“I'll kill you, sorry bastard! Die!”

Considering the setting, had the above words been shouted out loud, everyone might wake up in surprise while reaching for the nearest weapon so that they could kill the threat that would immediately be assumed to be a zombie. But the words weren't shouted out loud and the assailant wasn't a zombie. The words were whisper-shouted and the assailant was Ganandorf, King of the Gerudo Thieves. Art had a blanket thrown over her as she sat in the “back back” seat of her red Nissan Rogue, hunkered over the flickering screen of her DS as she engaged in the final battle with Ganandorf. The world might be overrun by zombies but that wasn't going to stop her from saving Hyrule. Even though Robyn would complain sometimes, Art wasn't giving up any of her handhelds. She had a Gameboy Advance SP [So ancient] but she was letting Cyan borrow it. Or else she'd be finishing her pokédex. “You shall never defeat me!” Quirky girl was quirky as she grinned at the screen, dealing the final blow and cuing the theme music along with the end credits. “Record timing, Po'okela!”

She thrust the blanket away from her body and shut off her 3DS, putting it into one of the nearby compartments. She was greeted by a large white and grey canine that bore heavy resemblance to a wolf. The mixed breed lifted her head and gave a light bark, her tongue lolling out of the side of her maw as she panted and gave whine before crawling to the back hatch and pressing her head against it. “Alright. Give me a minute.” The optimistic young woman pulled the blanket closer around her body, reluctant to go through the almost deadly process of getting dressed. It was deadly for her because she hated the cold with a fiery passion, though that fiery passion did nothing to keep her warm. She would have to move quickly to hurry and get changed into new clothes which would end up with her hitting every inch of surface around her. Why couldn't the world have ended in May or June? But no – Zombies had to attack in the winter. December was coming up quick and that meant snow. Snow plus all the random crashed cars on the road plus ice equaled an unhappy Art. Not to mention that there wouldn't be many plants she could forage in the winter.

She gave a frustrated sigh akin to what a teenage boy gives his mom whenever she tells him to clean his room for the fifty millionth time. “Fuck you, winter!”, she hissed under her breath as she quickly threw the blanket away from her body and began the quick change into clean clothes that weren't gunked up with zombie innards and...outtards. A simple black and white outfit of the Underamour brand consisting of a white tanktop over a black long sleeve [and oh, so warm] shirt that clung to her, the matching [and also warm] black leggings, and a pair of white shorts. She normally wore jeans, but she planned on heading into the woods later with Kela to set her off hunting. Running away from zombies, climbing trees to escape wild boars and angry deer, and trying to evade angry badgers is best done wearing clothes that allowed breathing room and weren't liable to get caught on a branch or part of a fence during one's escape. At least that's how she viewed it with her previous experience. Had it not been for her beloved wolf mutt, she would have been mauled by a boar once when her jeans got hopelessly snagging on a fence. It was a memory worthy of a shudder when thought about. She had been through worse but being nearly mauled by a wild animal is still pretty scary.

With the final touch being her black running shoes and a black beanie, she expertly climbed over the seats [because that takes real skill] after pulling back her makeshift curtain and looked to find that the Cortez siblings were still passed out in the driver's and passenger's seats. A light smile donned her face as she pulled the blankets over them a little more, tucking in the sides before clambering out into the crisp morning air, managing to snag her basket on the way out. Kela wasn't too far behind her, immediately taking off towards the first man up and out in the open: Nate. The puppy sat at his feet, earning a look from Oakley that Art perceived as Back the fuck up. but the younger, larger pup paid no mind as she laid her heavy head on Nate's lap. “You're just super popular with all he ladies, huh?” Her Cuban accent was thick as she offered him a light smirk and a gentle hug before issuing a clipped, high pitched whistle that sent Kela to curl up by the fire that was little more than a glow. “Orange?” She pulled one of the oranges from the basket of fruit she had, giving him a kind smile as she tossed it into his lap. “We'll need our Vitamin C if this winter is anywhere as wild as last year's.” She gave a shiver partially from the cold nipping at her nose and partially from thinking about the crazy blizzard that swept over New York the previous year. She absently rubbed at her elbow after setting down her basket, nursing it from being slammed against the window as she tried to change without freezing to death. It wasn't that cold but she only liked her cold on her food and drinks.

The only sound coming from one of the central tents was a small, slow scratching. A pencil being dragged across a dirty piece of lined paper with no real intention besides making noise. Cyan was not in the best of moods that morning, all of his joints stiff from cold except his writing hand, which was busied by the eye-blurring task of tracing over his past conversations on a sheet of paper repeatedly. The words were now so dark, they looked like they might as well have been written in pen, and the they might as well be burned into his memory for eternity. Shifting slightly in the thick blanket he had wrapped around himself like a cocoon, he started to stretch out his long limbs and get them to cooperate for the day to come. Cyan had abandoning all fear of looking completely stupid in his fleece-filled heaven hours ago, in hopes to at least save up some warmth for the day to come in this freezer box. Really, who likes cold weather anyway? It has to be the worst thing in existence and was the main reason he regretted leaving the south. Though, the hellish weather aside, his mood probably wouldn't have been all the bad if he had gotten some precious sleep. He was a good sleeper, but the noises (And the very excessive chatting of his tent buddy, Minnie.) of that night were driving him to the point of insanity.

Out of the open slit of the tent, weak rays of sunshine shone through, warming the insides ever-so-slightly. Crumpling up the paper into a crude ball, tossing it aside, and stuffing a small notebook into his pocket, Cyan started to move slowly out of his cocoon. Which, of course, he immediately regretted and yanked back around his shoulders in a hurry, pushing things around in the tent clumsily to try and find his backpack, containing his stretched out hoodie. Minnie turned over in her sleep, making him freeze, not wanting to wake her and bring on a new wave of ear-burning chatter. She was nice and all, but, goodness, the little lady could talk your ears off.

He had no idea why he thought it was a bright idea to remove his hoodie the night before, but now he was seriously regretting that decision as he reached over the sleeping woman to his pack. Unzipping it was painfully slow, the sound far to loud in Cyan's ears, but he was soon rummaging through the contents. Art's old Gameboy sat among the things in the bag, sat beside a very sad looking teddy bear, still yet unplayed. He felt a bit bad thinking that he would be wasting her battery life, but his resistance was fading quickly at the idea of battling some Gym Leaders in the night. Upon finding the worn, grey piece of fabric among the junk, it was yanked over his head, along with some plain shoes on his feet, and he was crawling his way out into the open.

It was no warmer outside, to Cyan's annoyance, and he contemplated going back and getting the blanket. Inevitably, he decided against it, wanting to save at least a bit of the dignity he had left. Instead, he pulled up his hood, the pencil he had tucked behind his ear threatening to fall, and shoved his hands deep into his jeans' pockets before wandering toward the sound of voices. He didn't bring much to the table when it came to conversations, but he was a damn good listener in the long run. Coming up from behind Art, he stood silently, towering high over her in stature. He eyed her basket of oranges hungrily while she was distractedly talking to Nate. Trying to go unnoticed, really just not wanting to strike up a conversation, he snagged an orange from her basket without a word. But, in his haste, he bumped her arm, throwing all acts of stealthiness out the window, and ending it all with a long sigh.

"Well, I certainly don't like to brag – I've never had trouble with the ladies." Art didn't bother biting back the cheeky smile that curled across her lips as she gave a nod. “With a face like that, I'd think you were lying if you said you did.” It wasn't completely outlandish for the two to flirt, but that was pretty much all it was. She liked to think that the two of them were friends even though it wasn't uncommon for him to find her optimism annoying every now and again. It was harder to annoy her though. She didn't even really get mad – Ever. Like Cyan and Raz, she did her best to adapt to the apocalypse without going mad and turning into an uber jerk. Not that she thought Nate was a jerk. Nate was always pretty nice to her most of the time.

