in this?

If this was what constituted as life now was there really that much of a difference anyway?

What else do you have to do until you die though?
Almost blankly she turned her vision from the trail of blood to the front of the store. There were more of those creatures coming, the others were working on trying to kill them off with gun power. If she waited here they would be upon her, they would eat her and she’d end up like Jake. If she was going to go she preferred to go like Mac, from a weapon, or a pill, not from those teeth. So with nothing better to do she followed Mac back, moving through the wet atmosphere slowly but deliberately.

When she reached the point where he had stopped moving she dropped heavily to her knees and began to move almost mechanically. Opening her bag, spilling a few items across the floor as she did. Blood loss was her first concern.

A plastic bag with little pink flowers on it got her attention first. She ripped it open, it nearly exploded in a pile of smaller packages each wrapped in a soft cotton wrapper again covered with flowers. Two of these were opened up quickly and she pressed the absorbent sides of the feminine pad to the gash. Holding them down with one hand she searched for the medical tape she had grabbed. The effort was no doubt clumsy, but she hoped it would help slow the bleeding.

However, even as she worked her eyes were slightly glazed over and there was no frantic urgency in her.

I’ll do my best… but if he doesn’t make it he’s probably better off than the rest of us…
((okay… she’s kind of trying to stop the bleeding as described above. I leave her position to the fray at the front of the store up to the GM, she would have likely found the best position around Mac instead of trying to take things like her own defense into much consideration))

October 26, 2014
Ace Hardware - 1:40 PM

The vengeful angel from across the street picks up right where he had left off, firing his cannon and once more annihilating a zombie. The SLP barks in Murph's hands, striking another of the creatures flush in the chest, but as was their wont, the damned thing keep coming!

Emily does her best to steady her shaking hand. Years back, she had fired a few shots with her father, but that was a lifetime ago - and those targets were old cans and bottles, not monsters bent on death. She holds her breath, pointsd the .357 at one of the creatures rushing into the broken sotrefont, and pulls the trigger - and its head snaps back from the impact, knocking it to the sidewalk behind, where it lies still.

The zombie first shot by Murph lunges through the doorway, intent on tackling the mechanic, but he brings the shotgun butt forcefully up into its face and it crumples nervelessly to the floor.

Alaster brings the Browning to bear on the next closest target and fills it full of buckshot. It falls to the street, and does not move.

Yet another of the zombies rushes into the store and attempts to tackle Alaster, who smashes it with the butt of the Browning.

Meanwhile, while the fight ranges, Amber works methodically to see to Mac's axe wound. Two sanitary napkins and several pieces of medical tape later, she had bound the wound enough to prevent the man from immediately dying of blood loss.

For a few moments, it seems as if the survivors would hold the rush at bay with relative ease. Fate, however, can turn on a dime...

With a zombie too close to effectively use the shotgun, Alaster bashes it again with the stock. The carpenter manages to keep the creature at bay, but not before it strikes him hard in kind. With her first aid duties done for the moment, Amber steps into the fray, burying her hatchet into the back of the monster threatening Alaster, causing it to collapse from the wound.

There is no time to breathe, no time to relax; another zombie rushes into the store, this time launching itself at Murph. The mechanic is powerless to stop it, and finds himself pinned to the ground. He struggles and attempts to draw his machete, but the creature pins Murph's wrist so that he cannot keep hold of the weapon.

Steve finally makes a defensive move, but it unable to get a clear swing.

Meanwhile, one of the zombies changes course and rushes towards Father Ted's vantage point. It covers ground at frightending speed, but Ted's faith is secure; he draws a bead with Maria and pulls the trigger. Another of the devilish abominations falls to the ground, this one missing almost everything above its neck.

Emily spots yet another zombie trying to enter the hardware store, but is torn between stopping it and trying to help Murph. Worried about firing a stary bullet at the mechanic, she elects to shoot at the former, but misses it badly, allowing it to enter the store.

