Emiline Michal's Story

Saraphine grasped her sisters hand tightly as they ran around the gunfire, trying to avoid the thick of it. The streets were filled with noise and thankfully Sara didn't need to make noise to communicate with the small child beside her. She simply led her away from the fighting and let go of her hand. She signed to her in quick, jerky motions. Frantic, but she would understand. Her sister nodded to tell her she was okay before they set off again, avoiding as well as they could the noises of both the clickers she heard in the distance and the sound of the hunters.

They ran for only a few minutes more before Sara felt the tightening of her chest and began to gasp for air. Emiline immediately drew the old, but thankfully working, inhaler out of the backpack that was strapped to Saraphineand passed it to the heaving Sara. She nodded her thanks and drew in a deep breath while she pressed the inhaler to her lips. She felt a little better, but she wouldn't be running again. Besides, Emiline looked tired. Sara pointed to a nearby shelter that looked fortified enough, though a bit damaged. She quickly did the sign for "sleep" and took off, jogging as fast as the could manage.

And she almost made it too.

Sara was maybe three steps from the door when Emiline's fingers fell from her grasp and she whirled around, quickly dragging her knife from her pocket and turning on her heels.

"Hold it little missy," the hunter said as he pressed a gun to Emiline's small temple. The small girl had a look of pure terror on her face and Sara put the knife on the ground. She couldn't watch her sister die like that. She kicked the knife towards the hunter quickly. That didn't stop the hunter from bringing the but of the gun swiftly down onto Emiline's temple as a few of his friends circled around him.

"No!" Sara started to run towards Emiline's now-prone form, but another hunter grabbed her from behind and held her while she kicked and clawed. The hunter who had her wrapped his hands around her neck and she choked, gasping for air for the second time in only a few minutes. There was no easy fix for this though- black swam before her eyes in less than a minute and after two, she was out cold.

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Saraphine woke up before Emiline, grasping her neck and gasping for much-needed air. She didn't know where she was but her pack was still safely around her back, which was something at least. Though she didn't doubt they had taken her important things. There were two men in the room already awake, but Sara didn't care about them.

"Emi!" Sara drug herself to her feet and ran over to her sister, who was still out like a light. Sara grabbed her head and placed it on her knees, settling down now that she knew her sister was safe. After a few moments she took off the pack and checked the bag, which was mostly empty. They had, however, left her sister's teddy bear and her inhaler. No, they don't want me to die like that, she thought dryly as she removed the teddy bear and placed it in her sisters arms.

Sara looked up, then, at the others in the room. One had mentioned something about not wanting to die, and the other was helping the first up.

"I don't care about dying, frankly. As long as she doesn't," Sara stood up and carefully placed her pack under Emiline's head. She groaned and looked at the others wearily.

"I'm going to say it before someone else does though- it's useless to expect to survive for more than maybe another day, tops," Sara mumbled, looking down at the floor. She stayed like that for another moment before a small hand wrapped around her larger one and she turned to see her sister standing up and holding her hand, looking at her expectantly. Sara smiled. Her sister certainly knew how to keep quiet. Sara leaned on her knees and checked over her sister. She didn't seem too hurt.

Sara pulled her lips together and formed a slow whistle that went from high to low at varying speeds. It all lasted about five seconds, but Sara knew her sister understood from the way the small girl nodded. She was okay, or at least she felt like she was.

"Pull the trigger, Grant!" His father screamed at him. The older man was in a heap on the floor, fungus visibly spreading up his arm. Half a dozen other bodies laid similarly, the only exception being they already had a gunshot wound to the head. "You have to! Do it!" Grant pressed the pistol onto the temple of his father. He took deep breaths...'Okay, on three.' He thought to himself. 'One..two...three!' Even though he had reached the predetermined checkpoint, he hadn't didn't pull the trigger. "Son! Do it, now!" His father screamed. Finally, he gripped the gun hard, and a gunshot rang through the small room.

Grant awoke with a start. That was a terrible dream; no matter how many times he had it. However, part of it was running parallel with what was happening outside; gunshots rang through the air. Quickly, he threw on some clothes and a jacket, and grabbed his backpack. With caution, he moved the boards over the window aside to look outside. From down on the ground, one of the hunter pointed up at him. "Shit!" Grant closed it as quickly as he could, and started exiting the building via the fire escape on the other side.

He only made it one floor down before another group circled around and pointed up at him. He jumped back inside through a window and ran to the stairwell. Jumping down each flight of steps, he was fast approaching the ground floor. Suddenly, he heard people running up towards him. He decided to head back up, but this plan was quickly scrapped when he heard people someone running down after him; they must have blocked him off by climbing up the fire escape. In a matter of a few seconds, he was surrounded by guns on both sides. Ever so carefully, he put his hands up. The one from the top approached him, but instead, Grant let out a yell and dived for the one below him. He landed on the attacker with a thud, and quickly scrambled to his feet. As he did, he thought he just might get away. That was the last thing he remembered before the butt of a rifle hit him in the back of the head.

