Without Hope » Places

         

Christen Knott

"Nice for you to finally join us, Mr. Hertz." Knott said, returning the salute in a lazy fashion. He was starting to become bored waiting for the group to get there, but was glad they were finally here. Not that he was happy to see them, no, but he was happy to finally be able to get this started. He watched as Hertz group combined with his soldiers. It was obvious who belonged where. Knott's soldiers were well-over-armed and with good protection, as if they were going to war. In Knotts eyes, of course they were. A one sided surprise war it was.

A small sadistic smile made it's way across Knott's face. It was no lie that he was a changed man. All these years pasted and each year he became more and more kill-happy. In a thought, he believed he should be rewarded for all the lives he's taken. All the blood on his hands. This world is already heading toward hell on earth. Death for all. Extinction of humanity. And what's Mr. Christen Knott doing? Putting people out of their misery, that's what. And of course he believes he's doing right. But that doesn't change the adrenaline and thrill he gets out of shooting the life out of a living thing that he knows can feel pain.

Hearing Hertz notify him that his men were ready, Knott let out a small chuckle. He, for what ever reason, could never find himself able to take Hertz seriously. He was such the type of person to carry peace on his soldiers like he doesn't realize peace is dying. This is what Knott thinks. He turns and faces Hertz, a smile and sadistic look on his face. "Then, I'm guessing it's about time we head off, huhm, Mr. Hertz?" Knott said in more of a statement then question sort of way before turning and facing the men. He took a makeshift blow horn from one of his men and called out over the crowd. "Men, it has been my pleasure serving with you, but now we have work to do! I don't doubt that some of you may be injured, and I don't doubt some of you may be killed, but the one thing I do know is we will take this base down before they take us down! Are you with me!?" Who could fight with that? That's all it took, a short speech with overlooked details that no one will question.

As the men cheered in approval at Knotts always-ready-to-fight attitude, Knott grinned at them and gave a nod. "Then let's go!" He added, and off they went. Knott handed the blow horn back to the man and followed after the group in front of his. Once at the front of the place and giving the men his okay to fight their way in, they were there. No one had a clue. Once Knott himself was on the inside he felt like a kid in a candy store. He felt like the fat kid from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory who loved chocolate and he just walked into the candy filled room with the candy trees and grass and chocolate river. It was that amazing. It was like a hunter on open season being in a forest seaming with deer.

Grabbing his gun, Knott decided to take out some people. A few over here *BANG! BANG!* They didn't see what was coming, but they also looked old, so they probably didn't see a thing. A few more over there *BANG! BANG! BANG!* They were a little younger, more around his age, but they were probably harmless. Oh well, no use crying over spilled milk, or, more like blood in this case. Now Knott saw a few people with guns. They shot at him. *BANG! BANG! BANG!* Knott shot two but was hit by the third in the shoulder and dropped his gun. Not a good move. Knott reached inside his jacket and pulled out a pistol, ready to shoot. He went with a group down one way to search. While searching, something jumped out from an alleyway. Without thinking, Knott and a few of the other guys shot at the thing. *BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!* Whatever it was, they hit it and it fell to the ground. That was when they saw it was a child. The men were upset, and even Knott was slightly, but moaning over it wouldn't bring the kid back. So Knott pushed them onward to search the place for something they wont find. Something Knott lied about.

         

Watching from the darkened alleyway, Leonard easily saw the commotion and noticed a group of fellow civilians in some sort of uproar. Near them, a group of soldiers seemed to be taking positions throughout the main square of the colony. Curiousity getting the best of him, Leo slowly stepped out of the shadows and pressed up against the building with his backpack held tightly to his chest still as if he hadn't realized the pack had straps for his back yet.

"Attention civilians of Georgia Colony." The loud, commanding voice suddenly filled the area and Leo jolted suddenly, holding the bag tighter to his chest. Below his rib cage, he could feel his heart beating quickly out of fear. The voice, which he knew belonged to Christen Knott, filled the entire colony with his voice. The speakers were wired all around, Leonard knew. He'd taken mental note of most of them. "...we are evacuating you all to the South Carolina colony. That will be all. Gather all you can and prepare to leave."

