Urban Dead: The Price of the Oath

[Pcm979]

"Always." He replied, giving her a quick kiss and moving off to the pickups.

[Caz]

As Sherry headed down to where the trucks idled, she glanced over at Mike once last time, blowing him a kiss. If anything happens to you, I'm going to revive you and fucking kill you again, okay? she thought.

"All right!" she called, "Divvy up--gunmen to the front of the trucks and lifters to the back! Keep your eyes peeled!"

She hopped on top of the cab of the truck with the trailer, and after the militiamen had piled in, she let out a sharp whistle to signal Marley that they were ready to depart.

[Josh]

"Her gig," Petro said, watching them go.

"You'll be going on an insanely dangerous venture soon. Don't cry to me," Zimmerman said as he walked away. Petro waved down to the departing convoy as they left.

[Dark Silver]

Silver stood in the window of the two story across from the Mall. He watched as Mike, Sherry and company took off in thier makeshift convoy, out to God knew where.

He stepped out of the window, back into the cool darkness of the room, with the rainclouds, no sun came, and without sun, there was no light. It felt better in the dark.

They leave..they go and hunt the breathern

"Doubtful," Silver said, more to himself, answering aloud the voice in his mind, "They work in smaller groups than that when we go out hunting...multiple teams in smaller formations."

He looked around for a moment, before his body settled in on the torn matress he used for a bed at night, his m1911 was on the ground next to it, the clip half ejected, and the clips load settled on the ground in a near pile next to it. His hands moved methodically, grabing the gun and scooping up the bullets. He pulled the clip out, and began to reload it...

It was half a hour later when he finally slid the last bullet into the clip, eyes staring dully at them. With a methodical slowness, he slpped the clip back into place, and chambered a round.

The sound of the carriage pulling back, and ejecting brass filled the small building, as the bullets went up one by one, and he attempted to catch them.

[Caz]

A while after the convoy had left, Melanie had forced herself out of the bed with much discipline, and after a brief visit with Petro, she decided that there were others to look after.

From the so-called cafeteria she grabbed two thermoses full of so-called tomato soup and trotted down to the infirmary, knowing Lasko would probably be up for eating again. And if his pal wasn't around then she'd just eat the other on her own.

She approached the bed quietly, then rapped on the headboard with the back of her hand.

"Morning," she said quietly.

[Hedgecore]

"is it?" he asked, "Morning, I mean. How long was I out for?"

Lasko greatfully accepted the thermos. "Mmm, soup for breakfast!" then hastened to add, "Not that I'm complaining, I don't think I'm old enough for solid food yet anyway."

After saying it, he could have smacked himself in the face: never even joke about age with women. He figured Melanie was older than him, by how much, he wasn't sure. Everyone was looking far older than their years these days.

[Caz]

"You know if it was possible I'd bring you crepes and eggs," she said teasingly, ruffling his hair with maternal affection.

She pulled a chair up beside the bed, looked him over.

"You feeling better?"

[Hedgecore]

"Better than 'oh God, my stomache is starting to digest itself and I don't even have the strength to pull myself off the pavement I'm face down on' yeah. Don't sign me up for the triathalon or anything, but yeah, much better....thank you."

He looked away for a moment, "you know, I really owe you...so..." his voice trailed off. "Despite what you've seen I'm actually not entirely useless, and in fact, am marginally competent in some areas. Really."

[Caz]

Melanie laughed a bit at that, then offered a supportive smile.

"Nobody owes anyone here, Lasko," although he hadn't said his name, she remembered it from the Kempsterbank project. He'd been a pale, sickly thing... Freshly revived, and she'd held him down as they did so, then carefully taken care of him and a few others afterward, whilst recuperating herself after a friendly fire incident during the first of the storms.

"I know you want to help and you can when you're well enough, I promise."

[Hedgecore]

"Speaking of," he said, "what happened last night, er, this morning? I was, y'know, only half conscious...but it sounded bad."

[Caz]

Melanie pointed to a bed towards the back, where a figure now slept, a bulk of white sheets all that was visible.

