OOC: And, I forgot to hit the Area 2 button. Darn. I'll do that next time, bear with me.
āNo one really understands, do they? Everyone always thinks theyāll be such a badass when disaster strikes. They daydream about stopping the gunman that enters a school building; they imagine fighting when everyone else cowers. They imagine being the god-damn hero. Everyone always wants to be the hero. They think theyāll be cool when disaster strikes. They think theyāll be the savior when Armageddon or apocalypse or whatever the hell you call it comes striding in, head held high like the bastard it is. They think theyāll be the one to stand up to it. That theyāll be the one to put him in his place and save the day.
āEveryone wants to be the fucking hero. They all want to be superman. The badass. The
savior. Not for the reward of helping people, but for the high it brings. The eyes looking up to you, the praise, the ego boost. Everything. Everybody wants to be the hero. But, in truth, few actually live up to their fantasies. The ones that are heroes, well, they donāt sit there and fantasize about it. They know that beinā a hero isnāt all itās cracked up to be. It doesnāt live up to the hype. It isnāt really a high-paying job. Yet itās the dream job⦠people just donāt understand, do they? They donāt understand how hard it is. How much responsibility it is. How easy it is to fail. They justā¦they donāt understand. I donāt even think I understand. Not fully. Heyāare you listening, or are you just gonna sit there and drool?ā
āMmphā¦grwā¦.hngā¦grrRAWrGrā¦ā
āI know youāre in there somewhere. Go on, hun, say something.ā
The creature only looked up at her, a seemingly exasperated demeanor taking over its rotten features. At least, thatās what it looked like to Allison. Who knows if they could feel anything beyond gluttonous desire, in reality. But, you canāt crush her efforts, right? This small hope at reform was all she had at the moment. Sighing, she leaned back on the roof of the old fire station and listened to the zombieās vain attempts at reaching her. It was getting smarter, indefinitely, trying new routes to climb up to the roof, but it still failed each and every time. Allison had saw to that with her slicking the side of the building and, if worse comes to worse, with her 5 foot 6 inch long copper pipe. Never underestimate a chick with a stick. It was pretty easy to wap them on the headāmaybe knock off an arm or somethingāif they ever got too close.
āLetās try somethingā¦simpler. Whatās your name, hun? Iām Allison,ā she paused briefly, waiting for an answer she knew wouldnāt come, āYāknow, you look like a Benjamin to me. Why donāt I call you Ben Franklin? Thatās a good name. An intelligent name. And, you always want to be one of the smart ones. The smart ones always cover their assess. Itās much better to be smart than strong.ā
Evidently, after nearly two days of trying, the damned thing finally gave up and hobbled off. āOh, are you leaving?ā Called Allison, genuinely sad to have lost her patient. Ben was making some progress, she thought. She was getting several different noises, instead of the usual moans. She got growls, too. That was great process. Maybe the speech part of the brain was starting to re-form neurological connections or something? Maybeā¦? It was a long shot, but whatever kept the girl sane.
Sitting up, she took a spray can from her bag. There wasnāt anything in her bag, no gun, no food, just a little water, some empty bottles, a few assorted cans, trash, and little devices she rigged up. As much as it went against societal norms, she really did live day-to-day. There was no stockpiling. Everything she stockpiled just got re-gifted to some lost soul. It was what it was. Hell, even cats and stray dogs had joined her entourage in the past. Some still found and followed her every once in a while.
The zombie was still only a few feet away. It was slow, as most her āpatientsā were. Carefully sitting up on the roof, she sprayed the back of his head with the neon green paint, marking him like all the others she encountered. It didnāt like the gesture, obviously, but was soon on its way half an hour later. Once Ben Franklin had officially left her company, she scanned the surrounding street.
It WAS the fire station, wasnāt it? Hell, itād be just like her to read it wrong and go to the wrong place and then be completely lost and let the guy down. What a failure, sometimes. Damn it all.
What did that text say? It said to go to a station and wait for a phone call. Well, thereās the first problem. Her phone almost NEVER gets service. So, she should probably be inside by a landline. Then, id all she can recall is the word āstation,ā thereās a million places she could narrow it down to. Fire station. Train station. Imagination station. One of the six thousand gas stationsāgod, she hadnāt even thought about gas stations. What was it? Shell? BP? 7-eleven? Kroger, Wal-Mart, or Target? Meijer? There were so many freakinā gas stations! Then, it could be stationaryāso a hallmark store? Isnāt there a central station somewhere? That was it. She was in the wrong place.
Great. Just great. Peachy. Lovely. Fantastic. Oh, damnation. Now sheād have to find this mysterious station. Fuck this scavenger hunt!
I canāt tell you how long she wandered around for. It was the gas stations she tried first, with no luckāof course, and then she more or less gave up and just walked aimlessly.
Eventually, though, it hit her like a dampened towel. God, did it sting. It was so fucking OBVIOUS. The police station. Obviously. Jeez.
Finally finding her way to the mentioned building, she paused at the doors, listening intently. It was quiet, but she could make out the sound of a door closing inside. A door closing? Closing? If she knew one thing about zombies, it was this: they donāt pick up after themselves. Thus, they do not close doors. They just donāt do it. So, either Ben Franklin gained a few million brain cells or there were people in there. PEOPLE. God, people. Civilians. Individuals. Humanoid creatures that didnāt enjoy devouring flesh. Wellā¦at least, she assumed they didnāt.
Briefly, she considered shifting in reverse and hauling her ass out of there, to avoid contacting more people to disappoint, but she didnāt. Why she didnāt, sheāll never know. But, the zombie-whisperer managed a hand on the cold metallic knob, turning it gingerly like the cap of a 2 liter ready to pop. Noāeven more careful than that. She made almost no noise as she forced herself into the building, but it wasnāt really an attempt at stealth. Anyone with god-damn eyes would be able to see her. Sure, she wasnāt a rocket scientistābut she knew that much. It was okay, though, right? She was unarmedāwell, besides her pipeāobviously not a threat of any kind, if they donāt find her pipe intimidating, and a naturally sweet-looking girl. If these people were sane, it would all be okay.
Donāt get me wrong, she wasnāt worried about her safety. Nopeāshe was worried about
their safety. People do scary, stupid shit when theyāre frightened or surprised. Allison didnāt want to be the cause of any stupid moves on their part. Hell, people have accidentally shot themselves and stuff. You never underestimate how pathetically lame humans can be. Never. Theyāre all idiots, one way or another.
When she did happen to enter n her a-little-too-quiet-manner, it was just in time to catch the end of a sentence.
āāanyone else is coming?āDeducing the prior part of the inquiryāat least, what she assumed it wasāshe raised a hand in a motionless wave. There were two younger boys, teenagersā¦probably underclassmen, and maybe brothers? They looked alike. Then there was an older women sitting on a deskāwell, not really older per se, maybe 2 or 3 years older than Allison. Finally, there was a brute looking guyā¦probably, erā¦seemingly mimicking Elvis Presley. For not having seen too many individuals this past month, she sure found an interesting lot. Brother Bear, Koda, Glamour, and Elvis; if you want to go by her actual thoughts. Now, the trick was not to call them that to their faces. Good luck with that one, Ally.
Clearing her throat and speaking softly, āActually, yeah⦠I didnāt know there were still people alive. Itās been awhile... I guess Iām a little late to the party, then? Sorry,ā Offering a sweet smile, but remaining by the door, she watched the cast of this odd reality series with some level of interest and healthy caution. Only a little caution, thoughāif they didnāt do anything stupid in the first 15 seconds, she could relax. "Uh, did the guy call, or am I in the wrong station again?"