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Blindsight

Quarantine Zone - America

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a part of Blindsight, by macheteshark.

Electricity works. Water flows when needed. You can even access the internet to a degree... But none of that matters when the infected never rest. The Quarantine Zone -America... where the American dream rots slowly.

macheteshark holds sovereignty over Quarantine Zone - America, giving them the ability to make limited changes.

331 readers have been here.

Setting

The location of one of the Terrorist Attacks that have been dealt worldwide. Moving swiftly, The Government, with help from Paradome Industries has successfully managed to Quarantine the massive frontier city Lassidus and the neighbouring suburbs, country side and even some of Lonsdale Forest. Split into ares 1 & 2, the Quarantine zone has been a nightmare for anyone fortunate to still be living.

Area 1 - Primarily consists of the metropolitan of Lassidus. A huge and impressively technologically advanced city, Lassidus was the primary pioneer city for Paradome's inventions. Area 1 sits on the western side of the Styx; a half mile wide river that runs north to south through the quarantine zone. Among area one's streets lays the museum, police station, Paradome's business headquarters and more.

Area 2 - Sits on the eastern side of the Styx and primarily consists of apartment buildings that eventually wane to wholesome suburbs which in turn, turn to countryside that meets Lonsdale Forest. Notably within Area 2 sits the Lassidus Aquatic Centre and Football stadium. A smaller town of Huonville sits just towards the outskirts of Lonsdale forest.
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Quarantine Zone - America

Electricity works. Water flows when needed. You can even access the internet to a degree... But none of that matters when the infected never rest. The Quarantine Zone -America... where the American dream rots slowly.

Minimap

Quarantine Zone - America is a part of Blindsight.

2 Places in Quarantine Zone - America:

1 Characters Here

"A" [0] Paradome won't get away with this. I'll die before I let them continue.

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{please ignore this- I was trying to click on something else and my iPod was being a doofus -.- Sorry}

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Character Portrait: Haytham Collins Character Portrait: Allison Nonelle Character Portrait: Briar Lorris Character Portrait: Maximus Collins Character Portrait: Lauren Collins
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#, as written by Zander
OOC: And, I forgot to hit the Area 2 button. Darn. I'll do that next time, bear with me.

“No one really understands, do they? Everyone always thinks they’ll 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 they’ll be cool when disaster strikes. They think they’ll 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 they’ll be the one to stand up to it. That they’ll be the one to put him in his place and save the day.

“Everyone 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 don’t sit there and fantasize about it. They know that bein’ a hero isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. It doesn’t live up to the hype. It isn’t really a high-paying job. Yet it’s the dream job… people just don’t understand, do they? They don’t understand how hard it is. How much responsibility it is. How easy it is to fail. They just…they don’t understand. I don’t even think I understand. Not fully. Hey—are you listening, or are you just gonna sit there and drool?”

“Mmph…grw….hng…grrRAWrGr…”

“I know you’re in there somewhere. Go on, hun, say something.”

The creature only looked up at her, a seemingly exasperated demeanor taking over its rotten features. At least, that’s what it looked like to Allison. Who knows if they could feel anything beyond gluttonous desire, in reality. But, you can’t 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 zombie’s 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 head—maybe knock off an arm or something—if they ever got too close.

“Let’s try something…simpler. What’s your name, hun? I’m Allison,” she paused briefly, waiting for an answer she knew wouldn’t come, “Y’know, you look like a Benjamin to me. Why don’t I call you Ben Franklin? That’s a good name. An intelligent name. And, you always want to be one of the smart ones. The smart ones always cover their assess. It’s much better to be smart than strong.”

Evidently, after nearly two days of trying, the damned thing finally gave up and hobbled off. “Oh, are you leaving?” 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? Maybe…? It was a long shot, but whatever kept the girl sane.

Sitting up, she took a spray can from her bag. There wasn’t 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 “patients” 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 didn’t 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, wasn’t it? Hell, it’d 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, there’s 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 “station,” there’s a million places she could narrow it down to. Fire station. Train station. Imagination station. One of the six thousand gas stations—god, she hadn’t even thought about gas stations. What was it? Shell? BP? 7-eleven? Kroger, Wal-Mart, or Target? Meijer? There were so many freakin’ gas stations! Then, it could be stationary—so a hallmark store? Isn’t there a central station somewhere? That was it. She was in the wrong place.

