Announcements: Finding Universes to Join (and making yours more visible!) » Guide To Universes On RPG » Member Shoutout Thread » Starter Locations & Prompts for Newcomers » RPG Chat — the official app » USERNAME CHANGES » Suggestions & Requests: THE MASTER THREAD »

Latest Discussions: Adapa Adapa's for adapa » To the Rich Men North of Richmond » Shake Senora » Good Morning RPG! » Ramblings of a Madman: American History Unkempt » Site Revitalization » Map Making Resources » Lost Poetry » Wishes » Ring of Invisibility » Seeking Roleplayer for Rumple/Mr. Gold from Once Upon a Time » Some political parody for these trying times » What dinosaur are you? » So, I have an Etsy » Train Poetry I » Joker » D&D Alignment Chart: How To Get A Theorem Named After You » Dungeon23 : Creative Challenge » Returning User - Is it dead? » Twelve Days of Christmas »

Players Wanted: Seeking long-term rp partners for MxM » We grown out here, bby » [MxF] Ruining Beauty / Beauty x Bastard » Minecraft Rp Help Wanted » CALL FOR WITNESSES: The Public v Zosimos » Social Immortal: A Vampire Only Soiree [The Multiverse] » XENOMORPH EDM TOUR Feat. Synthe Gridd: Get Your Tickets! » Aishna: Tower of Desire » Looking for fellow RPGers/Characters » looking for a RP partner (ABO/BL) » Looking for a long term roleplay partner » Explore the World of Boruto with Our Roleplaying Group on FB » More Jedi, Sith, and Imperials needed! » Role-player's Wanted » OSR Armchair Warrior looking for Kin » Friday the 13th Fun, Anyone? » Writers Wanted! » Long term partner to play an older male wanted » DEAD! » Looking for new RP Buddy(s)! »


Jesus "Matador" Herrera

"Its time for a tide breaker"

0 · 619 views · located in The Haven Universe

a character in “Live Together or Die Alone”, as played by Romaneck


The Citizens of Haven



Jesus Herrera

Gender: Male
Age: 23

Physical description

Standing somewhere about 1.70 meters tall, having the build of a skinny lad and smiling that smile that earned him the love of his fans, you would not be at fault for feeling comfortable around Jesus.

Jesus has made a point of keeping his hair short, it saves him the trouble of having to get his hairdo and is better for giving headbutt shots, but nowdaways he keeps it that way since its one less thing to get a hold on. While Jesus is not a strength powerhouse don't be fooled, the man can run, maybe not as fast as others but his endurance was one of the highest performances on the Football league.

Also Mr Herrera has a very thick accent that cant escape any of the native speakers, it isnt exactly german or french or turkish, its not even European so thats something people tend to remember about him


Jesus was born on Mexico to a family that had a long standing lineage in football history, his father being a top goaler on the 80 wanted his son to follow in his footsteps and that is just what the lad did.

At only 19 years of age he had already won the sub 20 Soccer world cup showing the world what he was made of, sure the coach and the team played their part but the flurry of shots kept every single goalkeeper against the ropes and came out as the top goaler on the whole cup, but Herrera was far from done, when he was 20 he led his local team to national victory and European clubs began to ask for his name seeing potential that could earn some cups.

On the 2010 south Africa world cup the doubts were laid to rest as the Mexican gave their rivals hell but was ultimately defeated on the quarter finals, this performance ultimately earned him the ticket to the leagues on Europe at 2011, while at first he had a protagonist role on small teams it was when he jumped the Manchester United football club and won the 2012 champions league that the Mexican was blitzed with the love and hate of the people of the United Kingdom, his marksman shoots earned him the title of "Matador" Spanish for killer.

Yet good luck seems to have run out, while traveling with his team for a football match the outbreak happened and he became stranded, eventually he made his way into this Haven after outrunning the chaos that was engulfing the Island

  • Runner: Could outrun hell, not really but his speed and endurance are top notch
  • Charismatic: He is slightly well known amongst some football aficionados and his upbeat personality and charming smile will earn him favors
  • Nerves of steel: pressure is something this Mexican is used to, shooting penalties while the whole world watches has put him under strain that few will ever feel; pressure, risks and high expectations are no strangers to him

So begins...

Jesus "Matador" Herrera's Story

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Jesus "Matador" Herrera Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait: Character Portrait:
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

The sky was clear, the birds were chirping away and the rays of sun lighted the place Jesus now called home, it was a perfect day for a stroll or a date with a pretty lady, try as he might he just could not picture things being back the way they had been but neither could he completely reconcile with the current state of things.

He was restless, he was not dumb, he had seen the writing on the wall ever since Kim had arrived… her face had never been made for smiles, she had suffered a lot, one of those people who had enjoyed a large family and group of friends and saw everything torn to shreds around her.

Herrera remembered how they became acquainted, she had found him while scavenging, had recognized the goal making star that the people had embraced as the Matador, had warmed up to him, had told him about this time she had accompanied her little brother to a soccer match while visiting her mother´s side of the family.

She really got lost in thought, she was reliving those events as she spoke, how her brother… Joseph had screamed his lungs out when Herrera scored a goal in a match that had them against the ropes, how that had filled the red devils with a renewed vitality that made them push the Chelsea back, how they had remounted from a losing game of 3-0 to a daring and grueling tie that was 3-3 that tasted like victory.

That was all she had said about her brother, Jesus did not meant to pry… he could not imagine it having a happy ending, nothing had a happy ending these days, he could only imagine things back at Mexico… maybe it had been different there, maybe the gringos had this thing tied up and figured out at America, maybe the old world was the exception rather than the norm.

Don't be a fool

He had always wondered what was Reynold´s deal, it was clear that she wasn't interested in males, Herrera had tried something once and it was so embarrassing and awkward that they both pretended it never happened, it was clear that for Kim to be attracted to someone they had to be rid of their member. It had occurred him more than once that either Winters or October could be really good friends with Kim, but he had never pursued the matter

They would not let him see her, at least he had the luck to be able to say goodbye to her… so few people could cherish that in this new lifestyle

She had remained stoic even in her last moments hulled down in the fortress of her own mind waiting to die, it kind of like if she was seeing another person dying the idea of someone being so accustomed to death that they could face their own with such an indifferent feeling was… it was a sign of the times but try as he might Herrera could not get used to all the death

When the notice came out that she had left some unfinished business in the forestry office he jumped at the call, it was a personal affair… sort of, the woman had taught him the job of scavenging, he had developed his own style after 3 successful raids and one that… one that could have come off way worse than what it did.

A career in football had shown him that, there are no failures just… different forms of success.

In any case this was his reckoning, he had performed under her tutelage and they all looked to him as the newcomer who kept getting lucky and had an easier time just because of who he was before this shit hit the fan. But no more, he had the slight feeling that ol Monroe would have left him where Kim found him if it had been up to him… but he was a man of action and Herrera had bested many barriers to have been able to place himself in his current position.

With the world gone to hell and none to give a fuck?


He had gotten up early, as he always did, unlike the others his sleep came easy and hard, waking up with the sun was part of his life even predating his training routine when he was the goal leader.

If he could help it there would be no way that the circumstances would play against him, the Mexican knew that in the night the Zombies had a less than stellar sight but he was not fond of the idea of carrying a lamp and making a target of himself, having to keep one eye where he step and the other ahead while on the move… many had been grabbed by the ankles while on the run by the crawlers and if one added the probable odds of being chased by runners. Well Jesus liked his continued existence enough to not make a lesson for the other scavengers.

Herrera had made an effort of trying to get a good time advantage before he arrived at the Forestry Office, the report that Reynolds had given about the place gave some good clues, it was, as the name might give away, a place surrounded by nothing but grass and trees which meant he could not get to the roof of the place by the adjacent structures and work his way down, he would have to find some way to avoid the first floor completely and climb from the outside or try to gamble through unknown territory. Kim had also noted that the place was packed with runners.

She always liked to take the tough ones, said she could take em… you stupid cunt


When he arrived to the place he felt his guts diminish, it looked like a really hard job, the structure looked like a fortress rather than an office, with barred windows and a fenced wall protecting the structure and tall tower whose function Jesus could only make wild guesses at.

Only has one clear entrance, the main gate… hmm once I'm through the fence then what?

For what had been told the place looked awfully peaceful, things like a bent over and wrecked main gate were clear signs of past transgression but besides that there was not much to be seen or heard, some of the barred windows on the lower floor had been smashed and stained curtains flapped inwards and outwards as much as the stretch breaks in the bars allowed them to.


It was hard to get a good feeling of the runners with so much obstructing his field of view, Herrera did notice that there were a couple of cars outside… it was a small shame really, he had never bothered to learn to drive so even if he could somehow make them start he would crash before reaching the outside of the fenced compound.
The tower was far too elevated to use as a dropping point to the 3 tiered compound, a fall from there would probably cripple him, so that option was outside of his choices, one of the cars, a van was close to one of the windows on the second floor, but with those things barred it was a moot effort trying to figure a climbing order.

Never move without a plan

That was one of his maxims of life, in and outside the playing field he always had clear goals, clear courses of action to fall back, scenarios that he played over and over in his mind till he could chose one that could fit into what he wanted out of life.

Still it was impossible to make anything without getting closer, and that was precisely what he had wanted to avoid, on his next visit at Haven he would make a point to request binoculars, he was good with those, one could not see much from the top seats of a Mexican stadium without those, besides he always practiced use of those when he was busy ogling scantily clad cheerleaders, but that had been years ago.

Like a man amidst sleeping Lions, the shooter moved slowly and calmly towards the ruined gate and he saw things much more clearer now, giving much needed perspective to his approach.

The main door had been smashed with… something, probably a car looking at the structural damage of the 2 doored frame and the quantity of broken glasses splattered there, also the entrance of the tower had been cleaved open by, what Herrera guessed, an axe since chops of wood remained on both ends of the door giving it an egg shaped form.

Now that he saw the windows there was a view of shapes standing there, the Mexican took a deep sigh as he realized that if he was seen things would get really ugly really fast, probably outdoing Kim as far as grim fate went, but realizing it late he saw that some of the window bars had been smashed or torn open, the magnitude of the force needed to do such thing gave Herrera a shiver but he now saw that he could use these damages on the iron work on the first level to act as steps to make his way to a wrecked window on the second floor.

He just had to find the matching criteria, treading lightly around the building Herrera had eyes peeled and ears open for anything he might come across… try as he might he could not get used to the eerie calm surrounding such tense activities, at last he found a second window that looked torn up enough to allow his passage while having a lower floor clear of hostiles.

Quiet like a snake Herrera observed with the stealth that would make a great thief, this corridor that he had entered looked vacant of zombies not so of echoes of violence, shards of glass littered the walkways, blood splattered on walls and pieces of cloth and shoes all over the place… yet not a corpse on sight.

His ears heard the sounds of several steps on the move, terror gripped him when none of those gave evidence of limping and they sounded like a march on his training fields might, his confidence began to wane but he remembered that it should not take an effort beyond finding a hard drive and butting out of there… it was a bathroom so that would save him the trouble of having to peer into every door into quite possibly unpleasant surprises.

The corridor eventually ended and on its corner Jesus could spy away 3 shapes that matched hostiles, there was a white haired one sitting on a chair, the rocking of its head gave away the fact that it was a problem, another one stood giving its back to Herrera looking to the other end the flies circling its body as well as it ragged looks made it clear that it was another one to look out for… it was definitely a runner and the last shape was another individual with its back slumped against the wall, his wrist was missing and bites on him were prominent, the question was if it could spring up and cause trouble.

I really wish I had something for these.

Jesus figured out a plan, there were empty soda cans… he would do something really stupid and risky, at least if anybody but him tried it.

Zombies went for movement and sound like moths do to light… a well timed and placed kick to a can would make a fuss on the opposite end of the corridor, hopefully sending the runner that way and with luck the other 2 as well. He was about to fire up a shot that would have sent the crowd wild but then a sharp cry broke the stillness of the place making all 4 of them stir up… Herrera had failed to spot one that was covered by rubish

“Chingada madre” one heartbeat later they were hot on his trail and back he was from the way he came from, then from the opposite end he saw a kid with half of his face missing running his way, he wished he had only it to worry about but there was unpleasant company and so much as a grab could be the end. He tried the first door on his right, nothing. The distance between the kid and the steps at his back drew nearer, second door gave in to an empty office with a computer and a desk, without a moment to waste Herrera closed it and pulled the desk to block the entrance with what little time he had, the door was half open by the time the desk met it, and even closed as it was an arm broke through the wooden door groping for flesh.

A quick look at his surroundings gave hope to the Mexican, glass walls separated offices much like the one he was currently in, the gap in the door grew larger and with so little options Herrera was quick to get the office chair and smash it against the glass clearing his way to the next one, he would make his way to the last one and figure his way from there on, by the time he was to the second office the upper half of one of the zombies was already crawling in the sound of the shattering fueling their zeal but by the time one of them had fully made his way through Herrera was already unlocking the last door and renewing his escape.

Fuck this, Fuck the drive

One of the pillars of life for Herrera was… when the game looks bad don't focus on winning, focus on not losing and right now the hard drive was taking a backseat to getting out alive.

He was sure sooner or later the zombies on his trail would catch up to him, they had blocked the path he had used to get in and something told him that all the ruckus he had made was only drawing the ones on the floors above and below to him, it was a surprise they had not poured down into him by now, but the quick eyes of the Mexican saw an open window on the corridor he was in, one that had a van underneath it

Lucking good!

He made a quick jump to it while the echoes of the chase behind him were still fresh and upon his landing on it of all things an alarm triggered and he knew just how many of the bitters would come after that sound, all that he had left was running.

Had he been wiser he might have questioned why the van had an alarm,
Had he been paying attention he might have made out the sounds of gunshots
Had he been smarter he would have asked himself whose cry was the one that drew the zombies to him before he could lure them away with the can

But he was fast, and right now there was no place like Haven

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Jonathan Monroe Character Portrait: Delaney Byron Character Portrait: Jesus "Matador" Herrera Character Portrait: October "Toby" Harrison Character Portrait: Character Portrait:
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

A collaboration with Romaneck and UnderSavaveEternity
November 4th
Part 1: Hello
Laney stomped through the snow, unhappy. She wasn't at all sure she'd said what she really wanted to Ben. She'd felt his heartbeat under his fingers. She hoped she'd get to feel it again.

She wrapped her layers around her tightly. Ugh, she hated snow. Sure, London had seen some cold, white winters in recent years, but up here, exposed, away from the comforts of the city, the wind bit sharped and dug its icy fingers deeper. There was no diving into a Costa for hot chocolate up here in the hills.

She rounded a corner and found her partners for this mission waiting for her, Toby and Jesus. Toby she'd seen around Haven quite a bit, but it was hard to get a conversation going with her. Jesus, well. she'd not gone out of her way to talk to him. It wasn't because he had been an even bigger star back in the old world than she was. Not entirely. But he wore his fame so easily, hardly even noticed in fact. And Monroe knew who he was, whereas he called her 'X Factor'. Even Ben knew who Jesus was, even though Laney had thought Americans didn't like soccer - what little she knew about the game anyway. But no, Mexico were America's big rivals, apparantly. Still flustered by her brief meeting with Ben, she merely nodded at her two companions and picked up the rifle and Scav Pack she'd left at the door.

Jesus was deep in thought. Things were simply not the same anymore, and it wasn't just the fact that the whole doomsday had come. It was simply that without Kim... things simply could not be the same, did not felt the same. The task at the forestry office had been his opportunity to redeem himself, to prove his worth... He had done scavenging tasks before, simple things like delivering and retrieving satchels, bringing bottles of water back home - simple stuff. But the minute things began to get dicey, for some reason he had dropped it completely.

