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Elias Grant

To live is the rarest thing in the world. Most people exist. That is all.

0 · 919 views · located in Post-Apocalyptic America

a character in “Bullets and Brains”, as played by Retrovertigo


"Two things are infinite: The universe and human stupidity; and I’m not sure about the universe. "

The Basics

Full Name: Elias Grant

English/Welsh - Caucasian
Sexual Orientation:
Prior Occupation:
Teacher at a boarding school
Current Occupation:
Guard/Teacher for those young enough to still need schooling

What's on the Outside

Hair Color:
Eye Color:
Tattoos and Piercings:
Elias isn’t quite that adventurous.
Elias has a scar across his left shoulder from surgery for a torn rotator cuff that wouldn’t heal on its own.
Character Color: 0a1f1b
Description: Elias is somewhat unassuming in appearance. Standing at 5’11” and weighing 170lbs, he isn’t exactly imposing. He tends to dress conservatively in dress shirts, blazers and suits, or at least he did before everything went to hell. He has a tendency to buy things that are a bit too big or ill-fitting and he often wears an article of clothing until it falls apart. He has dark wavy hair that is prone to be a bit fly away and piercing blue eyes that don’t miss much. Elias also wears reading glasses and if there was anything he appreciated about the apocalypse was the fact he didn’t have to worry about shaving anymore.

What's on the Inside


{Curious, Sensitive, Bitter, Serious, Indulgent}
Elias is a man who knows himself, flaws and all. Although he tries to hide behind addiction he is well aware that he could be an infinitely better person. Someone who isn’t satisfied with the dull teaching job and eats frozen TV. dinners alone every night. A man who doesn’t just long for an emotional connection but actually goes out and forges them.

He’s quite smart and has always been a voracious learner; he also excels at teaching and guiding others even if he has begun to be frustrated by it. When Elias finds something that intrigues him his natural curiosity takes over and he does everything in his power to learn as much as he can. It is one of the few things that bring him joy. Especially now that the world has ended.

-Collected first edition classic novels.
-Was in a bowling league
-Directing student plays

-Rakes his hands through his hair when nervous or frustrated.
-Is a big fan of taking off his glasses, cleaning them and putting them back on to emphasize his point.
-Says the same prayer every night and every morning with no deviation. Even though he’s not sure what he believes anymore the sameness of it steadies him.

-Painkiller addiction which stems from the surgery he had seven years ago for a torn rotator cuff, he has a stash but desperation is beginning to set in.
-Allergic to penicillin

  • Painkillers
  • Literature
  • Theatre
  • Fireplaces
  • Rainy Days
  • Women
  • Men
  • The smell of leather
  • Solitude
  • Sad Music
  • Dogs

  • Sobriety
  • Over eagerness
  • Willful Ignorance
  • Excessive heat
  • Shaving
  • Emotional Outbursts

What Makes Us Special


Strengths and Weaknesses

Character Skills/Talents:
  • Teaching/Nurturing Talent – Elias has a gift for inspiring others which he put to use in his career before the apocalypse, now he does his best to inspire the need for survival in some of the less hopeful.
  • Has basic survival skills and first aid training from his time spent in scouts as a youngster.
  • Has a basic knowledge of plants, able to identify which are poisonous and which are edible with reasonable accuracy.

Character Flaws/Weaknesses:What is your character bad at doing?
  • Due to a previous shoulder injury Elias’ left shoulder is compromised. He does heavy lifting with his right arm, but he’s prone to fatigue and pain.
  • Addiction – Though he has legitimate pain his need for painkillers has crossed a line. He will do or risk nearly anything to make sure he has enough.

His pill addiction is definitely something he keeps to himself. It could make him seem like a liability and there’s no way he’d make it out there alone.
Elias is haunted by the fact that perhaps there was something more he could have done for some of his students. He feels as though he left them to die and to be truthful he did.
-Turning into one of the walking dead. He hopes to god someone does him the kindness of taking him out of his misery before it comes to that.
-Being Alone – As someone who used to enjoy solitude Elias now realizes that being alone equates death and he’s never felt the need to connect with others more than now.

