UD: Beyond Reach

[Braddoc]

READ THIS BEFORE POSTING:

If you intend on posting in this thread, PLEASE contact me before hand so we can set up a character for you. Do not get the wrong impression, I would love to RP with anyone who wishes to participate and your character can and will be anything you want it to be. But these rules have been implemented for the sake of the story line.

And with no further ado,

Beyond Reach:

Beautiful shades of orange, red, and purple arced across the sky. It was as if the sky was a blazing inferno, bearing down on the landscape. The perfect evening.

Private Joyce was sitting on the grass, his back pressed against a crate of ammunition. rolling a bullet casing back and forth in his hand while he stared at the peacefulness of the sunset.

"Oi, Joyce! Throw me one of them clips there!" a boy yelled from the tent near-by.

As the boy stepped out, Joyce recognized him from his unit. "Oh, Hey Bailey- Here ya go." Joyce replied grabbing a clip and flinging it towards his comrade.

"Thanks, bro!" Bailey called over his shoulder, "Ya better pack up! we're rolling in five!"

Joyce thanked him and stood up, shaking the mudd off his boots. shivering slightly, he took a look around. The view infront of him was enough to silence anyone: Hundreds of men dressed in dark green, dawning matching helmets and black flak jackets were massed around a series of trucks began grabbing supplies and mounting the vehicles. Joyce took one final look over his shoulder at the sunset, stooped down, picked up his rifle, and without looking back set off at a trott for his ride.

"Hey there, chapp. hop on!" shouted a scruffy man as he extended a strong hand to Joyce. "The name is McFearson, And you?"

"Joyce, Private Joyce" He replied over the humm of the engine.

"Should be one hell of a ride," McFearson shouted nodding his head towards the city ahead.

Joyce followed the man's gaze- high concrete barricades surrounded a city empozing a grim, abandoned feeling.

"Word has it, somethin' within those walls is causing some serious trouble," McFearson explained, "The guard raised the gates to contain whatever it is."

Joyce trembled at the thought. "May god help us" he thought, tracing the form of the cross on his chest and kissing his dog tags.

[Caz]

The convoy began to move, a single tank taking the fore as they headed toward the Nisles Bridge, where they'd cross into Malton. The bridge would then be destroyed behind them to ensure that nothing would breach the quarantine.

In the rumbling lorry beside Joyce, a blonde woman was humming along to the rickety cassette player someone had decided to bring along. Although her voice in no way resembled the Guess Who song that was playing, she apparently didn't give a shit.

"Ooh, shivers down my backbone! I got the shakes down my thighbone... Quivers in my knee bones, shakin' all over!" she sang out loud.

Cate McCormack flashed Joyce a none-too-straight toothy grin and heartily thunked him on the shoulder.

"All this waitin' and we finally get to see some real action. Never thought it'd be on the goddamn home turf, eh?"

The music was suddenly shut off as their sergeant shouted, "And somebody cut the goddamn racket--"

"All right," he said, "you all remember the briefing. Just keep this in mind: they may look human, but they're not. They've got nothing human left in 'em and the best we can do is put 'em to rest."

Cate looked from the sergeant to Joyce.

"This sounds like one for the fuckin' record books," she opined. Her flippant, almost jovial attitude toward the situation was irreverant to say the least.

[Braddoc]

Joyce forced a smile but remained focused on the city looming ahead. "Chances are, not all of us are not comming out of this alive," he said to no one in particular, "But lets kick some ass while we're in there."

Several of the people murmered in response but trailed off into silence once more. The stress of the situation was beginning to set in- The once wired, chatty truck of soldiers was now grim and silent.

The trucks began to slow, eventually comming to a complete stop in the clearing 20 yards infront of the bridge. "If anyone here is having second thoughts-" the commanding officer yelled from Truck 1, "Now is the time to get off. Because once we cross that bridge, We're inside until this shit comes to an end."

Joyce looked down the line of trucks to his right and watched a scarce number of soldiers disembark from the group and head back up the bluff to camp before sliding down the railing and taking a seat next to the blonde girl, who had apparently continued her humming.

"And the shit begins.." he mummbled as the engines fired up again.

[Caz]

The tank and the soldiers that elected to stay behind, with the aid of a gigantic Chinook that seemed to tumble out of the sky from nowhere, made short work of the bridge once they were in.

