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Zombie Town, U.S.A.

Reagald, Colorado

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a part of Zombie Town, U.S.A., by CussingChild.

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CussingChild holds sovereignty over Reagald, Colorado, giving them the ability to make limited changes.

232 readers have been here.

Setting

Default Location for Zombie Town, Reagald.
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Minimap

Reagald, Colorado is a part of Zombie Town, U.S.A..

8 Characters Here

David Spencer [4] The exiled mortician of Reagald
Royce Jones [3] "Life's over, all that's left is surviving."
Willow Sanders [2] fear is for the weak... and I can't be weak, not now.
Isaac "big papa" ranch [2] "they call me big papa"
Alice Younghart [0] I've lost everything that ever meant anything to me, and if you think that I pity the infected... think again.
Matt Rogers [0] A 24 years old guy trying to survive
Steve Calvert [0] Ruthless is my middle name.
Colten Gray [0] "I give and give and I suppose..That very well may be the source of my shortage of ammunition."

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I would approach the edge of the town from the forest. Pressed to a tree, my breathing silent and calm as I peek around it, through the tree line. Several brick buildings. Some crumbling, the nearest wall with several bullet holes. The moans of the undead were unnerving. Having lived in this world though, for years. You learned to keep nerve in the midst of unnerving elements. A few zombies lumbered around, most stood in place. I counted eight. They didn't lie when they said that the town was crawling with the things.

It was hard to believe these were people once. Loved and cared for. So I took precautions. I turned, with delicate steps. I did my best to avoid noise, pulling my hunting knife from the sheathe at my belt. The first turned and moaned. Looking at me, but not really looking at me. It's eyes white and milky. Flesh hung from it's body and it was balding. A tall man, it'd once been, caucasian. I waited silently. The other's hadn't yet sensed me. Moments passed, it's movements slow. Painfully slow.

It was upon me suddenly, my eyes never left it's eyes. It reached out to grab me, and I silently dodged beneath it's extended arms as I stepped in. I planted my right leg at the man's thigh. Rising to the right and grabbing the man at the rotting bicep of his left arm I'd push him gently away as I brought the knife up and brought the blade down. Severing his brain stem. I held it there, helping the man drop. It was quiet as I could pull off and him being so close. The rest hadn't yet caught my scent.

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Character Portrait: David Spencer
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Dave rose from his bed as he felt numb and limp. Sleep was hard to receive considering the Lames would never keep quiet. Nor do the sounds of others talking or shooting or screaming. It was all too mundane for Dave as this has become the norm and he couldn't help but feel bored. Sure runing and fighting for your life should be anything but boring but it's how Dave saw everything. At least before when it was a new day at least you couldn't expect anything but now it's either somebody dies or somebody gets lost. Nothing but damn lames this and holy shit this and what ever else people say during the day. Mostly it's about keeping guard and rationing supplies and how long we can last. There never is a "Hi, Good Mornin'" anymore. Dave got up and brushed his greasy hair as he found it difficult to take full showers anymore with out the plumbing stopping up. Occasionally groups of people check up on the old Water and Sewage Plant to keep things working but it is unreliable as something always happens. The group gets killed or they need more time to fix the pipes, through out their hemming and hawing not much gets done about it. Dave has grown accustomed to using water from a sink to wet the brush and use it as a meager attempt to wet his hair. He then uses little of the bars of soap he has and then splashes some water over his body to rinse and lather.

Dave finished his routine and then placed on some new clothes for the day and looked outside. It was early morning and people were wandering about as they continue to put up meaningless resistance to the impending doom. Dave sighed as he looked over yonder to see the sun and speckles of figures shambling about in the woods. Luckily the wall keeps the Lames out but it has to be constantly monitored in case of leaks in the infrastructure. Dave turned his head away and placed on his wide-brimmed, black hat and moved out the room. Dave lived in a run down apartment building were most of the surviving residents live. Everybody keeps to themselves or at least keeps away from himself, ever since the outbreak Dave has been treated like he had the damn plague, like he was to blame. He understood it was probably just the fear talkin but damn it all they didn't have to treat him like a dog. Still Dave didn't let them bring him down...that was already over and done with. He continues to help out, like it does him any good but still he helps. While he maybe treated as a monster he isn't going to act the part. Whenever folks were in danger he would lend'em a hand, being fair and such.