A click of the microphone told Leonard that the message was over. He stood stock-still though, looking around slowly in worry. Leave here? Why? The man pushed his glasses further up the bridge of his nose and let out a sigh. The crowd started to disperse quickly, running off in different directions to gather whatever they had left that they could salvage before the soldiers started herding people off into train cars or down the road toward the colony.

It took him a moment to realize it, but he was actually already packed thanks to his eviction just minutes prior. Shrugging his pack on to his shoulders, Leo started out of the shadows and into the almost empty court yard with his head down and his shoulders hunched, as if doing so would protect him from the sharp gazes of the soldiers in the area.

"H-hello, sir," he mumbled before a random soldier. "W-where...erm, where should I b-be going?" The much larger man pointed in a direction toward the gates of the colony wordlessly. The two exchanged gazes and then Leonard scurried off with his hands pushed deep into the pockets of his jeans as he walked with swift, long strides. Over the course of the next hour or so, civilians all piled together by the gates until the guards released them. Leonard would travel with the majority of group, seeing as he had never been one to travel alone or to stand out, for that matter.

The entire night, it seemed, thoughts of the South Carolina colony plagued him, along with theories as to why they were being moved. He couldn't remember ever hearing about something like this before in all ten of the years he'd lived at the Georgia colony. Perhaps it really wouldn't be that bad, right? It would be a change of atmosphere...but, at the same time, he was quite afraid of leaving the camp he'd known for ages. Outside was foreign to him and now, he certainly didn't have any protection from his older brother. Even though he was dead, Leo managed to convince himself that the spirit or something of Theodore was watching him. But, now he would be somewhere that he felt the spirit of his brother couldn't follow him. Clutching his backpack strap tightly, Leonard tried to calm himself to no avail.

         

Ryan and Dmitri fell into step as they followed Lydia to her office, the tension visible in his shoulders. For him, leading a sort of revolution, the only good news was no news. Consistency was everything in a settlement—whether it be the amount of food coming in, going out, the population, or whatever—change was usually never a good thing. Without his hands holding tight to his weapon, he didn't really know what to do with them. He settled for keeping them balled up in loose fists, his head held high, the tendons in his jaw taunt in preparation for more trouble. Ryan kept himself clenched so tightly that the small comforting gesture of his friend nearly made in yelp. It startled him, though he knew it shouldn't have. Dmitri hated seeing him like this, he knew, and usually did everything he could to deter Ryan's worry. This time it was a gentle pinch of the elbow, the smallest inkling of a touch that immediately set Ryan's body at ease—but not his mind.

He looked over to his friend, eyes wide from having been startled so abruptly. Dmitri smiled at him, miniscule compared to what Ryan was accustomed to, and yet it was more profound than the toothy grins he was so accustomed to sporting. He spoke without words that everything was going to be okay, that they'd work out whatever problem they had together. And in retrospect Ryan shouldn't have needed Dmitri to remind him of that. Ryan liked constants, and his friend's effervescence was just another one of those consistent variables he couldn't live without. It was well known amongst the Resistance that Dmitri was the brain and Ryan was the brawn, but it's become much more than that. Dmitri was Ryan's anchor, his conscience, the epitome of whatever humanity he had left. Ryan was quick to deal out death and destruction but Dmitri wasn't. He thought things through, weighed the pros and cons to every decision before settling for a solution to anything be it great or small. It was that little fact alone that had Ryan smiling back, just as faintly, and so private that only his friend could've been able to detect it.

They were ushered into Lydia's office and immediately got themselves comfortable. Both men always sat in the same spot for every conference and, as expected, Lydia took her place at the corner of her desk. She was apprehensive and that alone set Ryan on edge. Lydia was always a straight-shooter. She got right to business; she didn't pussy-foot around like most of the other women in the settlement. It was majorly why he'd chosen her to lead in his absence in the first place. Not only was she trustworthy but she got the job done, and in a way both Ryan and Dmitri could agree on. So when she opened up with, “I suppose I should start with the least damning,” Ryan prepared himself for the worst.