And people had not been blind to the fact. Jesus had insisted to be left more scav hunts on his own, yet Monroe had been wiser than that. When a man who has tasted success for so long suddenly can't clean his defeat, they tend to be reckless in their pursuit to reafirm their self-worth, so now seemed to be a good time to have him deployed in a way that would have him be of use without fear of getting himself killed.

Monroe knew that Jesus was a team player, and he also could tell that the safety of others would take priority to the Mexican... or at least he could hope so.

Still Jesus had his doubts. He had heard that there was another group ganging up on them. The so-called rescue mission had turned into an armed assault report. In hindsight, Jesus should have passed on this one. He had never fired a rife before. He had premier aim, yes, but that was with his legs. The only way he could see this working was if at some point he would have to kick the bullets into a goal keeper. The chances of that seemed less than unlikely.

Jesus walked towards the others, he had been the last one out. "Hello people." He had not spent much time around them but they were all Scavs now. Jesus would see if he could have them all wear sport jerseys with numbers on them, to keep the team spirit. "Jesus Herrera at your service, call me J if you have something with taking the Lord's name in vain". He was slightly shocked at how reluctant the people of the old world had been to calling him by his full first name. "Or Matador will do if you remeber my shoots."

"Actually I think we had already met?" he said to Laney. " I think I saw you with one of my mates, Carlos Romano was it? I don't remember really, might be mixing you up with someone else."

Carlos Romano. Ugh. Laney glared at Jesus for bringing up an ugly part of her life in the old world. She'd briefly dated the footballer when she was 17, when the tabloids were just cottoning on to the fact that the child star was becoming a wild child. the Mexican played for one of the London clubs, Arsenal or Chelsea, she wasn't sure, but he was the polar opposite type of footballer from Jesus. Carlos was slow and brutal and had a habit of dirty play - and he was much the same in bed. She'd been blamed for breaking up his marriage, but judging by the number of starlets who had flirted with him that night the Mexico team took over The Cat Club, the damage had been done a long time ago. She hadn't noticed Jesus there, but when 20 millionaire footballers go raging in a nightclub, it's hard to keep track of everyone.

'He was an asshole,' was all Laney replied.

"Well..." Seems like they hadn't parted ways warmly from the disgust in her face. "He was kind of full of himself." He certainly was hoping for a happier reaction, or at the very least a nostalgic one, but they all dealed differently with it. For himself the answer came simply, be swallow, be simple and dont think to much.

Toby hung back as the two other Scavs were speaking. She had noticed the girl - Laney - around Haven quite a bit but never felt any real urge to talk to her. The other one she didn't remember really ever seeing around. Jesus or something, though she had a bit of a problem calling him that. She approached them quietly, as if not actually there in body but definitley in mind. Toby didn't know what to make of them yet, but from the sounds of their conversation they at least had a bit of knowledge on one another. That's good though, the less they knew about her the more leeway she had in a conversation. "Hey there," she started, looking at each of them inquisitively, trying her hardest not to act as awkward as she felt. She would rather have not said anything at all, because at least then she could go along the mission quietly without too much awkward conversations between them. "I'm Toby," she said, though she knew they probably already knew who she was.

The Caravanners' runners - what they called Scavs - arrived shortly afterwards. Laney recognised Jake as he strode forward to shake her hand; he obviously believed in this mission's secondary purpose of fostering good relationships between Haven and Eden Valley Caravan Park. Laney introduced him to Toby and Jesus. Turned out Jake, too, was a Jesus Herrera fan. Behind Jake, a woman in her 30s scowled and toyed with her rifle strap. 'Come on, United Colours of Benetton,' she snapped. 'Let's go find this mystery gang of killers.' Jake made a calming gesture to the woman, patting the air with one hand. 'Sam is still upset about Tim. We all are.'

'Yeah, well, that's why our guy who saw it isn't coming today,' said Laney. 'Too much tension. You met him, Jake, down at the chicken factory.'

'Ben. I remember. Good kid.'

After poring over the map, the group set off for Davis Crag shortly after midday. Thick cloud cover prevented the sun from melting the snow, but there were no further falls. The Caravanners kept up a brisk pace, knowing daylight would be short and they would have to return to Eden Valley before dusk. At least it kept them all warm. Sam strode ahead silently, mouth set in a steely grimace. Jake was pressing Jesus about his soccer exploits.

"The way you scored that goal against the Ajax was the thing of legends!" Jesus was getting to know the so-called Runners. Jake gave off the impression that he was a sport enthusiast; he was a fan of the Chelsea "Yes, im not going to say it was a lucky shot, but the pass that Glenn gave me sealed their fate"

Laney fell back with Toby. 'You okay?' the younger girl said after several minutes.

Toby didn't quite know how to answer the question. She didn't assume the rest of the group hadn't seen their share of horrors, but it felt like since she'd come to Haven, all she'd seen was death. Human death, not just Stiffs. The hanged mother and the starved child down on that abandoned farm appeared in her dreams still, and she'd avoided Tilo since their mission to the Hamilton Hotel; she didn't want to relive the despair in William Rand's eyes.

'Yeah, okay,' she huffed eventually.

That was the extent of their conversation until they arrived at the crag. Sam brought the group to a stop where she'd found her friend's body. The way she glared at the Haven crew, it was clear they weren't beyond her suspicions yet.

'The way Ben told me,' Laney spoke up, 'he was behind some rocks, kind of looking down on it, so he must have been... up there?' She pointed to a crest above them. 'And the gang left...' she pointed up a gravelly ravine up the Crag, 'in that direction.'

Part 2: The Hunt
After an hour examining the area, and with no real leads, the decision was easy to take the path the killers had taken up into the mountains. The going was slow, a 40ft climb with the snow turning to ice in patches. Toby's cheeks burned as she slipped for what felt like the hundredth time; Sam and Jesus had already reached the top of the ravine, a third of the way up the mountain. 'Makes sense, no zombies are going to climb that,' she heard the Caravanner say as she finally joined them. Toby briefly wondered if that was a jibe at her lack of dexterity.

Catching their breath, the group turned to look out over the valley in front of them, taking turns to point out some of the landmarks they'd visited. Laney quickly noted Tull Hollow and Tull Lake, but kept to herself what she'd seen there; she didn't know how far to trust the Caravanners. Toby nodded to Hamilton Hotel, and Jake pointed the road that rounded the shoulder of another high hill that hid Eden Valley Caravan Park off to the east. Everyone automatically turned to the west, where Haven lay over several more horizons.

'If they're up here, they'll have seen us going about our business the last few weeks,' Laney muttered.

'They're not up here,' replied Sam testily. 'There's nothing up here, too exposed.' As if to prove her point, a sharp gust of wind tore at everyone's clothing. Racing through the rocks above them, the wind did a reasonable impression of a groaning zombie. 'No-one came up here, this Ben is telling fibs. Why's that, d'ya think?'

Anger flashed through Laney like a slap. 'Hey! Back off, bitch,' she snapped.

It was a good thing that Jake and Jesus had almost instantly found a common ground. Laney had grown a thick skin even before the fall - being a public figure either hardened or burned you - and this Sam looked like she was a great example of a female canine.

Jesus and Jake were between the pair in an instant. 'Alright Sam, alright," he soothed. 'I'm telling you, that kid's okay. I believe him. And you know Jane does too, so let's just get on with it. Besides,' he said, pointing over the woman's shoulder, then turning her around, 'what's up there?'

A wisp of white smoke contrasted with the dark clouds. It was coming from the other side of the crest of the mountain. Sam turned away from Laney and led the group up a raised ledge of rock. They found themselves looking down on a secluded little valley, almost as if a giant had scooped a handful out of the mountain. Inside the gentle slope stood a stone cottage with smoke rising from the chimney, and behind it a few wooden outbuildings.

'There must be someone inside,' said Jake. 'What about the smoke? Jesus, you want to check it out?'

Straight out of a poor slum, there was a building that had not been subjected to some good maintenance, but there was no question about it... that chimney had not lit itself. "What do you make of it?" Jesus had a bad feeling about this, but then again he had not had a good feeling about anything since Kim had been bitten.

The Eden Valley runners joined Jesus at the cottage. Laney slipped her rifle to her shoulder and squinted along its barrel. Jake gave the door a gentle shove, and even as Sam muttered 'Be careful,' a now familiar growl went up, and from out of the darkness stumbled two of zombies. Jake dispatched the first, a tall, slender being, with a practised stab of a sharpened iron bar through the eye. The creature fell awkwardly and dragged the bar from his hands. As the second creature, a ragged, torn, grey thing that might once have been an old woman, stepped up to him, Jake reached out to grab both its hands to keep it at bay. His right hand passed through thin air - this zombie was missing its left arm from the elbow up - and it pivoted round and buried its face in Jake's chest. Sam and the Scavs sprang forward as Jake tumbled to the ground, but as even as they did, from the door of the cottage a seething wedge of zombies burst out and fell where Jake lay to feast.

'Jaaaaakkkkkke!' The scream burst from Sam like something solid, the woman bent double in shock and anger. Immediately, the zombies who could not get near Jake were alerted; seven or eight stood clumsily and turned towards them. Fear gripping Jesus tightly, sprang to action admist his colliding sorrow and fear being the closest to the cottage when the zombies emerged, blasted one in the chest with his shotgun and sprinted past it as it was knocked to the ground. 'Back to the ravine,' he shouted, dragging Sam after him, his arm trobbed with the kickback of the firearm, but right now his golden rule was in play - Focus on not losing before going for the victory

From their vantage point, Toby and Laney could see at least 12 zombies in the chasing pack, two in particular closing ground on Jesus as he struggled to bring Sam with him. Laney checked her aim and fired. The rifle bucked wildly and slammed back into her shoulder. Beside her, Toby picked up a stone the size of her fist and threw it in a high arc. It caught the nearest chaser in the chest, knocking it to the ground. Then they, too, turned and ran.

The group slipped and slithered down the ravine and, ignoring cuts and bruises, turned to watch as the first zombie stepped onto the steep, rocky incline. It immediately lost its footing and plunged headlong down the 40ft drop, hitting almost every rock on the way down and landing in a crumpled heap. The rest of the pack followed mindlessly; soon there was a pile of smashed bodies at the foot of the ravine. A number tried to stand or crawl on shattered, buckling limbs; the Scavs watched uncomfortably as Sam strode among them, slashing and hacking with a wicked-looking machete. Finally, covered in gore, she sank to the ground, her arms wrapped around her knees.

Part 3: Crosshairs
'Sam?' Toby asked cautiously as she caught up to the woman, who seemed to be feeling a mulitude of angry emotion at the loss of her friends. Toby got it, she really did, but she also knew it wasnt quite healthy for Sam to be holding things in like this. Sam gave her a heart-stopping look that sent nervous jitters through Toby. She tried to keep her facial expression calm and collected. She was still on the ground, hugging her knees in a position that looks all too feeble for the woman. Toby didn't quite know what to say, but knelt down anyway, looking Sam dead in the eye despite the feelings of anger radiating from the woman.

'I know this sucks, but you've got to pull it together, Sam, its the only way you'll make it through this.' The words rushed out of her mouth like a tidal wave she couln't seem to stop, and she somehow felt some of the anger edge off of Sam. 'It hurts to lose someone close, to feel that they aren't here anymore,' Toby stopped to take a stuttering breath. She herself felt weak-kneed now. She stood before giving Sam her final words, 'But he wouldn't want you to lose your mind because of these feelings of anger.'

Laney cautiously approached them. 'Listen, Sam, I'm sorry bout Jake but we're starting to lose the light. We should go...'
'I'm not leaving Jake up there,' Sam stated grimly, hauling herself to her feet. 'Not to become one of them.' It might have been due to their sudden bonding but Jesus could understand Sam here. If he had given the choice to go back for Kim at the hearth of the zombie onslaught he would have done it. "I can go with her" Jesus blurted, but as far as he could tell it had gone unnoticed.

'We should really get back to Haven. Or Eden Valley. You can't help Jake now.'

'Jake bought your little story, you and the Yank. But maybe I don't. So we keep looking for this gang, or maybe I'll start thinking Haven did kill Tim.'

Laney felt she had to speak out, Toby and Jesus weren't going to. 'This is bullshit, Sam, soon we won't be able to see a thing. We're walking into a trap, or more Zeds.'

The older woman whirled around, grabbed Laney by the shoulder, dragged her face up to her own, wild-eyed.

'It's not like before, little girl,' Sam snarled. 'There's no daddy's millions to protect you now, no coppers. It's just you and your friends now. You find one of your friends dead - killed by human hands, not zombies - it's up to you to kill the fucker who did it." She reached behind her and pulled out a pistol, pointing it back up the ravine for emphasis. 'That's what I'm doing for Tim. You telling me you wouldn't to that for your Latino friend there, or or this Ben guy or any of the other happy clappy family you got up at that farm?'

Toby could have ignored the way the woman grabbed at Laney, spouting put-downs. But then, that would have weighed heavy on Toby just as everything else has done. She held her weapon steady, pointing at Sam. She knew this could be viewed as an attack but Toby had her own moral codes to live by, even if she didn't exactly hang around like the others as she could. Any moment Toby could simply choose to be the lone wolf, but at this time she decided its time to stand up and stop acting like she can get by without making a few good friends. 'Back off missy,' Toby hissed. 'I know you think this is the best way to get a point across, but all you're doing is making us all a hell of a lot more nervous.'

'You can think what you want about Haven, but putting other down isnt going to solve your problems.' Toby knew all too well that this was true. 'Lets just stop being assholes to each other so we can get shit done.'

Sam, standing nearly half a foot taller than Toby, appeared to deflate in the face of her harsh words. She let go Laney's jacket, even straightened it for her. She briefly looked down at the ground, swallowed, and then faced the Haven women. She opened her mouth to speak.

Blood splattered across Toby's face.

Toby could have lived a million years without feeling the blood of another woman on her face, she gasped like a fish out of water. Laney leapt between them, thinking Sam had struck Toby, but the Eden Valley woman staggered into her arms. Steam rose into the frigid air from a hot, thick gush of blood streaming from the crook of Sam's neck. As her weight dragged Laney to the ground, another shot rang out from above. Five figures stood at the top of the ravine, two pointing rifles down at the Scavs and Sam.

'Where the fuck - ' Laney cried out, trying to gather Sam in her arms and scramble to her feet at the same time.

'Get down!,' said Jesus, his quick reflexes already having taken him into cover next to a thick tree. 'Its a fucking trap and we took the bait.'

Toby dragged Sam off Laney and behind an rocky outcrop. Laney slid in next to her, dragging the rifle off her back and resting it on the rock. She set it to her shoulder as Monroe had demonstrated, looked along its length and yanked the trigger. There was no way of knowing where the shot went, Laney only knew Monroe would have yelled at her for not using a gentle squeeze on the trigger, but the crack of the rifle reverberated around Davis Crag and the five figures above them dived for cover.

'She's still breathing,' Toby bit out as she pulled the first aid kit from her backpack. 'Can't say more than that.'

Laney racked her brains for more of Monroe's military teachings. There was nothing about leapfrogging with an injured party, but the gang had the higher ground and that was never good news. She fired again, this time with more precision, and was satisfied to see a plume of snow jump up from the top of the ravine. At least that shot had gone somewhere near where she'd intended.

'We've got to get her back to Doc Short,' said Toby. Sam's breathing was ragged but regular as she slipped in and out of concsiousness. 'But that lot will just pick us off.' As if to emphasise her point, a bullet from above ricocheted nearby.

'Eden Valley's closer, right?' replied Laney. 'And the way's less hilly.' She caught Toby's wary look. 'Their leader's spoken to Callie and Monroe. We'll be safe. And we can't lead them back to Haven.'

'How do we...' Another shot whizzed by, and Toby and Laney ducked instincively. Laney wondered if Toby even knew she'd covered Sam's body with her own.