Great. Just great. Peachy. Lovely. Fantastic. Oh, damnation. Now she’d have to find this mysterious station. Fuck this scavenger hunt!

~~~


I can’t tell you how long she wandered around for. It was the gas stations she tried first, with no luck—of 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 don’t pick up after themselves. Thus, they do not close doors. They just don’t 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 didn’t enjoy devouring flesh. Well…at least, she assumed they didn’t.

Briefly, she considered shifting in reverse and hauling her ass out of there, to avoid contacting more people to disappoint, but she didn’t. Why she didn’t, she’ll 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. No—even more careful than that. She made almost no noise as she forced herself into the building, but it wasn’t really an attempt at stealth. Anyone with god-damn eyes would be able to see her. Sure, she wasn’t a rocket scientist—but she knew that much. It was okay, though, right? She was unarmed—well, besides her pipe—obviously not a threat of any kind, if they don’t find her pipe intimidating, and a naturally sweet-looking girl. If these people were sane, it would all be okay.

Don’t get me wrong, she wasn’t worried about her safety. Nope—she was worried about their safety. People do scary, stupid shit when they’re frightened or surprised. Allison didn’t 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. They’re 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.

“—anyone else is coming?”

Deducing the prior part of the inquiry—at least, what she assumed it was—she raised a hand in a motionless wave. There were two younger boys, teenagers…probably underclassmen, and maybe brothers? They looked alike. Then there was an older women sitting on a desk—well, not really older per se, maybe 2 or 3 years older than Allison. Finally, there was a brute looking guy…probably, er…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, “Actually, yeah… I didn’t know there were still people alive. It’s been awhile... I guess I’m a little late to the party, then? Sorry,” 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, though—if they didn’t do anything stupid in the first 15 seconds, she could relax. "Uh, did the guy call, or am I in the wrong station again?"

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Character Portrait: Derek Mansfield Character Portrait: Claire Fuller Character Portrait: Mariam Qoreshi
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OOC: Oh, shoot, my turn to forget to select "Area 1." Sorry!


Mariam Qoreshi had never been one for extreme sports but the way her heart had dropped in the last fifteen minutes had made her feel as if she'd gone bungee jumping.

The adrenaline had come first with a hint of bright undertones. The woman she'd opened the door for, Claire, had made it into the station safely and a man, Derek, had come from the shadows within and had all but eased Mim's worried heart. The A person had not been lying. She wasn't alone, and, compared to her, these people looked ready to take on the world. Claire even owned a pistol. Mariam's face had imperceptibly blushed. All she had were those vials in her pouch, her mirrors and a small kitchen knife, yet all would be well because they were to be joined by more people and they would get to the root of the shamblers' existence.

Then came the uncertainty. The screams for help. Their peeping out the window to see a young man, a boy by her standards, making his way to the station... he was so close yet so far. The walking corpses were after him. Then she'd seen a couple of those corpses running. Running after the boy. Granted, at this stage there was still some excitement in her but it was exponentially being replaced by dread. Dread and worry. Then a shaky feeling of calm, Derek had thought fast and directed the boy to a bus. It was awful, but it was safe for the moment.

Alarm came after. The phone had scared the wits out of her soul. But maybe it was another of the survivors. Mariam wanted the brief feeling of safety from before to settle within her again so she'd picked up the phone. It had been A. That had been a lot better; she already trusted their invisible friend. But he did not bring happy tidings. Paradome headquarters, 72nd street, skyscraper, CEO office, hard drive... she made mental notes of everything being said into her ear. She wanted to argue against leaving the boy behind. She couldn't find her voice. Her hands were shaking. It was all she could do to not drop the phone.

Except she did when the bus had rammed into the station. The scared-out-of-her-wits phase began then. Zombies coming after them, no more survivors coming their way, being pushed to the floor, running from room to room and leaving the police station. The police station. A building that stood for justice and security, where incidents such as cannibalism and a young man's death were persecuted. How had the world turned around so utterly? The boy had lost his life. They'd been close to losing theirs. Still were.

