Urban Dead: The Price of the Oath

[Josh]

"Alright, listen up. Switch that dial I showed you on the radio over one click, call outpost 4 and tell them you're Trouble, then tell them what you told me," he said softly. "Good job, Gwen. You're saving a lot of lives here."

Or so he fervently hoped. Two hundred. Fucking christ.

[Caz]

She coughed again, then said: "Will do... I'll get back to you in a minute, Head Hunter," she rasped.

As she did what he'd instructed, she watched the horde pass below the building.

"Outpost four, this is Trouble... Do you read?"

[Josh]

"Outpost four, reading you Trouble." the laconic voice answered.

[Caz]

"Outpost four, reporting from Richmond Hills. Almost two hundred headed toward Caiger, moving in a highly organised fashion..." She cut the transmission as she was racked by a series of violent coughs.

"I repeat... Two hundred headed your way, Outpost Four..."

[Josh]

"HOLY SHIT!" the militiaman said. There was a long silence afterward. Finally, a different voice came on the radio. "Message received and acknowledged, Trouble. Good work."

[Caz]

"Thank you," she coughed, cleared her throat, "Outpost Four... Over..."

The exchange had left her short of breath. She switched back to the Irregulars' frequency and gathered herself, used the pancho to mop the sweat from her brow.

"... Got ahold of 'em, Head Hunter," she breathed.

[Josh]

"Good work, Trouble," he said. "You've done your job. Now you just hang on there, and we'll be back to get you. Got it?"

[Caz]

She heard him, but it seemed far away. The shortness of breath had made her light-headed.

"Yeah," she said, "I'll... See you around..." She coughed again.

[Josh]

"We'll be back as soon as we can," he promised. "Head Hunter out."

[Caz]

"Can't wait," she said, coughing into the pancho again as she sank back into her hiding place.

She'd helped a lot of people. Hopefully. Despite the weight of the syringe in her pocket, Gwendolyn smiled.

[Josh]

He switched off the radio, putting her out of his head again. The mission was in front of him, and rescuing orphans was a side venture that he couldn't think about at the moment. He gestured for the Irregulars to proceed.

Two fucking hundred. He didn't even know if they were going to have a home to come back to.

[Josh]

The horde had scented human up above, but the scent was faint, weak, and smelled of infection. The majority shuffled onward, but for two that stopped, lurching through the doors of the flat, following the trail of spore inexorably upward.

[Caz]

And it was then that she heard the noise in the flat building, from some floor below her. She tensed, clenched her teeth...

Not good.

Even with the gun, if it was more than one or two, she couldn't handle it. Not like she could run anywhere, either. They'd undoubtedly smelled her...

[Cynical Cat]

It was a bad thing to be a straggler when Wendigo Reaper was around. A bad thing indeed now that he remembered a few old concepts. The first one got an axe blade through its spine. Wendigo ripped it out as the zombie turned and buried it in the shambler's brain. It toppled. Out came his hooks. Meat was good. It made him stronger, smarter. But there was only so much he could eat at one time. So extra meat was waisted. Unless he saved it. Away from others. He dragged the carcasses away.

[Caz]

She heard the commotion below her and hoped to god it meant that something else had distracted or killed the zombies below.

Whatever it was, it sounded brutal.

But she was hardly lucid at the moment.

She looked over the lip of the building once again and saw...

No...

[Cynical Cat]

The others couldn't climb well. The leaders could, but not the shamblers. He dragged them up the nearby fire escape to the third floor. He tied off one part of a chain to the railing and tossed it across. It took him three tries to get it right. He descended and went up the other side. He tied it up there. Then he went back and hung the meat over the alley from the hooks in their torsos. Good.

He drew his knife. He still had most of the other corpse left. He sawed off another hunk of its torso and began to eat.

[Dark Silver]

Marley found Silver - flanked by Decimus and another of the Second, Leman Russ - mumbling to themselves, Silver explaining some concept or another to them, Marley wasn't sure.

When the man cleared his throat, Silver set his gaze on the Militia Commander. "Report," was the only word he spoke.

[Caz]

Gwen heard the sound of the chain striking cold metal, turned toward it. From her vantage point, she could see what appeared to be a man stringing up the corpses and...

Well, she didn't want to admit to seeing anything past that.

Definitely one of the sicker things she'd seen since the outbreak.

She closed her eyes and let her head fall back.

[Caz]

Back at the mall, Jared Granvier was somehow even more nervous and antsy than Melanie. The buzzing in his head still hadn't gone away; if anything it had gotten worse. He'd been spending more time in bed, the voices in his head entirely drowned by the static that consumed his thoughts.

In his sleep, the boy thrashed as terrible images filled his head.

[Pcm979]

Al Punt entered 'his room', not much more than a walk-in closet in fact, and suddenly stumbled and fell in an utterly uncharacteristic fashion. The 'thud' he made couldn't help waking the boy, static or no.

The boy snapped awake, sitting up and looking around in the darkness. Normally he could read whoever it was to see them, but the static was so bad now... He felt down the wall and huddled in a corner of the room, put the earmuffs on, and closed his eyes.