The creature pinning Murph to the ground attempts to bite him in much the same way that Jake was bitten, but the mechanic is able to hold its head back. However, the effort is all that Murph can muster; he is unable to escape the thing's powerful grip.

Alaster steps over and bashes again with his shotgun, hitting the creature pinning Murph. Emily folows suit, pistol whipping it until it lies still.

With the street now clear, and with no chance at a clear shot, Father Ted begins to climb down from the van and move toward the hardware store.

Again, there is no chance to relax; the zombie that has just entered the store lunges for Emily, who is able to strike it with the revolver and at least prevent it from bearing her to the ground.

The creature screams in fury and strikes the med student with shocking force, knocking her to the ground.

Knowing full well that Emily stands a much worse chance of survival if the thing is able to leap on top of her, Alaster takes an otherwise ill-advised shot, but misses. Cursing at the luck of it all, Murph follows suit, knowing full well the danger of what he is doing - but unlike the carpenter, he does not miss, and the zombie goes down in a splatter of gore.

Finally, all is once again quiet.

They came in with such lightning speed and no regard for human life. How were they ever human before. There goes a few with a couple of shots. But one kept coming and in an instant it seemed Murph was on the ground barely keeping the zombie at bay with his SLP.

Alasters logical choice was to beat the thing in with his Browning. But the damned thing just kept on going at Murph. And then there was Emily beating at the thing with a ferocious side he hadn't seen.

The thing lay still on the ground for less than a few seconds before Emily was on the ground by another.

"NO!" Alaster cried and shot off a round from the browning before realizing what a stupid idea it was. And Murph as well as he got up off the ground. With mounds of luck she lay unscathed by the two bullets aimed her way.

Mac Hobbled over looking pale as ever towards the now quieted scene.

"Emily are you ok?" Alaster spoke kneeling to make sure all was fine. "Stupid f****** things I'm sorry i wasnt even thinking when i did that."

"Hey is Murph alright." Mac said checking on Emily as well.

"Yeah He's fine. Miss trooper over here bashed that zombies brains in no problem. Murph has a nice thank you in store for her. I want to know who saved us from out there. That man has style whoever it is."

((stopping there don't want to get ahead of myself. Kind of skip and hopping through it sorry for the choppy ness of it all.))

What was the name of that movie?
Murph stared through the smoke that curled up into the air from the end of the SLP. Saw what was left of the zombie… Saw Emily crumpled there…

You know, that one with Keanu Reeves… he was some hacker or something but not really because the world he lived in was just a dream and people were just these batteries powering these machines…
…He tried to breathe… just one breath… but found he couldn’t do it…

Then he finds out he’s like this superhero or something and he can do all this freaky s#!^ like dodge bullets and stuff…
…He really wanted to turn his eyes away… find Amber… make sure she was okay… see how bad Mac really was… give a nod of ‘thanks’ and ‘good work, kid’ to Alaster… find where Kramer went… but it felt like he couldn’t move…

Anyway… they did this really fantastic camera-work/effect stuff in the fight scenes and junk… bullet time, I think they called it…
…Murph tried to breathe again… and couldn’t… realized that he was shaking… became vaguely aware of someone saying his name….

The Matrix! That’s it! This s#!^ was just like The F***ing Matrix! The way everything slowed down… Dude! Sarge! I thought we were f***ing dead, man! More than once! Toes up, t**s up, f***ing dead!
Murph didn’t puke in bullet time; not in Iraq when the attack was finally over and Rodriguez had first gone off on his Matrix trip and not now. No, when Tom Murphy finally managed to suck in a hitching lungful of powder and blood-tinged air, it was answered by a violent wrenching of his gut that buckled the mechanic’s knees and sent the limited contents of his stomach spewing to the floor of the hardware store at top speed.