Tears welled in Mim's eyes but she could still make out the sun's position in the sky and the length of their shadows. "It should be approaching one PM now," she managed to prevent her voice form wavering, "We have enough sunlight to get to 72nd." She spoke as quietly as she thought prudent. There were no zombies in the immediate vicinity, they had all probably drifted to the other side of the building following the bus commotion. The bus... that poor boy. That gave them a running start, but who was to say how may zombies would stand between them and Paradome's HQ? How many runners?

The thought of the runners brought back her feeling of dread. Shamblers she did not understand. Runners she found exceedingly difficult to accept. Where did they get the energy for all that running? Sure, they ate flesh, but zombies she had observed didn't have fresh blood pumping through their system; how did runners get oxygen to their cells without hemoglobin? Without oxygen, their electron transport chain would lack a final electron acceptor and it would get stuck, unable to release H+ protons out of the mitochondiral matrix which would render their ATP synthase completely useless! No oxygen, no adenosine triphosphate, no energy for speeds ten times that of the run-of-the-mill zombie. The forsaken things didn't even seem to breathe!

Mim had never been one for swearing but then again she had never felt that frustrated. She wiped the tears that had built up and surprised even herself when she was the one to take the first step towards 72nd street, mirror at the ready.

After she made sure any trace of her tears was merely molecular in size, she turned to Derek and Claire. Mariam offered them a smile despite the whirlwind in her head. They might've lost the boy before even meeting him, but in the end she still was with survivors as promised.

"I, uh, some people used to call me Mim before the mess. I'm a scientist, a cellular biologist; specifically, I mean. My absolute guiltiest pleasure used to be 90s boybands and home used to be in Albany, New York." She spoke quietly, but made sure they listened to her. "How about you two?"

A glimmer of light hit her eye. For a second she thought someone was using a mirror against her, not so. When her eyes adjusted to the sudden light, it dawned on her. Crud. The group found themselves staring at the river Styx some blocks away, smack in the middle of their way. With the bridges clogged with car collisions and shamblers, she hadn't the slightest idea of how they were going to cross. She realized, there was still way to go before the bungee rope stretched all the way.

Except at the end of a bungee jump you're supposed to be safe. Suspended and upside down but safe. Mariam looked onwards, the back of her mind assuring her that she'd chosen the bungee jump. Reassuring her that she had not just plunged headfirst into a dark chasm without a security rope.

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Character Portrait: Derek Mansfield Character Portrait: Claire Fuller Character Portrait: Mariam Qoreshi
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OOC: Oops. Blonde moment! My turn to not put in the right place.

When life gives you lemons, you're not supposed to cry about it. When life gives you zombies, though, you can't exactly make zombie-aid out of them. So by this point, Claire was sick and tired of sucking it up and being a big girl. She was practically on the brink of either tears or maniacal laughter.

Neither were good options.

Everything had been fine until that boy showed up. The other two survivors seemed in fine enough condition, and she herself wasn't doing terrible. Claire had watched out the bottom window with the older woman as Derek directed the poor kid to a bus. (It wasn't the fact that they couldn't get to him that bothered her the most: the running zombies were. That was just frickin' insane.) Claire had been hopeful for him. The bus had been a safe enough place at the moment, and he seemed like the kind of kid who could wriggle out of anything, really.

The telephone had startled Claire, and the other lady had picked it up instead. A's message this time sounded hasty and a little scared. What did he have to be scared about? He wasn't the one surrounded by flesh-eating zombies, with two other people with you, now was he? He was the one with all the info. Claire had made some protestations, too, along with Derek when A had told them to leave the kid behind. (And look where that had gotten them, hmmmm? One down already and all on her watch.)

The bus. The bus that crashed into the building. Zombies, zombies everywhere. Derek, telling them to get out of there. Actually clamoring out of the building, throwing all manner of things out of the way. Running away from the building, stopping after what felt like forever. (Poor bike.)

