Urban Dead: The Price of the Oath

[Caz]

"Remembering it with a shot of vodka, right?" Sherry said with a chuckle, brushing Mike's hair back. "Been sweating like you were the one havin' the kids," she commented, kissing his cheek.

Joachim approached Mike and Sherry with a grin, the two kids held evenly, one in each arm.

"Thank you for helping her," he said. "Who knows what would have happened if she'd had to go through that on her own, eh?"

And Melanie was leading Petro from the infirmary with a chuckle.

"Come on, Dimples," she said, "don't be crowding the new mum and uncle, hm?"

[Josh]

He wrapped an arm around her waist. "Yeah, 'sides, you got that bath coming. I'll get the water to warming. Let's go razz Dorian or somebody to keep an eye on things."

[Pcm979]

"Oh, it was nothing." He demurred. "I was just doing my job." He pushed the glasses back on to his nose and held Sherry unashamedly.

"I think I'll skive off when Dorian gets here." He murmured. "I'd kill for a tea break about now. Or something stronger. Yeah, something stronger."

[Caz]

Sherry grinned, toying with the tiny curls at the nape of his neck.

"I think I could arrange that," she said. The rest of the day, save for a brief meeting with Zimmerman regarding her plan with the oil drums, would be reserved for relaxation.

Or perhaps the opposite.

"And then we can finish what we started in the closet, hm?"

[Josh]

(Logpost)
Sherry entered as per usual: no knock, practically skipping in the way she walk-pranced, with no regard as to whether or not Zimmerman was/would have been/was trying to do something important. She preferred to perch on the corner of his desk as opposed to take a seat, Lord knew why, and she didn't say a word as she sat, watching him, head canted to the side as her eyes darted about the room like a bird's.

"What'cha doin'?" she asked, her way of saying, 'I need you now and don't care what you're doing.'

"Working," he said, closing the notebook. "What do you need?" After all, nobody came to visit him for strictly social purposes.

"Brought'cha this," she chirped, digging a folded map from her lapel pocket. It was a map of the nearby oil refinery, with circled areas where supply drums were still undamaged.

"Petro mentioned your scheme," he said, with what passed for approval from him. "Good idea."

She grinned. "Thanks, Zim!" she said while clapping him a friendly one on the shoulder, then back to business:

"Way I figure, we can get some of the same folk who helped with the construction project, eh? Same people know how to drive heavy shit, and we can use the trailer Mike and I brought. Even if we can't move all the oil, I doubt it'll take that many drums for the perimeter idea."

She tooka deep breath, obviously excited about her plan.

"We can use the rest for heat."

He nodded. "We're going to have to get the Emerald Guard people integrated into our defense network before we launch this, because with the 1st taking off on Freeman's downtown trip, this is going to take a lot of our patrol assets off the line. But... have you heard about Giddings?"

She shook her head, watched him. "Nup."

"Three hundred dead, at least," he said grimly. "They were swarmed by hundreds. The hordes are breaking up now and rampaging through Pitneybank. Fortunately, for the moment they seem concentrated there, but sooner or later, they will be coming this way."

"Good fuck," she said with a gape-jawed shake of her head. And then: "So we should double-time on this."

"Yes," he said. "We'll have a half dozen ballistas, by week's end. The trenches are going to be lined with whatever explosives we can rig. Oil for the walls. The second-level entrances will be blocked off if needed, and the main concern is that they can swamp up to the roof levels."

"Incineration," she said, "that's the whole reason I thought of the oil in the first place. Not to hurt 'em or try to ward 'em off, seeing as how they don't feel pain..." She looked up, then said: "If we can rig them right, tripwires and barbed wire fences. Cut off their legs at the ankles while they're a bit far off and tangle up some so they never even make it here."

"That's the purpose behind the diversionary strike scheme that Petro came up with. But regardless, with hordes of that size, we have to count on them getting through all the impediments we throw up. We will have to fight them at the walls. It's incumbent on us to figure out how to win that fight. The evacuation tunnel will be completed by next week, but..." he waved a hand. "Evacuating puts us back at square one, and square one is death, in a short amount of time."