At least he could breathe again. That was good. And he’d kept himself from crumpling completely to the floor by getting the butt of the shotgun there before his knees did. That was good, too…

Now, keep breathin’… slow your heart down…
“F***,” Murph groaned as his stomach twisted and wrenched his ribs. There was nothing left to come up, so he didn’t have to worry about trying not to puke again. He spit, anyway, trying to clear the taste from his mouth and buy himself another second to steady his legs. Then, dragging his freehand across his mouth, he pushed himself up and, blinking away the sting of the tears that he realized had been threatening to spill from his eyes, he managed to finally check on the others.

“Report,” he managed to choke out, the words warbled by the pounding of his heart, the hitching of his breath, and the ebbing adrenaline that left his face feeling numb and rubbery, “how’re we doin’?”

Well, that’s about the dumbest friggin thing to come outta your mouth in a while, isn’t it? You know how we’re doin’! We just about got our a**es kicked is how we’re doin’!
Murph felt his legs steady up a bit more and he slung the SLP over his shoulder now, rather than leaning on it like a crutch. It didn’t matter how strong his legs felt, though… none of him had been strong enough to throw that zombie off and keep it from trying to chew his throat out, had it? It had to have been something close to a miracle that had kept that thing from making lunch out of him. His legs were solid but the rest of him quivered a bit when his mind replayed the sound of those gnashing teeth and made him re-feel the vice-like grip… Jesus those things are strong… how in the hell is that possible?… and his gaze found Emily again, still crumpled where the blow from that monster had thrown her. As sore as he was surely going to feel after being tackled and pinned by one of those things, how must she feel after a blow like that?

Mac’s hacked pretty good… be lucky if he can make it to any place safe… The Doc’s sure to be busted up… Jake’s…. gone… His gaze flicked from face to face. Al looks okay… he did good… Where’s Amber? There was a quick flicker of panicked concern in his eyes until they located the barmaid and that glimmer melted from worry to relief. Aside from that ‘far away, fatalistic’ look in her eyes that he had watched grow throughout the past few hours, she looked good, too. Knowing that, it seemed, was enough to let him get a grip on himself, shove the jitters back down where they belonged, and get his focus back… And if you and her are ever gonna go to Chuck E. Cheese, you might wanna do something about Josh… she isn’t gonna make it much longer, herself, if she doesn’t get some hope…You need to get these people movin’, Sarge, and get down to business…
“Hey, is Murph alright?” He heard someone say as he finally got his feet moving to where the group was rallying around Emily. His hand had reached out and sought Amber as he did… any part of her… shoulder, arm, hand… didn’t matter… Murph would be alright once he touched her for sure… just to know she was really still there.

Square it up, Murphy!
“Yeah,” Alaster answered before Murph found the proper use for his own breathe and replied for himself, “He's fine. Miss trooper over here bashed that zombies brains in, no problem. Murph has a nice thank you in store for her.”

“For you, too, kid,” Murph muttered, drawing up to the group at Amber’s side, “You two definitely saved my a**… Thanks.”

“I want to know who saved us from out there,” the carpenter continued, prompting Murph to turn his gaze to the shattered storefront, again, and see if whoever that holy benefactor had been was in sight, “That man has style whoever it is.”

“That man has Jesus and a bazooka is what that man has,” Murph smirked, catching sight of Reverend Artillery’s form wading across Treasure Island’s parking lot.

((OOC: Enough for now, I suppose… backposts, etc as needed….))

Father Theodore loaded another pair of shells in his rifle. The creature lay broken on the ground, his chest nothing but a vacuous hole. For he that is dead is freed from sin, he thought to himself. These creatures were once God’s children. Men and women, he imagined he had maybe touched their lives before, maybe even knew them. Though he could not fathom a reason for it, that God had deemed their time on his earth was over was beyond doubt. He had taken their souls to dwell with him in heaven and left Ted on earth for a final test. As God had to Abraham, he was to sacrifice all he held dear to prove his devotion to Him.