"Have you ever been to North Carolina?", Nate asked. She had, actually. It was a nice place and she loved the farms out there though she had never been there for luxury. “Yup – At least twice a year for the past six years. Dance competitions and whatnot.” While she generally didn't openly talk about what she did before the world became hell on earth, she didn't mind talking about her past so long as people stayed away from her life up until the age of sixteen. She hated lying and she hated her life up until that point. Robyn and the Cortez kids were the only ones who knew; Robyn knew because Art saw her as a mother and knew that it was unhealthy to keep things in. Robyn even knew that she used to be a stripper. The Cortez kids knew because she used to hang out with them all the time when they were trying to avoid going home. She related to them.

But that's all depressing to think about. Jeez – He had only asked her if she'd been to North Carolina – No need to reflect back on her entire life just yet. So yeah, she confirmed that she had been there while hinting at bits of her past, having never really discussed it with Nate before. Cyan, on the other hand, knew more about her. Raz did too. Because they tended to often hide out in her Rogue, one of the tents, or out in the woods to get in some game time. They were heroes, those gamers. Saving their world from zombies, Hyrule from Ganandorf, Disney Worlds from Heartless, and pokémon worldwide from the various crime syndicates. They went above and beyond the call of duty and asked for nothing in return. Truly, the world had been left in good hands.

She was about to say something, offer to head out on an early morning hunt with him, but she felt someone brush against her arm and Nate followed with greeting the person in unison with Kela barking. She turned to see Cyan there, offering her second hug of the day and her usual friendly smile. “Welcome to the party.” She had picked a somewhat dull red apple from the basket that was now sitting on the ground, biting into it. It tasted like a green apple, but it was still juicy and crunchy so she couldn't complain. With winter already on their tails, she couldn't be picky with her choice of fruits and vegetables available as long as they weren't rotten. She noticed that Cyan had snagged an orange and wondered for a moment if he hadn't wanted to be seen. “So – How'd you boys sleep?” She moved so that she wasn't standing between them, opting to instead sit on the ground beside Kela. There wasn't much left to toss onto the dying fire, but she managed to work up a nice small roaring fire that was good for cooking small things and certainly keeping her small hands warm.

---

---

If you would have asked her if she was a morning person before this hell on Earth shindig - which really put a dapper on all of her morning plans and actually being normal...not that she was particularly normal or anything; she still watched Tom & Jerry and Adventure Time for goodness sake and could probably tell you every character off of Supernatural - so not the point. Damn, even in her head she babbled, Chloe mused and sealed the nail polish bottle in her bag.

Chloe Simmons had never been a morning person.

In fact, before all of this, she was probably one of the crabbiest people you'd ever meet in the morning. She preferred starting her mornings with Chai tea infused with some vanilla creamer (coffee was definitely not as great as coffee-holics made it out to be) even though she liked English Breakfast Tea better. She would have to have two steaming cups before even considering hopping in the shower. Even then, under the hot spray of water and the scent of vanilla from her body wash, she truly contemplated calling a sick day every single day. Mornings just weren't her thing. However, ever since she watched one of her best friends turn into a zombie and proceed to kill her, sleeping in stopped being a part of her plan.

Instead, on mornings like these when no one was particularly busy or needed her, she would entertain herself - do something. Like right now, how her nails just finished drying, a bright bubblegum pink shade that brought out the color in her light complexion. Chloe glanced around the tent, noting that most were still sleep or just getting ready to awaken. So, she pulled out her tablet from her bag. Luckily for her, half a battery still remained. She didn't even want to consider pulling out her laptop; the battery was still full and she didn't want to waste it. Chloe sighed, turned her tablet on, and proceeded to play Tetris.

After a good fifteen minutes of cognitive challenging with a sprinkle of fun, Chloe sighed rather loudly and turned it off. Decidedly, she removed herself from the warm and thick blanket she managed to procure, stood, and stretched lithely. While not the most flexible person in the world, Bikram Yoga worked wonders on her slim body and was rather loose in the bones. Satisfied and partially awake, Chloe grabbed her scrunchie and gathered her long hair in her hands, raking slender fingers through the soft locks until she finally tied the scrunchie around it. Once that was done, she pulled one of the sweaters given to her by Robyn, slid on boots they found at their last location, and then continued out of the tent.

If there was anything the others probably gathered from Chloe was that colder weather did not bother her. She was a Northerner at heart; the cold and her just got along. Besides, she spent the majority of it either curled up with a good book and tea or actually playing outside with her sister. Thinking of her sister sent a pang to her heart and Chloe shut her eyes at it, shaking her head. She hated being one of the more emotional ones. Finally, her eyes fell on the small group that had formed near Nathan's car. Chloe walked towards them determinedly, not exactly trusting herself to walk off in any other direction lest she procure the attention of the zombie.

Definitely don't need to be danger-prone Daphne first thing in the morning.

"Morning, guys. Sorry if I'm interrupting," Chloe added the last part just to be nice as she felt like she did just walk into the middle of a conversation. She smiled at Art, Nathan and Cyan as brightly as she could, lips still holding onto the remnants of the magenta hue of the last lipstick she used even though she had resorted to just using her lip balm lately. "How are you guys?"

"Morning." The sudden greeting from the solider made Cyan flinch, caught off guard and almost dropping his newly swiped orange. It felt like he just got caught red-handed, taking from Art's basket silently, planning to just scamper off unnoticed afterward. Or maybe it would be orange-handed? Either way, it put a serious kink in his plan, though, Nate didn't seem very much interested beyond the basic greeting.
Which was perfectly fine, since Cyan didn't particularly like associating with Nate for too long. It wasn't like he disliked the older man, but Nate's personality reminded Cyan of the jock-types back at his high school. It was basic fight-or-flight instinct for someone like himself, a geeky kid who would always choose the latter over the former option, to want to steer away from that kind of person, right? At least that's what he told himself.

Even if that was how he felt, being rude was never an option. Cyan solemnly nodded in return to Nate, though the solider had already turned his attention to his stretches. Saving him from the ever awkward 'Unrecognized Gesture' was Art, turning around to give him a hug, which was returned with a bit less vigor than herself, and a bright smile, "Welcome to the party." Unlike Nate, Cyan felt really comfortable around Art, often chatting about games and movies with her and Raz in their free time, so he had no problem returning the smile earnestly. He moved back a bit to make space, feeling a bit cramped, and leaning against the door of one of the cars in their makeshift protection ring. He moved his attention to the task of ripping open that orange with frosted fingers, half wondering if it would be frowned upon to stab it with his pencil for some assistance."So- How'd you boys sleep."

Awful. He hadn't slept a wink thanks to the chatterbox that was Minnie, and all the things that happened to go bump in the night, but he wasn't about to say that. Or... Write that? Motion? Whatever, technicalities. Either way, not needing to bitch and moan, he nodded enthusiastically, as if to say he slept very well, before Cyan, having peeled most of his orange, wasted no time to start popping segments into his mouth, wincing a bit as he swallowed at the bitter-sweet taste. The citrus kind of burned his throat in an unpleasant way, but it tasted so good. He continued. Polishing it off, he plunged his hands back into his pockets, his fingers brushing over his notebook, having lost all feeling in them prior. Looking down at his feet, he started mentally willing them to be warm. This would be the time he would kill to be a Jedi, using The Force to create some kind of warming friction. Or... Maybe being a superhero would be better. Lamer heroes like The Human Torch and The Flash were looking pretty sweet right about now to be honest.