"Even though we've got the tunnel," Sherry pointed out, "doesn't mean we should consider that an option."

She thought for a moment, then said:

"I know it sounds a bit laborious, but what about a second trench? Further out--a lot further out, and quite a bit wider if we can't get depth--just so they have to fill it and walk over themselves to get in? Isn't a permanent solution, but thinning the numbers will help."

"I'm for layering the whole outer perimeter with a series of trenches," he said. "And if time allows, we will."

She nodded. She liked the way Zimmerman thought, even if it was far removed from her understanding.

"I'm thinking fourteen people for the oil operation. Marley will be driving 'cause I'd be fucking lying to myself if I thought I could, myself and a few of our better marksmen, and then some hefty fucks to load the drums."

"And that will be the bulk of our ammunition," he said. "We're running critically low right now. If the load for this mission is consumed, we'll be down to emergency stocks only. It's our most pressing shortage, since you brought the food back. But it's worth it. Fourteen, twelve after you and Marley... patrols 2 and 5 should serve for this. Any objections?"

"Sounds perfect," she said. After a few moments, she added: "Even if Mike's plan works and we can get in touch with the outside, even if they drop ammo, we shouldn't necessarily do anything more than conserve it. Gotta nip the problem in the bud, you know? We train 'em like they don't have any ammo, they won't be fucked when they don't."

"That's what we've been doing," he pointed out. "The additional concern is that if we run into more human problems, the likelihood is that they will be using firearms, and we'll have to answer in kind. We can beat zombies using primitive weapons, but against humans, we need every edge we can get."

"Fortunately," she said, "I think they'll be running into the same problems regarding ammo as we've been. I mean, with Giddings going down as well as other mall attacks, even if the ammo is available, it's a fucking deathtrap to try an' snag it."

"We always count on the opposition being in better shape logistically than us. Safer that way. After all, overkill is the best policy."

She nodded again, understanding the point there. As stubborn as Sherry was, she was all-business when it came to negotiating the lives of their people.

"Dawn tomorrow sound good? We can wrap it up before sunset. Hell, before tea."

"I need to speak to Melanie and see what the status on bringing her people in is."

"Ehm, last I heard they'd sent runners to outfit 'em with the sashes. If the attack comes and she's still got people en-route, I'll let her know to divert 'em."

"It's not the next week or so that I'm concerned about, at least not with the zombies. Those masses are highly visible, and the radio chatter that surrounds them is immense. When they come, we'll know. It's gapping the perimeter against the minor incursions that concerns me."

"You know," she said, "the barricade idea--with the bulldozer and all--that we used on the mall could be used on the perimeter as well. Blow up a few buildings, shove the remnants around, make sure they've got a hell of a hike if they want anything other than one or two points of entry."

"Have a stock of explosives that you haven't let us in on? We're short on those."

She grinned at him, fierce and intelligent. "There's more than one way to blow up a fucking building, Zim."

"Yes?" he asked, waving for clarification.

"We can assume that most of the major mining and construction supply centres have been looted of actual explosives, correct?"

"Indeed they have. Some of the more military-oriented groups..." he ventured a smile at that, as the Irregulars had been one of those groups, after all. "Cleaned them out early on."

"Well when I went through the construction depot with Marley, back when we were rigging the tractor, I had a thought. I'd wager the paltry sum that is my life savings that nobody thought to take the components used to make those explosives."

"Depends. Rumor has it that the defenders at Hildebrand used fertilizer-based explosives."

"I doubt we'll have to do anything so drastic as shit-bombs, and fuck what rumours say, 'cause Gil Sheehan--one of the blokes from Mel's unit, I believe--says there's a place the Guard passed through not even two weeks ago that had been cleaned and spitshined of everything useful, but the bastards who did it didn't even bother to move forty-some-odd barrels of pure powder."

"No shit?" he said, brightening up with a rare burst of profanity.

She nodded. "Straight from the horse's mouth. Horse and Irishman, 'bout the same right?"

He shrugged at that. All people were roughly the same to him- irritating, fallible creatures who rarely behaved in a rational fashion. "We need to interview the Guard people coming in, because any stocks they've noted like that go on our priority list."