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After awaking in the small room, he grunted slightly. He hated small, dark spaces like this. Although he could hear other people speaking, he didn't bother listening for the time being. His head was pounding and his ears were still ringing. Some blood had dripped out of his nose.

A young man was offering to help Viktor up, and despite the deflation of his pride he accepted the offered hand. "I don't care about dying, frankly. As long as she doesn't," said a young woman that Viktor didn't know. He raises a brow and scoffs. Trying to keep others safe always leads to more pain and death. Viktor knew it all too well but he didn't voice his opinion on the matter. Let the stranger care for the little girl and mind his own business, or say something stupid and end up with an enemy - yeah, he knows which option is smarter. "I'm going to say it before someone else does though- it's useless to expect to survive for more than maybe another day, tops," the same young woman speaks up again. Those words Viktor does identify with. He knows these people. He worked with them for as long as he could. Even when the city fell, even when this all started he took the Hunters side; self preservation at its finest. He's a selfish bastard, he admits that much. And when they turned on him as a weak link he knew it was time to high tail it out.

"Well, if your concerned for her safety getting out of here is first priority," He tells her with a grim look. "We all have a better chance out there, I don't exactly have an idea of how to get out but I know at some point they are going to come in here to collect what they've hunted." The Hunters think that they are all weak, but failed to realize that putting them all in one room was a stupid idea. Viktor could think up a few ways of getting out, but without the help of the others he doubts he can do it by himself. "There are five of us here, and I know they don't think of us as enough of a threat to send more than three to retrieve the next meal."

From his spot leaning against the wall, Grant looked over the group in the room. And old guy, a dude missing an arm, an average looking woman, and a little girl. He wondered why some of them were here; the woman didn't appear to have a disability, and at first glance, neither did the older man. However, after staring at him for another second, Grant realized he stood with his weight shifted off of one side, implying he probably had an injured leg.

Grant kept sitting and listening until he mustered the strength to stand. He cracked his neck and finally spoke up to the group. "When they come, I can take point. No offense to the rest of ya', but I think I've got the upper hand in raw physicality." Grant said this because his impairment wasn't physical; it was in his mind. He was the tallest person there; if just by an inch or a few, and while he was hardly buff, he was pretty damn fit. Part of the reason he volunteered was because he almost felt like it was his responsibility to do so.

As Alex helped the old man up, he realized that the others were waking up too. "When they come I can take point. No offense to the rest of ya', but I think I have the upper hand in raw physicality." Another man, who had been leaning up against the wall spike up. Alex nodded his head. "I can agree with that." Alex looked around the room, and noticed two other people. A little girl and a woman. They appeared to be sisters. The little girl looked to be shy, at least from Alex's perspective. Well, weren't all kids shy? Not nowadays. It was strange. Alex shrugged it off and turned back to the old man. "Think you can walk? I don't think I'll be able to hold you up for much longer." He asked, when he realized the backpack was in the corner. Dumb ass Hunters. Alex used his foot to pull the backpack over, and realized it was already open. How lucky. He looked inside, and much to his dismay, he realized that there were no weapons inside it. There were a couple cans of beans however, and they may be able to hit someone hard. "If you think you can use anything from this bag, be my guest." He told the guy who had been leaning against the wall.


Alex looked at his old stump once again. It looked terrible. He still had the bandage on, like he always did, but it looked much dirtier and grimier. It still felt like he had an arm there, and occasionally he would try and grab something with his left arm. He of course would always look like an idiot, but not many people understood what it was like with only one arm. But Alex wasn't one to whine, so he asked another question. "What are the rest of us gonna do?"

Grant listened to the one-armed man as he moved over to the backpack. As he spoke, though, Grant tried to formulate a plan in his head. If what the older man speculated was true--that they would only send about three, hopefully the odds would be in their favor. "If you think you can use anything from this bag, be my guest." Grant moved over to the backpack to inspect what was inside. Great; just a few cans of food. While these would be good in most situations, as food always was, there were of no use in their current position. "I'm Grant, by the way." He held out a hand to Alex; making sure it was his right hand, so they could shake unimpeded.

"Y'know, I dunno if I can use the beans," He said, twinges of an east coast accent ringing in his voice, "But we might be able to use the backpack." With that, he dumped the beans on the ground. Without bothering to ask permission, he pulled both of the straps out. Wrapping one around both hands, he pulled it taut, then handed one strap over to Viktor and kept one for himself. Also, he handed the bag over to Saraphine. "Me n' this guy can strangle the guys around the neck. Meanwhile, you can pull the bag over a guy's head, if need be." He said, pointing to Saraphine and the bag. "You," he said, nodding over to Alex and picking up a can of beans, "Can smack a guy if it comes to that. Anybody have any better ideas?"