"It was brought to my attention, no less than a few minutes before your arrival, that someone has been stealing food. I’m going to set Peters the task of investigating but I need you to decide on the proper course of justice.” Ryan's initial inclination was that they put whoever it was down. The audacity of the fucker, Ryan thought, putting themselves above everyone else. When I find whoever it is I'll put a bullet in their head...or watch them starve to death; either one will do. But as he spared a glance in Dmitri's direction, he could see that brilliant mind at work. He's probably thinking of doing some kind of trial Ryan mused, shaking in his head in slight amusement. I'd love to see how that would end up. Ryan raised his gaze to Lydia as she sighed, bringing his attention to her as she dealt out the worse news. "This morning, there was an incident." Ryan and Dmitri immediately turned their eyes on each other for a split second, saying more in that glance that you ever could with words. "One of our patrols ran into some trouble with a Legion patrol, Carter was in command and ordered them to lay low and let them pass—I had commanded they do so, ammo was low and I thought it the correct protocol. One of the men, Parker, he lost it and opened fire. Seven died in the crossfire."

“Hopefully the bastard was one of them-...” Ryan replied immediately, his voice sharp with animosity. He'd never been too keen on Parker, always thought he was hotheaded and reckless. Good riddance, in Ryan's opinion.

Lydia simply shrugged off the harshness of Ryan's tone, knowing it wasn't directed toward her. If it had been her fault Ryan would've called her on it, and he'd made it so plainly clear who he thought was to blame. As she poured herself a glass of Bourbon from the bottle on the desk, she answered the unasked question just hanging in the air, "He was taken"

Ryan watched as Dmitri furrowed his brows, "Taken?”

"Probably by the Legion," Ryan figured. With just a simple nod from Lydia he could tell he was right. Even better, Ryan mused, Hope the bitch gets tortured.

"Well should we go after him?” Dmitri asked, looking to Ryan to see reason but quickly giving up on the idea. So he looked to Lydia, the only other person in the room that backed his logic. "Surely we can't just hand him over to the hounds.”

I sure as hell can...

"Let the bastard rot there," Lydia replied, with no hint of sympathy in her tone. It brought a satisfied smile to Ryan's face. It wasn't often that she sided with his reasoning, but damn if it didn't feel like retribution when it happened. "He got seven good men killed today."

"So what're we going to do about the rat bastard stealing the food?" Ryan inquired in a caustic tone, "I say, when we find out who it is, we make them starve to death."

Dmitri sighed, "Of course you would-..."

"Well then what would you suggest, then? Oh malevolent one,"

Dmitri shot Ryan a glare at his mocking tone and the man responded with a dastardly smirk. With a roll of his eyes and a shake of his head, Dmitri turned his attention to Lydia. "When we find out who it is, we'll send them out of the settlement in search for more rations. They'll be given limited supplies and ammo as retribution for their crimes and will be expected to replenish whatever amount they'd taken or they won't regain access here." He shot Ryan a look, the next two words leaving his lips pointedly, "That way, there's a good chance that they won't survive and in the off chance that they do," He turned to Lydia, "We'll have our food."

Lydia looked at Dmitri with bemusement, her lips parted in silent laughter. Ryan was just as surprised by Dmitri's proposal, almost more than she was. This was the first time Dmitri had ever come up with a solution that shadowed the death of the person involved. Ryan found himself hating and loving it all at once. Loving it because he'd never seen this side of his friend before, and hating it for that very same reason. Lydia cast her eyes toward Ryan, snapping him out of his tormented reverie. "You've been corrupting him." She teased, and that's just what Ryan feared. As he glanced over to his friend he saw nothing in Dmitri's eyes but the residual look that he saw whenever he threw an idea on the table. He wasn't second guessing himself, or battling with his humanity; he was simply waiting to see if it was a good idea. And Lydia did not disappoint. "I think it's a great idea. It gives them a chance to redeem themselves."