What's Done Is Done



Place Of Origin:
Nashua, New Hampshire
Birth Date:
October 11th

Elias was born to a fairly normal upper-middle class family in Nashua, New Hampshire. He was the eldest followed by his sister Amelia who was five years younger than him. Although there was a bit of an age gap the two got along famously, most likely due to Elias’ gentle temperament. His parents were average and usually operated on auto-pilot yet their children never wanted for anything and in truth it was a quite peaceful household.

By the time Elias entered high school he knew he wanted to be a teacher. It was a noble profession he thought and it would suit him perfectly. This was only enhanced by the arrival of a new teacher one term, Mr. Phillips, a man who was remarkably bright, brilliant and inspiring. Elias was enamored and soon developed quite the crush. Though he did his best to hide it from all, the teenager was a mess whenever Mr. Phillips was near.

Young and boyishly handsome, Henry Phillips enjoyed the effect he had on Elias and soon breached what would be considered appropriate behavior with the boy. Elias was flattered and confused and decidedly naïve. He didn’t realize that he was merely being used to prop up Henry’s ego, at least not for some time. By the time he was set to graduate, Elias was more than ready to head away to college and leave Nashua and Henry Phillips far behind.

Elias blossomed in college and took to spending time with his own peers where he had many a failed relationship with both men and women. Of course he was young and relationships aren’t always meant to last though Elias had a certain knack for running through them like sand through an hourglass. After graduating he took his first teaching job while putting himself through graduate school. Literature and anthropology were where he really shined and made an impact which only enforced his choice of career.

After finishing graduate school Elias took time off to figure out what he wanted to do next. The world was his oyster or so it seemed anyway. That was the same year he was in a frightful car wreck, suffering only minor damage for the most part but unfortunately shredding his left rotator cuff, something that still plagues him to this day. After painful rehabilitation and surgery he emerged from the experience with bitterness and a painkiller addiction, not to mention a new job at a boarding school in New York.

Arriving at Chesterfield Prep he eased back into life, teaching English and Drama for grades 6 -12. He was well-liked even if he did keep mostly to himself. Elias spent a majority of his downtime alone and withdrawn into thought, his past failures haunting his waking moments. Even though he threw himself into leading extra-curricular activities it didn’t seem to be enough. He was wasting his life. Or at least that’s what he thought.

On that fateful day he was holding auditions for One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest, he’d been in his own world staring off into space as he was apt to do from time to time when something caught his attention. Simon, a boy of nearly 16 and of good sense was twitching and shaking on stage. Thinking the boy was having a seizure he stood and began to make his way to the stage as Simon straightened and lunged at his dialogue partner. The ferocity of the attack took the entire auditorium by surprise and as the rest of the students panicked and scattered Elias caught the eye of the deranged Simon.

Stumbling backwards he turned and ran through the set of doors at the end of the theater, barely managing to turn and bar them behind him. He watched as Simon lost interest in him and moved on to the students left behind. With panic Elias began to run, desperate for help and as he made his way across campus he became aware that Simon was no special case. Chaos had broken free and the screams of the frightened and dying children was gruesome. His sense of self-preservation kicked in and although he feels massive guilt for the students left behind he knew that to try and save them would only mean death for him.

Elias stealthily made his way back to his quarters, glad that they were on the outside perimeter of the grounds. Grabbing his stash, an aluminum baseball bat and his keys he fought his way to his car. Keeping to the less traveled roads he made it farther than he ever thought he would and was beginning to give up hope that normalcy would be restored. It was around this time that he met up with a ragtag group of survivors and joined them, knowing that his odds of survival were greater with a group than if he remained on his own.

Family Tree

Father - Elliot Grant Presumed Deceased
Mother - Fiona Grant Presumed Deceased
Sister - Amelia Grant Presumed Deceased

Happiest Memory: The day he got his first teaching job. Elias finally accomplished what he'd been working towards and the feeling of satisfaction was immense. He'd never been more sure of his destiny than that day.

Saddest Memory:
Knowing that he was taken advantage of as a teenager by a predatory, older man. He hates himself for allowing it to happen, for even encouraging it though he was little more than a child at the time.