Still more tasks remained before him. He heard a voice ring out from the hardware store, a luxury he hadn’t received in nearly a week, “Amen, Father!”, and for a moment it brought him pause. He hadn’t heard the voice of another man since he led his charges from his suite, secure in his conviction that he would lead them to salvation, and to God. They had placed their trust in him, and he had failed them. Worse, he had perhaps failed the first task God had seen fit to set before him. He could not fail these people. He would not fail God again.

He drew Maria to his shoulder, remembering how he once brought down a wildebeest on the African Plain. The longest shot the guide had ever saw, he reminded himself, and while he doubted the veracity of that statement, there was no time for insecurities now. He lined up his shot carefully and pulled the trigger. The shot rang out across the street and he allowed himself a smile as the creature’s torso disappeared as it fell. What surer sign of God’s hand than this?

Before he could line up a second shot, the beasts were upon the store. From the sounds within, those huddled inside had munitions of their own, and two zombies were shredded before making it to the window. A few of the creatures quickly cleared the broken window and disappeared into the darkness within, but one remained outside, blocked for a moment by the remains of one of the others. Its pause diverted its attention Ted’s way and before he could take advantage of its momentary lapse, it was charging headlong towards him. Teddy uttered a brief prayer for guidance and drew a bead on the creatures head. He lowered his weapon as what remained of the demon slumped collapsed shapelessly on the ground.

Ted quickly loaded two more rounds into Maria only to find the threat was, for the moment at least, dealt with. He scanned the area quickly before descending from his vantage point and looking over at the creature’s body not three feet from him. Whatever it had once been it was a terrible creature of sin now, and he felt no remorse for endings its suffering.

For the wages of sin is death, he thought to himself. While I know not what has caused it, God has chosen me to end their torment.
He paused a moment and smiled. He was truly doing God’s work again. He was among God’s children, sparing them from corruption and sin. Those huddled in the hardware store were his new charges. God had led him to them.

Ted stepped out of the parking lot and into the street, his hunger momentarily forgotten in the excitement that had unfolded. He could remember the sign that hung above the doors of his church when he was younger, back before the fame and scheduling had made it impossible for him to lead a simple congregation. ”All Ye Who Enter Here Come with Reason, and are Welcome” it had read, and Ted had always admired its simplicity. Every patron was a sign of God’s favour, a sign he trusted him to lead them into the truth. This would be no different, he would look into the hearts of those assembled and keep them safe. God had granted him a second chance.

”My children, God truly lays a magnificent gift before me in this time of need. He has told me of your struggle, and I am here to ease your burden.”, he paused in the street a moment before continuing. ”If you would have me enter, I would very much like to make your acquaintances.”
(OOC: Ted will remain in the street until he hears a response, always keeping an eye out for other zombies. Though he’s sure God intends him to help these people, he’s keeping his gun loaded and ready, in case anything goes down. If they welcome him in he'll join them in the hardware store and we'll see what happens from there. He’s not going to jump into this completely blind…just mostly blind…and full of the holy spirit. Yes.)

The makeshift bandage was secured into place, Mac was still unconscious.

So likely he doesn’t need any of your drugs to quench the pain… more for me…
She pulled back into a crouched position, knowing she could do nothing further at this moment, the doctor in training should really take a look at him, when she got a chance. Judging from the sound of gunfire exploded to her left, though, she didn’t think that she would have the chance just yet.

The hatchet she had picked up sat at her side, almost blankly she looked down at the brand new gleaming edge. Lucky for Alaster she did, for in its shiny face she caught a glimpse of something less than human moving nearby.

Bloody horrid creatures! It’s just wrong to fall to one of those. A wound from a weapon, starving to death, hell even a belly full of pills is better… anything is better than being eaten by these things…
Her blood soaked hand reached over and grabbed the handle of the hatchet, quickly rising up to her feet (another one of those neat tricks you learn while taking off your clothes), she moved fluidly, swinging the weapon in an arc until it buried its head in the decaying back of the creature with a squishy thud.