Ryan chuckled, almost bitterly, "Damn you and your logic, Misha." And to that, Dmitri turned to him with a smirk of his own dastardly quality. Ryan felt his skin prickle in a way he wasn't familiar. The look in those dark ceruleans eyes was one of self-righteousness, narcissism, and a hint of sinister glee—and the shine they brought to those stormy hues made Ryan on edge. His body thrummed with titillation the moment he received one of those rare, knowing smirks that practically oozed self-pride and vindictiveness. Seeing Dmitri like this wasn't something he got to see everyday and he wasn't sure if he was okay with how it affected him. With a shake of his head, Ryan ran his fingers through his hair, tugging slightly to distract himself. He looked at Lydia idly sipping her liquor as he propped his head up in his hand, pondering on how good of a distraction she'd make. Ryan glanced back at Dmitri, shooting him a look he'd given the other man a thousand times. To that, Dmitri's confidence waned to aggravation and something akin to sadness. He got up almost immediately, avoiding Ryan's eyes as he looked to Lydia, a sad smile adorning his stubbled face.

"It's decided then," He said, his tone void of any emotion, "I'll leave it your capable hands, Lydia...Ryan." His name was harsh, almost acidic in the way it was spat, and Ryan was put off by the way Dmitri didn't even bother to spare him a second glance. "If you'll both excuse me, I have something I need to attend to. Someone I need to see-...."

Ryan watched Dmitri go, standing slowly as the other man crossed the threshold. His eyes lingered on the door for a moment before he crossed over to Lydia, snagging the glass of Bourbon from her hand before taking a hearty sip. She shook her head, emitting a small chuckle as she watched him drink, "I would've never guessed that Dmitri would've come up with something like that-..." she said. And Ryan was bemused by the thought that this could be her attempt at small talk.

"Yeah-..." Ryan chuckled once as he wiped his mouth off with the back of his hand, placing the glass on the table, "I guess I am getting to him." Ryan met her gaze with a cocked brow, his eyes laden with flirtatious intent, "But he's not the only one I've corrupted over the years-..."

Lydia laughed, "Oh really?" Her voice was light and Ryan smirked. He's known Lydia long enough to know that she didn't beat around the bush. She was already aware of where this conversation was going, and Ryan could tell she was amused by the road he was taking to get there.

"You know I have," Ryan replied, his voice slightly husky as he leaned in closer, "You weren't so keen on a little bondage when we first went at it."

"Where are you going with this, Ryan?"

"Your bedroom hopefully."

Lydia smirked, grabbing the bottle off the table and taking a large swig. Ryan watched, neither of them ever breaking eye contact as she downed the Bourbon. She gave her own flirtatious smile as she placed the bottle back on the table, "Only if I can tie you up this time"

Oh, please Ryan picked up the bottle of Bourbon himself, taking his own swig as his hazel eyes glistened with playful arousal. He kept the bottle in his hand as he smirked, "Kinky," Holding up the bottle in a mock toast, he shot her a wink, "See you there," before turning on his heels and casually walking out of the door.

         

Tap, Tap, Tap, Tap.... Hopkins finger beat rhythmically on his desk. Mounds of paperwork collected around him, but he had no will for monotony today. Tap, Tap, Tap, Tap... The nervous habit, ebbed at his nerves, but Hopkins couldn't even muster the focus to force himself to stop. Tap, Tap, Bang, Bang. Hopkins jumped a bit as the knock on the door rang out. Quickly regaining his composure he was surprised again when the door opened before he could tell them to come in.

"President Hopkins?" Captain Hertz entered the room snapping to attention before stating formally, "Sir, my soldiers are mustered outside, waiting for you to give us the O.K. to leave for Georgia. Is there anything else I should be aware of?"

Hopkins sighed. Is there anything he should be aware of? Hopkins laughed coldly in his head. I am sending hundreds of his men to their death on a rumor, that loosely justifies the slaughter of an entire group of people.

Ignoring the question for the moment, Hopkins turned towards the window. "Do you believe in God, son?" Hopkins continued not waiting for an answer from the slightly dumbfounded Captain. "I used to be a God fearing man, believe it or not. I wasn't a fanatic by any means, but I made every attempt to go to church each Sunday, and pray before each meal. I often wondered in the early days of the infection, what we had done to incur such wrath from God. I prayed on my knees, for the world to go back to how it was. These days I only pray that my choices don't kill any more people than they have to, and honestly I don't think anyone is listening..." Hopkins rubbed the back of his neck. "I am sorry, I'm rambling aren't I? The point I am trying to get to is this. I don't know if God hears my prayers anymore so I am passing them on to you. Make sure no one dies that doesn't have to." Hopkins shook his head and blinked a few times, bringing himself back to his usual stony demeanor. "You are to rendezvous with Knott's forces on the outskirts of the Resistance held GA camp. The exact coordinates have been left with your recon operative. Knott should have already ordered the evacuation of his colony and his regiments should be in place when you arrive. Use the GA radio to contact me after the Resistance forces have been dealt with. You are dismissed."