"Did Mel come and talk to you about using her people as scouts?" she asked. "I told her she oughta."

"She mentioned something to that effect, yes." He didn't go into his opinion of Booth. Over-emotional and rather irrational. An ideal match for Petro, obviously.

"Good. She's all touchy about you 'cause she's afraid you don't like her or some shit. Didn't know there were still people around that cared one way or the other 'bout what people thought of 'em." She chuckled a bit.

"I simply pointed out that until she's integrated into the chain of command, she has no authority in terms of mall operations simply because she's involved with Petro. Nothing against her in particular," he said with a shrug.

"I didn't bother explaining it," Sherry said. "She's a girl."

As though the term applied to a foreign species.

He raised an eyebrow at that, then shrugged again. "Whatever. None of this requires that any of us -like- each other anyway. We're surviving, that's our business. Petro does enough gladhanding for all of us."

She snickered. "I'd say it's all he's good for, but he's a good trap-springer too."

"He has his functions. He's the spiritual leader, the crusader. 'The moral is to the physical as three is to one,'" he quoted.

"Oh yeah," she said, "sorry sod; I forgot you wouldn't know a joke if it kicked you in the face."

"True," he conceded easily. "Anyway, let Petro know that we'll be provisionally pulling those patrols off the line to run this operation. Anything else?"

She thought for a moment, then said: "Yeah, there was one other thing. You remember the shootout on the roof a bit back, of course... what happened to the two rifles you guys confiscated? Mike's a hell of a shot; he could use 'em."

"Mike?" he said. "When did he learn how to shoot so well?" He had been indoors too long...

She shrugged. "Good question. I'd never wondered, personally..." But now that Zimmerman brought it up...

"If he is, then he'd certainly be handy to take a long."

"Take a long what?" she said with a snicker. "Sorry, er, yes. Now, we only found the one rifle in our shanty of an armoury..."

"FM took the other," he said. "No arguments there, he's the best-qualified man in the mall with one."

She nodded. "Definitely. Works for me!" Giving him a cheesy thumbs-up, she waved and hopped from the desk, pulling the door closed an inadvertently slamming it with the momentum of her hopping steps.

He went back to work, another messy human interaction dealt with in a satisfactory fashion.

---------- ---------- ---------- ---------- ---------- ---------- ----------

Melanie looked up at him and shook her head. "This isn't right."

"What?" he said.

She brushed her bangs from her eyes and sat back a little. "This," she gestured, "isn't right."

"What isn't right about a hot bath?" he asked, semi-incredulous.

She leaned up toward him, then was suddenly yanking him down by the wrists, pulling him into the tub, fully-clothed, and wrapping her arms around his. "Okay, that's better."

He yelped in a most un-general-like fashion as she ambushed him and dragged him into the water.

She kissed him on the cheek. "The only thing wrong with your version was the fact that you thought you could drag this huge tub up here and expect us to use it one at a time."

"You got me there, baby," he admitted. "Oh fuck..." he moaned. "This feels sooooooooo good."

She smirked, enjoying the moment of victory, and didn't say a goddamn thing.

He let himself sink into the water, hair floating up around his face, a look of blissful release on his face. "I'd forgotten what it was like..."

"Mm, tell me about it," she said, sinking down next to him. Since both of them were pretty much rail-thin and the tub was gi-fucking-gantic... She turned on her side a bit and watched him with a girlish giggle.

"What?" he said, reaching over and pushing her head down for a gentle dunk.

She blew bubbles into his face, then resurfaced. "Nothing," she said with a grin. "Other than the fact that I still can't believe how utterly in love with you I am."

She sighed contentedly. "And that you're wearing pants in a bathtub."

"Yeah, that's because you haven't torn them off of me yet," he pointed out. He slid through the water to kiss her nose. "And I'm every bit as in love with you as you are with me."

"Oh yeah?" she asked, eager as ever to turn something into a challenge.

"Yeah," he said smugly, rising to the challenge. "If not MORE. And... pants?" he queried.

"If you really loved me..." She said playfully, "you'd... Wash my hair."