Just like the thing she had whacked with the crowbar earlier she barely thought while she did it. As the creature fell to the ground she stared at it, then let her eyes tick up to Alaster a moment. She gave him a quick look that could almost be a smile, but wasn’t quiet there.

Near the front of the store there was more commotion, shots firing, screams peeling across the linoleum. She, however was busy bending down to pull the hatchet out of the mound of flesh laying on the floor to give them much more thought or attention.

Finally a deafening round sounded off followed by a more surreal silence. The silence drew her attention. The front of the store was truly a scene from one of those Triple B’s. Gore splattered the floor, sometimes in heaps large enough to be one of those creatures, or one of those she had been trapped in the basement of O’Brians with. She imagined, rightfully, that she was starting to look like them too. Blood and sweat smeared over flesh as badges of their pain and effort.

One of the piles began to move, and she realized with a bit of horror that it was Murph, crawling off the floor and to his knees to spit up whatever was left in his stomach. The others were gathering around another heap of flesh, that seemed to be wearing the clothes Emily had been earlier, she was down, but moving some.

Mother ******. I don’t have the training to deal with the wound I just clogged up with pads… not really. We need her. Dear Lord what if she’s been bitten… what if we have to kill her like we should have Jake?
“Report,” she heard Murph ask in a hoarse voice and noticed that he was standing up now, “how’re we doin’?”

God… what if he’s been bit?
Her mind flashed an image of the bottles in her bag.

How are we doing? ******. That’s how we are doing. And not in a good way…
She looked over at Mac still unconscious on the ground. Next to him several items that had been in her bag were spilled across the floor, a few covered in his blood. She reached down and picked up one of the bottles of water and stepped closer to Murph.

In a shaky voice she tried to answer him, “I got… Mac bandaged up… its only temporary though, he’ll need further care,” her eyes went to Emily nervously then back to Murph, “he’s unconscious.”

When he reached for her she passed the bottle of water to him, letting their fingers brush for a moment.

“Sexy move there Tom…” she whispered to him and forced a smile to go with it.

“Yeah,” Alaster answered before Murph found the proper use for his own breathe and replied for himself, “He's fine. Miss trooper over here bashed that zombies brains in, no problem. Murph has a nice thank you in store for her.”

“For you, too, kid,” Murph muttered, drawing up to the group at Amber’s side, “You two definitely saved my a**… Thanks.”

“I want to know who saved us from out there. That man has style whoever it is.”

“That man has Jesus and a bazooka is what that man has,” Murph smirked, catching sight of Reverend Artillery’s form wading across Treasure Island’s parking lot.

“I can’t say I ever had much use for Jesus or a bazooka, but right now I might be willing to reconsider my feelings on both subjects…” Amber muttered then watched as the man approached and called out to them.

”My children, God truly lays a magnificent gift before me in this time of need. He has told me of your struggle, and I am here to ease your burden. If you would have me enter, I would very much like to make your acquaintances.”

“Eloquent speaker at least…” Then taking up the role the group’s PR consultant she rose her voice. “So long as you promise you won’t eat us you’re welcome to enter. Otherwise we’ll have to smash you into a bloody pulp before you get your dinner.”

And I’ll take the first swing… I will die out here… but not like that… not like that…

Steve shuddered in the aftermath of the fight. Blood and gore was splattered everywhere, body fluids spread around in a haphazard manner that grated on his consciousness. More than a half dozen of the monsters lie dead, but the attack had taken its toll - three more of the survivors were wounded, to say nothing of the exchange that had occured between the young man and the bounty hunter as the former had become one of them. The auburn-haired man took stock of his new companions, and mused at how close all of the injured had come to joining the fate of this "Jake".

He shook his head. "Told them not to fight," he muttered. "Run, run!"