Right now Dave has come across anybody, their numbers were dwindling...only a matter of time before their all gone. Dave thought about that and although he wouldn't wish it he knew it will happen. All he ever did was prepare for that day when the settlement comes down and everybody either dies or flees. Another troubling fact is he hasn't seen much new faces. No new survivors have entered the town in quite a while meaning that the numbers outside are falling as well. How long will it be until the Human Race is extinct? Dave steps outside and takes a deep breath, Nothin but rotting flesh...again. Dave thought to himself disappointingly as he wandered the streets.

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It took me about forty-five minutes. I broke it's left arm and cut as smoothly as I could, the skin and flesh. The arm seperated from the body as I pulled at it from the wrist. I wiped the blade on the tattered clothes of the poor bastard and slipped it back into it's sheathe. I rose silently, holding the arm close. It reeked. My face was twisted in displeasure as I silently walked farther into the town.

They hardly looked. I made sure to keep atleast four feet between myself and them. Their sense of sound and smell had to be muffled. It became harder and harder. But I saw a small building, with an opened door. The sun was setting. I had to shelter up for the night. It took me 30 minutes alone to get to the doorway. I creeped in, shutting the door soundlessly behind me.

I drew my knife once more, checking the rooms. It had been abandoned long ago. It was once a lovely home, lavish furniture. Fireplace in the living room. I settled into one of the rooms. It had boring white walls and simple furniture. I couldn't bring myself to scavenge their belongings. The lone picture on the nightstand, I gently tucked away in a drawer. I walked to the window. I could see in the gray of the coming night the outline of the undead. There was a park across the way. It was nearly zombie free. I planned tomorrow.

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I woke up in a daze. Gunshots could be heard outside, my pistol was in my hands before I'd fully awaken. I pulled myself from the bed, silently making my way to the window overlooking that park. There it was, a man, his wife, and his two children. He was making his way across that park, there was no time to lose. He would be overwhelmed in minutes. I started pulling my gear on, then rushed to the window. I linked my fingers together cracking them at the knuckles. Then reeled back releasing a kick that with impact, shattered the glass. The man had run out of ammo. This worked to my advantage. A great deal of the zombies turned at the sound of the glass breaking. I dropped my leg, checking my stance before leaping out the window. It was a sloped roof.

The minute my feet hit the roof I was sliding. There were a great deal of zombies already below grabbing up at me, but I caught myself, gaining some balance. My right foot slipped over and I felt fingers on the bottom of my shoes. I pulled it up with a great sigh of relief and pulled my Colt 1911 from it's holster. I brought it up aiming carefully, only two zombies were following lazily behind the couple and their children. I gently squeezed the trigger, letting out a deep breath. There was a loud pop and blood erupted from the head of the closest zombie.

The other turned at the noise and began lumbering back to the pack. The moans of the undead were harmonious beneath me. I smiled though, watching the family get to the tree line of the park. I hoped they would make it to that settlement. Now..How would I get out of this predicament.

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Character Portrait: Royce Jones
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Royce - Old Junkyard on outskirts of town

Slowly Royce became aware that he was awake. Everything was still black but he could smell the familiar scent of death and metal. He groaned softly as he stretched his arms and legs out on the surface of the old bus seat. Opening one eye slowly he began to make out his surroundings slowly. The only thing he could focus on though was the slow pounding going on in his head.

He sat up opening his other eye once again trying to focus on anything other then the pounding. He was sitting in an old rusted out school bus. He'd had to clear away some of a pile a junk for a long time before he was able to get inside. It sat towards the center of a large pile of junk that is now basically his home. After clearing away enough junk to make a way into the bus from the outside, he had to remove everything inside it as well and then redecorate. It was a long process but Royce is more then glad that he had done it afterward.

His eyes focused on the dull light that eminated from a solar charged lantern he found. It was near dead so he knew that it'd be morning soon. He stood from the seat and headed over to a rather beat-up looking refridgerator. It was a dull red orange from the years of rusting excepted for a polished silver doorknob he'd attached to the door. Pulling on the knob the thing opened revealing cans of food. He yawned lazily as his eyes scanned the inside looking for something to eat. It wasn't long before he'd decided on the vienna sausages.

Grabbing the can from inside he close the door and turned to start heading for is makeshift table when he seen it. He held his breath and watched as the lone rotting bag of flesh that somehow had found it's way into the entrance crawled in. It looked directly at him as if it could see him, which royce knew to be impossible. It made a horrible sound as it detected his scent and tried to scramble to it's feet.

