Emery
Her forest green eyes focused on the military soldiers on the other side of the glass dome that covered the entire city and your thinking how come she doesn’t just shot through it it’s only glass right. Yeah, you think our government is that stupid? The soldiers didn’t bother to look at her, as if she was a homeless person begging for money and you just roll your window up as you’re sitting in your car and look straight ahead. They ignored the town completely as if there was nothing there. She let out a frustrated breath. It had only been two weeks since the virus took hold off the city. Everyone mostly stayed hidden now, of course if they weren’t already dead or infected. She turned around to face the city her back turned to the soldiers now as she looked straight ahead searching the main street of the city, which looked more like a ghost town that had burned down years ago. “It’s too quiet” she mumbled to herself as she started walking into the downtown part of the city which was probably the stupidest thing she could do, but in all honesty she didn’t have fear. She had killed a few of the infected, and she would do it again if she had to. She was going to do whatever she had to do to survive. “Hey princess shouldn’t be out here alone.” She stood frozen as she looked at the only man she really feared. The red bumps covering his skin and dried blood crusted around his eyes. Dried crimson blood covered his cloths no doubt the blood of others he had killed. “Dad” she whispered as her breathing picked up a bit. She hadn’t seen him in close to three weeks having not been home when the outbreak happened they had been separated which she was grateful for. She reached for her gun “What are you going to do with that…shot me” he smirked darkly. She held it with two hands as she pointed it at his head. “don’t…come any closer!” she yelled. He may have been abusive and a horrible excuse for a father, but he was still her dad.

He wasn’t exactly happy about being with the group, but in the same sense he was kind of content, besides the feeling of helplessness that kept eating at the pit o his stomach that he had no clue where his sister was and it was killing him. He sighed as he leaned against one on the shelves of the hardware store that the group had taken refuge in for the night. Not that it was night yet but the sun was close to setting and they knew things got worse at night. They could at least walk around running into two maybe three of the infected during the day, but the infected knew people were more helpless at night they could catch them off guard. He ran a hand through his hair absentmindedly “Here why don’t you use my back pack” he said handing his black back pack to Jane, he had become quite protective of her, he wasn’t sure why but he had a good feeling it had something to do with the fact she reminded him a bit of Emery, and if he couldn’t protect his sister he would protect Jane, though most the time he did it without thinking. “I’ll keep watch tonight” he offered to the others.

"Here why don’t you use my back pack?" Jet offered "Thanks" She said softly. She took the bag and put it on the floor by the doors. She hated being without Jet. He was her rock. She always felt safe around him. She lay her head down on the bag, looking up at Jet. "I'll keep watch tonight" He said. "Ya, ya we know" She laughed a bit. Jet was like the leader of the "group". Being the oldest, bravest and probably smartest out of all of them. But she felt like it was more of a family for her. They all cared for each other, whether they would admit it or not. She never had a family before, growing up in a foster home. Though no one here knew that. They all thought that her parents had been infected right away, and she let them think that. Growing up in the foster home, she had no where to go. She was alone and scared. Jane, being the second youngest, was probably one of the weakest ones. They kept Yina, Sorins younger sister, because who would leave an 6 year old all alone at a time like this? Jane and Yina had bonded, since they were often on the side lines, watching for any infected coming along. She had been laying with her eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling, for about 10 minutes, thinking back to when she was at the foster home. Even though she had no parents, no friends and no true home, at least people weren't trying to kill her. "Jet... I can't sleep..." She said bringing her dead gaze towards him. He always knew what to do, well it seemed like it anyways. She crawled over to him and sat down next to him.

Sorin leaned his head back against the hardware stores wall. Yina was already curled up in his lap, sucking her thumb. He wasn't very tired, in fact he suffered from insomnia most nights. Sorin shot his head up when Jet handed Jane his sleeping bag and offered to take watch. Sorin let out a breath, and leaned back against the wall. "Wake me when you get tired, I'm serious." Sorin said toward Jet and closed his eyes. He never actually slept, he mostly napped. Sorin could guess that his group didn't exactly want Yina with them. Considering she should've already of been infected when it came. But they should know better to bring it up around him. He fell into a light nap, his head resting on the wall. 

Yina opened her eyes after a bit, being asleep for a while she raised her head from Sorin's lap and yawned. She took a quick glance around, seeing Jane and Jet sitting together she decided it be better if she didn't disturb them. Unlike most kids her age, she didn't whine or complain. She just sat back and watched while her brother and Jet took care of any lingering infected. Herself and Jane could hold conversation's that a normal seventeen year old and six year old couldn't. She leaned up against the wall, wrapping her arms around Sorin's she fell back asleep. 

{Sorry for the short length! XD}

David had worked quickly when the Infected started to roam the streets. He had taken refuge in Old Bridge Tavern on mainstreet. It wasn't hard to make the owner give him the place, when someone bleeds out of their eyes everything they own is for grabs. That was how David saw it and he made sure the owner didn't bother him any more.

The pub was easy to make into a safe haven. With only two ways out, one in the kitchen and the entry door. He barricaded the kitchen door and made sure it would never open again. The windows were covered with planks and other debris and nailed shut. Only way in was the door. And when you came in, a drunk pissed of biker called Razor sat on a chair next to a table and blew their heads off. His trusted shotgun did the job and from time to time he'd take a swing with the bat if he felt like ''keeping in shape''.

He locked the pub during the day to scavenge for food and other toys and then spent the rest of the day shooting infected who came close, and locked it again during the night. Wasn't too bad. He had something to take out his anger on and when the silly ''Survivors'' came to ''Team up'' he could just shoot them too and grab their gear. You got to take care of yourself.