"W-who's there?" he called out.

With a groan, Punt levered himself to his feet, clutching his patched eye in one hand and using the other for support.

"'S me, kid. God, I'n hardly see." He managed through clenched teeth.

The boy raised his head with a bit of a whimper.

"Somethin' real bad's gonna happen," he said.

Punt laughed hackingly, crawling towards the boy in a strange reversal of their usual routine.

"'S not really news." He said, flopping down next to Jared and putting both hands to his eyepatch. "Lotsa Zeds coming. They're putting my f-f-freaking eye out." He continued, moderating his language rather absurdly, considering the fact that the kid probably knew more swear words than he did.

The boy leaned against him, the static in his ears ringing so badly that he could hardly hear what was being said in the room right there next to him. He allowed a moment of heavy silence before saying:
"Dad's out there."

"What? Who?" Punt asked, almost ready to rip his eye out again. Maybe it would stay out this time.

"Dad," he said again, looking beaten and despondent in the low light. "I can't hear him anymore. Can't hear Miss Sherry or Mister Mike either," he said worriedly.

"The Boss?" Punt clarified, meaning Petro.

"Yeah," he said quietly.

"Damnit." He cursed. "Need him now. The Chief" Silver, in Punt-speak, "Ain't good with words."

"Is Dad dead?" the boy asked.

"No, kid. Heard from him this morning." Punt said, patting the boy with one hand while the other clenched his face until his fingers went white. "He's fine. Safer'n us, actually." He said with a little chuckle.

The boy went quiet for a long while, the earmuff fluffy against Punt's cheek as he turned his head.
"This gonna be bad," he said again. "I don't wanna die..."

"Y' won't." Punt replied. "If I get off m' arse and do some'n." He finished with a hint of disgust. "Bloody eye." He lifted his hand from his face reluctantly, hissing with pain as he did so.

"Grr." He forced from clenched teeth. "'S good. Pain's good. Reminds you y'r alive."

The boy didn't have anything to say to that. The ringing in his ears was so bad that it didn't make a difference whether he kept the earmufs on or removed them.
"I'll think of somethin' I can do!" he said. "I'll help!"

"You do that." Punt managed, forcing the haze to clear through sheer force of will. "Do the thing where they kill 'emselves. Or someth'n."

"It only works with people," he said, "people that wanna hurt us. Them dead people, they ain’t nothin' more than animals."

"Yah." Said Punt, all too aware of the fact from first-hand experience. "Well, you'n do somethin'. You're special." He said, patting the boy again.

Jared looked up. "You gon' be okay?" he asked, the concern evident in his voice.

"Don't you worry 'bout me." Punt said with a final pat, getting to his feet. He was getting slowly used to it; Now to use it to their advantage.

"Gotta go. I'll take you to your mum, if y' want."

"Somebody's gotta," Jared said as though it was the most obvious fact ever, and then he scrambled to his feet beside the tall man, keeping close to his leg.
"Yeah, let's go see her! She's been real worried," he said.

They made their way to Melanie's quarters, occasionally stumbling and bumping into things as Punt struggled to keep his visions under control.

"A great pair we make." He chuckled to Jared, who was all but glued to the man.

"Need my dog," Jared explained. "He's my eyes."

"Where's he at?" Asked Punt, leaning on a wall. He was getting dizzy.

"I dunno," Jared said. "He runnoft yesterday and I aint seen him since," the boy said with a gloomy face.

"We'll find 'im. But let's get to Ms. Booth first, hey?" He said, leading the boy on again. Eventually, they reached their destination.

It was a miracle that she was even there, considering how she'd been rushing to get the defenses ready. She glanced up as they entered, smiled that saintly smile of hers.
"Punt, Jared, come in--" she started to say. But then she saw their condition and hopped to her feet, jogging over.
"What's wrong?"

"Zombies messin' with his head." Punt said shortly. "Thought he'd be better w' you." He turned around and made for the door crabwise.

"What about you?" she asked, putting a hand on Jared's shoulder but glancing past him. "You don't look well..."

"Bit outside your field, ma'am." He said, swaying slightly. "But," He admitted, "I'd like t' sit down for a minute."

"Of course," she said, understanding that the problem was something with his eyes and taking his hand, guiding him over to one of the armchairs in the corner of the room.
"I'll get you two something to drink," she said. Because whether she could help with Punt's condition or not, they were both probably thirsty.

"Thanks, ma'am." He said, and closed his eyes for a minute.

"Now, as big and tough and strong as you are, Alistair Punt, let me take a look at the goddamn thing and give you some Codeine or something?" she teased. In the meantime, she helped Jared up onto the futon and was fishing through her bag for some headache medicine.

He winced. "Not the first name if you please, Ma'am." He rubbed underneath the patch and came up with blood. Fuck. That's over with! He hastily wiped it clean, hoping Melanie wouldn't notice.

A terror on Malton's streets, Punt was oddly deferential in private. Like a guard dog who defended the home with tooth and claw but rolled over at his master’s command.