Dropping the can to the ground he turned to grab the thick lead pipe he kept next to the fridge. Twirling back around he dashed to the monster his grip tighting on the pipe. Bringing it down hard on the neck of the creature he knocked it back to the ground. Smashing it over and over again.

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I pulled myself up to the window and eased my way into it. I only had twelve bullets. There were about sixteen zombies out there. I needed my ammunition. I decided to go look for something to eat. I went down the stairs and searched about the house. But found nothing. Hmm. Well damnit. I checked my equipment. All of it. Making sure everything was secured then ran up the stairs. I pulled the sheets and comforters from all the beds. gathering them in that room. One by one I dropped them on the mass of zombies awaiting my move. Soon enough they were bustling about confused. I smiled wickedly. So much for respect for corpses. I sprinkled lighter fluid from my pack on the various blankets and other things, and took my matches from my pack. It took three strikes before it caught flame.

This flame, though. It was as if everything slowed to watch what this little flame would do. It landed right in a puddle of the lighter fluid. Suddenly the zombies and their cover were ablaze. I checked my footing and crept along the roof to a part that wasn't crowded with the undead. I dropped, silent as I could manage. The zombies didn't notice. The smell was putrid, I reached up holding my nose as I began a silent, crouched jog toward the tree line of the park.

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Character Portrait: David Spencer
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Dave noticed the night was about to come as he saw the sun beginning to set over the horizon. Although he may have been safe behind the walls of the settlement many people lock themselves up at night in fear of the worse. The only ones that roam at night are watchmen that keep the walls protected in case of a night assault. Dave wandered back to the apartments when he heard gun shots off in the distance. Most likely some unlucky people trapped on the other side since they didn't arrive back in time for the gates to be opened. As Dave walked closer to the building he then smelt what could be a fire in the distance and sure enough he could smell smoke and flesh off in the distance. Whoever is trapped is seriously trying to give the zombies hell. Dave supposed thats how he would like to go out as well, if zombies were about to kill him then he would take as many as he could with him. The smell in the air was horrible and Dave almost wished that whoever had done it hadn't done it. Still this discomfort would hopefully not last long as he made his way to the apartments.

Dave could see people talking and trying to peak over the wall to see what is happening. Dave figured it wasn't anything special, after all this kind of violence is normal. Dave couldn't help but over hear some of the citizens words. "What's going on over there?" "Is it a forest fire?" "Is the military blowing up the lames?" Many questions and many voices rang aloud. Soon though the people began to loose interest as they reverted back into their homes and the guards resumed their watch. What ever was going on it wasn't going to benefit them...Dave wondered if anything ever would.

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I climbed a tree in the sorry excuse for a collection of the things. It would have to do for protection. I climbed as silently as I could. So close to the pyre of mounting Lame corpses, the smell hung in the air around me. I wore my mask to be careful. No telling what it could do to the human body. It was funny. The racket of the zombies flipping shit about being on fire had them making noise. Which attracted more. Which also caught fire. It was a lovely chain effect. I smiled pulling myself onto a forked branch about eight or so feet from the ground. I did my best to make myself comfortable.

It was damn near impossible. I wondered when I would come upon that settlement. I holstered my colt. Didn't want it falling from the tree if I shifted in my sleep. I did sleep, eventually. It was a troubled and horrid sleep that had me wishing in my subconscious state that I were awake. What would tomorrow bring, death or salvation? The dreams told of horrid things to come. Foreshadowing horrid future events.

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Character Portrait: David Spencer
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Fatigue sat in as Dave found it harder to go to sleep each night and even stay asleep. Every night and every day he was tired as he knew he was becoming weaker all of the time. Sadly this isn't strange either as many people suffers from insomnia since the outbreak six years ago. People lose control and collapse from sleep deprivation only to wake up like a half-hour or less later. It is uncommon to see people actually sleep well during this time of crisis but seeing how things are not becoming better someone would have to compromise. Dave wished he could just fall into a deep sleep and stay asleep for day but that was a luxury too few could actually have. Dave fell asleep in his bed as the sights and smells of the fire still clouded his memory. Dave began to dream of a fire ravaging the settlement as the Lames broke through and began to kill those that unfortunately survived the blazing inferno. Dave could hear the screams of the civilians being burned alive or eaten alive. Then he noticed a wall collapsed behind him, trapping him, as the lames came closer.