"One of our refugees, Lisbeth Castanita, is now the proud mother of Malton's first new pair of fraternal twins," Melanie said not without some pride. After all, she and Mike had delievered said twins with incredible proficiency considering they'd known fuck-all about it.

[Pcm979]

Mike propped the rifles on the roof of the cab and fiddled with the scope as they got underway.

[Josh]

Marley drove quickly, pushing the boundaries of safe maneuvering in favor of moving with haste. Curling the truck around a corner, the trailer swaying, the first zombie launched itself into the street and met the grill with a resounding SPLAT.

[Pcm979]

"Showtime." Muttered Mike, tugging his glasses off and sweeping the area.

[Caz]

As the zombie hit the truck and was easily pushed beneath the tires, Sherry let out a resounding whoop that was hardly overheard due to the loud engines.

"She's fuckin' nuts?" one of the militia gunners asked the man beside him in the truck's bed.

His companion shook his head.

"Always been like that."

[Hedgecore]

"Wow. That's refreshing change. I guess I just naturally assumed it was something awful, things bein' how they are. Lucky they had such a fine doctor around, eh?" He smiled, a little bit of life in a city of death.

[Josh]

And as if signaled, shamblers began emerging onto the street, moving toward the vehicles. Many were simply too slow and got left behind, but several launched themselves at the vehicles...

[Pcm979]

With a crack, the closest Zombie took a rifle round in the chest, blowing it clear of the vehicle it was assaulting.

"Nice shooting." Commented a militiaman.

"I was aiming for the head." Replied Mike.

[Caz]

Sherry opened the truck's toolbox in the back, dug through it, and came back out with a shovel. Not a pint-size pussy spade, no, but a real shovel. As the zombies approached the truck's cab from the sides, she simply lashed out with it, thunking them on the face and turning to meet the next threat.

They'd been taught to conserve ammo unless they absolutely had to, which made sense.

She glanced over to Mike and gave him a cheery thumbs up just as a head exploded against the shovel's head at nearly 40 km/h, showering her with bits of tissue.

[Josh]

And the first disaster struck, as a zombie in the process of being run over punctured the tire of one of the follow-on vehicles with his talons. The pickup veered back and forth as the driver tried to get it under control, and another zombie bounced up onto the hood...

[Pcm979]

Only to be blasted through the head. Mike lowered his old rifle and patted it with satisfaction. "They don't make 'em like they used to." He commented, working the bolt.

[Josh]

Sherry was too busy to observe, but as she heard the rifle's shot, she couldn't help but smile a bit, with a tiny /that's my boy!/ tingle to it.

The high-powered rifle round unfortunately found little to impede it in the zombie's head, other than a bit of deflection off the skullbone. It slammed into the windshield and struck the man in the passenger seat in the throat. Blood sprayed the windshield of the pickup in fountaining geysers, further distracting the already disturbed driver. The pickup veered toward a stoplight and rammed into it at 30 KPH with a horrendous crashing sound.

[Pcm979]

Mike's heart sank like a stone. "Jesus fuck." He groaned, whipping the rifle up and blasting the nearest Zombies to the ground, giving whoever was still alive in there time to escape.

[Josh]

Sherry turned to see, and for the briefest of seconds her blood ran ice cold as she feared it was the truck Mike had been sitting in... But no, it was one of the supposrt vehicles, just two men, just for carrying oil.

Marley swore under his breath, half-tempted to stop, but they had to keep going.

One man bailed out of the pickup, staggering away. Enthusiastic covering fire peppered the area around him, knocking zombies around.

[Pcm979]

Mike slumped a little as the man got to safety. "Crap." He concluded, picking up the H&K and swapping clips.

As much as Sherry needed to know that Mike was all right, she trusted him and now was match point, baby, so no stopping to count the casualties. She slammed the shovel hard into the windpipe of a rotter that clung to the truck's bed, delighting in the crack of its windpipe as it fractured and made the move a near-decapitation. She glanced to the road to see how far they'd progressed.