Cate smiled supportively at the men and women in the back of her truck.

"Come on, lads!" she said, "We've been livin' off these people's taxes for a long while now; it's time to prove to 'em that it's money well-spent!"

Not exactly the most encouraging of pep talks, but she wasn't exactly trying hard.

And although they weren't facing the direction in which they were driving, everyone shut up as soon as the gunfire sounded. Lieutenant McCormack checked and rechecked her rifle. She yanked on her helmet but didn't bother fastening the chin strap. And with that, the National Guard descended on Malton.

[Braddoc]

As the trucks approached the high concrete walls of malton a pair of humvees rocketed between the trucks and took the lead as they accelerated towards the dominating figure on the horizon. Joyce reached next to him and grabbed his XM-8, gently brushing off some dirt

"Nice rifle..." McFearson smirked as he grabbed his M16, and sliding in a fresh clip, "Hope it doesn't get too dirty"

Joyce shook his head as he cocked his XM-8 and steadied it on the top of the Truck's Cab. The trucks rolled up to an iron gate, the only weakness in the high concrete walls. The only remaining entrance and exit to the hell hole that was once the striving city of Malton.

"Hey, Johnstone- Go unlock the gates and hit the gate switch." the commanding officer yelled.

"Yes, Sir!" Johnstone replied as he jumped down from Truck 1. The young man approached the gate cautiously at first, but worked up confidence with every step. When he reached the gate he shot the lock off the door and proceeded it pull the gate switch.

The following seconds were a blur. Johnstone only got a few feet away from the gate before it was thrust open by a large mob of undead. The night sky errupted in gun fire as everyman with a ready firearm targeted the undead mob that had overcome their comrade at the gate.

"FIRE ON THEM! FIRE ON THEM!" the commanding officer was bellowing over the gunfire.

As the soldiers in the trucks remained a constant barrage of bullets Joyce and McFearson slipped off the back of their truck and made their way towards the brawl before them.

"Johnstone is still alive!" Joyce yelled over the gunfire, "Lets go McFearson! we can get him out of there!" Joyce broke off in a run with his rifle still raised, firing rounds into the heap of undead ontop of their comrade. "Cover me!" he yelled over his shoulder to McFearson, "Cover me! I'll grab him and haul him out!"

"Copy chapp! Get him out of there!" McFearson bellowed back over the never-ending gunfire.

Joyce took the last 20 yards in large dashes and grabbed the straps on Johnstone's vest and began pulling him out of the heap.

"Oh my god! Pull me out! Pull me out!" Johnstone cried as one of the undead bit down on his leg.

Joyce reached for his Barretta and put a 9mm in the zombie's head, still pulling with his other arm. "I've got you! Hang in there!" Joyce yelled as he broke Johnstone free of the heap. Once free, Joyce Pulled Johnstone to his feet and, supporting his weight, set off at a steady trott back to the humvees.

"Hang on, Johnstone. We're gettin' there- AHH" Joyce let out a cry as a stray bullet grazed his side. "Get him back to the convoy!" he yelled to McFearson as he stumbled and fell to the ground clutching his side.

[Caz]

As soon as everyone was back on board, the convoy began moving again, straight through the masses of undead bodies and therefore straight over a lot of them. The gates were rolled closed behind them and the soldiers immediately turned to the task at hand: they were to secure the grounds of City Hall to use was a temporary base. It had seemed easy enough on paper, but actually seeing so many of them bearing down toward the gates made everyone's collective balls ache, to be sure.

Gunfire deafened them, minor frag explosions peppered throughout the constant rattling of automatics. It was enough ammunition to take on goddamn London, but...

"Aw, Christ on a crutch!" Cate yelled. Sometime during the opening few moments she'd lit a cigarette, and she chomped down on the end with manic intensity between curses.

"Soon as you knock the fuckers down, they get right the fuck back up!"

One of the soldiers sitting too close to the back of their truck was yanked down into the fray, screaming. Her reflexes were uncanny as she leaned forward, catching the loop of his bandolier as she kept her other hand on the truck's frame. With a grunt, she yanked back as hard as she could.

The man fell back down into the truck, blood gushing from several bites to his neck.