I can hear you... I hear you out there. Poke your ugly face in and I'll feed you to the dogs. You know you want to come in you scum.. I'm waiting

The one outside was alone and probably wounded by the heavy breathing and moaning. It could be a very injured survivor. That meant more gear or food. He took a sip from the whiskey bottle and lit his cigarette, letting the smoke sip out from between his lips slowly. Razor knew he was either joining those savages or dying soon. His last rounds were on the table and every night he could hear the protection he had made in the front crumble. But he was going out on his own terms. He was going out like a Raven...

Trent was working logistics. There was plenty of useful stuff in the abandoned hardware store. He'd already worked out a great little system of classification for their private apocalypse. Stuff was useful, but not 100% necessary. He kept all his stuff in the same bag, because if it came down to it, he wouldn't mind having to drop stuff on the run. Then there were the essentials: food, water, weapons, ammo. Everything else was shit, utterly useless to them now. So far he'd accumulated a few rolls of duct tape, some zip ties, a hammer and a box of nails, two bottles of lighter fluid, and 40 feet of rope. He packed it all in an emptied out toolbag, then set it near the patch of wall he'd staked out as his temporary bedroom.

"Takin' a leak," he announced, voice dull. He didn't want to surprise anyone on his way back from the bathroom and wind up getting shot or stabbed. The teenager wasn't nearly as invested in the group as some; for him, this was a matter of smart survival, plain and simple. He didn't like the fact that they had kids with them, but... well, in the very least, they might slow some of the infected down if things got real bad. He was smart enough not to announce that idea. Probably wouldn't sit well with some, but it was the truth. Anyone could become a liability, any time. Some would just do it faster than others.

He headed into the bathroom, returning a few minutes later, wiping damp hands on his pants. He spared a quick look at the others, nodding briefly to Jet, then retired to his spot. He pulled the bill of his cap down over his eyes and then balanced his shotgun across his thighs; that was his preferred sleeping position, these days. Funny thing about Trent: he slept better than most, but woke up right quick.

Rowan silently watched the others. She sat slightly off to the side, her body tensed up. Her grey eyes flicked from the others, to the outside. Her blonde curls fell in her face. She seemed very on-edge. In general, Rowan didn't like sleeping. She was very expressive as she slept, making everything from twitches and murmurs to quiet cries of fear. Nobody knew her past, but it was pretty safe to guess that it wasn't a happy one.
"I'll stay up, too." She offered Jet softly when he announced he was going to stay up. It was easy to tell she was not going to negotiate by the look she had in her eyes. Usually she wasn't this edgy, but something seemed to be bothering her. Her lips pursed, she brought her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs. This was often how she sat- she felt more protected this way. She watched each of the others carefully. Trent was asleep with his gun, Sorin had Yina asleep in his lap, and Jane was crawling over to Jet. It looked like she and Trent where the only ones being distant.
Sleep was not an option for her tonight. All day her memories had been washing over her, making her distant and cold. She did her best to block out her past, and loathed even the tiniest of memories. She wanted to completely let go of her past. Rowan rested her head on her knees and hugged them closer to her. She wasn't sure why she was so alert tonight; maybe it was because of her father's eyes searing her mind, or because she wanted to keep her group safe from the dangers that lingered outside. But something didn't seem right about her.

Violet Fairbanks woke with a start. The first thing she registered was that she was in a tiny black room. She was sitting on the floor with her legs crossed and if she reached her arms out on both sides, she could place her palms flat against the walls. It took her a second to remember that she was in a janitors closet. After the outbreak, Violet had figured the safest place was the news station. After all, they had a helicopter right?

Unfortunately, her and Mercy had to learn that the city was encased in a dome the hard way. By crashing a news helicopter into it. Needing somewhere to sleep, Violet had found a tiny janitors closet and, though it was cramped, it was the safest place she could think of at the time. She glanced at her watch. It'd only been two hours. Damn.

On her lap, her little sister Mercy slept peacefully, arms wrapped tightly about her waist, head pillowed in her thigh. Violet might be tempted to stroke her sister's blonde-and-pink hair with a smile if it weren't for the loud banging that filled the room. What the hell? She snapped her head up to find that the door was shuddering as if something was throwing itself against it over and over again. SHIT!

The bolts on the door were beginning to give way and Violet reacted instantly, kicking her legs up against the wood to hold it closed. The shuddering of the wood against her feet shook her and she woke Mercy roughly. "Honey-bee." She hissed in the darkness and slapped a dagger into the sleepy eleven year-olds hand. "Crisis." It took Mercy less than a second to realize what was going on and rushed to pack their things, throwing them in Violet's black duffel bag.

Not fast enough. The door was giving way to whatever was on the other side. "HURRY UP MERCY!" She shrieked, just as the girl slapped a pistol in her hand and slid the bag on her shoulder. "Ready." She heard her sister's breathy whisper in the dark and Violet nodded, taking her feet from the door and hopping to her feet, pushing Mercy back against the wall behind her as the door burst open.

Light flooded the room, and Violet could now see their attacker clearly. Infected. No doubt about it. Without a moment's hesitation, she raised the gun in her hand and put a bullet in his head. "Vi!" She heard Mercy gasp behind her. "He was a person once!"

Violet rolled her eyes and slipped her gun in her belt at her hip, grabbing hold of her eleven year-old sister's wrist and dragging her roughly from the closet. "Yeah. A person who was trying to kill us Mercy. For all he cares, I put him out of his misery." She let out a shapr breath as she dragged her sister out the door and into an alley, gripping her frail wrist tightly.

"Vi! Vi stop! With the helicopter out, where are we going to go?! You're hurting my arm!" Mercy's voice begged as Violet dragged her along.