Turning towards the captain, Hopkins made a formal salute, "God speed, Captain"

         

---

Judas leered over the hood of the car, watching the other man creep closer to the supplies lying where he was forced to abandon them just hours before. As an infected inched closer he quickly stood, took aim, and fired—ultimately hitting the creature right between the eyes. Quickly cocking back the tether, Judas reloaded, taking aim at the other meandering infected individual encroaching on David. He froze and Judas furrowed his brow, his trigger finger itching. The thing turned its attention away from the crouched man and Judas lowered his crossbow ever so slightly, his eyes flickering to the other infected beings as he crept around the front of the vehicle. Judas shifted his attention to David, following the man's line of sight to his supplies just thirty yards away. He gave a nod, moving forward with a silent swiftness as the other man bolted towards his possessions. Judas took aim as the infected locked onto David the moment he broke out into his sprint. Firing arrows quicker than ever before, Judas honed in on the ones closest to the other man, relieved when he finally heard a gunshot rip through the tense, moist southern air. He didn't fail to watch David's back, even now that the other man was armed. Judas ran to retrieve his arrows, sometimes pulling one out of an infected creature's head just to load it and fire it into another. Whatever creature that came at David from behind, Judas quickly took down with practiced precision and a steady hand. His muscles ached from the strain of cocking back the weighted tether at the pace he was going, but it didn't deter him.

He didn't lower his crossbow until he and David stood amongst the cadavers of the infected. Judas moved about the corpses to replenish his quiver with arrows, wiping the remnants of entrails and brain matter off on the tattered clothing of the infected. Glancing up in David's direction, he cocked a smirk at the man's exasperated and anxious smile. Judas shook his head out of relief and sligh exuberance as the adrenaline in his body slowly began to fade. A shriek tore through their silent reprieve and Judas quickly reloaded, his senses on overload as David rushed to his side. Both men wiped their heads from side to side, witnessing in suppressed panic as hordes of infected tore through the underbrush that nearly engulfed the surrounding highway.They reacted quickly, cursing simultaneously as they fell in step with each other's frantic sprint.

The boisterous roars and gravely howls of the infected shrouded them in fear as they rushed to get off the decrepit highway and onto one of the back roads filtering through the abandoned town. Judas's eyes scanned everywhere, his mind reeling with every possible scenario as he looked—in vain—for a decent hideaway. The infected that had been scattered throughout the town had been drawn to the gunshots and shrieks of their kindred spirits and were approaching them head on. Judas saw the only open spot and took it, pressing his shoulder into that of the other man as he hollered, “Veer left!” over the noise. Their feverish panting acted as a white noise against the hungry shrieks of the ebbing infected and Judas saw no other option. Reaching back into his own back pack, he pulled out a molotov cocktail, lighting it quickly before he turned, running backwards for a moment before he tossed it into the closest horde. David fired his shotgun into the heads of several Runners threatening to flank them on their left. Judas took the initiative to light another cocktail, tossing it just before he was knocked to the ground by a Clicker. David reacted quickly and Judas clenched his eyes and mouth shut at the sound of the gunshot, blood and mold splattering on his face. Judas pushed the corpse off of him, accepting David's hand before the ran with renewed vigor.

As the blood surged through his veins and clouded his ears, Judas racked his brain for the best possible. He knew he'd always had a better chance of surviving in the woods. From what he could tell, all of the infected in the surrounding area were now of their ass. The woods should be relatively free of the bastards if they could just shake them off. They would need a distraction of epic proportions. He tossed his attention over his shoulder, counting more than two dozen infected crawling and gnashing and barreling their ways towards them. Judas turned, quickly pulling the trigger and putting an arrow through the eye of a Stalker who came close to knocking him down. He reached back into his quiver again, reloading before fishing for another molotov only to come up short. There wasn't one within his reach and he had nothing for explosives. All he had was a makeshift smoke bomb he'd swiped from this group of mercenaries a month back—and even that wasn't guaranteed to work. They were fucked if they couldn't take about a third of them out, and even if they did they still might not be able to lose the horde.

