rackofbadcds | chairs thrown and tables toppled, hands armed with broken bottles

The swamps of Louisiana are not a fun place to get lost in.

Especially when the swamp people are zombies.

A gasp burst out of Rochelle as she slammed herself into the door of a nearby gas station. She fidgetedly hurried with the knob, got the door open, and stumbled it. It was dark and uncomfortably quiet but, after a quick search of the area with her flashlight to make sure it was zombie free, she slammed the door behind her and pushed a nearby desk in front of it. Okay. Door was secure. Good. God dammit.

Ro laid her shotgun out on the desk and leaned with it. Alright. Deep breaths. Think.

She was in the train car with Coach, Ellis, and Nick after their helicopter crashed into the swamps. The train was by a road, and by the road was a gas station. The four of them planned on heading deeping into the swamp, as the road was blocked off. Then the hoarde came. More than usual. The next thing Rochelle knew, she was fighting for her life on her own with none of the boys in sight. She was alone. She was sure she stuck to their rules. Stick together and watch each other's backs. But then they had just... dissapeared.

Shit.

Her breathing slowed. Not by much, but enough. She looked out the window. Still no sign. Okay. First, recoup. She had gained a few new cuts and scrapes that needed to get covered up. Then she'd reload. Then she'd go back out there and looked for the boys.

... Alone.

She leaned her head against the window she was looking out.

"... God dammit, I really don't want to be alone out here."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

When he'd heard scraping and rustling, the sound of someone breathing hard, Jack had immediately assumed the worst. He hadn't a gun, but-- after some frantic and silent searching-- had come upon a baseball bat, metallic and stained with some unidentifiable brown liquid. He'd tightened his grip on it, readied it--

--and heard a female voice, quiet and miserable.

Definitely not a zombie, then.

"Hello?" he called tentatively, and then waved the bat up, figuring if the other person shot at him they'd only hit it and not, say, his head. "I'm just a person! Regular! Name o' Jack!"

[At the sound of another voice she immediately reached for her shotgun, but pulled her hand away after a couple of seconds. Right. Duh. The Infected didn't talk. She had been shooting them long enough to know this by now. Shit was just tenser than usual.

Her hand came down.]

Oh, thank god. Another survivor for once in our lives.

[Of course. He could be bit. Or secretely not such a nice guy. Rochelle knew to be cautious but not ridiculously so. It was three other strangers that saved her life not too long ago.]

Shit, you scared me.

Sorry.

[He lifts his head cautiously, revealing a mop of brown hair and two bright hazel eyes. He still holds the baseball bat, though it's not held at an aggressive angle anymore.]

Er-- hi. I'm Jack. You-- uh-- you on your own, then?

[Ro shook her head.]

We're cool, we're cool.

[She walked up to him to get a better look at him. Damn... he wasn't much younger than Ellis.]

I'm Rochelle. Hi, Jack. I'm... [She sighs.] I'm with a group of three other guys, but we all got separated back there. I'm guessing you probably heard it. [She still had to figure things out herself.] What about you? You been out here all by yourself?

Yeah, kinda. I mean, yeah, I kinda heard it, that's why I was hidin', and yeah, I'm kinda on me own.

[He forces a horrible sort of smile that he doesn't mean at all, and adds:]

The guys I was with ain't around no more. So.

[Rochelle folds her arms.]

I'm sorry, Jack. [She pauses.] Hey, you can stay with me if you want. If--WHEN we find the others, you can come with us. We're headed for New Orleans.

[Or by the helicopter crash outside...]

Trying to head for New Orleans.

There a safe space there or something?

[He smiles a little, though, pleased by the invite.]

Thanks, though. I mean-- thanks. I think I'll take you up on that offer, if you don't mind.

We sure as shit hope so. From what we've heard New Orleans may be the last military outpost. It's not like there's an alternative.

[Other than dying. Rochelle approaches him now with a small grin of her own.]

Do I mind? With all the creeps out there, sweetie? I don't mind at ALL. [She gives a short chuckle and takes out the first aid pack she had been carrying on her back.] Besides, you're the first survivor we've seen lately who ISN'T crazy. I'm not gonna leave anybody out here.

You in one piece?

Not quite. I mean, I ain't infected or nothing, but--

[He shows her his arm. There's a dirty cloth wrapped around there that he hastily unties, revealing a rather nasty looking wound.]

Kinda lookin' bad, huh?

[Rochelle make something of a "yikes" face. She pulled up a couple of nearby chairs and invited him to sit down.]

If it's been a while I doubt you're gonna turn on me any time soon.

[She only had a few minor scrapes and bruises. But she would take care of him first. As she took out supplies she looked at the boarded-up windows several times now.]

We better be quick about finding my friends... I'm worried. And it goes without saying that five is better than two.

No kiddin'. What do they look like?

[He sat obediently enough-- though he began squirming a little as she rubbed disinfectant along his arm. That stung, and he pulls a face.]

Stand still, boy.

[She says it more like she's mildly scolding her child than she is actually angry. Though her tone's carried some tension for most of this conversation considering what she was going through alone out there.

She kept working on his arm.]

Well... there's Coach. Big guy. Purple school polo. Then there's Ellis... loud and southern. He's always got this trucker's hat on. [There's a short breath of a laugh.] And then there's... Nick. You'd know him when you see them. Well, you'd know all of them if you see them, but. He's the crankiest out of all of us. He's been wearing this white suit... it's not white any MORE, but you get the idea.

[A faint smile crosses her lip as she carefully works. But at her realization of what she's doing, it fades.]

Shit, I need to find them.

We will.

[He says it firmly as he tries to meet her eyes.]

All right? We will. We'll find em and we'll head down to New Orleans. You sound like you been travelin' a long time-- and if they've survived that long, they'll be okay on their own for a bit.

[Rochelle paused as she looked at him, then cracked something of a genuine smile.]

... Yeah, you're right. Sorry. I thought this was gonna be the first time in a while I thought I'd be on my own again. I know we're gonna.

[It didn't take long to get the wound wrapped up. Cleaning it was the issue, but that was already taken care of.]

There! Not so bad, right?

chairs thrown and tables toppled, hands armed with broken bottles

A MONTH LATER jesus I'm sorry

DON'T WORRY. I entirely spaced for a while and forgot to ask you!

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject