Yashie Dyŕr's Story

Yashie
Minneapolis, Minnesota

Yashie trudged on through the deserted town, sighing and sitting down on a huge rubber tire to wipe his forehead. It had been hell, these past three months. He had started out well enough, what with him and a couple of the neighbors' kids who had guns setting out into the apocalypse, imagining all the Zombie-killing and living-life-on-the-run glamor, irrespective of what the Survival Guide had to say. Of course, most of these 'survivors' just thought they could run around like in a Video game, shooting everything that moved at sight and that someday they would 'win'. It didn't work like that and he knew it. It was literally Hell, with each of Yashie's friends getting infected from contact with contaminated food, or else being overrun by the Horde and eaten alive. He was the last, and he wasn't sure how long he'd last.

He had survived the first outbreak of the infection, the mad phase were mass-hysteria and panic were rampant, where people heedlessly took steps in the hope of escape but were just setting themselves up to get eaten or infected. Granted, Yashie had seen the outbreak coming, since he had read so many Zombie-Apocalypse-Survival guides on the internet and most of them had been accurate ... to varying degrees. They had told him what to look out for and thus he had known. Of course, it was not as if he had been perfect .. he had lost his family. And his home and he was now on the run. On the streets, homeless, as it were.

Sure, he'd kept well away from the Zombies, but there were less of them than when he had started. He had come upon some people, but they had been infected when he met them. He had to kill them, smash their skulls in and burn the corpses ... the nightmares he had. Every single night. His food supply was running low. Every so often he would come upon a supermarket or a departmental store that had been broken into, presumably by those Bandits who only seek to make a gain in others' suffering. He used to pick up some food from these shops and restock his backpack, now stained so badly that the original color was not distinguishable.

Yashie looked around tiredly, pulling a half-used roll of medical tape and began bandaging his new collection of cuts, scrapes and bruises that he had sustained the previous day. It was imperative that no open wound be left as it is, the danger of infection was too high. As he sat he kept his ears perked for any noise, Undead or otherwise. It was too long since he saw a survivor who was just that ... a survivor. Wearily he rose to his feet and trudged onwards, watching carefully, leaning heavily on his Monk's spade, something he had paid an arm and leg to purchase. In the distance, he perceived two people walking up ahead of him. They were walking quite normally, and had no signs of balance trouble. Nor did they seem to be missing limbs or dangling guts. They were clothed, and the distinctive 'moan' of air passing through Undead vocal cords was thankfully absent. Definitely human, then. He raised his voice and called out "Hallo!!" as loud as he could. The hoarseness of his own voice and the dryness of his throat surprised him. But it was understandable, he hadn't the need to speak in weeks.

Cath
Minneapolis, Minnesota

The bespectacled man saw them, and and he called out a raspy 'hello' to the siblings. Cath gave Dylan a brief, panicked look and he lowered his gun. This man, whoever he was, is human. And it's been such a long time since they had interaction with any adults, the last occasion being about three weeks on the road, when a kindly old man accompanied them before he succumbed to pneumonia, as a grim precurser to what Cath would undoubtedly suffer, an unknown amount of days down the road. It terrified her, but other than that, the man had been nice enough, offerring advice and counsel to the siblings. He assumed the role of a mentor.

The man drew nearer and the siblings stopped a few feet in front of him. Dylan kept the gun in view, just in case the man tried to do anything to Cath. The man, in all honesty, appeared to be even shorter than Dylan himself, and no more than twenty years old. Black hair, unruly and slightly dusty. Around his arm lays an assortment of bandages, covering cuts and scrapes from the open air, with what appeared to be medical tape. Dylan briefly squeezes his sister's hand, and whispers that they should trust this man. anna nods.

"Hey." Dylan says, holstering the gun to his pants pocket. He shortly introduces himself and his sister, who nods warily. "If you're looking for Minneapolis, it's burnt to the ground. If you wanted to know."

Although Cath stayed back, Dylan walked up close and offered his hand in a shake with the man.

"If you wouldn't mind, we should team up. There's safety in numbers... and... well, the more the merrier, right?" He chuckled weakly. "But my sister, she's got cystic fibrosis. Something up with her lungs, stuff like that. I hope you don't mind, sir."

Almost as if on cue, Cath lets out a small cough.

It had seemed that she’d been walking endlessly, for hours on end almost. How long had she been walking in this useless and empty city? All that was around her was broken down buildings- each building she went in was completely empty. The only sound that filled her ears within the city was the sound of her pitchfork dragging against the dirt behind her. The zombies had been dying off, either not enough humans around, or the diseases that humans have started to kill them off- either way, she wasn’t complaining. Though, she did wish there was at least a few survivors scattered here or there.

She turned the corner quickly, cautious, but not expecting much. In the distance, there was a figure, and she readied herself and lifted her pitchfork towards her chest, ready to stab whatever was there. It was odd, Amber has saw many humans become zombies, but yet, not one animal has really been infected with the disease- sure, there was that occasional dog or cat that was morbid and lost beyond repair, but she has never seen an actual ‘zombiefied’ animal. Amber’s eyes studied the figure, it seemed normal, but she knew something was off- very off. It lugged forwards, but had its hand holding its arm.

It was as if a person had just been injured seriously, whatever it was, and she quickly made her way away from the figure, trying to avoid fighting. The air around her became heavy and muggy as she went further into the city. Amber could feel the dryness in her throat increasing and she wouldn’t be surprised if she ended up coughing up blood from how dry her throat was. It seemed like another ten or fifteen minutes of walking before she had hear voices- or so she hoped. She couldn’t distinguish what it said, but it was hoarse and loud enough for her to tell it was a boy. Before Amber was able to react, her entire body jolted with excitement and she found herself running towards the voice.

The duffle bag knocked against her body hard, which made her stumble and go slower than she wanted to. Her pitchfork seemed to gain more weight and made her arm become numb from running. Within a few minutes- to her it seemed like hours- she saw about two or three figures in the distance. “H-Hey!” It was barely above a whisper, wincing at the pain from her throat. Oh, how she was thirsty. It was when she got close enough, Amber could easily see that it was a short boy, yet she could tell he was almost the same age as her, along with a young boy and a- was that a little girl?

Amber stopped running immediately, having her heart sink to her butt. It always gave her heartache when she saw a kid involved- to be honest, she almost rather see one become one of the walking dead than one alive. Why? Well it was simply because you could turn your back on one that was long gone, but with an alive child, it was hard to not get attached, and before you know it, they’re gone. That’s just how fragile they were. Amber pondered on what she should do- should she just turn around and forget about joining their group because of the child; or should she join them anyways? She hadn’t notice how hard she was panting until a sharp pain crackled in her chest.

Amber knew what the pain was- she needed water. It was now a die or survive situation; without another hesitation, Amber started off with a slow jog again, feeling her head become lighter as she neared them. “H-Hello!” She screamed; her voice was just barely audible for them to hear. She finally stopped when she was only a few feet away from the group.

Yashie
Minneapolis, Minnesota

Yashie stuck his exotic, oriental weapon into the ground, letting it stand upright without support and then took Dylan's hand with two of his fingers and his thumb, shook lightly and then wiped his hand off on a scrap of paper afterwards. "I know, I saw. There are no people there, living or Undead." He listened to the man make an invitation to him to 'team up', as it were. Yashie wasn't sure whether to trust him or not. Of course, most survivors looked for companionship in such times of misery ... they also looked for supplies which are easily obtained from the packs of other dead survivors. He was not quite sure what to make of the man and the girl but he thought they didn't seem quite too bad. He would trust them, but sleep light around them. He listened as the man spoke of the child's disorder. Cystic fibrosis ... he had read about that.

"Cystic fibrosis ... hmm ... genetic disorder? Targets lungs, pancreas .. some other parts. Mucus in the lungs, such like ...hmm. Treated by inhalers with saline water to clear airways. Chronic cases need transplant of lungs. If I'm right." He says, more to himself than to others. It made him feel better, feel connected with the nerdy person he had been before the outbreak of the Solanum Virus. He read voraciously and had eclectic tastes. Back in school, he was reputed as 'knowing something about everything', and he did indeed have a large repertoire of information, usually useless but then again, one or two things came in handy. "Well .. nice to meet you two, glad to see others still living." He said, and nodded his head. "We can not survive here for long. All places likely to have food, and water .. are gone. Burned." he said with a soft sigh.

He lowered his pack to the ground and sat down cross-legged next to it to catch his breath for just a second. As he looked up to inquire as to the girl's health and situation, he heard a voice. Of course in retrospect he realized that he should have known it was human but at that moment he assumed it to be a moan characteristic of the Undead. of course, he wasn't to blame ... so many weeks of fear, of hearing that dreaded noise which was the herald of the Horde, of nerves rendered raw from constant anticipation had rendered him this way. He leapt to his feet, grabbed his weapon out of the ground and had it ready all within the span of three seconds. It was only after this show of agression that the owner of the voice got close enough to see. It was just a human girl, and not a Zombie. He sighed in relief and lowered his weapon, raising a hand to her in greeting. "Hello."