Her pace didn't slow one bit, but she dropped her sisters hand and sighed, running her fingers through long blonde-and-colored-tipped hair. "We're going to the only place we have left baby girl."



"We're going to the only place we have left baby girl." Mercy's eyebrows furrowed in confusion as she struggled to make her skinny legs keep pace with her fast-moving sister. What the hell is that supposed to mean?

"What are you talking about Violet? Dads place? Are you insane?! Did that thing infect you or something?! We can't go back there, he'll kill us after the way we ran out on him like that!" She sped up after her sister, but as she looked about, the route they were taking wasn't leading them towards "home." It was familiar, but not headed towards their fathers house.

"Shut the hell up Mercy! Just trust me okay?! If anyone knows what to do, it's Uncle Jack."

Now that made sense, so Mercy shut her mouth and simply followed as Violet led them towards their uncle's bar, taking back alleys to avoid open streets. "Uncle Jack? What if he's.." She stopped, choked up. There was no way she could even consider that. Instead, she just followed her sister silently.

After about fifteen minutes of speed-walking, the two of them stood across the street from the bar her uncle owned. From where they stood, Mercy could make out a small piece of paper tapped to the door, and the neon light hanging over the door flashed different colors, lighting the street in green, blue, red, and yellow. The J in Jack's flickered, and Mercy shivered for some reason. This usually comforting sight seemed somehow foreign.

Without waiting for Vi, Mercedes Fairbanks crossed the street to the glass door. On the piece of paper she had spotted, was Jack's familiar handwriting. Kill me before I hurt you. Please. A shudder coursed it's way through her veins and Mercy turned to look at Violet, who was now standing over her shoulder. "No." She gasped. Not Uncle Jack. Her millionaire Uncle who'd been diagnosed with four different kinds of cancers had caught the disease. Somehow she couldn't wrap her head around it. Uncle Jack had always been their rock. Their solid ground. When things got bad at home, his bar was always open to them. Mercy had asked him once, why he didn't just take them away from their father and he'd told them that it was because he couldn't raise kids. With four different kinds of cancers, it would be impossible. But they were always free to stop by for a beer, a chat, or a place to sleep.

Sucking in her breath, Mercy pushed open the door. The place was a mess. Colored lights gave the place an eerie glow, reflecting on the shiny black marble floor beneath her feet. Her shoes stuck slightly as she stepped across broken glass. Dried booze all over the floor. The soft hum of electric lights. The place was creepy without it's usual heart-pounding music pulsing through the air.

She advanced slowly to the bar, just behind Violet. Above it, hung the neon sign Jack loved so much, flickering brightly in the dark. Age is not a number, but a state of mind. Uncle Jack's motto. "Who's there? Te raspy, drunk voice of her Uncle Jack came as he rounded the corner, stumbling slightly, eyes glazed. Violet grasped Mercy's wrist and shoved her behind her protectively, raising a gun on the only other person they trusted other than each other. Mercy noticed her sister's hand shaking violently. Uncle Jack stopped. "Sweety-pie, you're going to shoot me? Have you really become so heartless? It's me! Uncle Jack!" For a second, Mercy almost believed him, but then a smile spread across his face. Slow and wicked. A smile that surely did not belong to her uncle.

But Violet was lowering her shaking hand, wanting to believe, and out of the corner of her eye, Mercy saw Jack ready himself for the pounce. "Violet do it!" She shouted and lunged forward, forcing her hand back up and squeezing the trigger with her sister's finger. A loud boom and her beloved uncle lay dead on the floor.

Mercy looked down at his body, shaking visibly from head to toe. "Now what?" She whispered as she wrapped her arms around her frail body, voice hoarse.

"Jet... I can't sleep..." Jane said crawling over to him. He gave her a soft brotherly smile like he use to Emery. “Well you need to get your rest” he said gently patting his lap for her to lay her head there. Jet glanced to Sorin as he spoke "Wake me when you get tired, I'm serious." Giving him a small nodded “I will, probably early morning some time” he said calmly. "I'll stay up, too." Rowan said, Jet sighed looking to her “You really should get some rest, you didn’t sleep last night either, it’s going to catch up with you” he frowned gently, knowing something was bothering her, but he didn’t know her well enough to pry even though he wanted to. He had always been the one his friends would come to for advice the reliable friend that would always bail you out. He looked to Trent who had just laid down “You could take a turn watching sometime to.” He said calmly though not really minding that he didn’t, just wanting everyone to do their part for the group. He grabbed his back pack pulling his jacket out as he tossed it to Sorin “She looks cold” he stated “we can’t afford anyone getting sick, we have to keep our immune systems strong, or the virus will attack us.” He said glancing to the little girl, not minding having a kid in the group. It kept the group humane as far as he was concerned.

“Emery…come, see daddy” he smirked as he held up an axe drenched in dry blood. Tears rimmed her dark green eyes as she tried to build up the courage to pull the trigger. Why is this so damn hard just doing! She thought, it hadn’t been a problem with any of the other infected she had pulled the trigger and never thought twice. She frowned as she hesitated to pull the trigger seeing him get closer. She took a deep breath aiming the gun as she pulled the trigger the bullet leaving the barrel of the gun and going straight through the skull of her father. Blood and brain matter leaving the hole at the back of his head where the bullet had exited as her father’s now lifeless body fell to the ground. The tears now burning down her cheeks, she stood frozen for a moment, until a blood curdling scream brought her from her shock. She had to get inside and quick she could see a woman being attacked in the distance and she would have helped if it hadn’t already been too late, she had already been exposed to the Black Death if the infected attacking her didn’t killer her she would soon be one of them. The nearest building was the Tavern that her father spent a good amount of his time at, mostly because he was good friends with the owner. She ran to the front door though it was locked she kicked as hard as she could a few times, before the door finally gave in, being an old door anyways. She ran in shutting the half hinged door best she could, breating heavily as she slid down the length of it.