Cyan looked up from his feet only when Chloe approached, joining the little sub-group of survivors in their morning get-together. Morning, guys. Sorry if I'm interrupting. How are you guys?" A smile and slight nod was all he could muster in his half-frozen state. He probably would have written something down by now, maybe making some attempt to speak with them, a 'Hello' or 'No, you're not interrupting.', but his fingers were frozen, and, to be completely honest here, he was a tad lazy when it came down to it. So, silent he stayed.

"Oh Rasul, you're so smart and handsome." Rasul's head rested on the lap of a beautiful bikini clad woman, the warm sun heating the sand around them, the crash of the waves a lovely melody. He didn't know where he was but he simply didn't care. He hummed happily, contented smile on his face as she cooed at him. "Oh Rasul... Raz, Raz. Raz. RAZ WAKE UP."

Rasul groaned as he was shook awake, "Noooooo don't go bikini lady come back." He whined as he felt himself gaining consciousness.

"Wait what?"

A loud drone of a groan escaped Rasul. He now knew where he was, and instead of being warm he was fucking freezing his balls off, even though he was rolled up in three blankets. "Why couldn't you just let me spend more time with the bikini lady man, we were on a bEACH Harold a BEACH." Rasul cried out, distraught at having to face the reality of another day and deciding to take it out on his tent partner, Harold.

"Because you have to fix the mustang before we can leave remember? It keeps making that funny noise. Besides you were the one to tell me to wake you up early." Harold reminded Rasul, which caused Rasul to let out these obnoxious whining noises of displeasure. It was true, Raz had work to do. He was the group's go to person for fixing everything, and the only one that was any good at helping him was Cyan. Him and Cyan, the group's handymen. It wasn't just fixing things that Rasul accomplished though, he also wanted to make some modifications to the cars, already some of them had their windows reinforced with metal mesh, just in case the windows broke. Unfortunately his blow torch was out of fuel now, he could perhaps do some more proper modifications once they got south where it was warmer.

Rasul proceeded to get dressed under the covers as best he could, shimmying this way and that, the whole ordeal ridiculous looking and taking more time than necessary. Once he finally accomplished this, which seemed not even necessary since the clothes he changed into weren't the cleanest, Rasul headed out. He waked funny, his body all crampy from sleeping in a tent, he had to stretch this way and that to try and regain some normalcy of his joints. "Burr!" He made a straight bee-line towards the red mustang. "Here's my problem child, let's see what's wrong with you honey." Rasul popped the hood and stared at it for a good moment, clicking his tongue. "I forgot my tools." He shut the hood of the car and walked over to Art's rogue. He didn't want to wake her but he really needed his tool box. "Sunshiiiinnnnneeee." He knocked on her windows, cupping his hands to look inside, not there. In the morning he wasn't always there, he was definitely slower, so it took him a bit to notice that Art was not too far away.

"Goodmorning beautiful!" He approached the group surrounding Nathan's car with his arms wide open, acting like he was expecting a hug. He evaded Art with a sudden turn however and greeted her dog instead. "Aaahahahah! I was just kidding Art. Got you though eeeyyyyy." Rasul laughed at his own hilarious antics, finally giving Art the hug she deserved. "And a good morning to everyone else present, Cyan you beautiful bastard, I would stay but I need to go fix the mustang real quick. I just need Art's rogue unlocked so I can get my tools. Pretty please?" He put his hands together, giving Art a pleading look.

---

"C'mon boys, keep up the pace." William said as he continued walking at a brisk pace. There were two men behind him, Pvt. Genthner, and Pfc. Kayas. They continued after William, checking all of the possible places a zombie could unexpectedly run out of.

They'd just walked away from a major engagement of their platoon. It was only a matter of time before their platoon would be overrun. It was decided by 1st Sgt. Neil Munoz, that he, Lt. Andrews, would take a couple men and go find help from the rest of the company. Their radios had gone haywire recently, which was why there were communication problems between bodies of troops.

"You sure we're going the right way Lieutenant?" that was Kayas.

"Well Private, do you know where to go?" There was no answer from the GI. As they continued, they found a boarded up clothing store. "Let's take a short break here." William said. "I'm tired too you know." as he said this, he tried the door, and found it to swing right open. The company walked in cautiously and took seats on the floor.

"Do you really think we should be resting here Lieutenant?" it was Pvt. Genthner this time. "I mean...our guys could be...you know..."

"Well honestly, I don't see the point of letting ourselves tire to the point that we can't even raise our gun points." he replied. "Don't worry Private, we'll get help in time." "Get help? What a joke, there wasn't even a good chance that any of them would even survive for much longer. They were all gonna die, and he was the only one who could at least let the troops die a confident, heroic death."

It was then, when they all heard, or more felt, movement. The group raised there weapons and were greeted by a miniature horde of zombies. "Shit!" screamed Kayas firing his weapon on full auto.

"Don't waste your ammo!" William yelled over the gunfire, firing his own weapon on burst. "And don't let the damned things get to you!"

"Ah!!!" Genthner screamed as a zombie grabbed him. He pushed it away and nailed it with the butt of his gun.

"Careful private!" William yelled. "Let's get the hell out of here!" The company inched backwards towards the exit, until a couple zombies finally broke through. They indulged in Genthner's flesh as he screamed at the top of his lungs.

"Get the hell out of here Lieutenant!" Kayas screamed re-assuming a crouching position.

"Wait! Wha-? Kayas cut in on the middle of his sentence.

"You know damn well that some captain won't listen to a lowly Private! And you know just as well as I do that both of us aren't gonna get out of here alive! Now get the hell out of here while you still can!" to add emphasis, the Private first class inserted a fresh magazine. Stunned, William listened to the words of the GI and ran out of the building.

As he continued running, he swore he could here the Private's screams...

---

William jolted awake inside of his tent. Coren was still asleep next to him, but it was already daytime. He looked around the tent for the Winchester model 1894 he'd picked up after he'd ran out of ammo on his personal fire arm. It was there, so feeling reassured, he unzipped himself from his sleeping bag. Not even bothering to wake Coren up, he crawled out of his tent and towards the group.

"Hey everybody..." he said approaching the group assembled.

---

---

Chloe felt herself brighten a little at Cyan's welcoming smile and offered a bigger one for him. She even managed a smile for Nathan. She would never admit it out loud, but the man actually intimidated her. Could you blame her? She was the suburban child with no experience in the field and a childhood filled with nothing but happiness save for the constant parental verbal disagreements. With Nathan Durand, Chloe was pretty sure it was the complete opposite.

Another inquiry was just at the tip of her tongue, but then Rasul came out with all of his happiness and energy and just not what Chloe needed to hear first thing in the morning. Which sucked because she used to be able to say she was as energetic as he was. She offered him a nod and a smile for the morning before clutching the sweater she was wearing to her body; it was loose enough on her slender arms that she could hide her hands within the confines of the sleeves.

Next came William. Chloe didn't think he liked them. In fact, she knew he didn't. He just gave off that vibe. Not like it intimidated her or anything. In all actuality, she found William...interesting to say the least. He wasn't mean to say the least, but he wasn't the most inviting person in the group - and was this an army/navy/military thing...the whole, I'm-unapproachable-and-you-are-all-not-on-my-level or was she just paranoid?

No, just babbling in my head.

"Good morning, William," she offered with a polite smile and an accompanying wave in his direction.