“Hey!” Judas hollered for David's attention, "What do you have in your bag that could take these fuckers out?"

The man's gaze went void as he pondered for a second in thought, "Grenades!" He shouted out in response once the realization hit him. "I've got a couple of grenades in my pack."

Not a moment later, Judas snatched the shotgun off of David, surprised slightly when the man offered up rounds. His hands fumbled as he ran whilst attempting to load the double barrels but he got it, turning to send a shot into the head of three close Runners. Judas turned back around shouting forward towards the other man, "Get your grenades and send one into the horde!” He watched David fiddle with his back, unzipping the top and reaching into its depths. Judas paused to turn, unloaded five more bullets into more infected. He turned around once more, taking off in a sprint to see David fifty yards away with four grenades in his hand. "Toss it!”

David didn't, not right away. He waited for Judas to get within twenty yards before he tore out the ring and flung it, running alongside Judas as it erupted in the midst of the horde. Shrapnel flew and shrieks tore through the loud booming rupture as at least a dozen were brought down. Some limped, some were resorted to crawling, but others kept right on coming. Judas saw this and cursed, focusing his gaze forward for somewhere to hide. An abandoned car came into focus, one with it's front end stuck in a ditch. His eyes darted off to the left of the vehicle, his heart swelling with relief as he noticed that the woods weren't too far off behind. If they could just hide behind that car and sneak away, they might have a chance. Tossing another quick, analytical glance over his shoulder, Judas took in the two converging hordes and reached into his pack. He pulled out the smoke bomb, hoping like Hell that it would work.

"On my signal, I want you to send a grenade into each group," Judas stated, "Ready?" David responded with a quick nod and they halted, turning on their heels before Judas cast a look in the other man's direction, "Now!” David flung the grenades, two rings caught between his teeth as they were tossed into the midst of each crowd. Aiming carefully, Judas flung his smoke bomb onto the ground between the two grounds, the combined explosions from the grenades and the impact on the asphalt being enough to ignite it. Suddenly, the horde was engulfed in a thick, noxious gas and Judas shoved David towards the car. Judas ran faster than he ever had before in his life, trailing behind the other man as he looked back. The smoke was still thick and the infected were stumbling over each other and writhing about, emitting loud desperate shrieks. The front runners had all fell, those immediately behind them were wounded and on the ground, and the others were aimlessly stumbling. Judas took the chance. He picked up speed, falling in step beside David as he led them into the underbrush. They collapsed behind a bush within seconds of the smoke dissipating, and Judas crouched behind the leaves. He kept his breathing as quiet as possible, holding his fist up in front of David's face, his attention holding on the bumbling infected just sixty yards away.

They sat there for hours it seemed, waiting in the darkness to be spotted. Judas's eyes adjusted to the scenery quickly, making out various silhouettes of the threat in front of them. Eventually they gave up their search and began to go their separate ways. Judas tensed, thinking for sure that some of them would saunter back into the woods. None of them did. They simply took to scattering themselves about the town. Letting out a slow exhale, Judas turned to David, gesturing for them to move forward, his hand only visible by the light of the full moon. David followed behind, crouching as they crept through the underbrush, weaving around trees as Judas scoped out their surrounding terrain. Once his heart rate slowed and his anxiety was quelled, he stood, signalling with his hand gesture that David could do the same. With the tension of their impending doom gone, Judas was finally able to let out a sigh of relief. He turned to David, returning the man's shotgun to him with a nod of gratitude.

David responded with a curt nod, bringing the strap over his shoulder, letting the shotgun rest between his shoulder blades. "So-..." David exhaled in exasperation, "where to now?"

"We find shelter." Judas responded quickly, his voice low enough for only the other man to hear. "We might even come across a few deer. The south always had an overpopulation problem, even before the outbreak. You like venison?"

"I'll take all I can get," David chuckled, "I'm starving."