"No!" "Stay back!" "Nooooooo!!!" Dave yelled as he woke up in a cold sweat.

"It was only a dream....," Dave said more weary than relieved.

The nightmares were only becoming worse as sleep was harder to achieve or in his case keep it. Dave walked around his apartment room, pacing trying to rid himself of the nightmare's images. From looking out the window Dave could determine he was only asleep for maybe an hour or so. Dave only got about four to five hours worth of sleep if he was lucky. Most night were riddled with similar feverish dreams of death coming for him...in fact those were the only dreams he had. While he wouldn't admit it, he was absolutely terrified of this place. Terrified of the fact that any day of any given moment this settlement could be overrun with the undead. Dave sat down at a chair and lit an oil lamp, from there he took out a cigarette from the kitchen counter, and lit it with the same match he used to lite the lamp. Dave was shaking but smoking helped him relax...he remembered a time when he didn't smoke. It was before the infection spread back when he was living in Reagald out pleasure and not for survival. He used to smoke when he was younger but quit cold turkey when he neared his thirties. Now since the whole world has gone to hell he resumed his bad habit and began to smoke every time he became anxious or nervous. The one thing though is that he would never smoke in public, he always felt ashamed if others saw him smoke. Most likely it was because his mom was ashamed when she saw him smoke. He would always remember that she would look upon him disappointingly when she saw him smoke...he never did like that look.

Dave extinguished his cigarette after he was done and stared at the light from the lamp. It still reminded him of the fire from his dream...it looks like he might not get any sleep tonight.

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a lone figure slowly wandered into this busted up town, a figure strait from a western. a tall man astride on a large black god of a horse, the figure alone, in the dull moon light was enough to bring out the red neck whoop and hollar out in any city boy. slung over his back was a model 1887 12 gauge shot gun and a rather modern looking hunting riffle on his hips was the good old revolver hand guns. this man was a vision of the American spirit he looked like he belonged on a pack of cigarets. he slowly wandered into the town his horse showing no fear to the bull moaning and groaning on the walkers stumbling slowly behind them. the duo seemed to be in perfect synch a zombie would make a run for the horse the man would reach into his right boot pull out a battered and well used ka-bar knife and drive it point first into the skull of the undead. all the while this godly beast would keep up a pace that would leave the older more rotten zombies in the dust.

those that he passed that was still alive would hear the classic "clip clop" of the horses hove and the jingle of his spurs the man would tilt his white cowboy hat back looking up at the dark sky and sigh slightly. he grabbed a hold of the reins that had been laying on the nap of the horse's neck and tugs slightly on them turning the head of the horse slowly in the direction he wanted to go. the large horse protested slightly but gave in, in the end he trotted up to a large garage with a large metal shutter door. as they grew closer the man slung himself off the horse and ran up to the and opened it quickly, he scanned the area and proceeded to lift the leavy normaly motor driven door just high enough for his horse to duck under it. dropping the heavy door he steps back and sighs latching the small door shut.

"looks like we are beddin down here spiro" the mans thick country bow drawl calls out to the horse as he slowly reaches under the large horse unbuckling the saddle. he slips the leather saddle off resting it on the rusted lawn mower then the two blankets the insulate the horse from the paddle and finely he pulled off the reins, he did use a bit he found it as odd for him to put in as it was for the horse to chew on all day. he looked around for something wood finding an old ladder and busted it up placing the wood in a pile and setting it ablaze running a wire brush through the horses black hair as the flames licked the air. it took him about an hour to fulfill his obligations to his stead, feeding, brushing and maintenance on his saddle, it wasnt to hard for him to pass out on the small cushion the two blankets provided him.

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I awoke from my restless sleep at around four in the morning. My eyes adjusted with time to the darkness. I looked about letting out a gentle sigh of relief. No Lames about. I dropped silently from the tree, pulling my gear into my pack with haste and checking my Colt to be sure it was fully loaded. I smiled wickedly. The smell was much less pungent now and I was thankful to any God that may exist for this. Enjoy the little things, right? Like lack of unbearable stench of lames?