Bites. Good fuck, it was just like they'd said...

As the medics tended to the unfortunate grunt, she yanked the grenades from his belt and tossed them out into the crowd.

[Braddoc]

Joyce was lying with his back up against the back gate of the crew hold, his hand still clutching his side. As Joyce looked down at his hand as he removed it from his side. "shit," he mummbled gazing at the dark red blood on his hand.

A medic with a kind face stooped down next to Joyce, "Hey, there- Just sit tight. I'll fix you up." He quickly went to work on Joyce's wound- patching him up in a hurry. "Alright there, pal?" he asked shaking Joyce's shoulder.

"I'll manage- Thanks" Joyce replied with a wince.

As the trucks entered the city, they bounced over piece of rubble. The violent shake tossed the young medic off his guard and sent him tumbling backwards. The medic landed hard on the pavement before rolling several times.

"Fuck! Stop this god for saken piece of shit!" he yelled over his shoulder.

Joyce watched in horror as the young medic rolled onto his knee's firing his weapon on the advancing horde.

As ejected brass landed around his knees Field Medic Paulson began to panic. He knew his clip was running low and there was no time for a reload. Rising to his feet and backpeddled as he continued to fire into the advancing mass. "COME GET ME, YOU SON-OF-A-BITCH!" He screamed as he stared into the eyes of inevitable death. Paulson continued backpeddling, sharp blasts of sound issuing from his rifle as he dropped zombie after zombie with a round to the head or chest. Finally the time came- the flow of ejecting brass came to a hault and was followed by a haunting series of clicks from the chamber.

Joyce continued to yell as the terrible events unfolded infront of him. He could'nt help but admire the young boy's courage in the face of death.

The young medic turned and began to run- but was eventually dragged down by 2 undead. As the truck rounded a corner Joyce cought one last glimpse of the Medic with the friendly face. His hand reaching out for help as a dogpile of undead devoured him.

Joyce dropped onto his hands and knees, and spat on the deck of the crew hold. "Stop the truck," he repeated through a cracking voice.

[Caz]

Somehow, through the fray of shooting and howling and cursing, Cate heard Joyce's request. She turned to face him, dropped into a crouch, and looked him in the eye.

"You do realise that if we do that, we're all dead, Private?" she asked.

In a rare moment of somewhat friendly goodwill, she put a hand on his shoulder and rubbed his back a bit. A stream of smoke puffed from her lungs and the cigarette as she spoke:

"C'mon, kid, we gotta let those bastards have it like a Whitechapel bint on Good Friday. Stay back if you can't handle it an' I'll make sure you're still eatin' and shittin' right as rain this time tomorrow."

And she was gone as quickly as she'd come, grabbing two of the better shots on the squad and clambering up onto the roof of the transport. The sounds of their rifles were deafening above the soldiers' heads.

[Braddoc]

Joyce knew that she was right, but didn't want to admit it. But there was no way in hell he was going to be labeled a pushover. Joyce rose to his feet and steadied himself with the railing as he edged towards the rear gate. When he reached the gate he dropped a knee and observed his surroundings.

"Good-bye," he said aloud as he raised his rifle. Peering down the sights he steadied his aim as best he could. As he pulled the trigger the rifle let out a sharp burst as a the round tore through the air and embeded itself in the zombie's forehead, spraying bone and brain matter everywhere. Joyce exhaled in satisfaction while he lowered his rifle.

The trucks thundered up the road, the think bullet resistant tires humming softly as they rotated. Joyce peared over the gate, nothing moving in sight. He sighed in relief but remained aware as the trucks remained on course.

"Alright men- You know what to do!" the commander boomed over the mega-phone as the trucks slowed to a stop outside a large iron gate.

There was a large commotion as all the men piled down out of the trucks secured the perimeter with ease. As Joyce lept down from the back of the crew hold he stared up at the City Hall. Passed the iron gates the Hall was perched high up ontop of a marbel staircase. Joyce couldn't help but marvel at the beautiful architecture. Shaking off his daze, he lifted his rifle up and approached the iron gates.

"Oi, Step aside there rookie!" a voice came from behind Joyce. "What are ya? Retarded?" he continued with a smirk.