God, but she felt like hell, death, etc.

"It should be approaching one P.M. now," the older lady said, keeping the jitters out of her voice. "We have enough sunlight to get to 72nd."

72nd. The building where they were supposed to pick up the other survivor, in theory. Paradome's HQ on this side of the river. Okay. That was doable. That was concrete. They had plenty of time, unless Paradome had control over the weather here too. (Hell, that was less likely than zombies at this point.)

Claire shook her head. Too much. Waaay too much. No more. She didn't want to start screaming. Deep breaths. Remain calm. Remember what the shrink told you. Don't let the others see that you're on the verge of a nervous breakdown. (She was certainly due for one, that's for sure.) It took a minute, but Claire calmed herself down enough to talk.

"I, uh, some people used to call me Mim before the mess. I'm a scientist, a cellular biologist; specifically, I mean. My absolute guiltiest pleasure used to be 90s boybands and home used to be in Albany, New York."   The older lady's eyes were still slightly red from old tears, but there was a smile on her face. A hopeful smile, perhaps. "How about you two?"

Mim, huh. Like the ancient queen of the dragons from that graphic novel series Abigail loved.
Oops. She'd said that out loud. Oh well. Damn bad habits.

"Anyhow... I swim. Or, used to swim, really. Competitively. Last meet was right over the river. Good complex. Cold water, clean locker rooms, sturdy blocks. That kinda stuff." Claire pointed in the direction of the clogged bridge. "I lived outside of OKC on about one hundred acres. Nice place. Lots of deer and animals. Even had our own little shooting range." She bit her lip. Her family... were they okay? Claire took another deep breath. They were fine. Keep a brave face and a stiff upper lip. Gotta stay calm for Mim and Derek. Right. Okay.

"So, yeah. We should prolly head towards 72nd. I'm not very familiar with this part of the country, so I don't know when the sun sets this time of year. I've basically holed up in the museum this entire time, so I hope you two know where we're going!"

She really should have kept that map.

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The Socket Wrench, though was a good tool for giving a person a concussion, wasn't the best zombie-fighting tool. Though the socket wrench was essentially a small metal club, it made an ineffective tool for taking down zombies with. Also, it wasn't a very versatile tool in general. The crowbar, however, having a sharp end, was very effective at dealing damage to the ineffective, and was an extremely useful tool for numeral situations.

Nonetheless, Mykeisha fought with a socket wrench, as it was always the tool she grabbed first. And with such a tool, she fought the zombies, and though it tool several randomly placed hits toward the head, it at least protected her. However, she knew she needed something else to keep her awake so she didn't make a wrong move and get scratched or bitten. And then, it came to her just like that! The upmost horrifying scream had been emitted from one of the building, the same kind that kept her up all night. And as a bonus, she'd got the displeasure of seeing it's maker fall out of the same building's window, with another mass on it.

Mykeisha had to cover her ears and kick a zombie away from her, as from that close, it's cries were deafening. She was just about ready to put the thing on Snooze. Running toward it, ducking under zombies, she heard the second mass yell something to her. Undoubtedly, it was a person. "What?!" she cried, "I'm gunna kill it!" she kicked the thing over, and releasing her ears, she started pounding on the creature's face until it's horrible screams died down.

Mykeisha looked over the ungodly creature's corpse, rather satisfied of her kill, but grossed out and ready to puke out her guts, had she eaten anything. However, the second mass had other plans. He grabbed her by the hand and pulled her into the very same building he'd fallen out of. Did he want to do it again? "Hold on, where the hell are 'ya taken' me?" she cried, but the man continued to drag her up along the stairs. Upon seeing zombies in their way, he let go of her, and started clearing them out of the way. Mykeisha took the moment to hitch up her pants and get herself mentally prepared for the day, and then proceeded to catch up with the man in front of her. it was nice to have company that wasn't inclined to killing you.

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Character Portrait: Haytham Collins Character Portrait: Allison Nonelle Character Portrait: Briar Lorris Character Portrait: Maximus Collins Character Portrait: Lauren Collins Character Portrait: Kaijin No Soki
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#, as written by Soki
OOC: Sorry for my post being placed in the wrong Area, fixing now.