She rested her head on his lap. He was always there for her. She relaxed to the sound of him breathing. With every breath she got even more tired. Though she couldn't close her eyes. She was probably paranoid. Though out of everyone in their group, she was probably getting the most sleep. That's probably half the reason she was always on look out. Also being young and not as useful as the others. She had her lazy gaze wander. Going from each person in the room. Trent, being his usual self, alone with his gun. Same with Rowan. She had never really liked Rowan. She just thought she was bitter and cold. Though she never said anything, it was pretty apparent they didn't get along well. She then looked over to Sorin and Yina, who were cuddling. She had always wanted a brother. One who would be over protective and scare the boys off. Well, if there had been boys. She started to slightly shiver, I guess it was really cold this night. She looked up at Jet and his green eyes. Was he her brother? Was this what it was like to have a brother? Or was it something more? She knew from when they first met in the grocery store that she had liked him. They flirted a bit, but when he saved her life, that's when they instantly clicked. "Thank you..." She said, finally letting her eyes close.

Trent rolled his eyes. Of course, he had his cap pulled down, so nobody, least of all Jet, would see. Not that he've had minded if they did. The eye-rolling could practically be heard in his voice as he drawled back a response. "Anytime, boss-man. You want me to scavenge, or scout, or shoot anyone too? Wait. I already did all that." He didnt mind Jet being the one everyone looked to as a leader; let them come crying to him when they couldn't sleep or needed a good cry. He'd be damned if he was about to let the guy imply he wasn't pulling his weight though. Hell, if he weren't so wrapped up in being everyone's personal pretty-boy savior, he might have had the sense to delegate the watch in the first place.

That little thread of discontent was more than enough to wrap up Trent's mind and forestall the chance of sleep anytime soon. He sighed, silently, and pulled off his cap. Smoothing his hair, he let his eyes move slowly from each of the other survivors to the next. "While we're all plannin' on stayin' awake and feelin' so talkative, might be this is a good time to figure out what the fuck we're gonna do next. Plenty of fun shit to kill people with in here, but it ain't exactly defensible." His stare wound up on Jet at the end of his little speech. It wasn't exactly angry, or even malicious, but there was a sliver of pride shining in each of Trent's eyes. People had still talked about Jet like some kind of legend in his school, the same people who'd treated Trent like worse than shit... and this fucker'd brought a baseball bat to a gunfight, so to speak.

He wondered at least six times a day why he hadn't just gone on his own after meeting up with this lot; more often, actually, when he had spare time.

Sorin opened his eyes to when Trent spoke. He hit back a remark of shut up, I'm trying to sleep but didn't. Sorin had known Trent in school for while. They had never really talked, Sorin mostly stuck to himself in school and when he won custody of Yina he had dropped out of high school.

Yina opened her now fully awake dark brown eyes. She looked at Trent for a moment when he was done speaking it looked like Yina was about to talk, but Sorin cut her off. "Hey Trent. Could you watch your language? I don't like Yina hearing that kind of talk." Sorin hissed, glaring in Trent's direction. The last thing Sorin wanted was Yina to hear that type of language, especially in the circumstance they were in at the moment.

Sorin didn't exactly mind Trent's company. It was the way he talked around Yina, and hat was the only thing that really got under his skin. Sorin took a glance around, Jet, Sorin didn't really care who was leader. And thought Jet made a pretty good one. Jane, she was sweet and Sorin liked her because she go along with Yina. Rowan, who Sorin thought she was bit paranoid but overall he didn't mind being around her. 

Rowan watched the other silently. When Trent started ranting and woke up Yina, her gaze fell in the little girl. Her expression became softly, and a small smile lit up her face. She had always had a soft spot for Yina. She reminded her of her own sister.
She glanced over at Jane as she crawled into Jet's lap. She rolled her eyes. Her and Jane had never really gotten along very well. Rowan had always thought Jane was like a child who couldnt fend for herself. Of corse, she would never say this outloud. She wasn't that mean. If provoced, though, it could be a different story.

Once Jane was asleep, she sat down next to Jet. "I know i haven't slept lately. I've never told anyone about my past, so it just keeps repeating in my mind like a movie on an endless loop. I dont want anyone's pity, though." She admitted, and seemed slightly more relaxed. She glanced at Yina again, and offered the girl a gentle smile, that lightened her entire face.

"Now what?"

Violet pulled her gaze from the body on the floor and landed it on Mercy, who'd just forced her to pull the trigger on the only man they'd ever trusted. The young girl looked like she wanted to double over in grief, but she just stood there, arms wrapped around her waist, not making eye-contact in case she started crying. She was trying to be tough. For her. Violet nodded, turning to stone and giving a shrug as if what had just happened hadn't even phased her. "Now we have a drink. Lock up the place. Maybe check out the warehouse next door." She looked down at the body, then at her grief-stricken sister. Violet reached over and mussed her blonde hair, giving her a kiss on the top of the head. "Don't worry baby girl, you just saved our lives." She slapped a knife in the eleven year-old's hand. "Go on ahead and clean up in the bathroom. If something goes wrong just shout okay?"

Violet waited until she was gone before cleaning up the body, being ever-careful not to come in contact. Now that she was close, she could see that he was undoubtedly infected and shivered. She'd come so close to lowering that gun and letting them both get killed. When she was done dragging the body out to the alley, she sighed and locked the alley door, dragging a barstool over and hooking it under the knob before heading back to the bar. She went behind it's familiar U-shaped curve and placed a hand on the cool stone. She could remember a hundred nights at this bar. Jack had let her serve for a bit of money, drink when she was down, and even spend the night when her father was dangerous.