"I was planning to," he said. "What, you thought this wasn't going to be a full-service bath?" He climbed up to grab the shampoo.

And as he did, she yanked his pants down with a cackle.

He slid down, shampoo in hand, cracking his elbow on the edge of the tub. "AH FUCK FUNNYBONE!"

She took the opportunity to latch herself onto his back, ravishing his neck and shoulders with her mouth.

He spun around, dropping the bottle into the water in order to properly wrestle with her. He kicked his feet around, struggling to dislodge his pants while he kissed her back in a frenzy of slippery groping and grappling.

There was an audible 'thud' from outside the tub. Sherry had dropped her pack as her hand was currently twitching. She stared at the two, stricken utterly dumb.

He turned and leaned up at the edge of the tub. "Uh... hi!"

"I... Brought you the... List..." she said, her eyelid beginning its tic just like her hand. "People we're taking for... Oil plan. Why are you... In clothes... In a bathtub?"

"Because somebody was dreadfully slack about tearing them off before she dragged me in," he answered. "So... ah... who are you taking?"

"Two of the patrols. Cleared it with Zimmerman." It would have been easier if they'd been just fucking, for christ's sake, rather than some bizarro pants-on hot tub beat-the-shit-out-of-each-other foreplay.

"Which two?" he asked, brushing wet hair back from his face.

"Two and five," she said, eyes still saucerlike. Melanie realised then that she should probably cover herself and sank down into the water, peeking out from behind Petro's shoulder.

He pondered that for a moment. "That'll gap us at Shore street and the Pagram library zone. Tell him to extend four to cover Pagram and to double three's patrol time and cover them over to Shore. They'll get tired, but they just had a big meal, time to earn the food. They can bitch about me all they want."

"Right," she said with a sharp nod, waving him off and hopping from the--no, nevermind, hopping up for about two inches before catching her foot on the strap of the backpack and landing right on her face.

"Ow," he said, clambering out of the water. "You okay?" He started to step out, and nearly fell himself, having forgotten that his pants were down around his ankles. Somewhere, a laugh track was playing...

Sherry raised her head, a nasty scrape right down the bridge of her nose, and raised her hands at the mostly-nude man who appeared to be trying to rescue her from the grasp of her backpack.

"Stop," she said, raising to her knees and slowly standing. "Something tells me that if either of us takes one more step, we're going to slip and fuck this up even worse."

He kicked his pants away and retreated back into the water. "Yeah. Um. Um. Good seeing you," he said. "Thanks for. Letting me know. And. Stuff."

"Yeah," she said, rubbing her face, "um... You two... Take care."

And she was dashing away like the soles of her shoes were fucking burning.

[Caz]

Well-rested from the antics of the night before, Sherry was up as soon as the first sunlight crept across the mall.

"Mmm," she murmured, sleepily wiping at her eyes, then gently shook Mike's shoulder. "'S'time," she said. She'd explained their plan for gathering the oil drums the night before.

"Ready to go?"

[Pcm979]

"Yeah, yeah." He replied a bit sleepily, reaching for his glasses and perching them on his nose.

He kissed her and donned his clothes, staring out the window at the already-beginning rain.

"Lovely day for it." He commented, shrugging into his raincoat.

[Caz]

Sherry rummaged through her pile of clothes and found something relatively suited to the weather, then pulled it on without ceremony.

"Hey, rain will keep 'em off our scent," she commented.

Locating her radio, she turned to the frequency they'd be using for the mission, told everyoen to get the fuck out of bed, and looked to Mike with a grin.

"If we do this right, we're gonna help a whole lot of people," she said.

[Pcm979]

"Then let's do it right!" He said with a grin, and grabbed his old hunting rifle, checking it expertly. He flung it over his shoulder.

"After you, Captain." He said with a flourish.

[Josh]

"Coffee good," Petro mumbled articulately as he slurped a cupful of instant gunk that could charitably be called coffee. He sat out at the edge of the exit, legs dangling over the wall.

"A morning person as always," Frank said, gazing out over twilight skyline of the town.

"Coffee good," Petro repeated, taking another drink.