As Joyce turned to confront the soldier he saw a movement behind the man's head. There was no time to think- Joyce raised his rifle and pulled the trigger. Time slowed until ejected the brass casing landed on the concrete with a soft "clink".

"Holy shit!" the soldier screamed at the top of his lungs, diving to the pavement "You fucking crazy bastard!"

It wasn't until moments later that 1st Private Karney noticed that everyone's eyes were not on him, but behind him. He slowely turned over and scanned the street until his gaze fell across what had taken everyone's attension. Layed out on the pavement with a bullet hole directly between the eyes was a zombie. Joyce walked forward to examine his kill, "You handled that well." he mocked as he passed Karney.

"Hey, mates- 'bout time we move on into the Hall isn't it?" McFearson called from his post.

As they approached the iron gate, McFearson spotted a large padlock. "Guess we're knocking" he said, sliding his mobile anti-tank off his back and shouldering it. "Hit the deck!" he cried as he took a knee, covered mostly by the front end of the truck and steadying the rocket on his shoulder.

As McFearson fired the rocket everyone became engulfed in a cloud of smoke and sand. As the smoke cleared the group of soldiers advanced through the blown gate and up the marbel staircase towards City Hall. Two young soldiers approached the door cautiously, the memory of their comrade that had been grabbed at the city limits still fresh in their mind. They quickly lined up on either side of the doors and on the count of the 3 kicked the doors in. The doors smashed open with a loud crack and the men filed inside in 2 lines. "Tactical lights on," someone commanded.

The following moments were filled with faint "clicks" as people clicked on their flashlights. "Groups of 2, lets lock this place down." the commanding officer said calmly, "Keep yours heads on, or you may lose them."

At that precise moment the sharp burst of sound mimicing that of a M16 sounded off in the next room, followed by a shrill cry. Joyce dashed through the doorless entry rifle at ready. "Holy shit!" he yelled slid into the room.

On the floor bleeding severely from the neck lay McFearson, gurgling and spitting up wads of blood. The zombie that had attack McFearson suddenly became aware that there was another living being in the room and he lunged in that direction.

The sudden motion cought Joyce my surprise and he paniced. Squeezing the trigger he blasted rounds towards the advancing zombie but only managed to clip its shoulder. "Arghh." he groaned as the zombie cought him in the stomach throwing him back against the wall.

"Sombody shoot it!" somebody cried over the thundering of footsteps.

Joyce was only faintly aware of the next few moments before he slid down the wall into a slouch and blacked out.

[Caz]

As opposed to just shooting it, McCormack kicked it in the head.

That worked well enough. The zombie tottered over like the lump of flesh it was, and she plugged it once with her sidearm, shoving it into a closet and slamming the door shut. Her judgement that it probably wasn't smart enough to open doors was a snap decision indeed, but it was the best she had to go on at the moment. After all, there were movies about these things, right?

Cate surveyed their situation. They were in an office, not a good place to be: many windows, many points of attack. Those inside were herself, Joyce, and a handful of others. She'd seen MacFearson go down, but hadn't exactly been in a position to do much about that.

And upon looking over the faces gathering around the unconscious man, she realised that she was the ranking officer.

Well, shit.

"All right, boys and girls," she said, "we're getting the fuck outta dodge."

The sounds of the fiasco in the rest of the building were still evident even through the heavy oak doors, and she gestured to the windows.

"We can't go back there, so it looks like we're going to go up. For now at least. Jensen, grab that map, will you?"

PFC Brian Jensen looked around, not seeing the map for a moment, and then spied it: a poster beside the main entrance door, detailing the escape route in case of a fire.

"God bless federal mandates," he muttered under his breath as he tore it down.

The soldiers crouched down, examining the building's schematics.

Meanwhile, a medic was tending to Joyce, who was a bit knocked about but not sufficiently injured to keep him down. He waved a bottle of emetic in front of Joyce's face, hoping to snap him out of the funk so they could get a move on.

[Braddoc]

Joyce shook is head. "thats it," he said as he rose to his feet rubbing the back of his head. He took a step forward, slipping slightly on the blood-covered lanolium, "It's official- this is the worst day of my life." He stooped and grabbed his rifle before skating out the door on his feet, slipping every now and then.