'Jesus,' she called out to the soccer star, louder and slower than necessary. 'Get back to Haven, bring help.' She hoped he didn't think she was being loud and clear because he was foreign. She hoped he could see her winking from here. 'Lose them along the way,' she whispered.

"We'll be here by nightfall" he shouted back. There was going to be vegeance for this outrage. He was going to make sure Monroe took everyone who could use a gun here. They had to bring the flamethrowers and the assault rifles and the AK-forthysomethings here, make a crater the size of Belgium with these cunts.

The Mexican crouched into a sprinting position and Laney let off a volley of shots at the top of the ravine. That much she remembered from Monroe's lessons. Squinting against the failing light, she thought she saw at least four figures moving parallel to the direction Jesus had taken. After giving them a few minutes to clear the area, Toby spoke up. 'Come on, we've got to get her out of here.'

'We're not going to make it to Eden Valley by nightfall,' mused Laney, patting her hatchet without thinking.

'You want to leave her here?' Toby snapped.

'Come on,' Laney replied, slinging the rifle over her shoulder and fixing in her mind the Eden Valley road Jake had pointed out earlier that day. 'I fucking hope Jesus is going to be okay.'

Part 4: Run for their lives
Here he had to think and do it fast. Part of his third world chivarly wanted him to go back and help the women out... there was something just plain wrong about the ladies staying behind while the man took to the hills, but he was the fastest of them all and God knew that, had he stayed, their current predicament would have gone further downhill.

He regained a boost to his pride when he saw that he was being followed... by people with rifles! Motherfuckin' rifles.

The first thing he had to do was lose them. Jesus was not going to chance it on poor aim - if he was caught in an open field he knew he was as good as dead and that, with the snow, the option of hiding was out of the window. The only choice was diving deep into a hive of Z's and praying that they would be more interesed in the second servings than in the appetiser, and with the sunlight starting its rapid decline this was the only outcom that could see him alive and well.

Well, the first option would be getting to the nearby gas station and from there work his way from there. He had gone there only once and it had been a quick lookout for a tire... there were so many things that could go wrong, but as the thunderous roar of a firearm shook his ears he suddenly found worrying less and less about what could go wrong in the far future and more in what could be done to get there.

Taking quick and misleadings turns, the Mexican was gowing bolder that his hand was for once stacked. He glanced backwards looking for signs of his assailants but found nothing. The lingering question on how long had it been sine he lost them left him puzzled. Also it was a relief that came with a sharp guilt, for it was almost a certainty that resources that were not being spent on his persecution would be deployed on targeting those he had left behind. He was not a guy good with math or logistics but the chances of the Scavs and the dying runner were slim, and that was if one was wildly optmistical.

Legs throbbed with pain and his huffed breath against the winter's cold was visible... he was not going to walk out of this as a bastion of health. A flu would be in order and there a the fact that he was working against time, time that drew ever shorter for those that so desperately needed it. Gotta get to Haven... Old man Monroe will know what to do

He clutched the radio tight enough to squeeze juice out of it. He only had to get near enough to get the message, each step taking him closer and closer as the hot sweat clashed against the cold winter winds. Every once in a while he gave a look backwards to confirm if he was leaving a trail or if he had a tail, but all he was could see was the darkness of the night accompanied by the silence of the grave.

The running had slowed down to a jog and from that to a fast walk, pain flared through his kneecaps, the wearied body urging him to stop and take a rest and the temptation to take a seat and catch his breath was eve more alluring. He could get farther and faster if he took one quick break right? Then the image of Toby´s blood-splattered face came crashing to his mind and he found himself renewing his efforts, all that was needed was that he gave the message.

It was all he had to do, dodging zombies was a cakewalk compared to dodging bullets, you could fool zed, you could rattle some cans and zack would answer... but a group of armed nutcases out for blood was frightening. They had always killed at least one of the runners or the scavs on each engagement - people who risked their lives daily to outdo the infected.

But he could not crack, he had to stay focused. It was just a change in the game. Some of the slow people would fall, yes, but those who were up to it would bite back. Nobody fucked up with Haven. Jesus had the feelin that Monroe would wrap this up in no time. He had this "retired badass" feel and look to him, they would sort them out good, and recall these adverse times to pull the through in the dark days ahead.

His radio cracked. He had been pushing the transmiting button all this time... who knows how much time had passed since he had been in range. He was still some 40 minutes or so away from Haven. "Answer back who is this?! Over?" He let the message through and then with his dry and rasp voice gathered as much sense as he could. "It was an ambush, one of the runners is dead and the other gravely wounded! Toby and Byron left beind, over." The answer was inmediate. "Who the fuck is this? What's going on?" Herrera had fallen on his knees. "This is scavenger Jesus Herrera, you need to tell Monroe that it was an ambush, we got an armed group preying on us, Toby and Laney stayed behind to make me slip! They need all the cavalry they can get!"

There was some silence as surely the other reciever chewed on what he just had told and the numerous ramifications that this all entailed. 'Get back here, son,' Monroe snapped. 'Out.'

Soon Jesus sat before Monroe and Callie, panting, gasping. Even for one with his peak fitness, it had been a long run. So he hardly had breath to object when Monroe refused his request to send out the rescue for Toby and Laney. 'We can't see shit, son. We can't risk more lives when we don't even know where they are, if they're alive.'

Part 5: Carry the weight
Laney was happy to let Toby carry most of Sam's weight. With thick bandages swaddling her neck and shoulder, the bleeding had mostly been stopped, but still she was drifting in and out of consciousness, stumbling and occasionally falling. Sam grew heavier as Toby continued on, huffing with the exertion of keeping the woman's weight from dragging them down. It had been a while since she'd had to lift a body, and she was definitely having a hard time lifting one thats nothing more than dead weight in her arms.With Laney insisting on the precaution of following the road from the field side, getting Sam over hedgerows took up valuable minutes.

As dusk fell, progress got even slower. The snow had one silver lining, as it were. Though it hampered movement, it reflected what little light remained. It was this that enabled Laney to see, as she jumped down from the hedgerow into another field, the outline of cluster of zombies up ahead. She couldn't see their exact movements, but the rising howls were enough to send her scrambling back over the hedgerow. Toby had heard it too, and was half-dragging, half-carrying Sam back the way they'd come.

'Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,' Laney muttered under her breath as she took Sam's other arm. The hedgerow held the zombies up a bit, but soon Laney's regular glances over her shoulder revealed darker shadows against the light grey of the carpet of snow. 'Go,' she hissed to Toby. 'Get over the next hedge and we can maybe hold them off.' She shrugged out from under Sam's arm again, and turned to face the oncoming zombies.

Not for the first time that day, the different ages and physical conditions of the zombies had spread out the pack. What must have been a particularly recent victim was closing fast. Laney swung her hatchet down in an overhead chop, hoping to avoid its arms and hit the head in the poor light. She must have swung a fraction of a second too late; her fingers smashed down on top of the zombie's skull as the thick, heavy blade lodged in the back of its head. The now incapacitated creature slumped and tumbled past her, wrenching the hatchet from her hand with a vicious twist that sent shocks through her wrist. There was no time to react to the pain; another dark grey shape loomed up in front of her. With her left hand, she reached across her shoulder and grabbed the rifle by the muzzle and swung it like a club. Her wild lunge caught the creature in the side, sending it sprawling, one grasping arm tangling in the rifle's strap and ripping it from her grasp. She glanced back at Toby and Sam, peered at the approaching pack, and turned on her heels.

'Leave her,' she barked at Toby. Even in the gloom, she could see the shock on the older woman's face.

'Leave her!' Laney screamed. 'Leave her, drop her, or we're all fucked!' She wrenched at Sam's loose-hanging arm with her left hand, tried to pry Toby's grasp loose with her right, only for the pain in her damaged wrist and fingers to make itself felt and force her to give up the fight. A body barrelled into the back of the trio, tumbling them to the ground. Laney sprang to her feet and instinctively held out her hand. The grip that fixed to it was warm and firm, and Laney dragged Toby to her feet, barely conscious of how foolish she'd just been.

As they reached the last hedgerow they'd crossed, the sounds of crunching and ripping reached their ears. As they slithered through the gap they'd made - Laney first, Toby close behind and panting - there was a brief scream; Sam must have regained conciousness just before she died. Laney tugged on Toby's jacket to make sure she followed, didn't return for the doomed woman. Then she remembered her escape from Cromwell, and rummaged around in her backpack for her torch. Switching it on, she threw it as far as she could away from them. Then they clambered over the stone wall, crossed the road and re-entered the field on the other side. Hopefully the multiple barriers would be enough to hide them from the pack of zombies once their distraction was gone. Any more movement would either see them run into zombies in the dark or alert the pack behind them as to their location.

'Toby?' Laney hissed as they hunkered down. 'Toby?'

Don't tell her. You can't be sure.

Laney knew the older woman was the quiet type, but didn't know if the brooding silences were signs of emotional fragility or just unfriendliness.

You have to tell her.

The way she'd spoken up for Laney, the way she'd carried Sam, Laney feared it was the former. 'Toby, there was nothing we could do.'

Quick or slow? It's your last choice.

Her lips were practically on Toby's ear now. 'Toby, we've got to keep warm til it's light.' She huddled up as close as she could get to Toby. Toby was as tense and still as a stone.

Don't touch me, don't touch me.

'Toby?' Laney whispered falteringly, rubbing her fingers together. 'Is this... Where's this blood coming from?'

No no no no no no no it can't be real.

There was silence in the field as the two women sat with their heavy thoughts. The bite on Toby's shoulder stang a little, but the cold creeping over her mostly numbed it. She thought of the woman she'd found hanging from the rafters in the farmhouse, and the child starved in the cupboard. She thought of William Rand, dying alone in that hotel room, his last thoughts with his son. She had no child to think of in this moment, no parent, no lover. Perhaps this was the right thing to happen. The hanged woman waved at her. She heard the starved child's cries. William Rand reached out to her, his lips moving. She leaned closer, staying just out of the reach of his embrace, to hear what he was saying.

'I have Sam's pistol,' he said.

'Toby, I have Sam's pistol,' Laney whispered. 'Do you... do you want me to do it?'

She took the pistol. It was satisfyingly heavy. Things shouldn't be light, not when they're about to do this.

Laney picked up Toby's axe and peered through the darkness. She couldn't make out much, but the reflected light from the snow showed up in Toby's eyes. They were clear, dry and wide open.

'Give me five minutes to get away.'

November 5th
Part 6: Goodbye
Shortly before dawn, as she drifted in and out of consciousness in a small copse, Laney had realised her injured hand had stopped hurting. Her wrist had stiffened up completely, and her first and middle finger were badly swollen. She'd been unable to pull herself up into the high branches of one of the trees because of it, which is why she'd spent the night in a hollow at the base of the tree. Now, as she fumbled left-handed with the gate into Haven, she was thwarted by the shivers that ran through her entire body. She kept seeing Toby's eyes, kept hearing the muffled shot that had cracked open the silence of the night as she'd stumbled away, and cracked open the hard shell Laney had wrapped around her pain and fright at Toby's fate. She'd wept then, and she wept again as she fell into Jesus's arms when he raced down from the farmhouse, his face etched with tension and frustration.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Benjamin Kinney Character Portrait: Mark Lawson Character Portrait: Erin Hooper Character Portrait: Jesus "Matador" Herrera Character Portrait: Character Portrait:
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

#, as written by Messiah

Collaboration with Rann

November 5th, 2013

Part One: Hopeless

Late Evening

Click. Click. Click.

Shane sat across from Ben, silent. The latter kept his head down, but he knew that the younger of the two brothers was staring at him. He could hear the clicking of the man's knife blade. In and out. In and out.

Ben looked up and Shane looked to him, smirking lopsidedly, "Does that bother you?" to which Ben gave no response.

Shane held in his hand a wallet now, and Ben recognized it as his own. He pulled out his driver's license.

"Benjamin Robert Kinney. Born August 20th, 1991, from... Seattle, Washington." He looked up, "Seattle, huh? How is Seattle?" Again, Ben gave no response. "The silent treatment, huh? Fine, then. But, you won't be quiet for long." Shane stood up, circled around Ben, and leaned in to whisper, "I promise."

He sat back down and looked to his license again, and laughed, "Oh, would you look at this. You're an organ donor, too! How... poetic."

The brother went silent again after that, putting Ben's license back into his wallet, and the wallet back in his pocket, and then resumed his routine.

Click. Click. Click.

Part Two: Getting Ready

After hearing her name, Hoppy left the briefing. She didn't care about Mark, or Caravanners, or whoever else was going to accompany them on the rescue hunt. None of that mattered. She fidgeted restlessly in the front of the barn, watching Monroe leave, as she gripped the cleaver tightly in her hand, occasionally swinging it around with a frustrated grunt. This was bullshit, wasn't it? It just wasn't right! While Ben might be lying, dead in a gutter from the zed swarm, she was sitting around, idly, as if none of it mattered in the slightest, while the higher ups did their thing, just talking about useless crap. What did it matter? What needed to happen was saving Ben! With an angr snarl, she thought about Laney. The actress... was it too much to think they've become friends in that short time? The small girl swung the cleaver again, wiping sweat off her brow at the exertion. Then again. It felt... good, imaigning a zed was there, taking the blow; blood and sinew fracturing as the stel blade chopped its way through. It felt natural. And that Laney, thinking that she couldn't handle it, because she was just a fucking little girl, or whatever it was, that pissed her off almost as much as the sitting around and chatting. In her mind, if she was ready to go up and charging into the rescue, after all this endless toil and weariness, then why couldn't anyone else grow the damn balls and get moving?

She scowled as she swung the cleaver down once more, this time striking at one of the bottles of dye; red ooze gushing out in spurts, a few drops getting onto her hoodie even, other parts splattering out onto the ground. It was red- it could have been blood. And the object she had just obliterated could have been a zed.

It should have been a zed. They should have been on the way to Cromwell by now. It's damn cold, and Ben was still out there.

And it was the idiotic girl's own fault, anyways, wasn't it?

"Best t'go alone..." She muttered to herself, drinking a swig of water; gulping the liquid down. "Else I might kill whoe'er else knocks about with this mess." She glared angrily at the red dye spurts. There's no way they were worth Ben's life. If getting rid of them would somehow help them find him, then she'd gladly destroy it all. The girl then set down the second bottle and began practicing her cleaver swings again. The better to kill Zeds with, right?

Part Three: Witnesses

Shane was getting impatient. With his head lowered again, Ben could see Shane's leg shaking. He even stood up once or twice, paced around the room and circled around Ben again. Ben had even once heard the brother muttering to himself, "Hurry up. Hurry up."

Finally, after what must have been ten or fifteen minutes when he heard a door creak open. It sounded wooden, and it sounded big.

Where the hell was this place?

Shane had noticed the noise as well, and stood up and walked out of the room they were in. Ben could hear them speaking, but if he were to guess, they really had no intention of hiding what they were saying.

The first voice was that of the young brother, "Can I start now?"

"After I talk to him," Mike responded.

In response, Shane seemed to giggle with delight before entering the room once again. As he did, he stepped towards Ben, brandishing his knife, but didn't use it. Instead, he simply stood a foot away, looking down on Ben. A moment later, Mike entered the room as well, bringing in a folding chair of his own. He set it down and took a seat upon it. What Ben found odd as he looked at the older brother was that he held a pencil and a notepad.

Mike leaned forward and looked Ben in the eyes, "Ben. I'm going to be honest with you. You won't be leaving here alive. But, you can help us."

"Fuck you," Ben spat.

"Let me explain. I'm here to record your final moments, but if we were just to kill you here and now, we wouldn't get to experience this intimate moment with you, and pain is a powerful way to get people to reveal the kind of person they really are." He looked to Shane at that, "And that's why my brother is here."

Ben looked to the man standing over him as well; he was shaking - no doubt with excitement - and he was grinning. With a disgusted scoff, Ben shook his head and turned back to Mike.