But no, they had not listened. True enough they had had little choice in the matter, what with one of their own instigating the situation (but didn't that simply reinforce Steve's reservations?), but there whys and wherefores of the situation didn't really matter. The fact remained that these people, like every other bravado-filled moron he had encountered, were doomed to death and worse. Even now, they discussed wheelbarrows and caring for the injured, and as certain as the sun still rose above this godforsaken cityscape, they would try to protect the injured when they came again (as they always did). They would die, and suck in any foolish enough to follow their motives.

And people consider me the madman... he mused.

As these strangers tended to one another, Steve silently crept toward the back of the hardware store and the stockroom he had visited earlier. Easily enough, he found the emergency exit, unlocked it, and silently padded out the rear entrance. He felt a momentary pang of regret, but the spark of conscience was offset by the practicality that now, he would not have to share his stronghold with them, would not have to feed and nurse those who would only bring death.

Carefully, quietly, Steve closed the door and melted into the shadows of the alley.



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

Emily groaned as she tasted blood from a split lip. A deep breath (and shooting pain) later, she realized that the lip was easily the least of her worries. She had shot and killed one of the... zombies, and had fought them up close, as well. Somehow, she had survived, had not been bitten. Life would go on, at least for a while.

"Report," she heard Murph choke out. "How we doin'?"

Emily winced as she regained her feet. "Two ribs here, Murph," she stated as she gingerly palpated the area, "feels like they're broken." Still, with the fresh memory of the monster trying to rip at Murph's throat, and the one that had intended the same for her, Emily counted herself lucky.

In a shaky voice, Amber answered. “I got… Mac bandaged up… its only temporary though, he’ll need further care,” her eyes went to Emily nervously then back to Murph, “he’s unconscious.”

Seeing that the area was secure (for the moment), Emily nodded and knelt down to have a look at Mac. "Pretty ingeniuos bandage," she spoke aloud to Amber as she examined the wound. Outwardly, Emily tried to appear calm and in charge, but the fact was that she was only a med student - not a doctor, and not really equipped to handle this. Her mouth was dry, her hands were shaking, and she would have given anything to have a professor step in. The harsh reality, however, was that there was no one else.

"He'll need stitches at the very least," she spoke, "or this will reopen and he'll bleed out. Obviously, he'll need antibiotics, too. The good news is that we have everything we need to handle it - well, to handle it as best we can outside of a hospital - right now."

The thought of stitching this man up terrified Emily, but she fought to keep a brave face. It was this or watch him die. "I'll do what I can," she stated.

Alaster watched Emily sit up and wince at the pain in her chest. Alaster failed to make sure she was safe. But she acted as tough as she could in the situation she was in. He was amazed at how strong she could be. Had it been Alaster he may have laid there and accepted death whenever it came. But this med student? No she was to strong she had something to live for and Alaster wasn't quite sure what it was.

"Hey lay back, don't over do it or anything. We will take care of you. I hear that I am pretty good with ductape after all." Alaster chuckled to himself a little and noticed that the humor wasn't quite working on everyone else. Then he turned to Murph.

"Listen, I am sorry. I was the one who pushed Jake continuing with us even though I knew there could be consequences." ALaster watched Murphs mouth open to say "it's not your fault" or "none of us would have left him either." But Alaster answered the mechanics unspoken words. "You may not have pushed for him to stay there and die but it was still me who spoke up about keeping him. And I made a mistake. I'm sorry."

Alaster turned to Emily now and spoke slightly softer. "And I promised myself I would keep you safe, that's two strikes on me if you don't include the earlier incidents at the bar of course." Alaster paused for a small chuckle again then continued, "I had him come along which put you in danger. And I couldn't stop one of those things from breaking your ribs. I will try harder I swear."

“So long as you promise you won’t eat us you’re welcome to enter. Otherwise we’ll have to smash you into a bloody pulp before you get your dinner.”
Teddy paused a moment, his brow furrowed. The voice sounded like a woman’s, and it sounded less than appreciative. Perhaps she has not yet made peace with the Lord? He had expected this situation may arise, those without faith were often unwilling to see the gifts God had given them. Perhaps this was God’s will, that he help these lost souls understand his gifts.