Without another thought on the matter, she reached behind her and grabbed some fruit-flavored drink of the glass shelf, it didn't matter, as long as it had alcohol. Next, she pulled a two glasses out from under the counter and filled them. She wasn't stupid enough to get drunk. Maybe in another time, when there weren't sick, homicidal manics running around, but not now that she had to protect Mercy. She did want something though, so one glass would be good.

Mercy came out of the bathroom, her face dripping from where she'd splashed herself with ice water. Violet smiled at her, a rarity she used only for the worst of times. It wasn't often that she smiled. "Here. It'll make you feel better." She slid one of the glasses to her sullen-looking sister, and took a drink of her own. Mercy was only eleven, but Violet didn't care. Piercings and tattoos were a no for sure, but, as long as she wasn't getting drunk, Vi would let her drink all she wanted. Mercy was her baby-girl, and, since no one else seemed to want so, Violet would raise her however the hell she wanted.

When the glass was empty, she looked at her sister. "So. What first? Sleep or ransacking the warehouse nextdoor?" She smiled at her again, slinging her black duffel onto the bar.

"I really don't think I could sleep after what just happened, and we could use some supplies to baracade ourselves in here." Mercy said, despite the purple bruise-like circles under her eyes. Violet just nodded in agreement.

"Alright then." She slid her sister a gun, slipped the bag back on her shoulder, and took her knife in her hand again. The gun still swung at her hip, but she really didn't want to use it again. A knife would be just fine. "Let's go." And with that, she led her sister back to the alley door. The warehouse shared the alley with the bar, and it's back door stood, facing them.

Violet crossed and jiggled the handle, but it was locked. Not too surprising. With a shrug, she flipped her knife in her hand and used the handle to slam the knob straight off the door and push it open. But it still wouldn't open. There was a shit-ton of stuff piled against the door. Violet knit her eyebrows in confusion and threw her weight into it, forcing it open. Once it was open, she waved Mercy in, and followed in after her, glancing at the stacks and stacks of boxes. "Alright. Stay close, I have a feeling we're not the only ones in here, but I'm not missing out on the opportunity to go through some of this shit." She whispered down to her sister as she started to move silently down one of the isles.



Mercedes watched her sister in amazement as the crept up the isles of the warehouse. She acted as if she hadn't just fed her little sister alcohol and hadn't just shot her trusted uncle. She shook her head and rolled her eyes. Sometimes, she swore the older girl had no emotion other than anger. Focusing her attention back on the things around them, Mercy strolled slowly among the boxes.

She stopped at one and peered in. A bunch of TVs. Great. So if they got bored, they could watch spongebob or something. Mercy rolled her eyes with a soft snort and moved on. The next box was filled with canned food and her eyes shot wide open. "Violet!" She shrieked in delight, completely forgetting that they were supposed to be quiet. Her and her sister had left their house in a hurry and so far, she'd been living on cold Spaghetti-O's. One can a day for the two of them to share, and while Violet let her eat most of it, it still wasn't near enough. In front of her was a whole ton of food. It took everything she had not to squeal in delight.

Violet came over and slapped her hand tight over her mouth. "Shut the hell up." She hissed angrily in her ear, and then saw what she'd found and dropped her. Mercy rolled her eyes and rubbed her neck while her sister dropped to the floor, yanking her duffle open. Hurriedly, she began tossing cans in the bag, looking around as she did so as if someone would stop them. "We're not the only ones who had this idea." She explained in a quick whisper as she zipped the bag back up and slung it over her shoulder. "Keep looking, but be careful. We don't know what kind of people they are and they might kill you for your supplies. We have to be in and out of here. Fast. We'll go back to the bar, and come back in a few days. I don't like the idea of getting second choice of all this shit, but whatever. Go."

Mercy didn't have to be told twice, and she scampered off silently, grabbing everything she thought might be necessary and bringing it back to the place Vi had dropped their bag, tossing it in. When she was done with the isle she was in, she walked to the end and turned the corner. Shit! She ducked behind a box quickly. On the other side of her small row of boxes, was a group of people. Vi was right. They weren't the only ones who'd had the idea of heading to the warehouse.

Slowly, she peeked over the box. Had they heard them? Would they kill them? They weren't infected, and the six year-old with them seemed to be a pretty good indication that they weren't hostile, but one could never know. Mercy ducked down low again and cursed herself with every word she knew in her head, breathing a little too rapidly.

She should just take off running now. Let them chase her, they wouldn't get far until they Vi got them, but she couldn't move. She was frozen in place as she peeked over the box again. They seemed okay... Maybe her and Violet would be allowed to group up with them... Even if her sister hated the idea of groups, Mercy had always thought they were safer anyway... She ducked low again and placed her hands over her head as she waited for them to find her huddled there. No matter what she did, she couldn't slow her breathing, and she was sure her heart was beating so loudly, the whole world could hear it. An eleven year-old girl. Maybe they would take mercy on her because she was young.

Or maybe not.

Jane was a deep sleeper. The infected, and other things that lingered or made noise outside, didn't wake her. But she woke when Jet started to move. She sat up, rubbing her eyes. Then she heard it too. Someone was trying to get in. She could hear the door moving and being banged on. "Jet... Is it the infected?" She pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. She looked over and noticed the stronger ones were getting up. She then saw Yina, who was sitting all alone where Sorin once was. She slowly crawled over to the girl and they huddled together. "It's okay... You're going to be alright.." She said calmly. They used the blanket and wrapped themselves together. She hugged Yina tight, for she could feel how scared she was. But she didn't know if Yina could feel how scared she was as well.