"So, please. If you would like to cry, scream, beg, or anything else, don't hold back. This is a haven for your feelings."

Haven. The word echoed in his brain, and he shook his head once more, as if trying to shake it out of his mind.

"Fuck you. You're both psychopaths."

Mike shook his head, then narrowed his eyes at Ben, "Don't even pretend like you know us." He motioned to his brother,"Okay," Mike said, leaning back in his chair, "You can start now."

Part Four: Going Out Again

"So that's where you were, Hoppy." Mark had come out, giving Hoppy somewhat of a cautious wave- she was in the middle of another swing of the cleaver, the second bottle of dye already exploded, and red spurts of liquid decorated the area where she sat. "I... hey, you mind if I sit down with you?"

The girl shrugged, and hooked the cleaver back into her jeans strap, looking almost dazedly at the spattered dye. Her restless fidgeting should have been a sign to any, really, that she really wanted to head out and just find Ben, alone or otherwise. That made her, at least at the moment, a loose cannon, and possibly a danger to the whole mission, if they had to chase and restrain her at the same time looking for the American. So he placed a hand on Hoppy's shoulder, getting her attention.

"Right, let's get going." He said kindly, looking into her eyes. "The Caravanners will rendezvous with us at Cromwell; they're probably already moving out. It won't be long until we're there, and we'll have Ben safely with us, with the truck. You'll see, it'll all-"

"Dun' be on spec, you twyp." Hoppy spat, before quickly getting up to her feet with a dirty scowl. Mark let out a sigh, before talking again.

"Look. You lost Chip, you think you'll lose Ben, and that's shit, okay?" He paused. "You probably lost all your friends and family from before too. We all have, right? You're not the only one here who's lost people, so you know we're working our asses off to keep that number a minimum." His voice started shaking as he thought, almost wistfully of Kim. "I lost someone... really important to me... and I don't want anyone else to feel that, if I can help it, okay?"

She shrugged impassively, frowning again; the two of them leaving Haven; next destination would be Cromwell. It was chilly, still, and Hoppy's body was worn, but the faster they went, the more they'd warm up.

"We're doing our best here. Don't think we don't care if Ben buys it or not, Hoppy." He gave her a reassuring smile; anything to try and make sure she wouldn't just run off at her first chance and recklessly shoot herself into Cromwell. "Just think, the smile on old man Monroe's face once we're all home safely, and he walks in, sees Ben home alive, safe and sound. Hell, something like that'd even make that guy grin."

He considered again, and let out a little chuckle. "Well, maybe a small grin."

"I en't need any o' you." Hoppy murmured, looking away. "I bet I could find 'im all on me own, an' be back on time. I oughta-"
The hand on her shoulder squeezed it tight, trying to calm the active girl down at least a little bit. She was already itching to get moving, and leave Mark behind. He'd only slow her down, right? "At least give us until we secure the truck." Mark offered. "You need at least one of us for driving it back, don't you?"

Hoppy grunted, obviously disliking it, but it was true. She doubted her driving skills were sufficient in doing anything extensive with the truck. So as much as it irked her, the frustrated girl paced herself along with Mark's stride, scowling at the man. "If youer'all 're too slow..." She trailed off. This really was a drag, waiting like this. Moving a bit away from Mark, she started, once again, practicing her swing to work off the pent up stress.

A minute later, Jesus arrived. Mark turned and offered a small smile, "Okay, then. I think we're ready to go." Looking between both Hoppy and Jesus, noting the awkward silence, before nodding and heading out, the other two following him close behind.

Part Five: Torture

Shane stood close with his knife in hand, looking Ben over carefully, as if looking for a good place to start. In fact, that seemed to be exactly what he was doing.

After a minute or two of this, he stopped searching and held out his knife. The metal blade stung the flesh on the right side of his abdomen. He winced, but he didn't allow himself to show more than that. In fact, he held his head up and looked at Mike in a specific act of defiance.

The younger brother stood up once again, looking Ben over carefully again, before stabbing the metal into his right bicep. Pain shot through his arm. He ducked his head down, letting out a quiet groan. There was no way he was going to scream or beg; he wouldn't give them that satisfaction, no matter what they pretended they were doing.

The two brothers looked to each other, and Shane spoke up, "He's a tough one, isn't he?"

"Mm," Mike grunted, looking back to his notepad, tapping it with his pencil, "Remember Edmond?" he asked, perhaps a little too casually.

"Oh yeah. Seemed like a real tough guy at first, didn't he?" He chuckled, leaning down to Ben, "Had him squealing about his girlfriend before too long and how she died in his arms. Turns out he wasn't as tough as he'd pretended to be."

"Ben, do you have a girlfriend? It's okay. You can tell me."

It reminded him of the typical therapist that you'd see on TV, 'How does that make you feel?' Except this was one fucked up therapist.

Then, his thoughts went to Laney. How was she taking this? Did she even know yet? He didn't imagine it would be long if she didn't already, and he could only imagine what she might be feeling right now.. If their positions were switched, he'd be going crazy and probably would have done something stupid by now, like go out and look for her, probably on his own.

"No," Ben responded. It wasn't entirely untrue.

"How about family?"

"I already told you about them," he murmured.

"You didn't tell me their names."

"Fuck you."

"Have it your way. Shane?"

"With pleasure."

Part Six: Runners

"You know." Mark tried to break the uncomfortable silence. Hoppy was clearly rushing. Earlier on, she'd only subtly increased the pace in their walk, but now she was moving on pure adrenaline in a light jog; Mark was starting to pant too, but Jesus was more used to this kind of thing. But they both knew it'd be useless to try and convince her to slow down. He wasn't keen on it, either, seeing the glinting cleaver in her pocket; seeing how emotional she was at the moment, and wondering just a little bit if it was that time of the month for her, she just might end up turning the blade on him. If that made him a coward, so be it- but maybe it was better she keep her energy up like this. So she wouldn't lose her motivation and completely wear herself out.

The girl cocked her head in his direction, making labored breaths as she walked with short, quick steps.

"Tilo." Mark said, remembering their talk not too long ago. "I think he's worried about you, you know."

A little 'hmph' from the girl.

The man let out a bit of a sigh as they kept on their tiring trek.

"Doctor Short also told me about your..." He coughed. "Confr- talk. Talk with Laney."

"Her own fault." Hoppy muttered, shooting him an angry glare. "Dusn't think I c'n handle this." She was still angry at that whole thing. Who was Laney to tell her to just leave it to Monroe? Couldn't she understand that she had to do this? That it was her job to fix? It was infuriating. It was frankly, insulting .She's doing fine, isn't she? Just ignore the bags under her eyes, and the fractured mask that couldn't form like it used to. She still had fight left. She'd get Ben back.

No matter the cost.

"Laney en't gunnae be able to do shit. anyways." Hoppy gestured at nothing in particular. "Hurt like she i-"

"She had to watch Toby die, Hoppy." Mark interjected with a tense frown. The girl stopped in her tracks, whipping her head back at the man behind her. Someone had died? No one told her anything about that! How could- no, that;s just the nature of this shit, isn't it? This stupid new world they found themselves in; and the more people they lost, the darker this world became. And Ben could just possibly end up on that growing list, too. "More than that, the two others with them all died, too."

A forty percent survival rate. That's just insane. Hoppy shook her head, now feeling the beginnings of guilt for what she'd said to Laney. She was already in shock and mourning for the ones lost, wasn't she? And then now Ben could be one of them too. And, Hoppy realized darkly, it was her own fault. Laney was right to lash out at her. Hoppy'd have done the same, if things were reversed.

It wasn't too long until the pair reached the outskirts to Cromwell- a sight Hoppy dreaded to see. This was where she'd messed up bad, wasn't it? It was almost like a haunting reminder of her sins. She gripped the handle of her cleaver hard, and made out two figures waiting there. The Caravanners, two men who looked friendly enough, waved them over.

"You're the Caravanners, right?" Mark talked first, while Hoppy stayed behind with an impatient frown and Jesus stood behind her, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly. Goddamn introductions were a waste of time. "I'm Mark, and this is Hoppy. She's the one who got the truck earlier. And that's Jesus," he motioned to the third member of their group.

The older man, maybe thirty or early forties with greying hair introduced himself with a nod of the head, as Ronnie. He regarded the two Scavs almost apprehensively, reserving judgment for now. He then turned to the younger man, younger than Hoppy herself was, in fact, probably mid-teens. He was missing an eye, or maybe it was injured- an eye patch was over it. Not that it really mattered- they were just cannon fodder for the Ben search, after all, Hoppy figured. The younger man called himself, ironically, Benson, earning a dark glare from the hoodied girl.

"What first, then?" Ronnie asked, seemingly taking charge. "You need the truck secured, but there's also that... Ben, of yours, we need to find."

"If he's even alive," Benson said sardonically, chuckling a little. It was that instant that Hoppy brandished her cleaver and pointed it towards him, almost quivering with anger. There was a tense silence- all eyes on the girl. Benson held his smirk; a lip curling almost cruelly, utterly ignoring the blade aimed at his throat. This was frustrating. And Hoppy really really wanted to lunge forward and cleave him with it... but that wouldn't solve anything. It might just start even more trouble between the two groups. And everyone would blame it on her- another fuck up made by Hoppy.

"Shut up." She said quietly, and let Mark pull her aside and give her a disapproving glance. As the three chatted and planned, Hoppy thought- there was no way she's hanging around with these idiots. She'd rather bash her head against a wall for eight hours, and that's a stupid idea, of course. In her head, a plan formed to leave them behind, and she; with an almost twinkling smile, feeling triumphant at the return of her mask, "Truck first." She said. "So we c'n up an' get in an' get Ben out ASAP. 'e might be injured."

Yeah, definitely no way she'd hang around with these fools, even as they shrugged and more or less agreed with her. Benson still gave her a hard, piercing look, though, making the girl return it coolly.

Part Seven: Threshold of Pain

Ben's vision had gone blurry, and his right arm had started to go numb. Shane hadn't let up. In addition to the gash on his abdomen and the stab wound in his arm, he had accompanying gashes on his left leg and his back, near his left shoulder blade. The younger brother had also taken to hitting Ben in the face to the point where his right eye had nearly swollen shut, and his head had become increasingly difficult to hold up.

But, Ben wouldn't give up. He didn't scream, and he didn't beg, and it seemed to frustrate the brothers - Mike in particular, who kept prodding him for information.

"I guess you really are a tough guy, huh?" Shane grunted out, rubbing the fist that he'd used to hit Ben, and then struck another blow, this time in Ben's ribs.

Ben doubled over and coughed, having just had the wind knocked out of him. When he'd recovered, he lifted his head to look at Mike once more. This time, he chuckled, seeming to catch him off-guard, "I bet this frustrates the shit out of you, doesn't it?" Ben spat out some blood at Mike's feet, "You're used to people just howling like banshees, aren't you?"

Mike sighed and stood up, then looked down at Ben, "Defiant to the end." He motioned to Shane, who turned and looked at his brother. They both exited the room and Ben lowered his head so that his chin nearly rested on his chest, thankful for the respite, as brief as it might be. All he wanted to do now was cry, or scream. The pain was getting to him, and he just wanted to be back at Haven with the people that he cared about. But, he would not give in. He wouldn't give the brothers the satisfaction of letting them know that they'd gotten to him. No. If this is where he was to die, he would die strong and defiant.

"This isn't working!" Shane said. He was getting frustrated too.

"I can tell. Maybe we should just move forward."

"Yeah. Fine." Shane sounded indignant. Probably because he wouldn't get to play with their captive much more.

"I'll be back. You wait out here until I get back."

This could be an opportunity. With Mike gone and Shane outside for who knows how long, he might be able to start getting himself free. He had to believe that he could still make it out of this alive. What he would do after getting himself free, he didn't know, but giving up now wasn't an option.

His arms and legs were held to the chair with duct tape. First he tried wiggling his left arm, and it budged a little, but he had to think of something else; it was unlikely that the wiggling alone would be enough to free his hand in time. After a moment of thought, he ducked his head down to his wrist and began chewing on the tape. This might not be fast enough either, but maybe... both at the same time would be enough. The door creaked open again and Ben quickly pushed the tape back down with his chin, trying to make it look like he hadn't been doing anything. Hopefully the brothers wouldn't notice.

Both brothers entered again, and what Mike was holding made Ben's heart race, and his eyes go wide.

The older brother held in his hand a set of bolt cutters.

No. No. No. What were they going to do?

It didn't take long for him to find out. Shane approached and held him down with one forearm while holding the fingers of his left hand - all but his left pinky. Then, Mike stepped up, holding the bolt cutters. He pulled the arms open, to open up the head of the tool. The opening was then placed so his pinky finger was between the blades. He struggled, trying to move his hand out of the way, but he hadn't chewed through enough of the tape.

Ben could feel the metal pressing into either side of his finger, and the moment before seemed to last forever.

And then, with a grunt, Mike closed the arms.

Ben screamed. Blood poured.

He remained conscious long enough to see the brothers step back, and the older one bent down to pick something off of the ground.

Then everything went dark.

Part Eight: Tricky Hoppy

It was really terse. Hoppy couldn't help but wonder why, exactly, did the Caravanners even come to help? What use would they be? What if they killed Ben upon finding him? She frowned more as she realized that they most likely didn't know what he looked like- and if Ben is bloodied and hurt, they might even mistake him as a zed and kill him with those rifles of theirs. The sound still echoed in her mind- when Chip had done himself in. Ridiculous. Do guns have to be so loud and terrifying? That's just... she had to stop thinking on this track. Not like she'd be with them for much longer.

"So, where'd you leave the truck?" Ronnie asked her, turning away from his talk with Mark about random, useless things.

"Just somewhere." Hoppy muttered, trying to block them out. The house wasn't far- just a few more turns and then that'd be it. It's weird how empty these streets were though, not even a hint of zed. WAs something going on elsewhere that might be luring them away? Hoppy didn't care all that much about the reason- as long as there were less of them. She knew she probably wouldn't be able to slash through the skin with the heavy blade of hers, in her current state. So damn tired.

Benson caught up and nudged her, startling her into a jump. "Didn't drive it back?" He jeered. "You can't drive, or something?"
Another chilly glare found itself on the younger boy. "I c'n drive fine." She said with a pleasant smile. "'was more convenient t'ave it 'ere."

"Don't see how." The boy prodded her again, shrugging. "I mean, driving back to Haven or whatever, then driving back here, it's faster than just walking."

He really was getting on her nerves. If it took too long, Hoppy really thought that she might end up snapping and driving the cleaver into his gut. This cocky kid sure as 'ell deserved it, didn't he? The bastard just didn't know when to shut up. Boiling internally, she made a self deprecating smirk. "Might be I'm stupid, en't it?." She said, and turned back to the deerted streets. The house was right there now, the garage door was still closed. So no one had broken in and taken it. Hoppy let out a relieved sigh, and saw a few other houses with garages around. A nasty grin appeared on her face.

"So." She said, getting Mark and Ronnie's attention, and gesturing at the assorted houses. "It's 'round 'ere, somewhere. I... summat forget which'un." She made an apologetic face.

"We'll have to just search each one then." Ronnie said, cracking his knuckles, and moved up to the closest one. Hoppy quickly glanced over at Benson, Mark, and Jesus, all watching the older man. As he forced the garage open, he looked back at them, calling out, 'Not this one!", and tilted his head in the direction of the next house; Mark and Benson following. No one was paying attention to Hoppy, were they? She immediately bolted in the other direction, towards Gill Mechanics, where she'd last seen Ben, leaving the four men behind.

Part Nine: Now's Your Chance

Ben regained consciousness a while later. He had no idea how long he'd been passed out. Slowly, he opened his eyes, but kept his head down. The realization of what had just happened came over him again just as the pain did. The throbbing in his left hand was nearly unbearable. There was no end to it. But, he had to keep himself quiet. The brothers didn't need to know that he'd regained consciousness. His jaw clenched and he kept quiet, despite the pain.