Judas smirked, his brow cocking in bemusement as the other man immediately mimicked his pace as he ventured deeper into the woods. There was a moment of empty quiet between; neither awkward or at an ease. It was clear to Judas that the other man wanted to say something but didn't know how to approach it. And with Judas being a man of few woods, he didn't feel the urge to start up conversation. David, it seemed, had to get something off of his chest. "Hey...Judas-...." Judas paused as David did, turning his attention to the other man, wordlessly expressing his immediate attention. David cleared his throat, "I just wanted to thank you for coming with me. I can't tell you how much this bag means to me and it really means a lot that you'd willingly help me get it back, even at the risk of losing your life. We almost got ourselves killed back there but you didn't run out on me, you had my back."

There was a short silence between them as Judas searched for what to say. Eventually the words, "Don't mention it," fell out of his mouth and he turned, reinforcing the silence between them as they ventured further. Judas kept his eyes trained forward, his line of sight veering side to sight and abruptly to one position if there was a disturbance in the trees. Though it seemed as if he was prepared to pounce, he was at ease. He felt at home in the deciduous forests of the south, as he always had growing up. Regardless of having to be on constant alert, he always felt he could survive here better than he could in the city. He kept his mind steady on his surroundings so when a curious thought slipped into his mind, it slipped past the filter in the back of Judas's mind and spurred them both out of their reverie. "What have you got in that bag that's so important anyway?"

David held his tongue as they kept a consistent pace through the trees, causing Judas to look over with a curious tilt of his brow when the other man withheld the answer. He wouldn't force it out of the man, but for some reason it appeared as though he was at war with himself as to whether or not to tell. Just when he opened his mouth to address the issue, David interjected, "My research," There was a pause, and as they exchanged a glance, David read the look in Judas's eyes and knew he had to elaborate. "I've been trying to find a cure for the infection," He explained, "Or at least a vaccination so it can no longer spread. I've been working on it since the outbreak and if I'd lost it-..." He needn't say anymore, Judas understood and David seemed almost relieved to drop the subject. Though that subject was tucked under the rug, David took the initiative to start up another conversation minutes later. "So who were you before the outbreak?" Judas heard him ask.

In retrospect, it was a purely innocent inquiry. However, it sent Judas's mind into a chaotic chasm or horrible memories and the unfortunate events of his childhood that he'd tried so hard for so long to keep buried deep. A cold sweat gathered at his brow as his back muscles twitched in a residual spasm and Judas let out a quiet yet shaky exhale. He steeled himself up, posing a blase facade in order to answer the question without his voice giving out on him from the sheer weight of his misery. "No one." He replied, a sharp edge to his voice, "Not anyone important anyway." Sensing the harshness of his tone, Judas redirected the question, "And I'd guess you were a doctor or something."

"I was a scientist," David responded, his tone indicating no aberration to Judas's previous response. "I used to work as a researcher for the Center for Disease Control. I figure if anyone could find a cure, I could try."

"How valiant of you." Judas teased with a lopsided grin.

David smirked, "And you risking your life twice for a man you didn't know, isn't?"

Judas chuckled, taking hold of the strap of his crossbow as they continued to walk, a comfortable silence falling between them. He had almost forgotten what it was like to interact with another human being. For years he'd traveled alone, survived alone, fought alone—he hadn't had to worry about anyone but himself in almost nine years. He'd become so accustomed to humanity tearing at each other's throats. People fighting against people whether to survive or simply for pleasure. He'd probably killed as many humans as he had infected since the outbreak. But he wasn't a killer. Every time he took a life it was out of defense. He was either being mugged, beaten up, or nearly killed for stepping into the wrong territory. If there was one thing Judas couldn't stand, it was seeing innocent blood shed by a merciless man.

Nevertheless, Judas was becoming accustomed to this silence between them, the unspoken understanding as they fought at each other's side. He didn't know why he'd been so willing to help David, nor did he fully grasp his reasoning for saving his life. He hadn't known who he was or how he'd gotten there, he just acted on impulse. And he helped the man a second time despite every ounce of his rational mind telling him not to. That being said, he couldn't figure out why he and David hadn't gone their separate ways. He knew that pinning yourself to someone was dangerous. Out here in the Waste it's either kill or be killed. One shouldn't tie themselves down to anyone. Loved ones are considered weaknesses. The people you care about most will always be in danger and you risk losing your life tenfold just for placing their better interest above your own. That's why Judas preferred to be alone. It was easier. He didn't have to worry about anyone but himself.