And indeed, she did notice. She noticed even more how quickly he hid it. Her natural maternal instinct was to pry that patch up and force some TLC on his ass, but she held back. She'd ask Jared about it later. Assuring the boy she'd return in a moment, she tossed a small bottle up and down in her hand as she returned to where the 'guard dog' sat.
"Take two of these, three if it gets bad. It's concentrated ibuprofen for the pain and some nevroxyl for the pressure in your head." Not that she knew what was wrong with him, only that the way he was holding his head, that was undoubtedly the problem.

"Thanks, ma'am." He said, reaching out with his un-bloodstained hand. His right one. The one which had been acting up.

Great work, sport. Just get a sign sayin' "Seriously ill" and be done w' it.

She frowned, watching him reach for the medication. "Your hand," she said tonelessly, "it's shaking."

"Oh." He said lamely, grabbing the bottle in stiff fingers and stuffing it in a pocket. "Thanks again, ma'am." He said and endeavored to make an escape.

She leaned against the wall, her arm blocking him. "Not so fast," she said in a Catholic school headmistress-type voice. "There's some potentially really bad shit headed our way. We've all gotta be at out best right now. Now, is there anything going on that Zimmerman or I should know about?"

He looked at her and collapsed back into the seat again, hands over his eyes.

"Well. M' arm's fallin' off an' I see what people think." He said abruptly. Got some pills for that, doc?

Surprisingly enough, she didn't offer any incredulity on that subject, just sat and listened to him, leaning on the wall and scrutinising him carefully.
"Falling off?" she asked, knowing that was probably the part where she'd be able to help.

"Got chopped of 'n' stuck back on when I died. Never been the same." He said shortly.

"The blood vessels might not have lined up correctly," she said. "Happens in amputations and reattachments all the time." But she was smiling. "I've got something that'll help. As far as seeing people's thoughts I doubt anything I prescribe can make a difference."

"'S the horde. So damn many, pardon m' French." He said automatically. "Like lookin' into a light all day."

She didn't ask. Wouldn't ask. It wasn't her fucking right to ask if Petro was okay. She took a deep breath and moved to the rubbermaid container that held the various medications she'd scrounged up. Finally, she returned to him and offered a bottle.
"It's called Accutane. It's an acne medication," she said with a laugh, "but it works because it's got some powerful blood thinners. That should help the tingling in your arm." She smirked, then shrugged. "I can't take it anyway, not good for the baby, so you can have all six bottles if you want."

"T'l do. Thankyou." He said, and fairly dove for the door with relief. "Ma'am?" He said when he got there. "Don't tell anyone, please. I'm not much liked as-is." Hardly surprising. The Second's reputation was built on fact, after all.

"Well then that's their problem," she said matter-of-factly. "The smart ones, even if they don't know you, appreciate you and Silver. You protect us." She smiled.

"Thankyou." He repeated, and left, staggering back to his room.

"Odd fellow," Melanie said to Jared as she wandered back over to the futon, sitting beside the kid and wrapping her arm around him. The boy leaned heavily on her, obviously distressed by the buzzing in his head.
"He ain’t as bad as everyone says," Jared said defensively.
"Never said he was," she said with a pat to the kid's head.

[Josh]

Freddy Malarky was the name they knew him by. He didn't talk about his past much, other than his rather dreadful mistake of letting slip that he'd been in the army once upon a time.

Which led everyone to conclude that he should be in charge of something. The concept had taken on a life of its own before he could mention that he'd been a cook.

So he did the best he could. After all, Melanie herself had been a nurse before this all started, and then she came to run the largest organized relief operation in the city.

"Queen Bee, this is Chef," he said. The official code was 'Chief', but a perverse sense of humor always led him to delete the 'i' from the code name. "You there?"

[Caz]

Melanie had fallen into a light doze, her hand protectively draped over Jared's back as the boy slept against her chest. The radio awoke her easily enough--no real heavy sleepers left in Malton, were there?--and she gently moved the boy down onto the futon. When he whimpered protest, she put a hand on his arm and said:

"Mum's just got something to tend to," she said quietly, then patted his shoulder. "I'll be back in two shakes of a lamb's tail."

And she left the import shop, jogging up to the roof, not knowing she'd been transmitting the whole time as she replied:

"Queen Bee here; how's the weather where you're hanging, mate?"

[Josh]

"Good as it gets," he said truthfully. "We're still moving that way. Seems to be that the shamblers are all heading east right now. Any idea on why that is?"

Which would put them into the horde that was massing, from his current position.

[Caz]

"Not a damn clue, Chef," she mimicked him, "but we just got word that two hundred are headed toward us. It'll do me real well to see you show up soon," she said worriedly. And then, just for kicks: "Oh, and would you believe I'm to have a fucking baby?"

[Josh]

Well, that was a mix of news. 'Hi, Armageddon is coming, feel free to drop by. Oh, and I'm pregnant!'

He stared at the radio for a long moment. Two hundred was approaching the size of some of the hordes that were smashing the downtown area.

"Is that... can the mall hold?" he asked.