Not far away, he could hear them talking; apparently they still thought that he was unconscious. At least for the moment.

"Someone's going to come looking for him," Mike was saying, "He mentioned a sister."

"So, what do we do?" Shane asked in response.

"What do you think? We go get them."



"I should go."

"No, Shane."

"Why the hell not? You think I can't handle it?"

"Remember earlier? You got way too eager to go back and look for her. You almost fucked it up." Mike was getting impatient.

"Fuck you."

"Shane, I need you here to look after him, make sure he doesn't try anything."

"Fine," Shane grunted, agreeing reluctantly, "Don't take too long."

"I won't. Oh, and if he's dead when I get back, there's going to be hell to pay."

"Yeah, yeah. Get going. You're wasting time."

Ben expected Shane to return, but he didn't. Thank goodness. He could go back to trying to free himself, and he had to hurry. It wasn't just his life in danger now. If anybody had come looking for him, they were now in danger of being captured by the brothers, just as he had.

Again, he ducked his head down, this time to his right arm which, as if in response to the extraordinary pain in his left hand, had gotten its feeling back. It still hurt like a bitch, but it was a duller pain than in his other hand. He began to chew on the tape and wiggle his arm back and forth. A few times, he bit his own arm, drawing blood, but he didn't care. All that mattered now was getting his arm free.

Finally, after a few minutes, he was able to yank his right arm free of the tape. Wasting no more time, he began pulling the tape off of his other arm, and then his legs, careful not to make too much noise.

He was free.

Part Ten: Where Are You?

The four that remained continued to search for the truck. It wasn't until a minute or two later that Jesus piped up, finally noticing they were one short. "Guys? Where's Hoppy?"

Mark looked around frantically, "Shit. Where the hell did she go?"

"Probably ditched us, stupid f--"

Ronnie stopped Benson from finishing his sentence by putting a hand on his shoulder and shaking his head, before offering, "She couldn't have gotten far, could she?"

"I hope not." Mark looked around, "Alright, let's find the truck and get to Cromwell. Maybe she's there somewhere."

Seriously, this was ridiculous. They hadn't followed her so far, at the very least. Hoppy buckled over in the last place she'd seen Ben, almost balking at the gloominess of the building. No zed in sight whatsoever. What was going on, where were all of them? It was creepy, and she didn't like it. At least there was no trail of blood or anything, or even worse: Ben's corpse. That's probably the only mercy here. But that had the problem- there's no real trail to track Ben at all. She scowled and kicked an idle can at the wall, with a grunt, before taking the cleaver out and tossing it into the air, catching it by the handle with apparent ease.

"Fuck." She muttered quietly. "The 'ell are you, Ben?"

She was frustrated. She was tired. She had no idea what to do now, so she just plopped herself down, her limbs sighing in great relief, being finally allowed a little rest. The world seemed to twist around her, making her almost lurch with a sudden wave of nausea. Gripping her head irritably, she realized that she'd pushed her burdened body to it's limits, hadn't she? And it was all to no end- there was still no sign of Ben at all. She'd failed, miserably and utterly. And she didn't have enough energy to head back to Haven either- nor had she remembered to bring a radio.

It was almost funny- going this far only to be, pretty much stranded, and having it entirely her own doing. She had tried though... but there's nothing really to show for her effort.

A quiet sound came through the darkness. Almost like a hiss. But, it was hard to tell where it had come from, or maybe it hadn't been real at all.

But, again, the sound came, accompanied with words, "Hey! You!" And a man approached, slowly, and carefully, "That's not really a good place to be resting, don't you think?"

Hoppy turned towards the voice, surprised. It wasn't Ben, he didn't have that almost barbaric American accent, but it was someone else. Maybe he had, at the very least, food or something, right? She got up with great effort, before steadying herself by leaning on the wall.

"Who's you?" She asked pointedly. "I c'n rest where I want..."

"Sorry, I didn't mean-- There could be those dead things hiding out here, you know? It's not safe." The man stepped forward, offering a hand, "I'm Mike."

She looked at the hand for a few moments before deciding that there couldn't really be any harm in it. "Hoppy." She replied, giving her own name, with a bit of a shrug. "An', there arn't any zed 'round today... the streets're stupid quiet. I dun' like it."

"They could come back here anytime." Mike adjusted his pants a little bit, "What are you doing here, anyway?"

Hoppy took one more cursory glance around the room, not really wanting to accept any help. But, unfortunately, there was still no sign of Ben at all. "Jus' lookin' fer sum'un." She sighed tiredly. "Some'un I was with til yesteday, last saw 'im 'roud 'ere." She turned to the man, Mike. He might have seen him, right? There was always that chance. "You seen 'im?"

Then she wondered- what exactly was Mike doing here, anyways? There's not really much except for a truck that was no longer there, right? "What're yew doin' 'ere?"

His face seemed to light up at her admission, "Oh! Maybe you're the one I'm looking for. We might have found this person you're looking for. Me and my brother saved him from a horde, but he got hurt, so we had to take him back to our place." He rubbed the back of his head sheepishly, "He wouldn't tell us if he had anywhere else to go."

A rush of relief poured through her body. In that instant, the weary and on the verge of giving up Hoppy shot up; eyes bright and considerably lightened. If anything, she looked almost like how she used to, before the stress kept on piling up. "Take me to 'im, then." She said quickly, with new enthusiasm. "'How bad's the injury?"

"Nothing too serious. We're not doctors or anything, but I think it's just a sprained ankle. But, lucky for him we came along. He might not have gotten away otherwise." With a waving motion with his arm, he added, "It's this way. Follow me."

Cracking a bit of a grin, Hoppy followed along, staying just a few paces behind him. "Thanks." She managed. "I'm all tired; been runnin' non-stop since we got split up. 'e'll be glad t'see me, though, innit right?"

"Definitely. He seemed worried about you."

"You got, I dunnae, a drink or anythin'?" She asked. "At youer place, I mean. I'm sorry t'ask, but... I cud really use a refresher before takin' 'im back."

"Yeah. We've got drinks." He continued to lead her away from Cromwell. It didn't take long for the silhouette of what appeared to be a house to appear on the horizon, "It's just up there."

Mike was friendly to Hoppy. Maybe a little too friendly.

Hoppy looked pensively at Mike, noting the house. Something seemed a little off to her, but she couldn't quite put her finger on it. Now that the elation had burned out, she could actually think, at least, a little bit. And she had that weird prickling feeling she always got whenever someone was lying... but why would he be lying? It was a bit unsettling, but that might just be due to the antagonizing Benson from earlier, or the eerily empty streets with nary a hint of a zed wandering around.

They had found the truck and had made their way into Cromwell - which was eerily quiet. In the past, Cromwell had always been ready to explode with activity, but the dead seemed to have vacated the area entirely. After a few minutes driving around town, they had found Gill Mechanics.

"This must have been where they found the truck. Maybe this is where they got separated," Mark announced as he brought the vehicle to a stop. Mark and Jesus exited the cab while Ronnie and Benson hopped down from the back of it. "Can anybody track at all?"

"I can, just a little," Ronnie responded, "That's why I was brought along."

"Convenient," Mark nodded, "Well, do your thing. Let us know what you come up with."

The two members of Haven kept an eye out while Ronnie searched the area for clues and Benson just... stood around looking indignant, as youth tended to do, even before the world went to shit.

"Here!" Ronnie called, "It looks like somebody was sitting here recently. Someone must have come up and led them away. It could have been your friend."

"Great. Where do they lead?" Mark asked.

"South out of town."

"Back in the truck," Mark ordered.

"Fantastic," Benson grumbled, climbing back onto the bed of the truck with his fellow Runner.

"Where are you going, Hoppy?" Mark whispered to himself, starting the vehicle and heading south out of town.

Part Eleven: The Tables Have Turned

Slowly, Ben pushed himself against the door and peeked out to see Shane with his back to him and looking out into the open world. They were in the barn. It had been dark, and he couldn't see much past the room he was in at the time, but he probably should have figured it out. The room he'd been captive in was one of the feed stalls that you saw in a barn.

Shane had the barn door open, and distilled moonlight passed through clouds and into the barn.

Ben could get the jump on Shane, but he had to find a weapon first. He crept out into the large open area of the barn and looked around frantically. At his left was a piece of wood - a 2x4. Quickly and quietly, he picked it up, then approached Shane from behind. He raised the piece of wood up, just in time for Shane to turn around. Without so much as a second of hesitation, Ben swung, hitting him in the face and knocking him down to the ground, stunned.

He then reached down, taking Shane's knife off the ground, which had been dropped when Ben delivered the blow, and pointed it at him.

"...please..." Shane mumbled dazedly, "...don't kill me..."

Ben stood where he was, staring down at Shane with contempt and rage. He deserved worse than death. He deserved the same treatment that he'd delivered to Ben and probably to countless others who hadn't been as fortunate as himself.

"I guess we're finding out what kind of person you really are, aren't we?" he sneered. All he wanted to do was to cause pain to this man, and he wanted to do it slowly, but...

"No," Ben said aloud, "I'm not like you." He then crouched down and put the blade to the man's throat, "But, I can't let you live."

And, with a swift motion, Shane's body went limp and collapsed to the ground with a steady pool of blood gathering beneath him. Ben stood back up and spat at Shane's lifeless body, "Coward." Before stepping away from Shane's body, he searched his pockets and found his wallet with his license in it. Really, he had no reason to keep it, but he didn't want to lose it. Maybe it was a connection to the old world, like with Hoppy's hair dye.

That hair dye. If she hadn't made them stop for it, they might not have gotten separated, and he might not be where he is now. He grew angry, and he couldn't tell if he was angry at her for making them stop, or if it was at himself for being so stupid as to trust these guys. Whatever it was, he wheeled around, flinging Shane's knife at the back wall. It thunked into what looked like a door - a door that didn't seem like it belonged. As if it were made sometime after the barn had been built.

He walked to the back and to the door. It wasn't locked. He pulled the door open. As cold as it was in the barn, it was even colder in this room.

But, what really got him was the contents of the room. For almost a minute, he stood staring in shock, unable to find proper words. He had to shake his head, and then he closed the door, turning to leave the barn. How--

An explosion sounded and Ben ran towards the entrance of the barn as fast as he could and ended up in the snow - still naked - and looking around. Off in the distance, he could see a fire burning. That was likely the source of the explosion.

"What the fuck..." he muttered to himself, squinting at the blaze. That couldn't have been good. He only hoped that nobody he knew was in trouble.

No matter. There would be time to worry about that later. Now, he had to focus on Mike. As long as he was alive, Hoppy and anybody else was still in danger, but Ben couldn't just go chasing after him. He had to find a way to get the jump on the other brother just as he did with Shane.

First thing's first. It was getting cold, and he had to find his clothes. The house was a good a place as any to start.

The door to the farmhouse wasn't locked either. Obviously, neither of the brothers had expected Ben to escape, so there was no need to lock it, right? The house was warm. Well, not all that warm, but it was better than the barn or the cold night air. He went upstairs, looking through the rooms, hoping to find his clothes. There were three bedrooms. One of them was neat, the second was slightly less neat, and the third...

The third bedroom was the largest of the three. In the center of the floor were piles of clothes. This must have been where they put the clothes of everyone they'd captured before. Right on top of the piles were his own clothes, right down to the hat and socks. And off to the side, amongst all the shoes, were his boots. His backpack was hanging on a hook in the closet.

Gingerly, he pulled on his clothes. They stung, but if they kept him from freezing to death, then he would have to push through the pain. He also made sure to pull the left sleeve of his jacket down to cover his hand.

The bed in the room was neatly made and didn't look like it had been slept in in months. Off to the side of the bed was a dresser. Maybe there was something in there.

He pulled open several of the drawers and most of them had nothing in them. There were two that did, however. They were small drawers, normally used for socks or underwear.

The first one seemed a little heavy, and as soon as he opened it, he understood why. Inside was a pistol and a few magazines. Before he took them, he looked around, as if expecting someone to be watching. Carefully, he took the weapons and its ammunition and put them in his backpack. Nobody else needed to know about these yet. But, he couldn't help but wonder where these came from.

Then again, no doubt the brothers had come across all types. It stood to reason that at least one of them had a gun and some ammunition for it.

Once the drawer was emptied and its contents were in his bag, he closed it and opened the other. Inside this one, he found a book. It didn't have anything particularly distinguishing on its cover. He took the book and set it on the bed. Also in the drawer, previously next to the book was a set of various personal identification cards. He pulled them out and looked through them, sitting down onto the bed as he did.

These were all the people that they had captured in the past. Men and women both.

Putting the cards down, he turned his attention to the book. He opened it and began to read...

Part Twelve: On Their Way

She hadn't really thought of the risk before, but it's entirely possible. Being a girl... it made her inherently more vulnerable to predators, didn't it? Not just because of being, in general, physically weaker than men, but because of the fact that... well, 'making love' would hardly be anyone's priority right now. Or even worse- the birth-giving capabilities her body had might be a good pick for extremist groups trying to survive. She knew that that was why Chip had been so protective of her, before he died, for sure. Because of the risks involved. And with her, possibly overly keen instinct, she had to make sure this wasn't some sort of trap. Of course, that explosion earlier might have been why she's so on edge too. It was loud and sudden, and too similar to the shot of a gun. It reminded of things she really didn't want to remember at a time like this.

Before they could take another step, Hoppy slid the cleaver over Mike's shoulder, resting against his throat. Her face was dark, impassive.

"Youer lying." She muttered. "I dunnae what exactly- but you arn't talkin' to me straight. So I suggest now start bein' straight with me." She pressed it closer to his neck flesh, hoping the cold of the steel alarmed him. "Or I might ju's kill you, 'ere an' now."

Mike straightened himself up and stopped his progress. Despite his predicament, he remained calm. Maybe he was used to this kind of reaction. It was hard to tell.

"Alright. You want to know what your friend told me? He told me that you were his sister, but I can tell by your accent that isn't true. You're not American." He shuffled his feet a little, "As soon as you opened your mouth, I could tell he lied about that. And he also told me that he had no where to go, but that was probably a lie too, wasn't it?"

Sister? How could that even- no matter, it was still a lie nonetheless. Hoppy pressed her lips tighter together as she thought, not moving the cleaver a centimetre from the intended victim. Why would Ben have lied about her? Couldn't he just say 'a friend'? Or perhaps- well, for one, it meant for sure that Mike and his unknown brother were untrustworthy. And such, it'd be better to leave out any details about Haven, she thought. Hell, that might've been why Ben lied too. To keep them out of Haven. It made sense- the more people, the harder it'd be to feed everyone. Less food to go around, of course.

That didn't change that it was a lie. But then again, everyone lied, old world and new world alike.

"Dusn't answer me." She said coldly. "Yew still arn't tellin' me the straight, Mike. Why were you so... quick t'agree to me havin' a drink? That stuff's rare these days, an' you dun' gain 'nythin' from lettin' me 'have some."

"Look, we really don't want you two around any longer than we have to. No offense. My brother doesn't do well with strangers. If a drink will help you get you on your way faster, then that's what I'll give you." Again, Mike shuffled, but kept his eyes and his head facing forward.

That also made some sense, didn't it? Hoppy considered... but then something else came up. If the brother didn't do well with strangers, why not just leave Ben to die? Surely that's a normal thing to do these days- you look out for your own, and fuck all the others. They didn't matter in the slightest. And that was still nagging at her.

"So why'd yew save 'im in the first place." She shot at Mike with her words. At least he wasn't trying to get away from the blade; it'd be a quick and easy chop, just in case she had to do it. And she would, wouldn't she?

Mike sighed impatiently, "I couldn't just leave him to die, not in all good conscience. My brother wasn't around when I found him, but he'll manage, at least until you both go. Besides..." Mike turned his head to look at her, "Do you think he's going to take kindly if you walk up to the house without me?"