Hours had passed and they'd seen neither sign of food or shelter.

Judas squinted against the rising sun, the bright oppressive rays seeping through the breaks in the trees to blind him. David walked a bit ahead of him, rejuvenated by that extra shot of adrenaline your body gives you before you pass out from exhaustion. Yet again Judas found himself wondering when the last time he slept was, unable to recollect when and how many hours he'd gotten. Since they outbreak his days had felt like one huge blur, and being able to sleep was like Heaven for people like him without any ties.

Glancing at the man ahead of him, Judas speculated whether or not David had sold his allegiance to the one of the opposing sides of the Apocalypse. Surely this man wasn't searching for a cure to the infectious disease all by himself. Where would one get the supplies? What could possibly give one the initiative to take on such an important task on their own without reaping any benefits? More importantly... Judas thought to himself, What does this guy plan to do with the cure once he's got it?

         

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'A little more...little more...left now...'

The sky was overcast as it always was nowadays. Underneath the dust and smog, just on the edge of a small cluster of what used to be called civilization, a building rose a bit higher than the rest of the broken down scraps that was once a city. The windows were blacked out, boarded up, or blocked in a way that refused to let any light into the dim and dismal world, disguising any sign that there were people inside or anywhere for miles around. But about 50 yards away, slight movement could be seen from time to time as Vince shifted to a more comfortable position on the gravel covering one of the rooftops.

'Left you fungal bastard...'

Through the scope atop his rifle, Vince watched the form of a small man, or large teenager, infected with the fungus as he called it, never bothering to pronounce the spore's given name. It's whole face was covered in the disgusting looking pods containing the spores, no trace of its features left. Aimlessly walking around on the edge of the Georgia Resistance Settlement, the fungus-covered form began shambling past the markers Vince had set days before. Marked at separate intervals, Vince had used three different shades of color to mark the distances from the main encampment, outward to the edge of the settlement. Around the perimeter, there were also red-colored markings as well. These marked the freshly set traps that silently protected the settlement.

'Won't they see the markings?' Vince had been questioned when he first began tying the red cloth around his first trap. When he answered negative, explaining that most of the infected lost their sight due to the spores, he was then prompted with another question. 'Then why mark them at all?' To which Vince looked at the youth seriously and answered. "To keep any of you from wandering into one." That shut him up pretty fast.

The infected continued straight, walking slightly past the edge of his trap and Vince continued to look on, determining where it might go. One more step, and its arm brushed the line about knee height a bit away from the trap, but running parallel with the sides of the trap itself. The line pulled slightly and ran a vibration up the second line hanging directly above his engineered ploy. Too far to hear it himself, Vince watched with an amused smile as the infected halted suddenly and turned quickly to the sound of a soft bell that rang above the trap. Hearing the foreign sound, the infected took a step toward it. Then another, and another, and then vanished from sight as it plunged into the four foot hole.

Through the scope, Vince watched the small puff of dust that flitted up through the hole of his newly uncovered trap, recognizing the discharge of spores as the infected's head was punctured by one of the many sharpened rebar stakes he anchored into the ground. Pulling out the map he had taken from the run down library in town, Vince circled the marking of the trap with a pencil, his third circle of the day. Cleaning up his perch and slinging his rifle across his back, he left the roof of the building down the semi-stable fire escape.

His gas mask fit snugly over his head as he approached the hole and tugged at the straps. To his surprise, the infected wasn't dead yet, but wasn't able to move due to the rebar puncturing its head, abdomen, and both legs. Pulling a match from his small box, he struck it and threw it in, igniting the glistening fat, oil, and random gunk he pulled from the grease traps around the city restaurants. And the infected too of course. With this trap taken care of, he moved onto the next one, marveling at how easily everything was going without firing a single shot.

'I prefer fighting my wars with duct tape,' he thought. 'Duct tape makes you smart, guns make you stupid...'