The second a racket started at the back door, Trent was on his feet. He pressed an index finger to his lips, indicating that the others should be silent, and then broke all-but-silently away from the group to go investigate, his shotgun primed and ready to go in his hands. The teenager’s expression had changed from vague annoyance (he’d been very ready to tell Sorin off for being an idiot; there were infected maniacs running around, ready to kill them, and he was worried about cussing?) to grim determination, and he disappeared into the back of the store. In this kind of situation, he wasn’t about to wait for Jet’s permission. This was what he brought to the party.

The intruders were making plenty of noise, which made him lean towards them being infected. It was that or they were just plain stupid, and in either case, Trent was more than ready to pump whoever it was full of buckshot. He took his time, focusing more on his senses and maintaining quiet than he did on moving quickly. Swallowing a lump that had irritatingly coalesced in his throat, he took a turn…

And was confronted with the sight of Mercy hunkered down. From his vantage point, he could easily tell that she’d seen the group, and little girl or not, he wasn’t taking any chances. He leveled the shotgun at her; until he got to see her face, to see if she had the telltale bumps of infection, all bets were off. Odds were it was just some scared kid with decent enough instincts to last this long. Using a little girl as bait was a little sophisticated for the murder-minded infected, at least from what little experience he had.

Great, he thought. Just what we need. Another friggin’ kid. No doubt Saint Jet will wanna adopt this one too.”

“I ain’t gonna hurt’cha, little girl,” he finally whispered, still sighting her with the Browning. “But I need you to show me your hands and your face, real nice and slow like, okay?” The tone of voice he was using would have been appropriate for a five-year old. An eleven year-old under normal circumstances probably would have found it insulting, but then again, he did have a shotgun on her. ”You here alone, or is anyone with you?”

Rowan quickly stood up when she heard something. She paused, allowing Trent to go before her, and followed from a short distence behind. He was a little more well-equpied then she was.
Usually in the line of defense it was Trent or Jet in front, then Sorin, and her close behind. She wasn't as strong as the other three, but she was very light on her feet and was good at finding others' weak spots quickly.

But when she turned the corner, she saw Trent was his gun pointed at a girl, who seemed to be anywere from 10-12. Roawn paused for a second, looking over her to make sure she wasnt infected, and relaxed a little when she appeared to be healthy. "Hi, there. Did you get a little lost? Come on over, it's safer in here." Rowan smiled at the girl, her voice sincerly warm and inviting. Usually she wasn't this generous- but she had a soft spot for kids. "Is anyone with you?" She asked soothingly, brushing a strand of hair from her face.

Mercy heard movement. Dammit. They're comming. Frozen in place, she waited. “I ain’t gonna hurt’cha, little girl,” She heard a whisper. Male, it was a male. She lifted her eyes slowly over her arms so she could just barely see him. He was holding a shotgun to her. Maybe they were the type who killed for supplies. "But I need you to show me your hands and your face, real nice and slow like, okay?” At this she quirked and eyebrow and sat up. Who did he think he was talking to? Mercy had lived with Violet long enough to pick up her attitude, even if she was considerably sweeter, she didn't take bullshit.

"I'm not a little girl." She snapped, raising to her feet. She moved slowly, afterall, he was the one with the shotgun, and she could snap at him, but moving too fast might startle him and cause him to shoot. "You don't have to talk to me like I'm four. I have survived the same shit you have you know?" She raised her palms, letting him see her skinny arms so he knew she wasn't infected. In one hand she still held the pistol Violet had given her, and, in the other, the knife. "I'm eleven. Not six."

”You here alone, or is anyone with you?” At that, she shrugged. A gesture that could mean either no or yes. She wouldn't give Vi away yet. Movement caught her eye and she glanced briefly over his shoulder. There she was, moving silently as a cat towards the guy in front of her. Her sister pressed her finger to her lips, giving the universal sigh for shhhh, then pointed back towards the man.

She flicked her eyes back to the guy, giving him a soft smirk. Violet would be furious if she gave her away so she only sighed. "Yes." She said, realizing that this too could mean either, yes she was alone, or yes she had someone with her. It wouldn't matter anyway. He would find out in less than a second. She just hoped Violet didn't kill him. It was one thing to kill infected, another to kill a human being with a conscience. Plus, he had a whole group with him.

It wouldn't do to have both infected and angry revenge seekers after them.

Then a girl appeared and started asking her the same questions as the boy did. To which she just stood silently, waiting for Vi to make herself known.



Violet saw Mercy turn the corner from her other end of the isle. Shit! She'd already seen the group down there, but her sister hadn't. She wasn't being the quietest thief in the world either. Stealing had always been Violet's specialty. Mercy was better for planning and thinking. Rolling her eyes, she watched the end of the isle patiently counting to ten.

After her sister did not reappear, she decided to go after her, tightening the grip on her knife. She slipped easily down the isle in silence and peeked around the corner to see that one of the group had found Mercy and was pointing a gun at her. Oh no you don't She thought angrily and moved forward only to be stopped up short when a girl stepped in. Violet waited for her to finish talking before stepping in to make her move, slinking up silently behind them. The girl didn't seem to be a threat so she went for the boy.

Before he even had a chance to reply to Mercy, Violet had slipped up behind the man with the shotgun. She pressed the metal tip of her knife against the nap of the guys neck and whispered, very deliberately in his ear. "Lower the shotgun and get away from my sister or your head rolls. I can slice faster than you can turn and shoot."

Her voice was low and feral. Nobody threatened her sister. Group or not. She glanced at the others, doing a quick headcount. Six or seven. If they came at her, she would kill this boy, then there would be six left. Subtract the six-year-old and you've got five angry people after her and Mercy. She glanced at her sister. No doubt the boy was seeing the deep purple circles under her sister's eyes and they frailness of her young body. If he thought she was an easy target, he was dead wrong. She'd have no problem killing him if his finger even so much as twitched on the trigger.