Things were still nagging uncomfortably at her mind, but she was anxious to find Ben and go, already. Then find the others, and get the hell back to Haven and get some well earned sleep. In a different situation, Hoppy would have continued the questioning, but she was pressed for time here. Her strength was ebbing away, in any case. Hoppy lowered the weapon grudgingly, refusing to look Mike in the eyes.

"Fine," she spat. "Let's jus' get this over with, then. Hurry up." She took a few steps forward before the world went all wobbly once again, almost losing her footing. With an irritated curse, she steadied herself. How pathetic, showing weakness after a threat like that. If it really was a trap, she really couldn't do anything about it like this. The sooner they ended this, the better.

When the weapon was lowered, he relaxed a little bit and rubbed at his throat, "The sooner, the better," he mumbled.

Part Thirteen: The Journal

The inside cover of the book had a name written on it.

Michael Beckett

Ben opened to the first page.

August 18th, 2013:

Mom got bitten today. We went to Cromwell to look for food, but there were so many of them. We managed to escape, but only just barely. I don't know why I let her come along. She just wouldn't take no for an answer. When the time comes, I'll have to put her down. I can't ask Shane to do that. It would destroy him. He feels bad enough about letting her get bitten in the first place.

He turned to another page further along.

August 29th, 2013:

We're running out of food. It won't be long before we starve. Shane has suggested that we go to Cromwell to look for food again, but the last time we went, Mom got bitten. He's determined that it won't happen again. Maybe he's right. We have to do something. If I die, I'd rather do it trying to stay alive, rather than sitting here hiding while we slowly starve to death. Yeah. He's right. We need to go to Cromwell.

The next entry.

August 30th, 2013:

We ran into a couple people who had the same idea that we did. They wanted to check Cromwell for supplies - food in particular. The four of us were chased off by a group of them before we could get any food or supplies, and now they want to stay with us. We can barely support ourselves, how are we supposed to do anything to help an extra two people? I don't know what to do.

The next entry seemed to be written in more of a hurry, and certain parts of the page were wrinkled, as if those specific spots had gotten wet.

August 31st, 2013:

We had to do it. Our food is running out, and we can't go to Cromwell without risking being attacked. We didn't have a lot of choices. I pulled Shane aside and once we'd talked about it for a while, we agreed that we had to do it. They fought back, so we had to knock them out and put them in the barn. The father was first. His name was Alan Rogers. The young woman, his daughter Katie, is still alive. I think I can still hear her. I almost couldn't hold it down. What would Mom say about what we've done? We had to do it. God forgive us.

Ben stared at the page, not daring to turn it for the page. Not yet. He'd remembered seeing their faces when he looked through the identification cards. Alan, an older man with gray hair and a beard, and Katie, a woman maybe a few years older than he was with bright red hair. Not like Hoppy's, but they called that hair color red, even though it was usually more orange.

He flipped to another entry.

September 3rd, 2013:

We had nothing left from Alan, so we had to take from Katie. She cried, and she screamed, and she begged. I told her that I was sorry, and we had to do it. We would starve without them. Her screams are gone, but I can still hear them in my head. They won't go away. I'm so sorry. I'll never forget you two, sacrificing yourselves so that we can live. She'll last us another few days.

God. It was almost enough to keep him from reading on, but there was some morbid sense of curiosity in him that wanted to know more.

He skipped ahead some more, and some other words caught his attention.

...found some more in Cromwell...

Some of that he didn't want to read, but some other things caught his attention.

...I think Shane is starting to... like all of this. He told me that he enjoyed hearing Katie cry and beg that night. He asked if he could start... hurting them while we held them. I didn't want to disappoint him. I said yes.

There was so much that Ben would be willing to do for his brother, but letting him torture people?

Ben continued.

September 16th, 2013:

I've decided to write down what people say when Shane is doing what he does. A lot of them confess things they've done, or tell us about their families, or their lovers. It's really touching that they would share these things with us, but they are their final moments, so it's... not all that unexpected, I guess.

September 20th, 2013:

Shane suggested we keep mementos from everybody. These people are giving up their lives so we can survive, so I told him yes. He suggested we keep their heads first, but I told him no. That would suggest that we do this only because we like it, like we want to take trophies. We should be respectful of their sacrifice, so I told him we'd take fingers only, and bury the heads.

October 15th, 2013:

God, what have we become? Shane has enjoyed this almost from the start, but I keep telling myself that I don't, that I'm only doing this to survive. And then I let him torture them. And then we started taking their fingers. It's too late to stop. I can't tell Shane to stop. I can't stop. There's no going back. If God exists, He will not forgive us.

What the hell did that mean? Of course he could stop. What a load of bullshit. He probably enjoyed it as much as Shane did, but just didn't want to get his hands dirty.

At last, Ben turned to the final entry in the journal.

November 5th, 2013:

We came across another person in Cromwell today. His name is Ben, and he's an American. We haven't had any Americans yet. I wonder if they're any different? He's tied up in the barn now, but he won't talk. He won't cry. He won't tell us anything. Why not? We're just trying to help him get his feelings out there. We don't normally take their finger until after they're dead, but I think if I do it before he dies, it may help get some of those feelings out there. We also have to be careful. His sister drove off yesterday when they attracted a horde. She may come looking for him. I'm going to have to try and find her.

That fucker.

Part Fourteen: Reunion

November 6th, 2013

Early Morning

Ben stood up, closed the book and tossed it back onto the bed angrily, before pulling on his backpack.

It was then that something caught his attention outside. He crept to the window and peeked out to see Mike returning, but he wasn't alone; Hoppy was with him.

"Shit," Ben muttered to himself as he unsheathed his hatchet and made his way downstairs. He found the downstairs bathroom and stepped inside, moving to the shower and hiding behind the curtain, just in time to hear the front door open.

"You said you wanted a drink, right?" Mike asked, his steps getting audibly louder.

"Make it quick." Hoppy grumbled. "Don't fancy passin' out 'ere when we should be gettin' outta the way."

Ben poked his head around one side of the shower curtain and saw Mike walk past the open bathroom door as he did. He had to do this right, and he had to it quick. It was more than likely that the drink he was going to give her would be laced just as his own had just hours ago.

"You like beer?" Mike asked, "We've got plenty of that."

Hoppy shrugged with distaste. "Get rid of the headache, innit right?" She glanced around a bit. "Where's Ben, then?"

"He might be out in the barn. I told him he could look around while he waited for me to come back." There was the unmistakeable sound of a bottle being opened, "And it might help with the ankle. 'Walk it off', you know?" Mike chuckled.

"Aye, I'll jus' take a bit o'it.." Hoppy murmured, grabbing at the bottle. "Ta, maybe."

Ben was now out of the shower and hiding in the dark of the bathroom. Mike walked past once to give her the bottle, back again to the kitchen, spoke up, "I'll go and check for Ben in the barn. I'll be right back." And then, again, Mike walked past the open bathroom door, intending to go outside. No doubt he believed that, by the time he got back, Hoppy would be out of it.

Ben wouldn't let that happen.

As soon as he saw Mike pass the door, he leaped out from the shadows, brandishing his hatchet. Before Mike could react, Ben had buried it into the back of his head. The older brother was dead, but Ben didn't stop. He brought the weapon down onto his head over and over and over again. Blood splashed his face and his clothes as he lie on top of the man who had nothing but a bloody pulp left for a head. Finally, Ben let the weapon slip from his grasp and it clattered on the floor.

With his chest still heaving, he looked to Hoppy, "Don't... drink that."

Hoppy was staring at the scene. Not exactly in shock, per se, but it was a surprise. And it made things clearer in her mind- why she had that nagging feeling of a lie in her head. Where was the other brother, then? And what was the trap, in the first place? She had the burning desire to ask those questions, hoping it wasn't anything too bad.. Ben was alive, wasn't he? She had to do something first though. Hoppy lowered her head just a bit, not having the will to see his face.

"Sorry." She said in a strained voice, threatening to cry again. "It's my fault, an', I- I'm sorry. I'm... I tol' Laney an' she's... she's worried fer yew an', I jus'... She paused, gathering her breath. "I'm sorry, Ben, It should'a been me who got left be'ind."

This was the last thing he wanted to hear right now. The assault on Mike had taken a toll on the strength he had left, but with what he could muster, he picked up his hatchet and pulled himself to his feet. He wiped his face off with the sleeve of his left arm and stared straight at Hoppy once more.

"Just stop. Don't cry. Don't apologize. It doesn't matter who should have been left behind. It was me. Unless you have some way of going back to change that, move on."

The words stung more than she'd wanted to have been affected by them. It hurt like, like fuck. And she deserved each bit of it. In a way, this hurt even more than if he'd had struck her, because at least she'd have the physical pain to ease her mind of what she did. She held the tears back, out of shock and guilt and pure willpower, and straightened up. In a meek voice, "Ta, fer savin' me..." and gingerly turned away to hide her face from him, burying herself deeper in the hoodie.

Part Fifteen: The Truth Revealed

Right now, he looked bad. His right eye was nearly swollen shut, and his expression was filled with rage, and in a way, the rage dulled the pain - like some kind of anesthetic. So much so that he didn't realize that his left hand was still in pain until he looked to his sleeve and saw that it was still covering his hand entirely.

He watched her carefully until she turned away, "Be glad I did. Things wouldn't have gone well for you."

"What'd they do?" She asked, still refusing to look at him; shrunken into herself. "Why're yew all... like this, now?"

Ben stepped past her and out into the open air, motioning for her to follow him, without actually saying it. He led her into the barn. Still at the entrance to the structure was Shane's body with his throat cut open. At the back of the barn was the door that didn't quite look like it belonged.

Behind the door was a grisly scene. It was like something you'd see at a butcher shop, or a market. The room was ice cold and, from the ceiling, hanging upside-down from hooks were three human bodies - two male and one female. They had each been disemboweled and decapitated. In addition, each of their left pinky fingers were missing.

Hoppy took a glance at the scene and instantly buckled up; body collapsing onto her knees at the heel realization. Eyes wide, pupils dilated, and guts hurling, sick globs of vomit leaked through her fingers as her body shook in the crumpled pile she was. It was sickening and horrifying all at once... and it had almost happened to her. She lay there for a few minutes, registering the scene. Recovering as best as she could from the retching, she wiped her hands on her hoodie gingerly and took an aside glance at Ben's arm. Was his pinky finger, also... Idiotically and impulsively she pulled on his left sleeve, not saying a word.

"Hey!" Ben shouted in a mix of pain and anger, "Don't. Fucking. Do that." The look in his eyes was one he'd never had - one that nobody had ever seen. For a moment, he looked about ready to strike, but he stopped himself, remembering who he was staring at. He pushed his way past her and stood at the entrance of the barn, resting against the doorway. Though the body was still there, Ben didn't seem to notice. In fact, he seemed to shut out the rest of the world around him for a moment or two, closing his eyes. God, he was so tired.

And, indeed, once she had pulled the sleeve back, there it was, a bloody stump where his left pinky finger had been.

Hoppy shrunk again; both at the stump of a pinky finger, and the almost violent reaction of someone she'd once considered a friend. She squeaked out a miniscule 'sorry' before closing her hand over her mouth again- not wanting to anger Ben even more. With one last look at the grisly barn, she followed Ben out, looking down at her feet as they moved.

"Yew... did th'right thing." She mumbled quietly. "Killin' 'em. I'd- I'd 'ave dun it too. They'ere, they were scum, Ben! Worse'n that. Be'er off dead"

"I know," he said quietly, opening his eyes slowly. Truth be told, he knew it was the right thing to do. They probably would have come across another member of Haven in the future, if it hadn't been him. They might not have been so lucky. But, he'd never killed a person before. Within an hour, he'd killed two and had come dangerously close to harming a third - someone that he could trust. Killing someone, no matter how necessary, wasn't something that he could just get over. Not right away.

He should have thanked her for coming to look for him. He should have apologized for how he'd talked to her - how he'd almost hurt her.

But, he didn't.

Instead, he chose to change the subject, "Did you see that explosion? Any idea what that was about?"

"Aye, I saw it." she said, still in that tired and tiny voice. They just had to find the others now, and then get the hell out of this stupid town. But Ben- was it really okay? He... he's changed. And, he might be dangerous now... Hoppy shook her head fiercely. No, it'd be fine. It's Ben. If anything, a certain red-haired girl deserved the shaft more than Ben did. At least he wouldn't accidentally get people killed or traumatized or whatnot. At least he was useful.

"Dunnae what it was 'bout, though." She raised her head a tiny bit, slightly relieved at the more neutral topic. "We c'uld check i' out on the way back...if yew'd like?"

He thought about it for a moment, but then shook his head, "No," he decided, pushing himself up from his resting position. "I don't think either of us are in any kind of shape. The explosion probably drew every dead asshole from miles around."

"'Splains why the streets're empty." She sighed sadly, still keeping a careful distance behind him. "Least that's goin' fer us, innit?"

Ben nodded, "Right." He looked back to her, his face more neutral now, "We'd better get going while it still is going for us."

Right, Ben still didn't know, just yet. Might as well tell him, right? "Mark an' two 'vanners came with me t'find you." Hoppy said, and made a scowl. "The kid's a fuckin' twyp, callin' me stupid an' shit... 'E's got yer name, sorta. Benson. Complete arse'ole."

"And now they're probably looking for you too, right?" He sighed, "Jesus Christ. What the hell's Monroe thinking? Caravanners?"

Hoppy let out a nervous laugh, as she realized that yes, they probably were looking for her. Not that it mattered much either way- they were useless. "Din't need'em t'find you, anyways." She said, then turned her mind to Monroe. What had he been thinking? He said he'd- right. Hoppy decided to tell Ben- "'e said 'e'd 'ad sum'thin' to deal with." She offered, hopefully helping a little. "Erm, I dunnae what exactly.. c'uld it be related t'the explosion?"

He had a brief sinking feeling as soon as she said that he had something to deal with, and he'd come to the exact same conclusion she had, just a millisecond before she had said it, "Could be." If it was true... Well, there was nothing they could do for him.

"Whoever's idea it was. Trusting Caravanners is a bad one."

Part Sixteen: Safe At Last

Briefly wishing Monroe well in her mind, Hoppy gulped it down, and turned her thoughts to the Caravanners. Ronnie hadn't talked much- but there was that Benson. That damned despicable bastard. "Arrogant trash." Hoppy muttered, unconsciously gripping the handle of her cleaver more tightly, feeling the pressure in the back of her head grow with the tension. Before she could reply to Ben in agreement, they heard a voice wafting back at them. It was Mark's, in an imploring tone. Quickly, Ben pulled his sleeve back over his left hand and turned his attention to the sound.

"-not as bad as she seems, okay?" Mark was saying, as he and the two Runners got out of the truck, while Jesus sat in the passenger seat. "She's.. just impulsive. Probably at the end of her wits, I daresay. Don't be so quick to judge her."

Benson's sneering voice. "Praps she thinks she's too good for us." He laughed snidely. "thinks she can take on armies of zed by herself. From what we've heard, this is her fault anyways, isn't it?"

Hoppy's teeth clenched- hand gripping her cleaver hard. At least they found them, and sure enough, the truck was there too.
"Shut up!" She hissed, making the four men notice her and Ben- at least a relieved smile from Mark. "I found 'im on my own, d'in't I?"

And she'd nearly gotten herself captured for her trouble.

"So you're good for something after all, what a shock."

The girl really wanted to kill the kid. She wanted to stick her blade through him. He deserved it, didn't he? He was such an arrogant little bastard. Ignoring her fatigue, Hoppy made to lunge forward for the kill.

Ben had seen her grip her weapon tighter. Just as she made to lunge for the Caravanners, Ben stepped in front of her and towards them, "Look, kid--"


"I don't give a shit. Shut up."