So begins...

Elias Grant's Story

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Elias had been awake and on guard duty since six that morning, a rifle propped against his good shoulder as he slowly made his way around the camp perimeter. Even though this camp was technically temporary the group had made decent fortifications. There were cans strewn on twine so as to alert them to any trespasser dead or alive, along with wooden spikes half buried in the ground. Mindless zombies would merely turn into shish ka bobs when confronted by the spikes and give the group time to eliminate them although it seemed as if it had been a quiet night much to the ex-teacher’s relief.

It wasn’t like he didn’t have what it took to defend himself and the people around him it just unnerved him to face things alone. Bizarre as that seemed considering what a solitary life he’d been living so far, now Elias couldn’t fathom the idea of going it alone once again. It didn’t only mean certain death it meant certain madness. Oh, he was quite sure there were the solitary doomsday preppers out there, already half-crazed before this disaster started and even more dangerous now that they’d been proven right.

Elias much preferred the band of survivors he’d fallen in with, it was a bit disorganized but it resembled society and civilization which were things they couldn’t help but crave. Thinking of cravings only drove home the subtle ache that had been growing since he’d woken up this morning. Casting his blue eyes to search for any witnesses he quickly reached into a pocket and withdrew three Percocet. Popping them into his mouth Elias’s face twisted at the bitter taste as he chewed them and swallowed. Sighing with a sense of relief he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and headed back to the small concentration of tents and vehicles.

The happenstance guard wondered when the scavenging group would be back, cursing his luck at not being picked to go along. Elias had need for things and he definitely wouldn’t fulfill those needs stuck at camp for days on end. Feeling the first pangs of hunger he reached into his tattered backpack for an energy bar, devouring it in three bites. He felt tense and didn’t know if it was because of the pills, being left behind or some sixth sense that something wasn’t right. Feeling increasingly warm he unbuttoned the flannel jacket he’d thrown on in haste this morning and raked a sweaty hand through his flyaway brown hair. Today was shaping up to become an incredibly long one but then they always did nowadays.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Nathan Durand Character Portrait: Robyn Dempsey Character Portrait: Elias Grant Character Portrait: Aspen Bates Character Portrait: Layton Bates Character Portrait: Adam Dawson
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#, as written by Vix

|| Outfit ||

Silence had long since befallen the world. No longer were there honking horns, laughing children, or large planes zooming above head. There were often dying and fearful screams here or there, mingled with the sounds of Mother Nature, whom had reclaimed her lands. But the most prominent, ruling, and horrifying sounds were the groans. Not the kind you hear coming from your parents' and older siblings' rooms late at night when they think you're sleeping tight, all snug as a bug. The groans of corpses, walking and rotting and looking for flesh to devour. It had been some time since the living dead (and not the sexy ones with fangs that Hollywood and lonely female writers pushed to the unwashed masses) had overtaken the world. Those that didn't join their ranks either ran or died trying. Art was one of those who ran. If it weren't for her Kela and Robyn and Nate, she figured she might have died after a month. Art was agile, flexible, strong, intuitive, and she knew how to survive in the wild. But there had been more than a situation or two where running wasn't an option and her hunting knife wouldn't have been enough to save her. Despite this, she still volunteered to go alone while some others headed in a group to ransack a ghost town (zombie town?) for supplies. Nate and Robyn, of course, insisted that she go with the group but she decided otherwise and left fifteen minutes ahead of them.

The silence around the town was not quite so...silent in her neck of the woods. As out of place as could be was the Mission Impossible theme. She was humming as she darted around, crawling under cars, twirling around corners with watchful eyes. Her Timberwolf/Husky padded playfully around with her, her tongue lolling out of her maw and dripping with saliva. To others, it may seem as neither of them took the situation seriously or simply didn't care. The fact was, she was confident. She hadn't seen signs of any hoardes and figured she'd be able to escape easily, whether she had to drop some stuff or not. Her target was not the grocery store. It was the local Dollar General. Her trusty GPS lead the way and she was quick to heft her empty backpack, tightening her grip on the straps. “Kela. No room for failure. No barking. Understand? No ladridos.” The blue and gold eyed dog gave a low snort in response. It had taken a month for her to train Kela to respond to her new commands and it was well worth it. She was the perfect companion for keeping watch, her species heightening her senses and her training and wolf blood heightening her instincts and reactions. The canine was strapped into her harness once used for farmers market trips, prepared for transporting the necessities when Art had a little red wagon.