Trent couldn't help a smirk. The girl had guts, more than... well, most of his current companions, actually. As endearing as that was, it didn't make his shotgun any heavier, so it was still very much trained on her as she mostly-complied with what he had said. Seeing the weapons was actually a relief. If she was infected, she would have been using them already, which meant he didn't have to kill a tween tonight.

Or did he? Just as he was about to tell girl to put her weapons down, he felt cold metal against the skin of his neck. His smirk didn't falter, though mentally, he was kicking himself. He'd even asked the girl if she was with someone, suspected she was, and now that someone was fixing to open him up a new breathing hole. On the one hand, she was a woman. That meant she was emotional and irrational, so who knew what she might do? One the other hand... no, she hadn't kept her sister alive this long just to gamble her life on completely incapacitating Trent with one knife-stroke.

"Don't know you won't just cut me open anyway," he replied evenly. "So I think I'll keep my leverage for now. I ain't gonna bleed out before I take both of you with me, so why don't you just go ahead and back off and we'll see if we can't all get out of this alive." He already had a center mass shot all lined up, and little girls like Mercy didn't have much in the way of center mass. One shell would be it for her, and Trent did have a point: bleeding to death took at least a few seconds, and his shotgun was semi-automatic.

He turned his gaze on Mercy. "Why don't you look right in my eyes and tell your big sister if you think I'll pull the trigger?" This time, he didn't use the kiddie voice. The girl had obviously grown up a few years worth since the outbreak, and she'd shown herself to have some steel in the spine.

Even though she had her knife pressed to his skin, the boy didn't even flinch. She could practically see the smirk on his face through the back of his head. She hissed angrily. Men. "Don't know you won't just cut me open anyway," he replied evenly, to which she raised her eyebrows. Okay, he had guts. She leaned back on one hip, knife still at the ready to listen to why he thought she wouldn't kill him. "So I think I'll keep my leverage for now. I ain't gonna bleed out before I take both of you with me, so why don't you just go ahead and back off and we'll see if we can't all get out of this alive."

"Why don't you look right in my eyes and tell your big sister if you think I'll pull the trigger?" Violet glanced at the gun in his hand, his finger on the trigger. He hadn't wavered and his tone was even. With a frustrated groan, she ran her free hand through her blonde hair and looked at Mercy. Her sister was holding both of her weapons up, though not defensively and as she watched, she looked into the boys eyes and slowly, cautiously, slipped the knife into one boot and the gun in the other, then rose back up, palms up.

She was going to get herself killed! She could at least keep them out, just in case. Violet's eyes found Mercy's and she caught the tinniest nod from the girl. "Vi, chill please? If you stab him, he'll just shoot me in the short second he has and both of us will lose."

Violet rolled her eyes and nodded, shifting the weight of her bag on her shoulder as she whipped her gun out of it's resting place and spun around him so that she was shoulder to shoulder with Mercy. She slipped the knife away and raised her gun to his head in one fluid movement. Her free hand gripped Mercy's wrist and shoved her behind her. "Alright hun, but if I'm not lowering mine until he lowers his." They hadn't gotten this far on trust, and she wasn't going to let one idiot with a shotgun ruin everything, no matter what Mercy said or did.

When Violet gripped her wrist and shoved her behind her, Mercy didn't resist. Anything to be out of the way of his gun. Her heart still pounding, she slipped her arms around her sisters waist and buried her face in her back, closing her eyes. The night had been stressful and she was more than happy to allow Vi to handle the group of survivors. If she so much as twitched to run, Mercy would just snap her head up and take off so she sighed into her sister's tank top and tried to slow her racing heart. Please don't shoot us. Please, please, please. She silently willed him in her head. And don't do anything stupid Vi. She thought, giving her sister a tight squeeze.

"I'm still alive, but I'm barely breathin'," Tayte quietly sang the tune to herself as she re-arranged items in her backpack, "just prayed to a god that I don't believe in..." She chuckled at her own irony. This is the song I have stuck in my head tonight? She'd spent the day rummaging through the large abandoned apartment, and now it was time to get a move on. She'd napped mid-day, knowing that the infected were less likely to attack then, preying on victims at night because it was easier. Not that she'd allow herself to be an easy target. Sighing, she looked at her over-stuffed bag. "Damn." She'd never been good at packing, and this just proved it. Some first aid supplies, a thin blanket, cans of food, and a few bottles of water? Shouldn't that all fit in her backpack?

"Hmmm... what would Jackie do?" She asked herself under her breath, staring at the bulging bag, then chuckled again, "She wouldn't have been in this mess to begin with, Tay, duh." Rolling her eyes, she caught sight of herself in the mirror. "Annnnd you're talking to yourself again," she chided her reflection as she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. After assessing her face for a moment, a few scratches, but nothing too horrendous, she returned her sight to the bag. Cocking her head to one side, she considered her options: Leave some stuff behind, or make it work. She chose the latter. Crouching she wrapped her knees on either side of the bag and squeezed, tugging on the zipper desperately until slowly, and with a little pain in thumb and forefinger, the zipper moved an inch. "Progress!" She smiled to herself and continued this way for a couple minutes until only a hand-length or so was open at the top of the bag. "That'll-do-pig," she told her back pack in a horrendous Irish accent, patting it as though it were beloved pet. Standing, she launched the backpack over her shoulder and grunted as the weight of it hit her. Woops... heavier than I anticipated. She considered re-opening the bag and dropping some things after all, but thought better of it when she looked at the angry, red zipper marks left on her fingers. I've done weight training before, just think of soccer practice. She told herself.