Benson opened his mouth to speak and Ben stepped even closer, "I said shut up." He looked between both Caravanners, and then to Mark, who now had something of a frown on his face, "If you continue down this road, you're not going to like where it ends." And to accentuate his point, he put his right hand on the handle of his own weapon. "Get out of here and walk your worthless asses back to your camp before I get impatient."

The three in front of him seemed a little taken back at the words that had just come out of his mouth - particularly Mark. Here was Ben, this normally friendly man, all but threatening these Caravanners who had been sent to look for him. For a while, neither Ronnie nor Benson moved. Ben continued to stare the pair down until, finally, the older man took hold of Benson's arm and began leading him off.

"Come on. Let's go," the older man said.

Ben continued to stare after them until they were far enough away for him to be sure they wouldn't come running back. He then turned his attention to Mark and Hoppy, offering nothing more to say than a simple "Let's go."

Hoppy shot Ben a grateful smile- so he hadn't gone completely psycho. And it stopped her from having to kill someone- Hoppy faintly knew that she'd have regretted taking a human life, no matter how much shit they talked. Climbing onto the truck, she held out a hand for Ben to join her, hoping that he'd take it. "Ta, Ben." She smirked. Mark opened his mouth, almost as if he wanted to ask what had happened to Ben, but in the end he just murmured a 'welcome back, you two', before starting the engine with an ease that made Hoppy annoyed and envious at the same time.

Ben took her hand and used it to help pull himself up onto the truck.

They left the truck in the same area Hoppy had earlier, but in the garage of a different house, and made the remaining trek back on foot. It wouldn't be long now. Ben would be home soon.


He'd never considered Haven home before. If this were the old world, it wouldn't be, but this was close as he was going to get, probably until the day he died.

The four of them finally pushed their way through the gates of Haven. Ben had no idea what time it was. It was sometime in the morning.

He didn't really care, though. He was just glad to be back.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Tilo King Character Portrait: Callie Winters Character Portrait: Benjamin Kinney Character Portrait: Richard Brand Character Portrait: Alison Carter Character Portrait: Jesus "Matador" Herrera
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

#, as written by Bosch
November 9th 2013, 0430

Upton Abbey.

Ken Rand awoke with a gun being pointed in his face.

He didn’t need any light to know who was behind it.

“Richard. Come to kill an old man in his bed?”

“It’s the only way Ken, the strong keep the weak and that’s not happening at the moment.”

“And I suppose you are the strong?”

“In Upton I am.”

“Strength doesn’t come from the barrel of a gun boy.”

“It’s just a tool.”

“So what are you hoping people will believe I died from lead poisoning? You can’t shoot me.”

“I’m not going to. You’re going to take these.”

Brand tossed a bottle of pills onto the bed.

Ken lifted them to his face and tried to read the label. They were medication for his heart.

“You’ll have to shoot me, I’m not taking these.”

Richard produced a large knife with his left hand. “Or I could use this. Just know my next stop will down the hallway, Elizabeth and Eric’s room.”

“You bastard you wouldn’t get away with it.”

“Yeah I would. People want a strong leader. I tell them I saw someone running off in the direction of the Caravaners and I’m fine. People will believe what I tell them too because they’re scared. Everyone wants an older Brother.”

Ken looked at the mans gleaming eyes and knew he was serious. “You won’t harm Eric?”

“Scout’s honour.” Richard said. “Bottoms up Ken.”

Ken unscrewed the lid of pill bottle.



Sandra was carrying a tray containing Ken’s breakfast she made her way up the stairs towards his bedroom. On the staircase she passed Elizabeth and Eric who were going the opposite direction for their own breakfast. After a cheery hello she was on her away again.

She reached the door to Ken’s room and with the grace that comes from practice opened the door with her elbow.

“Rise and shine!” She said in sing song as the door swung open and bounced off something behind it. She gave it nudge but it didn’t budge. When a grey arm reached around and grabbed her ankle she let out a loud scream and dropped the tray. She fell hard on her back as Ken Rand flung the door open. Sandra could see he had turned. His eyes were cloudy and his hand cold on her ankle. He was pulling himself towards Sandra with his teeth bared.

Instinct kicked in and Sandra drove the heel of her trainer swiftly into the Zombie’s face. After a few more kicks she was able get clear of the beast.

“Help! Ken’s.... HELP!”

She ran for the stairs while Ken crawled after her, his legs as useless in death as they had been in life.

As Sandra ran down the stairs she passed two hunters travelling the other way. Except this time there was no cheery hello.

The confirmation came in the form of a gunshot that echoed through Upton Abbey.


The entire of Upton Abbey was in an uproar. First there was the fact Ken Rand was dead, secondly there was the fact he’d turned despite not being bitten and lastly there was the issue of who would lead the Rands now. The impromptu meeting was being held in the dining area as the populace tried to deal with the confusion. It was perfect for Brand’s purposes.

He stepped forward and raised his arms in an attempt to calm the crowd.

“I’ll lead. It makes sense that the Hunters have more say over how Upton is run. We need to be strong now, it’s what Ken and William would have wanted.” He shot a wink at Eric who buried his face deeper in his mother’s leg. “As for why Ken turned that’s beyond me but there’s no point in dwelling. It happened and we have to move on.”

As he predicted fear was a great motivator and everyone agreed, only Elizabeth kept silent.

He had no idea why Ken had turned he thought the heart medicine would just kill him not turn him. It was of no matter now his plan was complete he had complete control of Upton. There maybe a few people that would oppose him like Elizabeth but a blue blood like her wouldn’t present much of a threat.

November 9th 2013, 1020

Callie stood in the doorway of Doctor Short’s Medical area watching the mousy woman work. It was a strange thing to see. From the second Callie had told her Hoppy had been wounded the Doctor had set about marshalling her resources. She was brimming with confidence and had no problem ordering those around her unlike her normal persona.

Carter was sitting on her bed watching the scene as well. She had offered her basic first aid training but Short had politely yet firmly declined. By the time Laney and Hoppy arrived the Doctor was ready to deal with the trauma. It took about an hour of work but eventually Short was able to stabilise her. Callie was concerned that the Doctor was having to bastardise a lot of the equipment she was using and could already see that the Scav’s would have a something of task on their hands if they were too save Hoppy’s life.

“Bollocks!” Short cried and a spurt of blood erupted from Hoppy. “Callie, get here now.”

Callie rushed to Short’s side and got her first good look at Hoppy. The girl had gone very pale and was naked from the waist up where Doctor Short was working on a small but very bloody wound. Bubbles of blood were erupting from it and Hoppy’s breathing was faint.

Short directed Callie to put pressure on the wound while she prepared some plastic sheeting and duct tape.

“It’s the pressure, it keeps blowing the dressing off. I don’t have the equipment to deal with this kind of Trauma.”

Callie kept the pressure on the wound until Doctor Short had applied her dressing.

“She needs blood.”

“What is she?” Callie asked.

“Not a clue. I’m AB negative, so I’m no good.” Short explained.

Callie shrugged. “I don’t know what I am.”

“I’m B positive.” Carter called from her bed.

“That’s no good either. We need someone who is O negative, universal donor.”

Callie nodded and raced out of the medical room in search of blood.



She came up empty nobody had O Negative and Callie silently cursed herself for not thinking about getting a Blood Type chart up and running sooner. She was about to give up when she noticed him sitting silently on the living room couch with his head in his hands.

Callie wasted no time.

“Shinji. What Blood type are you?”

He looked up and Callie could see tears in his eyes. She remembered he’d lost his wife only hours before but now wasn’t the time for compassion.

“Hello Shinji.” He said morosely.

“Yes, Hello. What Blood Type?” Callie said.

He stared dumbly ahead.

Callie swore and ran to the kitchen where she picked up a pen, paper and kitchen knife. She returned to Shinji and showed him the palm of her hand and sliced it. She flinched at the bite of the knife and let the blood fall onto the page. She then did an equals sign and scribbled AB+.

“Oh Shinji.” Exclaimed suddenly comprehending.

He grabbed the pen and hurriedly wrote O-.

“Hoppy. Needs you.” Callie was wildly gesticulating trying to covey her meaning to the only man who could save Hoppy.

“Hoppy, yes.” Shinji said getting off the couch.

Callie took him by the hand and marched him to Doctor Short who wasted no time setting up a transfusion. Shinji was sitting a chair opposite Hoppy although he had positioned himself so he wasn’t looking at the girl given her some privacy.

“Ok Callie she’s stable but she won’t stay that way. My Blue Peter efforts won’t last long we need serious equipment to deal with this kind of trauma. I’ll prepare a list and you need to get the Scavs out. I reckon she’s got about a day. Shinji can only give so much blood.”

“Alright I’ll get people on it.”

“Good, but first let me patch that hand.”




"And we have to end it."

Callie looked tiredly at the two men but couldn’t help the grin spread over her face which quickly turned into peals of laughter. She was giggling for a full minute before she got her breathing under control.

“We have to end it?” She said wiping a tear from her eye. “You guys sound like John Wayne or something. I’ll give you pair that you’re always good for a laugh.”

She sniffed. “Back in reality land you need to understand the Rand’s hunters are a larger group that know the area well, have weapons training and have killed in the past. You two are a History Professor and a Computing Student, so if you guys are done with the Rambo routine we have real problems. Hoppy is conscious but very sick and she’s going to get worse if she doesn’t get medical help.”

She produced a mission briefing and slid it across the table.

“Hoppy has been shot and the Doc says it’s pretty bad. She needs specialist materials if Hopster is to have a chance at survival. That takes precedent over a suicide mission to assault the Rands. Work it out amongst yourselves who goes. I’ve got Jesus ear marked for a special mission so it’s between you two, Laney and Kiera. We need those supplies within the next 24 hours.”



Suggested Number of Scavs – 1

Area – West Moreland Hospital

Objective- Recover Medical Supplies. Chest Tubes/ thoracic catheter, Asherman Chest Seals, as many of these as possible. Azithromycin, Clarithromycin, Clindamycin, Voriconazole, Cefdinir, Cefixime, Ciprofloxacin, Doxycycline, Fluconazole, Levofloxacin, Linezolid, Loracarbef, Sulfamethoxazole/trimethoprim.

Information- Hoppy has been seriously wounded but thanks to Doctor Short and Shinji she is now stable. She’s lost a lot of blood and the Doctor is worried about her lung collapsing all together. Apparently that’s really bad.

She’s put together a list of items that she can use to save Hoppy’s life however they are not in her GP practice in Cromwell. A lot of his stuff is pretty specialised so it looks like you are going to West Moreland Hospital in Kendal. The meds are all types of Antibiotics that do not need to be kept cold. It’s unlikely the hospital will have them all just grab what you can some is better than none. Kendal is a pretty big town, at least it’s big for the Lake District so keep your head on a swivel.

The Doc reckons any immediate danger to Hoppy has passed but she is suggesting Hoppy will not survive with the supplies the Doc currently has. It’s your job to get out to Kendal and back before any harm befalls her.

I’m getting pretty sick of putting up those crosses so be careful and get the supplies. If it comes down to it though your life outweighs the supplies.



Upton Abbey


Sandra came to her in the evening when all was quiet. Eric was asleep but Elizabeth was just staring at the ceiling. She was wondering how best to escape Upton. She had a feeling though that Brand wouldn’t make it simple. Perhaps she could reach out to Haven, their Professor King seemed nice and more importantly smart.

A knock at the door broke her train of thought. Elizabeth got out of bed and answered .

“Sandra, come in.”

Sandra slunk in like a thief and Elizabeth could relate to her feeling of paranoia. Now Brand was calling the shots the atmosphere at Upton had already begun to change. They spoke in hushed voices on the far side of the room so as not to wake Eric.

“Lizzie, I found something and I don’t know who to tell.”

“You can tell me. What is it?”

“This morning when I was cleaning up Ken’s room I found this.”

Sandra produced a small pill.

“What’s this?”

“It’s heart medication. I found it in Ken’s bed.”

Lizzie stared blankly.

“Ken has different types of Meds for his heart. Some he takes daily and I look after them. Others he takes only when he’s having an attack.”

“Ok.” Elizabeth said still not understanding the importance of the heart meds.

“This is the type he takes daily so there is no reason for him to have them, I control the administration of Meds and I’m very precise about it. Even if he did have them he would have known these aren’t the right type of Meds to combat an attack. He may as well have eaten Tic Tacs.”

“So you think he died from a heart attack but took the wrong meds?”

“That’s what I thought at first but with Heart meds being so rare I can account for every pill, this one isn’t one of mine.” Sandra said. “If he was having a heart attack he was taking the wrong Medication that he shouldn’t have even had in the first place.”

“Right that dosen’t make sense Ken is meticulous.”

“Exactly but I checked my stores anyway and they are all present and accounted for.”

“So either Ken had a supply you didn’t know about...”

“Which is impossible.” Sandra interjected.

“... or someone gave him a few of these.”

“A lot of those. I think he was murdered. In a high enough dose that would trigger a heart attack. Ken knew it would be undetectable without a clue so that’s why he dropped a pill for me to find.”

“So you think it was murder?”

“In my opinion yes.”

“That doesn’t explain why Ken turned though.” Lizzie pondered.

“I know I can’t explain that. Maybe the pills were laced?”

“If the heart pills would have done the job why... why zombify him?” Lizzie said after trying and failing to find a better word.

Sandra shrugged. “Whatever is happening it stinks and the suspect list isn’t exactly long is it?”

“No.” Lizzie said.

“So what do we do? Brand is a psycho, he can’t run this place.”

“I know I was thinking of running to Haven with Eric but it’s too dangerous.”

“I could make it.” Sandra offered.

“It will make you look suspicious though.”

“Yeah well it’s better that then letting Brand remain unopposed, nobody here is going to do anything about it.”

“Alright. I’ll cause a distraction so you can escape tomorrow morning, at guard change would be a good time. Go to Haven and give this to Professor King.”

Lizzie quickly scribbled a note and folded it into William Rand’s wallet which she then handed to Sandra.

Sandra nodded.


November 10th 2013,

Jesus was sweating under his multiple layers and was wondering how he got himself into this situation. He was standing in the middle of Silent Valley Solar Energy Plant with Mark the Haven Guard/ carpenter and Gary Flower who was so scared he was shaking like a shitting dog.

It was a peculiar saying he’d picked up from the English locker rooms and he found it apt. It made sense though last time Gary had been to silent valley he’d seen Chip die and nearly died himself. Figured that the guy would be nervous.

They were loading up the last of the solar panels, Mark and Jesus were there for the heavy lifting while Gary was there to make sure they weren’t damaging the panels when they cut them down. Mercifully they were light but as reported they were awkward to carry even with two people, Monroe had been wise to get the truck.

In a way they were putting all their eggs in the solar basket as they had used the fuel earmarked for the generator to make this run. The truck had been used frequently over the last few days and was in the red when Mark had gone to turn it over. Callie had agreed with the decision rationalising the fuel would run out anyway so they may as well use it trying to get the solar panels.

Mark slid the last Solar panel into the truck and dusted his hands.

“Job done let’s get back.”

“Wait do we not need a battery or something, you know so we can store the energy for use in the night?”

Mark and Gary glanced at each other, both surprised at the intelligent question from the footballer.

“Ideally yes but that’s a job beyond Haven. Besides I’ve been stockpiling rechargeable... well everything. The idea is we charge everything up during the day so it’s ready for use during the night.” Gary said quietly.

“I see well let’s get the show on the road then.” Jesus nodded. Mark climbed into the back of the truck with his rifle while Jesus and Gary climbed in front. Gary was driving and Jesus was keeping his eyes peeled.

They were leaving the plant when Mark curled his nose up in disgust. It smelt like rotten barbecue. He looked to his left and saw a naked and badly burnt zombie staggering after the truck.