[Caz]

"Be back in a sec, love," Sherry said as she pressed a kiss to Mike's cheek. A few moments later, she returned with what she'd discussed with Zimmerman: the downed sniper's PSG-1 rifle as well as a fair ammount of ammunition. Who knew where the fuck the various supplies had come from; Sherry took only what was necessary.

"Might be better'n your bolt action for such situations," she said, showing off the semi-auto.

[Pcm979]

Mike whistled as he inspected the gigantic rifle. "You always know what to get me, darling." He said, slinging it over his other shoulder and kissing her on the forehead.

[Caz]

"We'll give the old one to FM. He might know what to do with it. We're taking you, me, Marley, and patrols two and five. Marley should be done rigging the trailer to whatever the fuck we're driving by now..."

She yawned a bit as the adrenaline hasn't kicked in.

"What'd I say when we left the farm?" she thought aloud, then said: "Oh, yes: WAGONS HO!" and bounded through the door.

[Pcm979]

"Yes, followed by our setting the new land-speed record." Chuckled Mike, following her at a brisk pace. When they reached the entrance, he spied Petro sitting there like a lemon.

"Is the coffee, by any chance, good Petro?" He ribbed, well aware of the older man's morning routine.

[Josh]

"The troops are approaching," Frank warned. Petro shook his head a couple of times, putting on the game face before rising to his feet, suddenly looking energetic and interested in affairs.

"Morning!" he called out cheerfully. Then, seeing no one else was with them just yet, he leaned against the wall and finished slurping the now-cool mud that qualified as coffee.

"It's shit," he said. "But it unglues the eyes."

[Caz]

"Poor doll," Sherry said appreciatively, clapping Petro on the arm. "Woman wore you out while you two were viciously battling it out in the bathtub, eh?"

She looked to Mike.

"I'll 'splain later."

And then to Zimmerman.

"We're giving the old rifle to FM, kay?"

As they waited for the patrols to assemble, Sherry rolled back and forth on her heels, like a tennis player awaiting a serve.

[Pcm979]

"He can have it after we're done here." Mike said quietly. When he was looked at for an explanation, he shrugged. "It's a rifle thing. I'm used to how this one works," he patted the old one, "so I'll be better with it until I get used to the new one."

[Josh]

Zimmerman shrugged. Rifle disposition was between the three of them. Petro visibly composed himself as the militia came into sight, quickly becoming an enthusiastic bundle of pep.

"Morning!" he called out. "Everyone ready to rock and roll?"

[Caz]

The ragtag group of lifters and shooters looked less than alert, but Sherry knew this would soon change. Adrenaline did wonders for the body and mind, and being outside in Malton did wonders for adrenaline.

"All right," she said, stepping right past Petro in order to brief them with little to no regard to whether or not he wanted to keep blabbing at them.

"Marley's rigged a pickup and a pickup-trailer combo. So on the way there, trailer's empty and we're riding in the boots. You won't have to dig around once we get there; we've done some recon and know where to pick the drums up, so all you have to do is heft 'em onto the trucks and keep your asses with the group so you don't get picked off.

"We're planning two runs if we can, but one should work in case we get tailed or cut off."

She paused.

"Any questions?"

[Josh]

"How do I get out of this chickenshit town?" one of the militiamen asked, to an undercurrent of amusement all around.

[Caz]

Sherry grinned down at him and said: "Only way to get outta this town is to start practicing your 'Mrh?', my friend. Now if nobody else has any questions, comments, gripes, jokes, complaints..."

[Josh]

"What's our rally point if we have to split up? Run straight back here?" Hale asked. The leader of patrol 2 was a quiet man who generally only spoke when he had something relevant to say.

[Caz]

"There's a Tesco 'bout halfway between here and the refinery, on Farlough Boulevard. It's well-barricaded; wait on the second floor. Anything else?"

She looked over the rows of faces.

[Josh]

They looked among themselves, shrugging. Not exactly a professional lot, the patrol teams. Though they were improving.

[Caz]

Sherry looked to Mike.

"I'll be riding up front with Marley, okay?" She kissed him on the cheek as she moved out of the limelight, letting Petro take over if he wanted another pep talk.

"Got my back, sniper?" she said with a smirk.