Upon entering the main hall, he spotted a group of comrades still waiting in the lobby. The faint sound of gunfire and small grenade blasts echo'd down the marble hallways of the massive complex. As he approached the small group of soldiers he could hear them argueing about what to do next.

"Let's get the hell out of hear-" one of the began before being cut off by McCormack.

"Shut up, Peters. You all better grow some damn balls- and fast." McCormack said sharply, "Because, the shit just hit the fan- And I am not going to leave until everybody leaves, and that includes the men upstairs."

"Less' do it" Joyce replied. Stepping forward and cracking his neck, he then proceeded to pop a fresh clip into the rifle and loaded a round into the breech. "Let's kick some ass. No point in heading back now- Besides, this was where we were going to hole up for the night."

McCormack lead the way down the main hall to the stair case. "Johns, go check it out- Peters, cover him" she commanded.

Johns stumbled forward, obviously nervous. When he reached the spiral staircase he planted his back against the far wall and began to climb the staircase one by one, his rifle directed upward. He soon slipped out of sight. Peters stepped forward to follow, but haulted at the sound of gunfire errupting 1 floor above followed by a moment of silence. "oooh, shit-" Joyce sighed, clicking on his tactical light and taking a few steps towards the staircase.

He only got a few feet before an arm shot out and cought him in the chest. "Stay where you are, Joyce." McCormack said with a sharp glare, "I dont feel like bailing your ass out again." And with that she grabbed Peters by the collar and led him towards the staircase, "If we need you- We'll call for you" McCormack said over her shoulder, "So keep your ear-piece in."

[Braddoc]

A few minutes had passed, and yet no call. The occational burst of a rifle still echo'd through the lobby. Joyce leaned back against the front desk and began to relax when a dark figure on the opposite side of the lobby cought his attension. Joyce rubbed his eyes and let them focus trying to see what the figure was up to.

Joyce tapped the man next to him, "Hey, what do you make of that?" he asked.

"Dunno" Private Boyde replied, swinging his rifle off his shoulder, "Better go find out."

As Joyce and Boyde approached the figure it became clear what was going on. The man at the end of the lobby was trying to break down the barricades they had set infront of the main entrance.

"Hey! You there- What the hell is it that you think you are doing?" Boyde demanded shouldering his rifle. "Step away from the damn door!"

The man remained facing the barricades, speaking in a slow, stuttered speech. "I-I was s-s-simply trying to-"

The next few seconds were a blur- The cloaked man twisted around, raising a large revolver and fired a round, striking Boyde square in the chest. At the same time Joyce raised his rifle and fired a shot- narrowly missing the cloaked man.

"Fuck!" Boyde yelled from his back, clutching his chest in agony as blood began to seep through his clutched fingers.

"Joyce here," he yelled into his 2-way as he raced after the cloaked man, "Requesting some medical aid down in the lobby, 1 seriously wounded. I'm in pursuit of the attacker now."

Joyce dropped his rifle for sake of speed and drew his Berretta. Taking aim he fired a shot but missed his target by a small margin. The chase lead him through a series of doorways and into a long narrow hallway. Joyce skidded to a stop and raised his pistol, taking careful aim.

"Gotcha," he muttered as he pulled the trigger. The pistol kicked hard as it released the round. Drawing in a deep breath, Joyce set off at a walk towards the cloaked man, who was now crawling clutching his hip.

Joyce kicked the man's revolver out of reach, while keeping his pistol trained on his back. It was then that the sound reached Joyce's ears. A thumping sound, followed by a sharp crack.

Joyce's attension shot to an old wood door at the end of the hallway. "What more could happen!" he cried out as the door blasted open- Undead pooring through at remarkable speed. Joyce began backpeddling, using his pistol sparingly, conserving the small amount of pistol rounds he had on him. Joyce dropped his clip and replaced it with a fresh one, just in time to bring down the lunging corpse. He yelled in frusterating before turning quickly and dashing for the lobby.

[Caz]

Meanwhile, McCormack was having similar luck. She saw two men go down under friendly fire, cursed to herself, and had to take off running due to the sheer influx of undead coming up through the building's many staircases. Whoever's choice of the building as a Centcom was a fucking brilliant one, sure, she thought as she kicked out a window.

"Anyone who can follow!" she called, "We'll regroup when we can!"

Somewhere from above her, an explosion rocked the building's frame.