Not a few seconds later and Robyn was emerging from her tent. Chloe would not hesitate in admitting this, but she was kind of in admiration over Robyn; not just because she was a decent leader and appealed to everyone, but because Robyn was open. Chloe had met several other people within the group that were open, but Robyn just reminded Chloe of her mom and that always left a warm, bittersweet feeling in her chest. Shaking herself out of it, she heard the last bit of what Robyn said and walked over to the older woman.

One of the things she hated was that she wasn't exactly build for this kind of thing. Killing zombies, going after objects needed for the camp while trying not to die - none of things were on the list for things Chloe Simmons could do. However, there was one thing she could do that not many could do better.

Computers.

"Actually, if you're alright with that - I'm just assuming you will be because, let's be real, this is kinda still helpful despite the apocalypse and zombies and the grrrr -" Her hands tended to like to get involved when she spoke, especially when she was a tad bit nervous, and they actually did this little dinasour impersonation when she gave a growl. "But I could probably, ya know, check Facebook or any other social media website. Not because I wanna check mine or anything - why would I wanna do that when we're trying not to get eaten alive? - but because..." She really needed to stop babbling. "Teenagers. Even through any catastrophic event, teenagers will be the most likely to post statuses. I can track the latest ones in the South and see if, ya know, it's safe - or what part of it is safe because nowhere is safe at this point. And then we can head in that direction."

---

"Morning, Lieutenant," William heard a voice answer. He turned to see the ex-Sargent to be the owner of the voice. "You ready to head out soon for a quick hunt?" the older man said in taunting tone. William really wasn't sure what to make of the ex-soldier, he didn't really get a bad vibe off of him, yet something felt sort of...off.

"Good morning, William," it was the IT girl this time. Before he could have a chance to reply, the group "leader" made her appearance.

"Good morning, fellow campers," she announced. "Everyone sleep well?" she asked with a smile on her face. "I was thinking we'd head out in a few hours. I think we all want to get away from this weather." Although William had to agree on this statement, he didn't completely understand why this women was the "leader" of the group.

In his opinion, it would be much more appropriate for him, or at least that ex-NCO to lead the group. Nevertheless... he thought. I guess I could continue to play it there way, at least for the time being... William couldn't help but think about the need of getting someone on his side. He was already in good relations with Corren, but he knew that when it came to it, Corren would sell him out at a seconds notice.

Maybe it would be a good idea to get on that veteran's good side... Yeah I'll be ready to hunt, just give me a few minutes. William replied to the veteran. He went back inside his tent to grab his Winchester and some ammo, he strapped a holster onto his hip, and slipped a pistol inside of it. He also put on his body armor under a warm winter jacket. Before he left the tent, he shook Corren awake. Your gonna get left behind if you don't get up soon. he said leaving the tent.

He walked back to the group loading the rifle. The Winchester felt familiar and natural in his hands. William remembered the times he'd went hunting along with his father with the weapon. It held seven shots, was operated by a smooth lever, and had an effective range of around 200 yards. Given to a marksman like him, factoring in that it was an obsolete military weapon, he would still be able to do considerable damage with it.

”I’m ready, but wait up for Corren, he should be ready soon.”

Nathan and Cyan both expressed that they had slept relatively well, though Art was sure Cy was lying. The insomniac could hear Minnie chatting her head off in a one-sided conversation through most of the night. If there was an aggressive bone in her body Art might have gone and kicked the girl. Okay, probably not. But she would have thrown a shoe at the tent or yelled at the younger girl. Or something. But she didn't. She just ignored her and drowned her out by watching An American In Paris. Art would have gladly invited Cyan to watch with them but then she'd have to invite Minnie too and the last time she watched a movie with Minnie, the girl still wouldn't shut up. She was that one friend you never wanted to go to the movies with. She was a nice girl, definitely. But Art didn't really want to spend too much time around her. Talkative people tended to be people who liked to know things and Art did her best to keep many things about her private.

Before she could launch into conversation with Nathan and Cyan, it seemed as though everyone decided that it was time to get up – Not that she was complaining. She greeted Chloe with a wave, standing up and preparing to give the other member of the nerd herd [as Art liked to call their little faction within the group] when Rasul made towards her. She had opened her arms as well and was turning to give him a hug... But he veered away and she caught air. It didn't matter how many times he did it, she was probably always going to fall for it. Her face turned red as he came back and gave her the hug she had been expecting [and so rightfully deserved] and she hugged him back with enthusiasm. He was the only other person in the group that she could count on to remain optimistic with her. "And a good morning to everyone else present, Cyan you beautiful bastard, I would stay but I need to go fix the mustang real quick. I just need Art's rogue unlocked so I can get my tools. Pretty please?" Rasul's big brown eyes were pleading and wide, but the sparkle in them was playful.

“Oye, chico. Try not to wake up the kids.” She smiled as she tossed him the keys after fishing them from the safest place a woman could ever stash anything: Right between her breasts. “Don't sniff my keys this time, crazy.” She chucked her keys at him with a friendly grin before returning to her apple. Her gaze followed Chloe's for a moment as William approached and she had the same thoughts. Almost. Creeper. She didn't dislike William. She didn't know him well enough to pass judgment. Which was why he was a creeper. Anybody who didn't want to get to know her was automatically a creeper as far as she was concerned because she was absolutely fabulous. Still, she offered him a polite wave, though no fruit. No fruit for yooou. Her inner voice was really creepy, as she noted to herself while carrying out an internal dialogue. With herself. She wasn't crazy, just animated.

“We should try to stop around a town. Food's running low and winter's going to make it harder to get organics.” And by organics, she meant deer that Nathan and the others had to shoot in the face and grapes she had to go pick. The wasn't sure that cattail soup was going to go over well with the gang when bologna was still an option. Even though she wouldn't touch bologna with a ten foot pole. Nathan used to grouch at her for being a picky eater and not wanting any of his gross Captain Crunch cereal. Yeah. She'd eat that junk just as soon as she choke down smoke from a cigarette. As everyone else seemed to be doing their own thing, she pursed her lips together and puffed up her cheeks. “I'm going to hunt too. Not really. Kela will. I need to get more plant stuffs.” She didn't intend on tagging along behind any of the three men hunting. Per usual, she was going to go her own way so she didn't bother them.

With her mind made up and nobody in the position to stop her, she was gone. Of course, she had emptied her basket of dwindling fruits onto a blanket someone had left out the previous night. She was determined as she made her way towards the tree line, further and further away from her group. Knife? Just a small pocket knife. Gun? Right. She had a gun. The one thing that she had going for her was that she was faster than the others and more stamina. Dancers - They're freakin' awesome. So maybe she couldn't shoot a bulky gun or have the stomach to jab a knife into the decaying brains of a walking, rotting corpse. But man could she run. Kela was padding alongside her. Art actually really enjoyed going hunting with Kela. She used to take pictures of the large dog taking down deer. Absolute elegance. But she didn't have much time for that anymore and she didn't really think anyone else in the group besides herself and Cyan would really appreciate the artistic nature of it.

Shortly after Chloe arrived to their little morning meeting, everyone, save a few straggling souls, seemed to wake at once. Raz was the next to join in, as bubbly and over-the-top as ever, syke-ing Art out of a hug to show affections to her hound. Cyan couldn't help but chuckle, though Art didn't look too pleased with the joke until Rasul gave her the hug she had been offering, "And a good morning to everyone else present, Cyan you beautiful bastard, I would stay but I need to go fix the mustang real quick." Cyan rolled his eyes at the comment in an comically-over-dramatic nature, fishing into his pocket to find his notepad, planning to offer his assistance with the mustang if needed. That was the plan anyway, had it not been for the appearance of the others distracting him, leaving him standing there stupidly, notepad half-out of his pocket.