If there was one thing that Art would absolutely not put up with, it was funk. Toothpaste, extra toothbrushes, deodorant, soap, rags, and various other toiletries were put into the bags that went into the cart before she set out to fill her own backpack, constantly sidestepping to avoid fallen merchandise with the flashlight of her phone strapped to her thigh lighting up the place. Candy was the first on her list. She needed her sugar and would not do without. She had stocked up on stuff and was headed out when she spotted a cute jacket and squealed just a bit, snatching it up quickly. She figured she might as well grab some more clothes. Winter was coming and not to mention, washing clothes had become a luxury. And poor Joshamee and Isabelle were growing like weeds. She stuffed every bit of clothing that she could into a black thirty gallon trash bag, hauling it over her shoulder and finally leaving. No signs of the undead. While her backpack wasn't quite heavy, the clothes had caused her to walk hunched with knees a bit bent; She didn't want it to tear. Sucking it up, she braved the nippy air and maneuvered her way back towards "home". It wasn't too far of a jog but she had to walk this time around.

And then she heard it.

The sound of feet dragging against grass and concrete, groaning and moaning. She wasn't even a mile away but running wasn't an option. Kela lowered her head and issued and low growl, her lips pulling back to reveal a nice set of sharp teeth. “Estable. Maniobras evasivas.” She didn't need to bring her finger to her lips to hush her pal - and she couldn't - to send the message. “Ir a Robyn,” she whispered. Kela gave a light nod of understanding as her human companion set down her black bag of clothes into the wagon before pulling out a notebook she had gotten for Cyan, writing quickly.

Clothes & stuff in big bag. Lots of hygiene products. Few games for the kids. Snacks too. Found zombies and I'm going to go check on the others. Robyn, write my story if I don't make it back. And take care of Kela. I love you guys.

P.S. Bury me in the powder blue jacket with the white faux fur lining the hood. It's fabulous.

The dog took off at a careful trot down the street with perked ears, towing her wagon with her. Taking a deep breath and telling herself that everything was going to be fine, she headed off towards the sounds. There weren't many, just four. But where there were four, there were more. She only prayed that they were all in small groups and not traveling like a pack of wolves. The idea of killing them made her stomach turn and she could feel tears well up in her eyes. Don't see it as killing them. You're liberating them. If, God forbid, you were to become one of them... Would you want me to let you roam around, rotting and looking for humans to eat? Or would you want me to end your suffering? It isn't cruelty, but now the greatest kindness you can do someone.
Nate was right. Drawing out one of her bowie hunting knives, she whistled loudly and drew their attention. Moaning and groaning, they shuffled towards her and she walked towards them. Crying the whole time, she jammed her knife into each of their faces, using as much force as she could muster. Rotted flesh and blood that was almost tar covered her hand as the bodies fell. Her vomit wasn't too far behind, making the stench all the more terrible. If she lived then she would definitely down some Listerine. Painfully swallowing the disgusting aftermath, she headed out, taking more careful steps.

The others might need her help. She wasn't quite as useful as the others; She was a decent shot with a bow and arrow but she didn't have the equipment and using her knife made her vomit. She wasn't just going to abandon them though. Her creeping turned into a jog as she followed Nate's previously given directions, finding that they weren't too far away. The pumpkin wedged between the automatic doors gave away their presence and it made her heart clench. What if they were in there and dead.... Or dying. Taking a breath that tasted of vomit, she grimaced and headed in. “Olly olly oxenfree,” she whisper shouted. It didn't take her long to spot them. She maneuvered her way to Nate's side, excusing herself silently. Seeing what they were all staring at caused her to puff up her cheeks, heart dropping. “I got stuff, babe. Kela is on her way back to base now... We could run.” It was a futile attempt, she knew. She knew Nate would probably prefer to take down the zombies now.