I was hungry, stomach pangs were horrible. I wasn't sure what madness there was. I was suddenly dizzy, my hand shot to the tree for support and the air was knocked from my lungs as I crumpled inward. Vomit fell from my open mouth and I couldn't help but cough and weeze. Pain shot from my chest. I heard the moan of the undead coming to investigate the sounds coming from this strip of trees.

One lumbered forth at a sort of jog, and as it pulled through the trees, I pulled my katana from the sheath bashing the zombie in the middle of it's forehead. I reeled back and I lifted the sword, swinging from the left at it's temple. The katana was a cheap replica, but damn it was effective. Well worth the 132$ I had paid at a Romancing the Stone. Blood and gore erupted from the head of the Lame. It had, had crushing and cutting effect. It dropped to the ground truly put to rest, the sword dropped from my hand and I fell forward in the dirt, clutching my stomach, holding in my cries of agony.

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Character Portrait: Royce Jones
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After he slowly came to realize that the rotter he'd been smashing to a pulp was nothing more then just that. Broken bones and masses of rotted flesh. It had been a recently turned zombie, he could tell by both the scent and the pool of blood that was forming.

"Sad to see another go. No wonder you managed to crawl in here buddy you were still partially there when you fell in, huh?" Royce spoke softly to the pooling flesh mound before turning his attention away and setting the gore covered pipe back in it's place he stopped for a moment. Letting the event soak into him. He didn't have anything entirely too important to do just yet, still to early or late depending on how you looked at it.

Slowly he shuffled about his small one room home fiddling with things before eventually heading to a ladder in the corner that led up out of the bus shell and into a cramped, rusted large commercial garbage container. There was an old couch up here as well and his desk where he sat for communicating on his CB. He could prop open the small plastic top only a few inches under the things above but it worked well enough to get to the city. There was a nice Oak table with a one missing original leg, instead there was baseball bat in it's place. On the right corner there was a kerosene hooded lantern. Royce murmered to himself about needing to find more kereosene as he fiddled with the knob some before pressing the ignition.

As the light bathed the inside of the dumpster he could see the pictures on the table clearer. He would spend the next few hours examining photo's of the city as it was a few we
k's ago. He'd been injured and overly nursing a sprained ankle so he hadn't been back out. He'd tell you it still hurt but it didn't. He was just afraid of going back outside. The reason he'd sprained his ankle in the first place had almost been the end of his crazy life.

He sat down at the desk after awhile and scanned through the CB hoping to hear someone. He hadn't heard from his regular few in a about two or more days. The zombies had knocked his extension antenna from the top of the pile and he still needed to fix that to get full power.

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Everything was a haze, my vision shook, everything unclear. My ears were ringing, but I could hear vaguley the moans of zombies. I pulled myself up, grabbing the sword by the hilt. I fell into the tree, with uneven footing. I looked over my shoulder to see that the first of the zombies had found their way past the tree line. There were too many, and I could hear them coming from all directions. I looked down at the zombie I had decapitated, frowning. I dropped to the ground, keeping the sword close at hand, I pulled the undead corpse ontop of me..

I could see feet shuffling around, hear the leaves rustling under their laboured shuffling. They had lost prey. You could tell it made them sad, their moans rang out in frustration. I still felt the effects of an illness. It scared me, what if the disease was taking hold of me? What would I do, then? No, no Colten. Stay calm. The body was nearly enough to make me puke again. I worked delicatley around the body, I began slicing at it's arms, next would be the legs, I needed as much as I could get.

This town, was hell.

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his rest was fevered full of memories of his past sights of his under aged sisters being raped and murdered in front of him filled his mind as he slept. he awoke around 6 am he seemed peaceful as he slowly sat up and rubbed his stomic, a low gurgling noise coming from it. the man reached for his pack looking really sad as he pulled out the last of his food, a small inch long chunk of jacks links jerky stick. he slipped the chunk of meat in his mouth and started to chew away, it wasn't much the taste was enough to get this country boy out of bed. the crinkling of the wrapper was enough to wake up the horse whose eyes locked onto his rider eating the last of his food, Spiro wasn't some mule he was quite smart. the horse, Spiro, knew what was coming next, they where going to have to raid a store for some food, a dangerous task for the both of them seeing that Spiro was top big to fit inside stores with his rider on top.