"Hey, everybody." Cyan wrinkled his nose at the appearance of the Lieutenant, coming up from behind Chloe to say his morning greetings. The mute held William in the same regard as he held Nate, not with dislike, but with caution and avoidance. Old habits die hard, what can you do? Though, Cyan had to admit he got a weird vibe from the military men, but that could easily be written off as his own paranoia, which wasn't few and far between as the world gets weirder by the day.

Cyan pulled at the drawstrings of his hood, tightening it about his face, the cold really becoming too much for his little southern soul. Decaying corpses that waltz around in the daylight like its completely normal? Death waiting at every door, around every corner, and ready to jump down on you from above? He could handle that. That was totally okay with Cyan, 'And actually a tad bit awesome...' Somewhere in the back of his mind, his little inner Jiminy Cricket chimed in, at maybe an unnecessary time. Only at the appearance of the mom of the group (Or, at least, Cyan liked to think of her that way.) announcing that she wanted the group to head south was the sweetest sound the mute had ever heard. He had the sudden urge to hug the wonderful red-haired woman. Had he been as outgoing as Ras, maybe he would have, but awkward tendencies got the best of him and he settled with nodding enthusiastically at Robyn's suggestion.

Though, Art did have a point. It will take awhile to get to warmer weather from here, even if they still had cars, it doesn't mean that there aren't going to be things to slow them down. Things like blocked roads and large amounts of Zombs should be taken into account. Hunting and gathering is great, but it just really isn't going to work once it gets too cold, all the fuzzy things going to catch some major Z's and the plants freezing over. Plus, as the rest had suggested, the ones in the group who can hunt should be getting at it while they still could, while the ones who can't should probably make themselves useful elsewhere. Cyan fit in the latter category.

Making his decision, he yanked his notepad all the way out of his pocket, snatching his pencil from behind his ear, and scribbling something down. When he was finished, he held it up to be read, to really no one in particular.

His handwriting was sloppy, written in all capitals and slanting to the point where it looked like the words were trying to run right off the page, but at least it was legible. 'I could go into town while you all go hunting. Pick up some stuff.' Cyan cocked his head to the side, indicating it was more of a suggestion than a definite statement. As an afterthought, he added, 'Need anything in particular?'

---

---

"Not a problem, kiddo."

William fumed at the older man's response. "Kiddo? Kiddo? An NCO does not simply just call a COMMISSIONED OFFICER of the US Army kiddo. Much less an EX-NCO." And even worse, his other response to William's request to wait for Corren.

"I'm not waiting for him. He should get his ass up with the rest of us." Before William had a chance to respond to THAT, the man just plain left all-together. "We'll head out before you. Catch up when your buddy's awake...or, just let him catch up to us." William just stood there for a second, stunned at the amount of disrespect he had just received. Even though he didn't have a platoon to command, or a commander to take commands from, he was still 2nd Lt. Andrews of the 17th infantry battalion-Charlie company-2nd platoon. He deserved the respect and the authority of a CO in the US army. When he snapped out of it, William called for the one responsible for his waiting.

"Corren let's move!" His shout was hastily replied to.

"Alright, alright! I'm almost ready! Shortly after, Corren burst out of his tent still putting on his jacket. The two quickly made there way towards the direction in which the former NCO had went. William secured the lever on his Winchester and strapped on his US military issue helmet. "Just like training" he thought.

A little while into the two men's trek, William realized that Corren had come relatively unprepared. The man's rush to be ready for the hunt had left the consequence of an unprepared hunter. "Corren," William inquired. "Did you even bring a weapon?"

"'course I did." the other man replied brandishing his .357 magnum.

"Well, at least he didn't forget that. " "How many rounds? Corren rummaged around in his pockets for a while.

"About 20 extra." William sighed. He knew if they were to encounter some real trouble, that would not be enough. As the two continued to try to catch up to the senior hunter, they grew more aware of the sounds around them. A herd of undead would be very dangerous in this position.

Suddenly, William caught some movement out of the corner of his eye. His index finger instinctively tightened around the trigger and he brang the weapon to his shoulder, scanning the radius of the area in which the movement had come from. Corren also got the idea and brang his hand-cannon to a firing position, pulling back the hammer. William again caught the movement, this time really seeing the object. It seemed to be human, but only seemed. (OOC: Nathan)

William decided to take the risk of offering surrender to the...thing. If it was human, they might've found another survivor, but if it was a zombie, then things could get complicated. "This is Second Lieutenant William D. Andrews of the United States Army. Drop any weapons you may have and keep your hands where I can see them. I repeat, I am not alone, and we will open fire if you decide not to cooperate." The military officer controlled his breathing to steady his heart and aligned his sights. Even Corren followed suite. If the thing was a zombie or uncooperative human, it would be killed before it had a chance to do anything.

Art had been too far ahead to hear Nate call out for her, stepping carefully and beat boxing to herself, throwing in a few random lyrics here and there, freestyling to no one but herself. Her voice faded in and out as she bobbed her head, pausing every now and then to stoop down and pick up some mushrooms or wild blackberries, tossing them into her basket. Kela ran ahead of her, happy to be out of the cramped space of the Rogue. Despite the world having ended, Art had to admit that it brought about peace. She didn't really miss the constant sounds of honking horns, yelling people, and airplanes overhead. “Hey, Kela. Slow down!” The woman glanced up to see her dog slowly fading from sight, assuming she had found a rabbit or something.

She knew that Kela would come back once she gave up or caught it, but the idea of being out in the woods all alone freaked her out. Especially with the fog and three men with guns running around. Of course they – Or at least Nate – wouldn't shoot her on purpose, but there was always the chance of an accident. Frowning, she went further in after her dog until she came upon a stream. That was nice. That meant grapes! It didn't take her hazel-green eyes long to spot fat purple grapes growing on a vine that was creeping up a rusted old fence. Humming to herself, she waded across the shallow stream for the harvest, keeping her ears open for any crunching twigs and leaves. “Still can't decide if this is better than stripping,” she spoke aloud to herself, using her knife to cut the grape bunches from their vines.


“Used to dance naked just to get by but now I'm fighting zombies just to stay alive.
Joined up with Robyn and a bunch of others, working hard and looking out for each other.
From Broadway to the highway, living in a car.
The world is dead and my mind is scarred.
But I've got an open heart and an open mind and friends by my side until the day that I die.
And we'll make it together, not one person left behind.
Except maybe Will because we don't know how he is aligned.
With Robyn so beautiful and so brave, a mother pushing us to survive each day.
Ras makes us laugh with his crazy personality, got that beautiful mind, a geek mentality.
Cy can't talk but that doesn't matter, he's a real cool kid with no need for the chatter.
Chloe, oh Chloe. That's a real smart girl. Going to raise some geniuses when we rebuild this world.
Minnie...The girl can't shut up.
Then there's Nate -”

Art had heard crunching leaves behind her and paused, brandishing her knife with a light frown.

"What about Nate?"

A voice sounded from the brush and Art gave a light smile, letting herself relax as Nate called out in question. The first shape to emerge was that of Oakley. She darted from a clump of bushes, creating a blur of brick-colored fur that stopped suddenly in the center of the clearing as the dog sniffed around cautiously. Her gaze focused on Art, and she pinned her ears against the back of her head. However, she didn't growl or bark. She merely watched the woman who had been previously rapping. Nate, meanwhile, began to relax slightly as he walked since Art already knew he was behind her. Though he'd been cautious to avoid leaves and twigs before hand, the ex-soldier stepped on them quite frivolously now. Smug smirk evident as he entered the clearing, Nathan slung his gun over his shoulder and patted his thigh to call Oakley over. Reluctantly, she turned away from Art and padded toward her owner.