The cart was heavy but she was strong. She couldn't let down Art. Nose to the air, Kela trotted past vehicles with zombies trapped inside, abandoned homes, and decapitated and decaying bodies in the streets. Her wagon pulled smoothly behind her as she headed to the outskirts of town. There was no pep in her step until she saw home. A small farm house encircled by vehicles, the grounds littered with tents for those switching out for guard duty or those who simply didn't want to sleep indoors. She gave a long, low pitched howl as she stopped before taking off. She barked at Elias as she passed him but didn't stop until she reached the steps of the house. She howled and barked more, vying for Robyn's attention. Joshamee and Isabelle were the first to reach her, removing the harness and freeing her from the wagon. “Robyn! Robyn!” While Izzy had been holding the antsy canine in an attempt to calm her down, Josh had gotten Art's note and began screaming for Robyn.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Shanti Nayar Character Portrait: Robyn Dempsey Character Portrait: Elias Grant Character Portrait: Art Character Portrait: Character Portrait:
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#, as written by girlwt

She hated towns, or anything with more than two houses, so she had no intention of heading out with the group that was going to pick over what they could in the quaint town in the New York country side. Shanti instead moved steadily through the trees of the forest, watching a deer she spotted not more then ten minutes ago. She had on a pair of jeans, and boots, her hair was tied back and she wore a long-sleeved t-shirt. She did sort of wish for a coat or something. The creature had not caught her scent as of yet, and she was glad that she had the wind on her side. She fitted the crossbow with an arrow, if she didn't get this right, and just wounded the creature, the smell of blood would attract the undead. She was pretty sure there were some out here, and some other creatures that she didn't feel like facing on her own.

The deer was actually still pretty young, it looked like the start of the horns could be seen on its head. Venison would be a welcomed change, but what made Shanti hesitant was the smell of blood would still be strong, as she raised her crossbow,the deer looked up, but not at her. Something else had caught its attention, a lick on her hand and she looked down. Lizzy was right there, where she always was. With that moment of distraction she heard the deer take flight, and that made her uneasy. She listened again, and heard a creak.

It was that sound that made her curious, and she moved toward it, there it stood like a light bulb of some sort, the white house tucked back into the woods. It was an two story with a wrap around porch, a barn stood next to it as did a small garden off to the side. She noticed a shed in the back, she slung the crossbow back in its place and took out her binoculars. This was one of her most prized possessions, these belonged to her foster father, and she didn't ever leave them at camp. She looked at the house first for any sign of life, the windows had been boarded, there were loose ones hanging from the upstairs ones. The front door stood intact and she zoomed in, "No scratch marks, Elizabeth, that is a good sign."

She looked at the barn next, the door was securely closed, that was interesting. She looked at the beagle, "so what do you think." Elizabeth looked up and looked up with one of those dog faces that made you smile. Shanti looked at her, "your a bunch of help." Shanti took a swept of the area, for anything that looked suspicious. The area looked to quiet, to quiet, not even one undead, but also no sign of life either.

She put the binoculars up and moved her crossbow aside to pull her knives out. Arrows were to precious, and she rather not waste them if she didn't need to, when she went back over her mind what she grabbed that last day. She knew she was going to make choices and pack smart. She didn't know how long she would be walking, or who she would run into. She knew though if she headed north, warmer clothes would be needed. Yet she lost her coat somewhere in Maryland, or lets say she had to barter it, which she was now debating if that was a good idea or not.

She decided to approach this in the least threatening manner, just in case...and there was always a just in case. So she put the knives away and walked. She was silent and had her hands out in front of her, like there was a cop right there and he was going to arrest her. She entered the lane that would leave her out in the open, Nathan would probably call it a dumb fucking move, but the guy wasn't around, she could be dumb all she wanted without him there to nag her. She didn't walk slowly though, she tried to look normal, just a passerby looking for shelter or something to that effect.