Grabbing her once white but now specked with dried brown blood softball bat, she set it by the only door of the apartment. She'd rigged a warning bell to it that morning when she'd got in, after searching the place for any sign of life, hostile or otherwise. She hadn't found any and so had deemed the apartment safe enough to sleep in. As she got closer to the door she could feel the cold night air entering. Pulling her leather coat slightly more closed she huffed, "Man... I hate the cold!" Then she began to undo the bell, holding the clapper to the sound rim so it wouldn't make any noise. Congratulating herself again on such an intelligent design, she pushed the bell and it's attaching string into a small side pocket on her back pack. Picking up her bat in her right hand, her swinging lead hand, she set her ear against the door. She slowed her breathing and waited, quietly, for some time. She listened as intently as possible, hyper aware that apartments weren't the best place to get stuck in due to the possibility of multitudes of infected, second only to hospitals, but she'd been desperate and tired, both unsafe emotions for the world she now lived in.

Minutes passed, when, suddenly, she heard a terrified shriek. Now! she urged herself to throw the door open and run, even though every bone in her body didn't want to move. Her human instinct was 'scream=unsafe' but she'd learned over the last two weeks that now it meant 'someone else is causing a distraction for you, utilize their death, don't waste it.' Thus, she threw the door open, took a moment to orient herself where the scream was coming from and took off in the other direction. She sprinted down the hall, slowed a little by her rather heavy backpack, but adrenaline keeping her moving. She got to the stair well and jumped down the flights two at a time. Calm down! she commanded herself as she almost missed a step in her rush, getting hurt will mean your end! Better to be slow and safe than fast and dead!

She slowed to a walk, having successfully reminded herself of the danger of herself, and made her way down the stairs silently. Listening with each step. The screaming had stopped which meant that the woman had either been killed or was undergoing the infectious change. The last thing Tayte wanted to do was find out. Finally she reached the utility door that led outside, into an alley way. She winced as it squeaked when she pushed it open slightly. Freezing, she waited to see if the noise had attracted any attention. Letting her breath go, she was relieved when it seemed no one was headed her direction. Pushing the door open more cautiously, she squeezed herself through it, then stood with her back to the wall next to it. She shut it as silently as she could, then placed both of her hands on her bat. Now the fun begins, she thought with a sardonic smile as she started down the alleyway, making sure to keep her eyes and ears open, 'cause I got time while she got freeeeedom...

Razor looked at the table to his left with several cans of food as well as other kind of food he had looted in his last raid, bottles of alcohol, packets of smoke and shotgun rounds. Everything a man needs to survive the apocalypse. He also had a radio that didn't work since no one broadcasted anymore. Well if Razor could find a few CD's or something he'd be set for life. His gaze wandered to the radio and he started playing with it's buttons. Hell some good old Rock 'n' Roll would make his day.

'' You god damned piece of shit!'' He roared and flung it into the wall, the sound of it breaking and hitting the floor made him smirk. Then he cursed, now he had nothing to be angry at except the Infected when they came by. He put out his cigarette and opened a bag of chips, took a handful and stuffed it in his mouth before wiping his hand on his trousers. It tasted a lot better then that canned shit. Who ate that anyway?

His eyes wandered over to the corpse of the last sorry Infected who came bursting through the door. It was laying a few feet away from the door on it's right, most of it's head was missing. Charming.

'' You're going to start smelling soon my friend.. But I ain't dragging you out untill tomorrow.. Or the day after, who cares you're a fucking corpse anyway!'' He finished his sentance by throwing an empty can of soup at the corpse. It made a ''thunk'' noice as it bounced of it's torso. To be honest it didn't just smell a little bad, it smelled so freaking bad, Jesus. But dragging it out now when he knew there was some Blood Heads around would probably make him ending up as his friend over there or worse.

His rant was interupted by someone almost kicking the door in, slamming it behind them and sinking to the floor. Without noticing Razor with a itchy trigger finger. Before the girl could catch her breath he made his presence known by a load cough and the gun pointed right at her stumach. With survivors it was no good to threaten them with a clean headshoot and quick death... No it was the fact that it could take them hours to bleed out and have the Infected have their fun with their dying bodies that scared most Survivors.

'' Don't move or I'll fill that belly of yours with a hail of lead.. Now put the safety on your little toy there and slide it over here... Slowly. I won't hesitate to blow a hole in your gut and throw you outside you hear?'' He gave her a cold smile as his eyes scanned her.

Jonathan stared into the microscope. "Still nothing." He had been looking at the same two sample for three hours straight now, trying to find any kind of differences between a normal plant and a contaminated one. His wrist watch started beeping and he looked up, took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. "I guess i that means dinner". He stood up and walked over to what used to be the kitchen, now it was just a storage room for all the canned and freeze-dried food that he had managed to gather during the first week he had spent in the apartment.

He took a can of beens and walked over to the windows, they had been covered with planks but had a small slot that he could look out trough, he had hung three layers of drapes over each window to make sure that no light maid it out, because nothing says survivor like lit up windows in a town where light is almost nonexistent. The apartment was on the fourth floor which have him a excellent view of the street below. He saw a infected walking down the middle of the road, but he wasn't worried. Even if the infected would somehow figure out that he was up there it would take at least ten of them to knock down the apartments strengthened door, and theirs not even room for that many in the stairwell.

He mumbled trough his plan again: "I have enough food for about a month, i have made sure that this apartment is almost impenetrable to the infected and i managed to retrieve enough equipment and samples from my truck to keep myself busy for the next seven months, now all i have to worry about is the possibility of other survivors, although they'll probably be to concerned about escaping the infected to even try looking up here."
He smiled and walked back to his desk. "I might actually survive this."