“Then's there Nate, so silent and brave, always the hero to save the day. He's got a smile that lights up my world and a body so fine, I'd love to give it a whirl, making this chica swoon and sending her over the moon, our passion like a monsoon and all I wanna do is spoon.” Her words came out quickly with her Cuban accent becoming thicker by the second as she gave him a smile, resuming the flirting that they had started earlier that morning. She ended with a light bow, blowing kisses to an imaginary audience before giving a bashful laugh.

"Damn, girl." Nate laughed softly, winking back at her. "I didn't know you rapped," he remarked, making an expression of mock surprise only for Art to stick her tongue out at him. "What other talents have you been hiding from us?" He took the gun down from where it balanced on his shoulder in a cocky manner and held it in both hands, subconsciously caressing the barrel with his thumb. The young woman simply rolled her eyes and dusted her hands off, leaving her basket where it sat on the ground. She had already gotten all the grapes from the vine. Amusement and mischief twinkled in her eyes as she moved towards Nate until they stood hardly a foot apart, she having to look up due to her lack of numbers in the height department.

“I can't let you know all my secrets, papi. Then there would be no mystery to keep you coming back. And then what would be so special about me?”, she teased, pushing him lightly on the shoulder. Nate rolled his eyes and forced back a laugh as he nudged her with his elbow gently. “Anyways – Why are you following me?” Nate gave a shrug and looked back over his shoulder toward where he had come.

"Well, y'know, I needed somebody to clear the woods of zombies for me," he replied, shrugging. "It's hard to shoot something when the ranks of the undead are all pursuing it." He was being sarcastic, obviously, but he couldn't tell if Art realized he was following her to watch over her. She was probably capable of holding her own, but better safe that sorry. She merely rolled her eyes at him and pushed him on his shoulder again. “Where's Chump and Creeper? I thought you were hunting with them.”

"Do I get a creative nickname, too?" he inquired, eyebrow quirking subtly.

“I don't know. I figured I'd just call you babe.” She batted her eyelashes and bit her bottom lip in a suggestive manner as she leaned against him and looked up at him playfully. "Cute." He dramatically rolled his eyes, though he certainly wasn't upset about the nickname. "But yeah, those two are back at camp, probably, or coming this way. I took the lead."

“Oh...joy.”, she muttered under her breath. Quality time with the two smokers, should they be following.

"Jeez, don't get too excited," he teased. He wasn't overly enthusiastic either, but his only qualm with the Lieutenant was the fact that the younger soldier was a commissioned officer, whereas Nathan had merely enlisted. By rank, the Lieutenant was above him. However, he lacked any experience in the field. Jealousy could certainly be a bitch. He was proud of himself for talking back to the Second Lieutenant, but he was far too proud for his own good.

“Oh. Because you enjoy their company sooo much.” Art rolled her eyes as she let herself rest against Nate for a few more moments, looking around for Kela. Nate rolled his eyes briefly too. She was right, of course. Worry flashed across her face as she realized that she hadn't heard the hybrid dog for over ten minutes. She put her fingers between her lips and inhaled to let out a sharp whistle but was thrown off by the sound of helpless yelping that proceeded a gun shot. “Kela!” She immediately tore away from Nate and followed the sound, brandishing her knife as though she stood a chance with it against someone with a gun. She didn't care. He stood there for a moment, confused by the suddennes of it all. But, putting two and two together, Nate raced off after her with his gun raised and with Oakley nearby.

She just followed the sound of the yelping until she came across a man pointing a gun at Kela's head, ready to shoot her in the head. His leg was bleeding and there was a downed stag nearby. “Leave her alone!” She stooped over and picked up a rock, throwing it at the man and hitting him in the head. The man turned angrily towards her with his gun but his expression softened when he saw her and her own expression faltered. “Busty Bambi..? I mean..uh...Bambi?” He had lowered his gun now and Art's voice caught in her throat. Nate stopped a few paces behind Art and stopped, gun raised and aimed at the man's head. Oakley stopped and stood by their feet, ears back though she didn't snarl.

“You must have me confused for someone else.” She eventually found her voice, taking a step back and bumping into Nathan, though she still had her knife held outward and poised as though it were a gun despite the fact that the man – who had not confused her for someone else – had lowered his gun. “Oh, no. I'd recognize those legs and those tits and those eyes and that skin anywhere.” Did he have a checklist of things he remembered about people? Art groaned inwardly before sighing and giving up. Nate looked at Art with an expression of confusion. He didn't believe the man, for he had no idea Jackson was telling the truth in regards to Art. His grip tightened on the gun. “Why'd you shoot Kela, Jackson?” Her voice was angry now as she moved away from Nate and knelt down by Kela. Nate's expression changed from confusion to disbelief. He briefly glanced down at Art and then back at Jackson with the gun still raised. It was a close range shot and it had only grazed her, but she could tell it had still hurt the pup. She ripped off part of her own shirt and wrapped it tightly, tying it and using it as a makeshift bandage. Jackson gave his most apologetic look, though there was confusion in his eyes. “You've got a wolf?”

“She's only half wolf. She was hunting for me.”

“Oh. I didn't know... She took down the stag... But I haven't had any luck so I was just going to take it.” He looked away out of shame and Art still didn't meet his gaze as she helped her canine companion up, walking with her as she limped back towards Nate and Oakley. Now, Art was a hard person to push away. She's a people person. It's her thing. But it is highly possible for her to dislike people. And she didn't like Jackson. She didn't say anything though because he was the one with the gun in his hand. “You're traveling with your friend?” And that's why she didn't like him, cringing as he asked the question. Nate flushed subtly as the man asked Art the question. Already, he disliked the man. Back when she worked at Olympus – a gentlemen's club – he was always there. Every night. And he always paid for her during her shift and nobody else. He bothered other girls, too. Only seven others and none of them had the same shift so there was no break from it all night. He was more handsy than the other customers, always offering them drinks and a ride home, asking them on dates, asking them to have sex in the bathroom. He creeped her out and she was quick to shoot him down. “Boyfriend.”, she lied smoothly. Nate's eyes widened almost comedically as he looked down to Art and then back at Jackson. That was certainly one way to get the creeper off of her back.

Jackson immediately looked disappointed but he gave a smile. “That's good. Well, I should get back to my group. Sorry for shooting your dog.” Intimidated by Nate, he immediately began to leave, not offering for them to join his group. Vying for the last word, Nate smirked as the man left. "Creep," he remarked, slowly lowering his gun by his hip. "Is Kela okay?" He continued to watch the man, occasionally glancing toward Art and her dog. “She'll be fine. I've just got to get her back to camp and get some bai ji to stop the bleeding.” The woman frowned as she knelt down to check Kela's leg once more, glad that the bleeding wasn't excessive enough to have made it through the acting bandage. Her arm was getting cold and sending a chill through the rest of her body, but she was fine as long as Kela was. She stood and sighed, as it seemed to be one of her new hobbies since the world had ended, wrapping her arms around Nate tightly. “Thanks for playing along... Jackson's a dick.... And please don't tell anyone about that.” Nate raised his gun in the air as Art quickly hugged him. Slowly, he wrapped a single arm around her and embraced her in return.