“Jesus Christ.” Mark muttered as he tapped on the cab. “We got one following us. Shit make that two.”

In the cab Jesus could see more in the distance.

“Shit. We’re gonna get surrounded.” He said.

Gary’s hands were shaking badly now. “What do I do?”

“Chill. Nobody ever did anything by freaking out.” Jesus said with an easy smile.

Jesus rolled down his window and called to Mark.

“Take the long way home, I have distraction devices so I’ll lead them away. Once you get to a road you can pick up some speed and put some distance between you and them. I’ll loop round and come back home later.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah I need a run anyway.” Jesus smiled, wound up his window and prepared his gear. He then stepped out of the Cab and began his run calling to the zombies as he ran.


November 10th 2013,

The Zombs had been pretty persistent but Jesus saw that as a good thing, it meant there were less on Mark and Gary. He’d run further south than he’d intended and he figured it was time to loop back first he had to shake the Zombs.

Every Scav had their own method but Jesus found the best way was to enter a building and close doors between him and the horde. They got snarled up in the building giving him time to escape via a back door. He found a large farmhouse that looked like it would do the trick and made a run for it. He ran inside and up the stairs. He left the front door open but closed every other door. It would ensure the zombs got well and truly entangled inside the structure.

He left via a bedroom window and soon found himself on the ground leaving the house in his dust.

He slowed to a jog as he wanted to avoid making too much noise and he’d been running for hours so he figured he deserved a break. His clothes were a mess of sweat and dirt. Jesus thought it might be time to retire his teeshirt.

It was a cool day but the snow had for the most part been melted by the recent heavy rain. There were multiple ice patches and according to Gary more Snow was on the way. Jesus shrugged. He liked the snow.

He’d been running for about an hour when he stopped to check in with Haven. He spoke to Callie and gave her his position. He figured he’d be home in a couple of hours at his current pace. He was in no rush, there was a lot of bad feeling in Haven at the moment due to the number of deaths. He’d been toying with the idea of leaving as at times it felt like tensions would boil over.

Jesus was thinking about this when he heard the moan. He dropped his hand to his hammer and stopped running.

It wasn’t a normal Zed moan, no this was more controlled. He then realised he was hearing sobbing, a child’s sobbing. He kept the hammer out and followed the sound. If it was a kid he couldn’t leave them but at the same time he wasn’t about to walk around unarmed.

He found a burnt out Nissan in a clearing and approached with caution. He peaked into the back seat and saw a girl in a school uniform hugging her knees and weeping.

“Are you ok there?”

The girl looked up and wiped the tears from her face. She had long red hair and her face was blotchy from crying.

“Hi my name is Jesus. Do you need help?”

“Hey-Zeus?” The girl repeated.

“Yeah. What’s your name?”

“Natalie. I’m lost. My dad went out for food and told me to stay here, he hasn’t been back for days.”

Jesus noticed Natalie glance over his shoulder. He turned his head and in his corner of his eye detected a flurry of motion. He didn’t have time to react as the axe swung down and into the top of his head. His attacker tried to pull the axe free but it was firmly wedged. Jesus collapsed and began convulsing.

Natalie leapt out of the car and over Jesus, who was no longer capable of comprehending much, and hugged the man who had swung the axe.

“We did good Daddy!”

“Sure did pumpkin. Lot of meat on this one and that looks like a nice watch!”

“Yay!” Natalie cried as she jumped up and down.

Daddy then pulled the axe free of Jesus’ head and swung it again.


November 10th 2013,

Gary and Mark were tinkering with the Solar panels and Callie was monitoring radio traffic for the runners still out in the field. Jesus was still out there although he had checked in a few hours ago. A knock at the door pulled her from her post. She turned and saw Carter standing in the doorway.

“Hey want some company?” Carter asked.

“Yeah sure come in.” Callie nodded. She knew this moment had been coming and how she handled it would decide a lot. She had to size up Carter while she was doing the same to her. It was the kind of thing Callie excelled at.

Carter hobbled in on a pair of makeshift crutches and sat at the end of the table.

“So you’re the boss?”

“It’s not really like that, I was just first here.”

“That’s not the vibe I’m getting, you call the shots.”

“I guess but it’s more democratic than that.”

Carter nodded. “I see.”

They lapsed in to silence for a few seconds.

“I, uh, wanted to say thanks for saving me. I know you lost one of your people.”

“Yeah we did.” Callie let the words hang. “We couldn’t leave someone out there though. There’s survival and then there’s being an asshole.”

“I’m glad you did. Your man was very professional, Forces?”

“Yeah he was army or something.”

“It showed. Very controlled. I, uh, know you were close and set this place up with him. I just wanted to say, I appreciate it.”

“Don’t mention it. Time may come you have to do something similar.”

Carter nodded.

“I saw one of your people got captured and slapped around a little.”

“Yeah Ben. He’s dealing with some issues, but he’s not a bad a kid. We just don’t really have time for mental break downs right now. We’ve lost two people in the space of a week.”

“Losing people is hard. We took a lot of casualties defending Valley.”

“RAF Valley in Wales? You mentioned that before.”

“Yeah pain in the arse it was. We should have retreated much sooner but Command and Control had totally collapsed.” Carter shook her head at the memory.

“So the military isn’t functioning anymore?”

“What can I tell you? When the police and civilian services got overwhelmed they called in the Forces to try to control the outbreak. Course that didn’t work because we had no idea what we were dealing with. Lost a lot of people, people with the skills to survive this kind of thing. The brass is probably still out there, our guts their glory you know?”

“I think I can relate, except I’m the brass.” Callie frowned.

“Heavy rests the crown I guess.”

They lapsed into silence again and this time it was Callie who broke it.

“Monroe was the only person we had trained in any kind of combat, you got any training like that?”

Carter shook her head. “I’m a chopper pilot. I got escape and evasion training and I can operate some weapons systems but I was usually above the action.”

“Sorry, weapons systems?”

“Guns. I can work most weapons the RAF are issued with, combat theory isn’t my bag though. That’s army stuff.”

Callie nodded.

“What I can do is operate a radio and run ops. We had to work our own mission plans and that meant map studies. I can help you out with that kind of thing.”

“You want to help with the admin?” Callie said with a sceptical eyebrow raised.

“Yeah it’s not like I’m running anywhere any time soon.” Carter said pointing at her leg.

“Ok you can help. We have one Scav in the field at the moment. I guess you should get familiarised with the area. Monroe organised all the maps, they’re beside the bread bin behind you.”

Carter twisted awkwardly and grabbed the files. She smiled at the cover which was very precise and neat. It was organised in the fashion of an old school Map Book. Before the outbreak it was all digital, this was something of a throwback for Carter. She buried her head in the books and started studying.


November 10th 2013,


Doctor Short had long since stopped taking blood from Shinji, in fact she’d taken more than she should have and now had the man under observation in the bed that had been occupied by Carter. Hoppy was stabilised and was even up and talking but Short was never far from her side. She had broken two ribs, Pneumothorax, a punctured lung and blood loss. Short was convinced the equipment on the list would allow her to treat the wounds but it was a matter of time, Short’s makeshift dressings would only last so long. She needed the correct equipment to deal with injuries or Hoppy would die.

This was frustrating to Short as Hoppy’s injuries where entirely treatable it was simply the lack of supplies. She needed the chest tube apparatus to stop to lung collapsing. Once she had that inserted the treatment plan became simple. Ensuring the wound was kept clean, allowing the ribs to heal and finally the removal of the tube. It would take weeks but Hoppy was lucky to be alive. The bullet had passed straight through her and avoided all major internal organs, save the lung. She had been particularly lucky as the bullet passed close to her spine. That would have spelt the end on her Scav career at least.

With nothing else to do Short checked the pulses of her two charges.


November 10th 2013,


The panels were up but they hadn’t got the opportunity to get a full charge. Mark was sitting in his Crow’s nest with the scoped rifle when he heard a twig snap somewhere below outside the perimeter.

He lifted his large lamp and shone it in the direction of the noise. The Lamp had once been used in rabbit hunting now it served a different purpose. The beam found a bedraggled looking woman making her way up the hill towards Haven. She had her hands raised above her head.

Sandra called out. “My name is Sandra Hargrave! I am unarmed and need to speak to Doctor, I mean Professor King!”

“Tilo?” Mark muttered. “Where are you coming from?”

“Upton Abbey! King will know me I have a message!”

“Ok approach the gate then turn around and get on your knees then interlock your fingers behind your head!”

Sandra complied and Mark went outside, by now the entire of Haven was out and looking into the darkness with weapons drawn. Mark tied Sandra’s arms and marched her to Callie.


Carter, Tilo, Callie, Sandra and Mark were all in the kitchen. Sandra was starting to feel like a criminal but in a way she could understand the suspicion.

“Speak.” Callie said.

“Elizabeth Rand sent me. I have a message in my jacket pocket.”
Mark started rifling through her jacket which he removed when he was checking her for weapons. He produced a small black wallet and shrugged. Recognition flashed in Tilo’s and Callie’s eyes.

Mark tossed the Wallet to Callie and sheet of folded A4 tumbled out onto the kitchen table. It said Professor King on it and reminded Callie of the notes the kids in her class used to pass.

“Guess that’s for you Tilo.” Callie said. Tilo lifted the letter and quietly read it before handing it to Callie who read it aloud.

“Professor King,

I apologise for intruding but Upton Abbey is in trouble. Ken Rand has been killed and I suspect it was murder as does Sandra who you hopefully remember from your visit here. She can fill you in on the details.

I implore you to help us, the people here are scared and are reaching out for anything. Unfortunately that seems to be resulting in the wrong people getting in charge.

If Sandra makes it this far please ensure she is not mistreated.


Elizabeth Rand.

“I’d give her high marks for penmanship.” Callie said after a beat.

“This Kenneth Rand what makes you think he was murdered?” Carter asked.

Sandra explained that Ken was taking heart medication he shouldn’t have had that would have been ineffective.

“What about suicide? I’ve seen it happen to the strongest.”

“No not Ken, besides there was no way he got those pills on his own.”

“That you know of.” Carter said.

“Let’s go back to this Zombie situation. You say he turned without being bitten?” Callie asked.

“Yes well I suppose he could have got bitten on the face. The Hunters used a shotgun to put him down, there wasn’t much left of his head. If he had been bitten though that Zombie must have been the dairy milk man of Zombies because he didn’t leave a trace.”

“Weird. I’ll ask Rishi about that.” Callie said.

“So you want us to send one of our guys over there? You know one of your people has been running around murdering other survivors? A Gang of Five of them actually.” Carter said. Callie had spent the afternoon filling Carter in on the history of Haven.

“No but I bet I know who was responsible. Brand?”

Tilo nodded at Callie. That was the man he and Ben had concluded to be responsible.

“Let me guess he’s the one you think killed Rand?”

“Yeah both of the Rands probably.”

“Ok we need to take a look at this guy. Make sure he’s not a threat.”

“So what do we do? We can’t attack them, they out number and outgun us.” Mark said.

“I know.” Callie muttered.

She thought for a long moment while staring into space. When her thoughts came back to the room she found herself staring at Tilo.

The History Professor.

“Greeks bearing gifts.”

Mark looked at Tilo who appeared to be as confused as he was.

“This Brand guy. Sounds like a narcissist or a psychopath or whatever, means he likes it when people play up to his sense of superiority. So we use that as a cover to get in there and see what the hell is happening.”

“Narca-what? I thought you were a school teacher not a head shrink.” Mark said.

“You never watch Criminal Minds?”


“Nevermind look. If we go over there, say we want to start the trades that Ken Rand proposed and play up to his ego he might just let us inside the building. From there Tilo can work out what the hell is going on once he has a word with Elizabeth Rand. See what I mean?” Callie explained.

“What if it all goes wrong?” Carter asked.

“Well if Tilo doesn’t check in then we tell the Caravaners we know who killed their guys and see what happens.”

“You mean start a war?” Carter asked.

“Don’t be melodramatic. They are the two biggest groups around here, we side with the Caravaners and take the Rands out. It’s a win win. We get back in with the Caravaners and protect ourselves from the Rands.”

“Then why not tell them now?”

“Because they lost people to those assholes and they will want blood. It’s clear not everyone supports Brand but I don’t think the Caravaners would see it that way once the bloodlust descends. They’ll slaughter everyone or be slaughtered in the attempt.”

“Maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad thing.” Carter offered. “I mean think about it. We let the Caravaners know what we know then let them go to war with the Rands. If the Caravaners win their numbers will have been thinned making them less of a threat and if the Rands win hopefully we could steamroll the survivors.”

Everyone in the room looked at Carter with wide eyes and Mark’s jaw actually dropped.

“I’m just saying.” Carter shrugged.

“That might be too far at the moment. The Caravaners can still be allies and we can’t assume Brand is evil. The evidence is pointing that way but it’s from conclusive. We need an investigation.” Callie offered although Carter’s callousness had shocked her.

“So the plan is to use the trade agreement to play up to Brand and make contact with Elizabeth Rand?” Mark asked.

“Correct. I say we send Tilo he knows the area and has a relationship with the people.” Callie said.

“I see. Will he be able to take care of Brand if it comes to it?” Carter asked.

All eyes fell on Tilo but Callie saved him from having to answer. “Tilo is smart and knows what’s at stake he can deal with it whatever way he needs to.”

Carter shrugged. “Fair enough what are you going to trade?”

“Haven’t thought about that.” Callie mused.

“We were carrying a lot of supplies might be something there worth salvaging. Food, that kind of thing. I think you guys should hold onto the weapons.”

“Yeah I think so too. What kind of weapons, we talking here?” Callie asked

“Couple of 9mm Browings , probably a few SA-80s. Nothing too heavy.”

Callie stared blankly. “I do people stuff, we had someone else for the guns. What does that mean?”

“Pistols and assault rifles.” Carter said simply.

“Ok so sounds like we got our selves an honest to God Scav mission. I’ll prepare the briefs.”


An Inspector Calls.

Suggested Number of Scavs – 1

Area – RAF crash site. Upton Abbey.

Objective- Recover items to trade with the Rands from Crash site. Investigate death of Kenneth Rand.

Information- Ok so this one is a little complicated.

A woman called Sandra Hargrave arrived at Haven carrying a letter from Elizabeth Rand for Tilo. Sandra and the letter tell us things may have gone a little bad in Upton and it would be in our interest to check it out.

Elizabeth and Sandra believe and Man called Richard Brand is responsible for the death of Ken Rand. This is part of his powerplay to take over Upton. Apparently Brand believes himself to be a strong leader and the only one who worthy of leading. We intend to use his narcissism as a method to get inside Upton.

You will visit the downed RAF chopper and try to retrieve whatever you can. Not weapons though. Use the items as a way to ingratiate yourself with Brand. Play to his ego. Once inside locate Elizabeth Rand and get to the bottom of this mystery. Find out if Brand killed Ken and try to work out what Brand’s plans are for Haven. This could get ugly and there is a very real possibility you might need to kill Brand. It would be far better if you make this look like an accident. Talk to Doc Short or Rishi about how to achieve this.

Lastly it would appear Ken Brand turned despite not being bitten we’re looking into this but be aware he may have been poisoned. Odds are they could try the same trick twice assuming that’s what they did to begin with.

If we don’t receive a radio transmission at every four hours we will assume you have been captured and tell the Caravaners what we know. We want to avoid this as it will lead to a massive loss of life.

Good Luck.


Bonus Mission.

Sea King Down.

Suggested Number of Scavs – 1

Area – RAF crash site.

Objective- Recover weapons and Items from the Sea King.

Information- When my Sea King went down it was loaded with supplies weapons, MREs, Medical equipment and ammo. By now the Zombie activity should have returned to normal so you can pop in and pop out without too much bother. Also of note is a radio equipment that would help boost the signal of the Haven Comms allowing for less atmospheric and geological interference.

A. Carter