She got to the first step and stopped, she took another three sixty look around, for two reasons, to see if she missed anything from afar and to give the person inside (if there was one) a good look at her. She didn't want to yell, that would be a sure way to attract the undead. She did the next best thing though, she walked the steps to the door and knocked. She had not met an undead person to this day that knocked. The door creaked open and with one hand behind her and another still out in front, she moved it more open with her foot. "Hello, anyone here, I am just a traveler, I mean no harm. I am looking for some food."

She didn't hear anything, no movement, "I only have protection from the undead," she continued, she didn't want to lie. It would be a sure sign that she was mistrustful. Again she moved the door open with her foot, her hand still on her knife, but the other was at her side. Elizabeth was by her side, not moving any more forward then Shanti, "Elizabeth...," the beagle took off inside the door. She didn't hear anything, nothing moved suddenly at the movement of the dog. Nothing came out and chased it, two minutes went by and Elizabeth came back.

Still Shanti moved slowly as she entered the door, the smell of old house hit her nose. She pulled her knife then, not willing to get surprised by something hiding in a closet or she walked slowly into the house and the first room she came to was the living room. She glanced here and there looking at what was still around. A white couch sat there, with two rocking chairs. The coffee table had magazines on it, and she looked down. Yes...that definitely looked like a knitting basket, she flipped it open and inspected the contents. The crochet needles would be useful, the yarn would be useful too. She looked around and looked at the mantle, but someone had stripped the pictures from their frames. She would come back, plus if she were to grab anything, she would need to find another bag.

She continued on, and hit the kitchen, it looked ransacked, but not totally. She looked through the cupboards and the pantry, there was some stuff, but not much. She wasn't really looking for food, because she was leaving that up to the ones that went to town. Room by room she went, closely inspected everything. She found some winter clothes that someone could use, one being a flannel shirt that she put on, grateful for the extra warmth. She headed upstairs next, slowly and cautiously, finally found a bag she could use to carry some things in, the thing that threw her off was the nursery. She opened the closet, baby clothes, a few things would not hurt and they weren't that heavy.

She moved from room to room, grabbing mostly clothes, some things from the bathroom, including medicine and some other necessary items. She found herself in the master bedroom, and she stopped, something smelled really bad in there. She looked about and noticed the bathroom door closed, Elizabeth growled a low growl. Something hit the door from the other side and Shanti jumped. "Well that is just freaking great," she said to herself. She left the room, only grabbing the crocheted blanket from the chair near the door. She closed the door, and pulled some red lipstick from her back pocket. It was her way of marking territories. She put an X on the door and pulled a table that was in the hallway in front of it.

She decided it was time to head back, whatever was left someone else could have. She went to the kitchen again when she got back downstairs and noticed the door to the cellar, that wasn't going to happen today. In between the clothes she put what cans she could find, and anything else useful from the kitchen, matches were always helpful. She didn't even bother with the fridge, rotting food was a good way to attract the dead. In the living room she took the knitting needles and yarn and put that in last, and looked around. She kneeled down in front of the couch and turned a cushion over. Her own tradition when scrounging was to be honest about it. She typed a note on the underside of the couch, explaining who she was and if anyone came back, they would usually find money there, or something of value. No one wanted to move the dumb couch, and if they did decide to look under the cushion..well they must have been desperate.

Outside, she scanned the area and looked to the garden, she walked over to see what was worth saving, or could be taken for future use in a more permanent setting. She had what she needed, pulling up some of the root vegetables to see if anything was still good. She sighed, gardening was a favorite thing to do, but nothing could be saved from this one.

She glanced to the barn last, she wasn't going to try that either, she would Robyn about the house, and if she wanted some others to come back with her, it probably would be a good idea anyways. She walked back down the lane and toward the wood. She travel home was slower as she was weighed down with more, she approached camp and noticed Kela pulling her wagon, "What the...," she stopped, that wasn't good, Art never went anywhere without that dog. She passed Elias, "Teach," she said, giving him a smile. The man looked like he was in a bad mood, Elizabeth growled slightly, and Shanti rolled her eyes, "Lizzy," she said and she kept walking. She dropped her extra bag off in her tent, it was just her method and then followed where the dog had gone.