Her body jolted back as she saw the boy raise his weapon, before he had lowered it and said hello. Amber’s red hair blew slightly as her eyes gazed over him, as if wondering if stopping before them was the right thing to do. After what seemed like five minutes of nothing, Amber finally took in a deep breath, letting it release from her lips as she raised her hand as well. “Hello.” Her voice was raspy and it was hard for even her to believe that it was her voice.

Amber’s hand slowly lowered, almost distrusting, before it lied straight out. “I’m Amber.” Her face hadn’t changed- still remaining as an almost curious, still face. “It’s nice to see that there are more than one or two survivors here. It seemed like I was the last one…” She gave a slight chuckle before allowing her hand to fall to her side. Amber grazed her curious eyes over the trio- she realized that as she had gotten closer, she discovered more about them.

Her hopes on water soon faded away; from the looks of it, it seemed that these people didn’t even have a drop of liquid on them- great. Amber could feel her hand tighten around her broken in half pitchfork before giving a slight, small, and timid smile. “I just came back from there…” She thought it would be a good idea to inform them about the figure she saw and the resources she didn’t. “It’s dried clean. The most life I saw was a dead body with a bunch of rats feasting on it- also,” She started her next sentence, but paused for a slight second, as if she was being troubled by saying- and in all actuality, she wasn’t really.

Her eyes beamed towards the young girl and then to the young boy who seemed to be standing next to them before back to the boy who seemed her age, “There was a figure limping north from here.” A heavy sigh came from her lips. “It seemed injured- I don’t think it will last long.” It was odd, it was as if she already knew that it was dead; she hadn’t felt bad about just leaving it alone and not checking it out. Was she that use to death? Amber lightly shuttered at the idea at her becoming a heartless bitch, but how else was a person to survive out here?

It was leaving the dead/injured, or become the dead; she learned that on the farm back at home. She began to quickly think and reminisce of the world that used to be- where it wasn’t actual dog-eat-dog world, and all you had to do was get a good education and job, once that was done, you were pretty much set for life in society. Now, you had to do more; if you wanted to survive, you had to fight- and leave. At this moment, there was no doubt in her mind that Amber would probably leave the people in front of her if it benefited her more.

Her eyes skidded upwards towards the trio once more, thinking about their survival rate before she decided to speak again, “I think we should head south-east, towards Pennsylvania where the forests are rich with min-“ She stopped herself. Here she was, already assuming that they were going to travel together. “Oh, sorry, I just assumed something I shouldn’t…” Her hand shot towards her forehead- she was so dehydrated, that it was very hard for her to think correctly. “Would you like to travel together?” Even though Amber’s voice seemed annoyed, it was a bit desperate.

It would certainly be nice to have someone travel with, but to be honest, she needed a map. Her last map was shredded to pieces when she ran out of toilet paper- wasn’t a smart move, nor a comfortable one; she had to act fast though, or she wouldn’t be here at the moment. The map was the only thing near her at the moment and she was surrounded by what she thought was two or three zombies- it was such a blur now, that she didn’t even remember how she escaped.

Yashie sank down to his knees and thence into a sitting position, leaving his weapon standing upright in the soil like a weird totem pole. He closed his eyes, listening to the new woman, and also keeping himself alert for extraneous noises. He gave his name to the girl when she gave him his, and nodded his assent to her comment about how she didn't think there were any survivors left. Gesturing out away from them he said softly. "They are either all dead, Undead or have left. No food, no water here." He shook his head sadly as he dug into his pack for one of the last three bottles of water he had left, and took a swig before politely holding it out in front of him, in case anyone else wanted some. He knew that it was foolish to just share his resources before deciding whether or not to trust the people .... given as how people were desperate in general in such crises and wouldn't hesitate to stab their fellow humans in the back just so they could live. But he didn't care much. People only had each other and they had to stick together.