"They've resorted to the frags," she muttered in a tone that was best described as 'acidic,' "great."

But there wasn't time for any of that. Knowing there was nothing she could do for the majority--hell, the majority of their unit was already dead--or anyone nearby, she leapt from the second floor window and onto a nearby tree, arms aching as she forcefully pulled herself up. The sounds of gunfire continued inside as she continued climbing upward, moving over the top of the City Centre's elaborate fence.

Peering out over the city wasn't too encouraging, either.

Fires raged in several neighbourhoods, from what she could see, and people--both living and undead--were scattered through the streets.

Cate ignored the pleas for backup that rang on her radio. The tinny voices would be long silenced before she could get her ass anywhere near a place to help. If not, they'd regroup once they'd managed to find their feet.

She hopped from the tree and onto the wrought-iron gate, sliding down the fence and landing quietly. A dead--undead?--National Guardsman staggered toward her as soon as she hit the ground, slack-jawed and sunken-eyed. Although she didn't recognise the man personally, she felt a twinge of guilt as she raised the M9 and put a shell through his face.

"Sorry, mate," she said as she lifted his bandolier and rifle, slinging them over her shoulder, "you'd do the same if it was me."

On impulse, she also snatched the flashlight mounted to his helmet.

Crossing the street, she lit up a cigarette and climbed up the fire escape of a nearby health club, not bothering to try and muffle the sound of her boots clattering up the ladder. Someone screamed within the building, but she dismissed it. If she'd been sent into such a situation so inadequately prepared as this, then fuck everyone; her only loyalty was to herself.

[Braddoc]

Joyce continued sprinting for the lobby, holstering his pistol on the way. As he approached the end of the hallway he attempted to launch himself through the doorway on his right, but continued sliding on the blood-soaked linoleum. "Shit!" Joyce exclaimed before crashing into the side of the door-frame hitting the floor hard and Sliding on his back across the linolium floor. quickly scrambled for his footing, he rose to his feet but was cought in the waste by a charging corpse, slamming him back to the ground and forcing the air from his lungs. Gasped for air he groped for his holdster as his assailant fiercely clawed at his face and neck. Joyce screamed in agony as the zombified man bit into his neck. He could feel his own blood begin to flow down his neck as he found the pistol and forced it into the zombie's gut. "Go to hell, you piece of shit" he exclaimed, pulling the trigger until the clip was dry.

Rolled the rotting corpse off of him Joyce quickly rose to his feet and proceeding to the barricades. "Fuck this!" he exlaimed, tearing at the desks and coat-hangers propped against the oak doors. "Oh shit!" someone screamed over the gunfire, followed by a loud cracking sound. Joyce turned as a soldier crashed through the railing on the 2nd floor balcony, thrashing at the air as he plummeted to the ground, landing with a dull thump.

Joyce yelled in frusteration and threw himself back at the barricades with new found motivation to live. Finally breaking through, he put his shoulder into the heavy oak doors, blasting them open to reveal a murky, smokey city of despair and death. Only one thing was for certain: "I'm still alive" Joyce thought to himself as he set off down the marble stairs outside of City Hall, sliding his final clip into his Berretta and pulling the slide back, loading a fresh round into the chamber. "Time to get real" Joyce said to himself as he set off at a jog down the street- ignoring the gunfire and screams still issuing within the walls of City Hall.

Jogging down the street he came across one of the trucks he rode in on. "My god," he sighed in exhaustion at the depressing sight.

The truck was burried in the front of a coffee shop, still issuing thick puffs of black exhaust from the muffler. Joyce approached the scene- bodies clad in dark green donning black flak-jackets were scattered across the pavement. Many of their rifles still in their hands, and ejected brass scewed around them. Blood still wet the black asphalt and shimmered in the setting sunlight as it flowed down the curb to the sewer drains.

A sudden honk behind Joyce made him jump in fright. Turning around he saw another truck barrelling down the straight towards him, the entire crew hold ablaze. Joyce watched in horror as men, engulfed in flames, jumped to the pavement. Taking cover behind a brick wall he witnessed the truck attempted a series of sharp manuvers causing it to veer up onto 1 side and topple over, sliding on its side for nearly a block before comming to a hault in the middle of an intersection.