"The thief cometh not, but for to steal, and to kill, and to destroy: I am come that they might have life, and that they might have it more abundantly.” He called out in reply, allowing himself a smile. John 10:10. It was good to speaking God’s word to the people again. Lowering his weapon, Teddy strode toward the hardware store, ready to meet his new congregation.

"Report… How we doin'?"

"Two ribs here, Murph," Emily winced as she got to her feet and tested the area, "feels like they're broken."

“I got… Mac bandaged up… its only temporary though, he’ll need further care,” Amber’s eyes went nervously from Emily back to Murph, “he’s unconscious.”

He didn’t need to voice the expletive that came to mind when he heard that news, it showed on his face.

“Sexy move there, Tom…” Amber’s voice was a small measure steadier, a bit softer, and she managed a weak smile as she passed him a water bottle. The tips of her fingers brushed briefly against his and he accepted the bottle and the fleeting touch with equal gratitude.

“I have my moments,” he murmured in reply before swigging down a mouthful of the lukewarm water. He offered a faint and somewhat fatigued grin; “You’d really go crazy if you saw me with the stomach flu.”

~*~*~*~*~

Murph listened, nodding and pondering as the others updated him on their situations… Emily, now, with cracked or broken ribs on top of her pneumonia… Mac chopped and likely to bleed out despite Amber’s trained efforts if more advanced procedures weren’t applied… Alaster, again, with the strange need to apologize for everything that happened like it was somehow all his fault that the world up and ended… He’d heard Kramer mutter something about running a second ago, too, but now, as he consciously sought out the man for any input he might have, Murph discovered that the guy was gone…

Guess that was to be expected, he thought as his eyes swept the aisles in search of where the man could have gone, we didn’t have much choice in the matter but we didn’t run… probably figured we’re more trouble than we’re worth… Too bad… coulda used him…
~*~*~*~*~

“My children,” Reverend Artillery’s voice called Murph’s attentions back from his scouring of the hardware store’s shadows and his contemplating on what to do next, “God truly lays a magnificent gift before me in this time of need. He has told me of your struggle, and I am here to ease your burden. If you would have me enter, I would very much like to make your acquaintances.”

That voice sounds kinda familiar, he thought, turning his gaze to the front of the store and framing the stocky frame of the man who approached. He squinted, trying to make out the man’s features and try and place where he’d seen the man before but couldn’t come up with it… TV maybe? Sounds right… but where from… news?
“Eloquent speaker at least,” he heard Amber murmur, then, and, like she had with Steve Kramer, the woman played the role the group’s PR consultant and called out to the approaching preacher; “So long as you promise you won’t eat us you’re welcome to enter. Otherwise we’ll have to smash you into a bloody pulp before you get your dinner.”

Murph couldn’t help but snicker at that a bit and it seemed, too, that the quip had caught Reverend Artillery off guard for a moment. When Murph’s eyes flicked back to the man, had paused and seemed to puzzle over Amber’s response for a second before regaining his stride and calling back with another bible verse.

"The thief cometh not, but for to steal, and to kill, and to destroy,” Reverend Artillery smiled as he strode towards them, “I am come that they might have life, and that they might have it more abundantly.”

I know I’ve heard that voice, Murph thought as the older man stomped across the sidewalk, seen that face… channel surfin’ late at night, maybe?
“Well, in that case, come on in, Reverend,” the mechanic finally addressed the man with the elephant gun, “cuz all we’ve had an abundance of lately is hell and heartache…”

He shouldered his shotgun and extended a hand when the Reverend was close enough to accept it. “Tom Murphy,” he said by way of introduction…

((OOC: Just to keep it short, I’ll stop there… and we can assume that proper introductions are made, Reverend Artillery is “brought up to speed” on the group’s circumstances up to this point, aaaaand if there are no other objections we proceed to rolling out from the hardware store per discussion in the QA))