The two youngest members of the group were out on the look for Robyn, and Shanti stood nearby. If something was going on, she would go check out for the leader, as the majority of the group had gone with Nathan.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Shanti Nayar Character Portrait: Robyn Dempsey Character Portrait: Elias Grant Character Portrait: Art Character Portrait: Character Portrait:
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The camp at which the survivors reside seems colder to Robyn. Perhaps it's due to the lack of coverage from other buildings, but she isn't certain. She's wrapped in Beverly's hoodie as she sits in the farm house's kitchen, sipping a hastily made cup of tea with only the slightest scoop of sugar. Except for the sugar they'll need to cook with, the ginger has made sure that the rest of the sugar in the house is with Art now. Besides the young woman, Robyn is the only one who knows about her diabetes, and she makes sure she keeps it in mind. One day, she knows, they will be unable to find more insulin for her, and the sugar will be the only thing keeping her diabetes in check.

The tea in the cup is quite bitter, therefore, but her mind isn't even focused on the tea now. She looks at the phone on the table in front of her with a focused gaze as if blinking might cause her to miss the only thing that's important to her now. It vibrates and dances in a slow semicircle on the table before Robyn can snatch it up and check the screen. Her iPhone background, a picture of Beverly and Phillipa, is obscured by a notification prompting her to continue playing some God damn app that doesn't even matter anymore now that the world has gone to shit. The disappointment nearly chokes her, and she sets the phone down so she can cover her mouth to deafen the sob lest the others hear and try to comfort her. She's supposed to be strong for them.

Every day she grows less hopeful. It has, after all, been a month now since the apocalypse began. If she could have called, she would have. With one hand still wrapped around the mug, Robyn picks up her phone and dials the number she'd memorized as soon as Phillipa had her phone. Her gut churns as the phone rings softly against her ear. Phillipa's voice in her ear causes her heart to flutter. "Hi, it's Hero! I c-" Robyn hangs up suddenly as the familiar voice mail answers her instead. She drops the phone on the table and stands up quickly, knocking the car on to two legs as she moves toward the window to look out. Beverly's jacket is baggier on her mostly because Beverly bought hoodies baggy rather than tight. She crosses her arms over her chest as if to hug herself, reassure herself, when Josh begins screaming for her.

Her maternal instincts kick in without a second thought, and Robyn races out of the house and into the bizarre circle of cars and tents. It does not take long for the note to fall into her hands as Josh races up, worry evident on his little face. As her eyes scan the paper, Robyn finds it difficult to fight back her own emotions, but she knows she must. What would the kids think if she didn't?

"Oh God...oh no, not Art," she breathes, looking down at the woman's faithful dog. She manages to maintain a poker face that spreads into a forced smile as she looks down at the dog with an idea. "Kela! Kela, where's Art?" The dog grows visibly excited, and Robyn fights to remove her harness as the husky wiggles around under her grip. "Shanti, did you see Art out there?" She asks the question quickly, but hardly looks up before Kela begins to run off. Robyn whirls around swiftly, almost losing her balance as she looks at Shanti. "I need you to come with me. Please." Again, she turns around and follows the husky while pulling the pistol Nate bestowed upon her from her where it is wedged between her jeans and hipbone.

It takes a while, but they arrive at the spot Art was last seen with Robyn wincing from a cramp in her side. "Art?" she speaks in a stage whisper. "Art, it's Robyn. Where are you?" The smell of death hits her hard, and she covers both her nose and mouth with the fabric of a sleeve so that she doesn't gag. Kela follows the smell and so does Robyn after a brief hesitation in which she gathers her thoughts. Oh God, please no. Not her. Not Art. She can't be dead. Not yet. The pile of zombies scattered about is overwhelming, and Robyn pauses again. Is she one of them now? God, what is she supposed to do? Sort through the bodies? She does just that, of course. Covering her hands in the too long sleeves, she begins to lay the bodies out as well as she can. "Art...don't be dead, please," she whimpers softly, brow furrowing deeply.