"Yeah, not a problem," he replied, looking down at her. "Your secret's safe with me." Internally, however, Nate was still recovering from the intial surprise. He hadn't expected Art to be a billionare businesswoman or anything like that, but he was still shocked by the revelation. Would she have told any of them? Probably not, just like Nate wouldn't mention his relationship issues before the apocalypse. But, besides the shock, he subconsciously couldn't help but feel...disappointment? He didn't want to admit it verbally or mentally, but he couldn't but feel ever so slightly upset at the fact that it was all a facade. He should have realized that, of course, she was using a fake relationship to get Jackson away. Still, he couldn't help but wish that perhaps it wasn't all a facade. Internally, he scoffed. Was he really going to start getting soft now during the apocalypse? No, he had to stay strong. Perhaps it was better that their "relationship" was made up.

“It wasn't a glamorous life. But I wasn't hooking or doing drugs. It paid the bills though. But that doesn't mean I'm any less of a good or respectable person than anyone else. Besides. I only worked ten days out of the month.” She gave a light frown, aware of the conversations that usually followed the revelation of her previous occupation. She valued the opinions of others in the group and she didn't want them thinking any less of her. She couldn't handle being a pariah. Nate simply nodded in response. He might have responsed, but then they heard another voice which the ex-Sergeant quickly recognized.

"This is Second Lieutenant William D. Andrews of the United States Army. Drop any weapons you may have and keep your hands where I can see them. I repeat, I am not alone, and we will open fire if you decide not to cooperate." Nate quickly looked toward the source of the sound as he slowly let go of Art. Keeping himself in front of her, he moved toward the younger man with his arms up slightly.

"Whoa, Lieutenant," he replied. "At ease. It's just me and Art. No zombies." Art moved behind Nate, keeping Kela close as she crinkled her nose at the sound of Will calling out. “Shut up, Will! You're not the boss of anybody anymore.” Art was in a foul mood - Between her dog being shot, Nate finding out about her previously being a stripper, and just seeing Jackson's face had ruined her happiness for a while. She'd have to cheer up before she got back though.

Cyan was about to forfit his sign, everyone already departing for their hunt and leaving him to stand stupid and alone. However, in the light of gracious purpose, he watched as the leader of their rag-tag group approached him, all prideful stride and mother-like seriousness. Or, at least, that's of he thought of her. Robyn always seemed to know what she was doing at all times, and Cyan really looked up to that. She was like... Well, like a mother, for the lack of a better description, really. But, as she stood before him and started to count off the things they needed, the mute couldn't help but purse his lips in dismay. Blankets were easy, seriously easy. People never seemed to think that the end of the world might be cold. Silly them. So there were piles of those things just laying around old bedrooms and storefronts. Can foods, or just food generally, would be harder. Those were usually the first things to get snatched up in any situation. Well, after useless things like money and jewels. Water and medicine, however... Almost impossible... In every town he's searched, medicine was nonexistent and water was down to two or three lone bottles stashed under some sorry blokes' cabinet.

Hopeless or not, Cyan still flipped the page on his notepad and nodded slowly as he jotted down the list like he was going to the grocery store. Everything he wrote was sloppy and capitalized, nearly filling the page just with the select few items. 'WATER | MEDS | BLACKETS BLANKETS | FOODS (ANY)' As an afterthought, feeling over the side of his already depleted notepad with his thumb, 'NOTEPADS + PENS' The list still felt a bit like an impossible stretch as he looked it over one last time.

It was worth a try though, right? Of course there was always something to be found, even if it wasn't exactly what you were looking for in the first place. The icing on the cake to all this was Robyn, bless her almighty awesomeness, offering to drive him down there, like a mother offering to drive their kid to a school football game. Cyan nodded enthusiastically, but held up a finger to her, telling her to hold on a second. He jogged his way to the tent where Minnie and he slept and shimmied his way inside. Minnie was gone, to his surprise since she always slept in late, but it was clear she hadn't left in much of a hurry. Her pack with spilled all over the floor, almost methodically, her hairbrush and clothing every-which-way, and her prized photo album was flipped open to a random page like she had been leafing through it. Cyan sighed, quickly shoving her things back into her pack as fast but neat as he could. That girl really needed to stop doing this, he was starting to feel like her caretaker.

When that was finished, Cyan snatched up his own pack from where he had left it (Need something to carry to the stuff he was going to bring, right? There was no way he was going to make trips from camp to city with every item.) before shimmying his way back out into the cold morning air. Another jog until he was right back where he started, standing in front of the leader (If only slightly out of breath from the short sprint.) and saluting her jokingly to show that he was ready to go. Had he been able to speak, he probably would've said something witty like "Autobots, roll out!"... Er... On second thought, maybe he should leave the jokes to Raz...

---

---

His finger tightened on the trigger. "Would the person surrender? Would he resist? Does he have a fire-arm?" all of these thoughts ran through William's mind as he watched and listened. "Oh no..." he had overlooked one very important factor. "If I shoot, then it may attract zombies. And with Corren on such low ammunition..." William just stayed stock still, hoping that the stranger would cooperate.

"Whoa, Lieutenant, at ease. It's just me and Art. No zombies." William just stood there for a moment, un-moving.

"Wait...what? 'It's just me and Art...'" And as quickly as he had pondered the thought, the realization of the statement hit him. Not far from where William was standing, Corren relaxed as he allowed his magnum to rest against his side.

"“Shut up, Will! You're not the boss of anybody anymore.” William could feel his anger boil.

"Just because I don't have any troops under my command...does NOT mean that I no longer hold the authority of an officer in the United States Army 'ma'am.'" To make matters worse, he could hear the Corren's laughter to Art's response. William felt himself grip his rifle so hard that it began to tremble. He quickly lowered it before he called back to Nathan and Art.

"Please accept my apologie, I'm sure we're all a bit...paranoid with the events at hand." Quickly turning to take a look at Corren, he gave him a piercing stare to silence his laughter. Which was at this point, still all to audible. "So Durand," William said, approaching the two. "I'm sure that if there isn't anything that you must tell me, we may continue our 'hunt.'

Adjusting the position of his helmet, his mind traveled on it's own. "Art...she doesn't seem to like me too much. But then again, does anyone in our little 'group?' I must find a way to get back into contact with the army...no matter what the cost. The army is where my survival lies. If I get back with the Army, then I live."

"And by the way, Corren seems to have an insufficient amount of ammunition at the moment. Thought that you may want to know."

Art listened to the men talk, watching as Nathan moved into a protective position between her and the two others as guns were at the ready. A minor action in the eyes of others, maybe, but it brought a smile to her face. Even though she thought it was a stupid move. Logically speaking, he was far more important to the group than she was. She didn't view herself as much of a loss but she was touched to think that perhaps Nate might like to keep her around. He could be a bit surly and distant at times and she would often wonder if he even liked being in their group. But there were more than enough tender moments that assured her that he didn't mind so much. She tuned out part of their conversation, looking over her shoulder instead as one hand rested on Kela's head. God forbid that Jackson returned with thugs. But being addressed snapped her back to attention and she gave a slightly confused expression before realizing what was being asked of her. Politely but quickly, she shook her head. “No. But thanks. I'd just slow you guys down and be utterly useless. I still need to gather more plants and see if I can find more wild grapes. And get Kela back to treat her leg.”

She gave Nate a look as if to say forgive me before looking to a whining Kela and shushing her gently. “Try to not get shot, babe,” she teased in a friendly manner, calling him by the nickname she had previously promised to him. With a final smile, she young woman picked up the large dog and lumbered away, heaving under the weight. She didn't want the canine putting too much pressure on her leg and making anything worse. She prayed silently as she left the males' line of sight that none of them ran into Jackson or anyone else, picking up her basket of grapes. Her first priority was now getting Kela treated. There were enough grapes in the basket to make everyone happy and not to mention a supply run was probably already in progress.