He dragged his mind back from such musings just in time to hear Amber say she had seen a figure moving around ... limping by the sounds of it. He almost immediately had a retort come to his lips but he didn't speak it since Amber didn't seem done talking. She offered that they travel together away ... south-east ... away from this hell-hole. Granted, he didn't think anywhere else was any better but then again, the grass was green on the other side, always. He figured he, for one, would take Amber up on her offer .. irrespective of what the other two decided although he hoped they came to. Strength lay in small groups, better defense and such like. He nodded as he leaned his back against a large piece of rubble and spoke slowly. "That sounds like a plan ... I'd take you up on that offer. We go south-east... no supplies for the taking here, anymore. Although ... about that figure. How come you didn't check if it was a Zombie and ... ah, exterminate it?" Clearly, that question had been biting him for a while.

Amber looked at him as he spoke, her eyes thoroughly checking his body; perhaps if the zombie attack hadn’t happen, someone might’ve guessed that she was checking him out, but now, that the world had changed, no one could guess what she was thinking. Amber instantly got lost in her thoughts, thinking over her survival rate, but when he had pulled out the water bottle, Amber’s eyes became hungrily glued to it.

She watched him hand it out, to whom who might want some; her hand shakily went outward and grabbed it, Amber instinctively swigged it back, the water going down her throat, but with control; if it had been up to her, she would’ve surely drunk every last bit of the water, but she didn’t. She only drank a few gulps, enough to somewhat quench what huge thirst she had.

"That sounds like a plan ... I'd take you up on that offer. We go south-east... no supplies for the taking here, anymore. Although ... about that figure. How come you didn't check if it was a Zombie and ... ah, exterminate it?" Amber lowered the water bottle, trying to control herself from drinking anymore, and focus on the question he had asked. Her brown eyes suddenly darken a bit as her hand lowered out in front of, giving him back the water bottle.

“If it had so happen been a person, he would’ve asked for help, or have been a burden to me.” She propped her hands on her hips. “I know it sounds harsh, and I know it’s supposed to be ‘better survival in numbers’, but what if he had gotten bitten by a zombie? By the time the sun sets, he would’ve been turned into one of those bastard things.” She looked at him, leaning on her other leg before she dropped her hips.

“If I so happen become injured, I wouldn’t want false hope or pity. I know that the second I become injured or sick, I’m good as dead.” Her voice may have sounded harsh, but she was right; plus there was a hint of sadness in her voice.

Yashie closed his eyes and leaned backwards, resting against a huge piece of a broken wall. He knew the woman was thirsty, it was quite evident from her voice ... hoarse. He was wondering as to how long they could last, all four of them in the open with supplies running low. He didn't know how much the others had, if any, but he only had very little and that wouldn't even last if he was on his own. Now there were four of them. Of course, it wasn't that he regretted his decision to team up. He was just calculating.

He reached for the water-bottle when he was given it and took two careful sips before closing it and stowing it away into his pack and looked her over once. She seemed ... soft. He was not sure she would have the fortitude to actually kill. Granted, dispatching Zombies was not technically killing since they were dead already but it was close. Her not checking deeper into the random figure she claimed to have seen, and her reasons were worrisome.

He looked at her. "Hrmm ... if it had been a person in need of help, is it not our duty to provide it? After all who can we fall back upon except ourselves, in this troubled time?" He sighed and stood up, using his oriental weapon for support. "But if he had been bitten by a zombie then it is all the more imperative that you should have checked on him. Once bitten, he will definitely turn. That can be prevented by destruction of the brain, right? You ....err ... bash his head in, so to speak, maybe then burn it. That leaves one less monster to worry about."

He shouldered the pack, pulled his weapon out of the ground and looked at the other three, and then down at himself. A rag-tag assembly of barely alive humans. "Well, then, shall we? Oh, and ma'am? If the injury is the bite of the Undead, rest assured that I shall behead you. Anything less severe is curable. Your outlook on post-apocalyptic life is rather bleak!" He tells Amber and chuckles to himself.

Amber watched him as he chuckled on her outlook; kiss my ass. she thought bitterly. Her arms rose over her head, stretching as she watched them. “Well, you can check it out, but I doubt it’s a live human.” Her eyes scanning over the boy as she spoke. Amber then turned towards her right, watching the horizon, trying to hold back an incoming yawn. “Well then, I think we should get a car. It makes things safer and easier.” She rested on her right hip, acting almost as if she was a bit bossy.

“Anyone know how to hotwire?” Amber said, knowing that she could hotwire, but it took her a long, long time to do it- plus, she always got burned somehow or another. “Also, does anyone have a map…?” She asked, thinking it would be a good idea to have.

((Sorry for the crappy post, I’m in a rush and won’t be able to post till Saturday.))