Snippet #1716642

Yashie was quite irritated by the behavior of Thalia. Was she behaving that way on purpose? Or was she just stupid, or bloodthirsty? He didn't know, and he decided that he didn't particularly care. He decided that he would just ignore her completely. "That was rash of you, Yaaaashie. Yashie. cute name, right?" He resolutely looked everywhere but directly at her, suppressing the sudden urge to roll his eyes. He was not an eye-roller but some moments justified such actions, this being among the foremost. To take his mind off the woman, Yashie called out at Gabriel, perhaps in a voice a tad more irritated than he had intended, "You don't honestly expect a zombie to say it IS infected, do you? I mean, it's too much to even assume you'll get any chance to actually ask a zombie when it's standing so close to you as those two are. Your thinkjelly would be toothraped. Besides they are clearly human. Zombies have perhaps one-tenth the coordination that humans do. They don't walk, they toddle."

He stopped and scratched his chin, retrospectively feeling bad. He offered an apologetic smile and a shrug at Gabriel and the women with the hair in colors he was not sure was natural. Shaking his head slowly as if trying to get over the issue, he quickly turned away and headed directly into the store, tagging behind Salomon while beckoning wordlessly to Diana with his weapon. She didn't seem occupied at the minute and he needed the help. Somehow he trusted her. Maybe it was because she had shot the child-zombie. Yashie waited for Solamon to remove the remains of the (un)dead family and tried to be impassive and to show no emotion whatsoever, not even revulsion ... least of all revulsion. He didn't want to offend anyone, the living had enough on their plate already.

He watched Salomon wheel away the zombie-corpses and grabbed the only other cart in evidence. Into this he piled several packets of foods of a perishable nature and pushed it to where Diana stood. "Please, Diana, would you be kind enough as to wheel this out, see if anyone is hungry? I'm sure we all are and we should, of course, be eating these first. They will be of no use to anyone once they go bad." he requested, favoring her with a smile. Who was he to be giving out orders? Yet .. yet .. they were all occupied and someone had to deal with what had to be done. Crossing the aisle, he grabbed three bottles of cooking oil. Opening one, he sprayed a very small quantity over the small pool of blood (Solanum-infected) where the remains of Terry and his family had lain. Striking a match, he set it to the oil and let it ignite.

He watched it burn for a second and stepped out, running behind Solamon. "Pizza-peel brother!" he called loudly, and watched for a minute as Solamon began digging a hole. A small part of his mind noted the fact that Solamon's weapon was quite as suited to digging a hole for burial as his own Monk's spade and imagined the Monks digging a hole in the earth to inter wayside corpses. Shaking his head, he held out the bottles of oil at the grizzly-bearded man. "No offense ... but burying them won't destroy the virus ... it could pollute the earth ... maybe. Please could we cremate the departed?" He carefully stayed away from words such as 'burn', or 'corpses', 'zombies' and the like. No sense being rude. "I'm sure that Terry and his family would want the virus to be ... ah, gone from them. I am sure they would not want to come back as Undead" He knew then that he was being lame, very much so, but what could he do? The virus had to die, and the corpses had to burn. Who knew if they were dead zombies or dead humans pending reanimation? He held out the bottles for a minute, then set them down next to the cart.

Yashie headed back to the store, calling to Gabriel as he passed. "Mallet guy!" Somehow, he seemed to have acquired this strange habit of addressing the survivors by their choice of weapon. Funny, really. "Mallet guy! Please, could you help?" Quickly he outlined his desire to remove the foods in the supermarket, separate them based on their perishability and such. Also of his plan to remove the medicines, sort them, administer first aid to anyone who needed it, pointing out that the women, especially seemed quite hurt, all around. He was sure, he told Gabriel, that there was a small camping section which could provide bags, and shelving struts could make splints for broken bones, an eventualty he was planning to prepare for. "I am not sure who here is banded with who else here, and where each of the people here plan to go hence but .. I am sure that the supplies must be shared, distributed. Equal chances of survival. I trust you agree .... so ... please, could you help?" Thus, Yashie repeated his plea for aid, speaking loud enough that most everyone around could listen.

Action was what was needed, the dusk was nearing. And act he must, caring not for tiredness or for sickness. He waited for a response from any quarter.