It took her a while but she finally made it back to the safety of the camp with Kela in tow. Minnie was there chatting it up with the kids and munching on some apples and poptarts. They attempted to engage conversation with her but she ignored them and headed to her Rogue, popping the trunk and setting Kela inside on top of one of the blankets. “I heard a gun shot! Are the other guys dead?! Are you okay? Is Kela okay? What's wrong?” Minnie's mouth was running a mile a minute and it was making Art cringe. Sighing as she leaned against her car to take a breather, she closed her eyes. “No. They aren't dead. Yes. I'm fine. Kela is fine. Please just...go.” She saw Josh and Izzy looking at her, peeking around the car. “Try not to eat them all.” She handed them the basket of grapes and shooed them away before glancing around. “Miss Robyn and Cyan went to go get supplies. Then Ras left to go salvage car parts and Chloe went with to get better signal. And Shiloh went hunting on her own after Corren and Will left.” As annoying as she was, Minnie's peppy nature was somewhat comforting.

“Right... Thanks.” Art all but mumbled to herself before setting to work on her friend's wounded leg. The dog whined as the makeshift bandage was removed. The wound was deep or too bad but Kela would definitely feel it for a while. Art got to disinfecting it, having to pause whenever Kela kicked and lashed out, howling something fierce.

His pack secure on his back (A lot heavier than he remembered, and was totally killing his shoulders already.), and his own lame inner monologues quelled, Cyan was more than ready to head out for a morning of scrounging. Physically, anyway. Inside, however, his nerves were jumping through the roof and bouncing all around the walls of his stomach, quiet panic already setting in. But, no one would ever guess that he was a hair's breath from a break down from the playfully cheery smile Cyan wore as he gave his make-shift squad leader a double thumbs-up and a goofy, kid-like grin before climbing 'shotgun' into the car. To be completely honest, long car rides had never been very fun for Cyan. They were only slightly more chest-tightening now. Confined spaces, empty landscaping sweeping past the windows, and a very serious mom-like figure in the driver's seat aren't exactly a calming environment. He found himself wringing his hands tightly far before they stopped in front of the pharmacy.

Cyan leaned forward, squinting to try to see out the windows of the Jeep and into the ones of the small shop, but it was impossible to see past the direct storefront. He sighed rather loudly, yanking out his notepad to jot down an answer for Robyn, "I go alone. Quieter + if it goes south, less injury." Holding it up, the mute waited long enough to make sure she had time to read it before dropping the pad on the floor of the car at his feet. No need for that right now, he wasn't big on stopping to chat with the walking dead. Remembering just then that he had forgotten to empty out of pack before coming, he followed by pulling his pack from his back, unzipping it, and unceremoniously dumping the contents right on top of the befallen notebook. All of it was just a waste of space at this moment and would just limit what he would be able to collect on the run. A few shirts, pens with the caps chewed off, Art's GameBoy, and a scruffy-looking teddy bear that looked like it had seen far better days spilled out, (He took extra care making sure neither the gameboy nor the bear were in any way injured in the tumble.) were all he really had to his name.

'Welp, time to be reckless and stupid.' He let out a long breath, giving Robyn a small salute, trying to look like he wasn't going to toss his cookies. Tentatively, he hopped out onto the pavement, eyeing the shamblers in the distance with caution before jogging lightly to the storefront. He pressed his eyes against the glass, cupping his hands around his face to get a better look. Nothing really seemed particularly menacing, unless you think life-size cutout doctors were frightening. Deciding it safe, in an attempt that was thought to be obviously vain, Cyan tried pulling on the front door. Worth a shot, right? Well, to his ultimate surprise, it actually opened with relative ease.



The place was trashed. Shelves were overturned, papers and documents that probably held people's personal medical information were thrown every-which-way, and those doctor-cutout-things had probably seen some serious shit in their time. However, Cyan couldn't see any medicine. He shifted through the piles of papers and empty perception bags, but it seemed like the place was picked clean, save one thermal blanket and four unopened bottles of water in which he stuffed into his now-deflated backpack. With the front yielding insufficient resources, he moved to the back, to the thin door right behind the counter. Though, it seems like the owners of the shop, where ever they might be now, had the inconvenient sense to lock the only door leading into the back room, and the window in which medicines were passed back and forth through was far too small for a seventeen year old boy to squeeze into. Completely inconvenient? Yes, but it meant that no one else had touched what was back there, right?

Now, Cyan was no major league hitter... Actually, his six year old niece could probably hit harder than he could. ... But that didn't stop him from picking up a long piece of shelving (You know, the part with the brackets that get screwed into the wall.) from the wreckage and attempting to jam the right-angled end right between where the lock met the wood. The first hit was too feeble, didn't even scratch the paint, but the second was a sure hit. The lock popped out of place just a little, and after a few more good smacks, all the hardware fell out along with the shelf piece in Cyan's hands, both crashing to the floor, and the door drifted open. The loud noise made Cyan pause, not moving a muscle, straining his ears and listening to make sure he didn't accidentally just send of a flare saying 'All-You-Can-Eat, Next left!'.

No moans or groans were audible.

Well, paint him disappointed to see the back no better than the front. Again, papers. So. Many. Papers. Not to mention the god-awful smell the room had. Though, the shelves were still intact, that was a good sign. Pulling his hoodie over his nose to warrant away choking on the smell, he wandering up and down the little rows, looking through each of the bins on the shelves, all of them marked with little letters to organize prescriptions by last names' initials. Most were empty, some had the sick sense of humor of having empty pill bottles in little paper bags, waiting to be filled, and others just had the retched papers. Turning the corner, ready to take on the tedious task of digging through the next row, Cyan came up short. Sitting on the floor, propped up against a shelf was a man. Or, what was left of a man. Oh, true, all of the man was still in the room for sure, but maybe not in the correct order. His entrails splayed themselves out grandly on the floor between was was left of his legs and down the man's not-so-nice-n-white shirt, one arm was at the far end of the row, and his head had been bashed open, brains and whatever else turned to stomach-turning mush. The whole scene made Cyan feel quite weak in the knees, but the severe head wound eased his worry a fraction.

'Never thought you would think that, did you?'

Turning on his heel quickly, Cyan pulled at unchecked drawers at random, no longer wanting to be anywhere near this building. In his haste, he found two prescription bottles for some kind of heavy-duty pain killer that, when shook, rattled with assurance of something being inside, one Mars Bar, a small memo pad, and a handful of pens. But with his haste, he became extremely clumsy, dropping each item multiple times and banging into shelves repeatedly.

Pack slightly more full than it was before, he practically started to run for the door that led back into the storefront. Cyan dashed past the dead man, not daring to spare a glance, wheeling around the corner of the shelving unit and coming face-to-face with molting flesh. Scarcely speaking, really, since the walker barely had a face at all, with no jaw or tongue or even a nose to speak of. It was no wonder he had heard no moans, but the shuffle of its feet was quite loud. How had he not heard it?

If a mute could scream, they would be hearing him in Timbuktu. He reeled back, barely dodging around an outstretching arm and decided now was a good time to get the hell out of dodge, running at full speed toward the door. He crashed through the front in record time, and was back out into the morning light of the parking lot within seconds. Cyan was out of breath as he slammed himself back into the passenger seat of the Jeep, pale as a sheet and hands shaking like a lunatic.

"Leave. Now." The mute wrote on the new memo pad once he had enough control of his hands to write legibly, holding it up for his Leader to see, and pointing to the steering wheel to further prove his point.