Joyce took off at a run towards the truck- barretta raised, ready for action.

[Caz]

Cate McCormack was amazed at how quickly things had fallen apart.

She rested atop the slanted roof of a church not far from the city hall, hoping to spot some form of resistance. Some organised group to lend a hand to, even. But it seemed like any humans traveling within groups of more than a half-dozen were mowed down swiftly and efficiently, although not in any sort of organised fashion like she'd ever seen.

Her unit had arrived only four days ago, and she'd manage to locate two of them. Two of hundreds that had been deployed. It made her sick, a feeling evidenced by the look of distaste that was slowly becoming her default facial expression.

"We've set the transmission up, sir!" a high voice piped up from inside the building. Cate looked down into the church's loft, then slid down the hatch.

"How many times must I tell you that 'sir' doesn't exactly work with me?" she said with a chuckle and a shake of her head.

The young redheaded soldier blinked, then laughed in return. He hadn't really considered it that way.

"Guess you're right, mem," he said. "Anyways, the way Kip and I have this box rigged, it should transmit the message every thirty seconds. Any survivors from the National Guard units are to meet at the building 'cross the way from ours, right? I added the co-cords as well."

She nodded. "Sounds like you've got it, Collins. Excellent."

After a cursory glance around the loft, she then added: "Where is Kipling, exactly?"

The private shrugged.

"He's looking for a place to stick the generator last I saw of him. He's up here, though."

"Very well, " McCormack said, "begin the transmission as soon as he's got everything ready. We can't waste much time."

[Braddoc]

OOC: I know I have not posted in a while, but I got pretty strapped down with work and class- so here it is, I tried to make it longer to make up for the time missed.
----------

The overturned truck was now a blazing inferno. Loud cracks and a dull roar accompanied the blazing fire as thick black smoke caused by burning diesel fuel was now engulfing the area in a dark black cloud. The darkness looming ahead imposed a feeling of great despair. The mere sight of it sent shudders down Joyce’s spine. Joyce inhaled a large sum of air and the exhaled slowly. Then he reached down, grabbed his dog-tags and traced the pattern of the cross on his chest.

“May god help meâ€Â

[Caz]

Together, Kip, Collins, and McCormack had managed to get the thing transmitting. All the while as they fussed with the radio, the sounds of the outbreak continued around them. If they listened on military or civilian bands, the soundtrack was identical: melodramatic wailing, gunfire, then static. Like some sort of bad radio play. And then the writer got bored and packed up, McCormack thought as she flopped down upon the roof of the church with a groan.

"That bad, boss?" Collins asked with a bit of a smile.

She raised an eyebrow, then promptly flashed him the v-sign and insinuated that she'd done naughty things with his mother.

"Well, the transmission's going," he said, sitting down beside her. "Won't take long to see if we'll make any headway with it."

The message was simple: any surviving military, group up at the warehouse at the coordinates listed. They'd figure out the rest if the plan when they knew what they had to work with. And despite herself, McCormack was quickly developing an appreciation for the situation. After all, the outbreak seemed to be weeding out the slow, the stupid, the lazy...

But she wouldn't explore that train of thought just yet. She ground out her cigarette on a shingle. She waited.

[Braddoc]

Joyce looked out upon his new domain, his feet dangling from a windowsill on the 5th floor of a local office building, while he peered down the sights of his trusty rifle. A sharp yet quiet thud issued from his suppressed rifle as an incoming zombies head jerked back, blood spattering the street. Joyce exhaled in satisfaction and relaxed against the arch of the window, taking in the morning sunshine. He tinkered with the sights of his rifle as he sat; waiting for the inevitable death that so many of his comrades had already succumbed to.

“Damn!â€Â

[Caz]

The transmission had been steady now for two days. A few stragglers from their own unit had shown up, as well as a few from others, but the majority that heeded the call were the frightened lambs: the survivors desperate for order, for government. And they weren't going to find it here.

McCormack chewed lazily on the end of a fat cigar, staring out over the city from her perch atop one of the church's buttresses.

She knew the calm wouldn't last long.

The group inside chattered, discussed tactics, consoled one another. She felt alienated from them, the ones who worried over friends and family. The ones who'd had lives before the outbreak, who were terrified and regretful and losing hope.

She was different. She lived for this shit.