the man looked to his trusted horse with sad eyes and began to speak to plead with his stead to help him get more food for it would be the horse's life at risk the most. all the man was able to say was the horses name but got cut off by a hardy grunt and a proud stance from Spiro, the man nodded softly and started to put together his riding gear in silence. the man tossed the two blankets over the horses back the dim glow of the ashes pulsing as the last of the wood died out. the man stopped looked to his bag rather then the saddle, he walked to the bag and slowly started pulling out home made armor road signs and scrap from cars all tied up with one sided barbed wire. the man started to lay this crudely made armor over the horses back neck and legs, tightening it down tight. with the last crude latch tucked tight the man nodded and pulls on a few signs on his legs that was far weaker then the ones on his horse but he didn't care for his own safety he cared about his horse. the team looked rather silly in their armor but they where ready for anything, the man finely slipped the saddle onto his mount placing his boot into one of the stirrups swinging his leg over and picks his pack off of the lawn mower.

the man reached up and pulled the emergency cored on the door watching the old rusted door fall apart from years of staying still, he was amazed that it held through the night. he looked out of the door and smirked seeing that it there wasnt a corpse in sight, he gave a soft click of his tongue and ducked down moving with the horse as it slowly walked out of the garage. the mans keen eyes scaned the busted up buildings and land scape for any hopes of food, his eyes lightening up when he saw a dollar store,dollar general to be exact. he started for the building and sighed seeing 6 zombie crowding the front door, they would be easy to get pass but its the ones he didnt see that had him worried. in moments they threw the plan into motion the same plan the team had ran for 6 years. they rode up to the building the man jumped off and rushed through the door as fast as he could the man rounded up a small have bag like cart and rushed down the isles grabbing canned food wheat flour and any dried meats he could see. the whole time Spiro would run around whooping and hollerin as much as possible to draw the attention of the dead away from the man. Spiro would trotted around the back of the building. the man would be waiting at the door when spiro came around jump on and away they would go in a blur. the whole plan took about 2 minutes but to them it felt like weeks.

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Character Portrait: Isaac "big papa" ranch Character Portrait: Willow Sanders
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Willow sat up, another nightmare, her father, rotted and feral, and her mother, drunk and violent, were both attacking her, her mother attacking with a broken bottle and her father ripping her apart. She sat up, swallowing her scream but sweating like mad, she got out of her bed and looked out the window, Same old scene, zombies, more zombies, empty park and a horse... wait... is that another survivor? She thought to herself, squinting to get a better look at both. She pulled on her dress and shoes and left the building, she looked around, she was one of the first few up. She climbed a watchtower and watched the man and his horse.
A guard tried to pull her away but she stood her ground, "It's another survivor, open the gates!" She yelled at him, pointing at the man on his horse. She put her hand to her mouth and whistled, hoping to catch his attention. The guard was now watching him too.

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Character Portrait: Royce Jones Character Portrait: David Spencer
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Dave since the break of dawn has been out and about, walking around the enclosed ruins of Reagald. Dave deep in thought found himself wandering further out in the settlement. Hm? Now where in the world did I wander off too? Dave thought to himself. He noticed it was pretty far out the one thing he noticed was the Old Junkyard only a few feet from him. The Junkyard? That was on the far side of town...I guess I've done enough walking for the day. Dave was about to turn around when he heard rustling from within. Dave wasn't sure what it was. He really hoped the zombies haven't found a way in. Dave contemplated running and warning others of a potential danger but there was the off chance it's just rats. He already is on a tenuous balance with the remaining citizens and if he screws this up...they may just let him go. Already this seems like a terrible idea, going inside a junkyard with potential danger that could take his life. Still Dave might as well inspect but he must do it quietly.

Dave wanders through the junkyard as he quietly stepped about. Although it would be hard to distinguish the foul, rotten smell of the zombies from the junkyard itself but thankfully he hasn't heard any moans. As he moved about it seemed that he could have been just hearing things. Just as he was ready to leave he heard what seemed to be...static? Dave searched around for the source as he soon came across a dead body. Finding this evidence made him worry, Maybe there are zombies about. Has the day finally come? Dave thought. Nervousness began to creep in as he started to tremble. Then he heard the static again as he quickly turned around knocking cans and other garbage over with a crash. "Crap!" Dave said under his breath, hoping none of the lames heard him. There was one thing that bothered him, if there is a corpse here beside him...how did it come to be here? Dave knew by looking, and smelling, that this corpse was fresh. Somebody must have killed this poor fool but who?

Dave wondered if the the noises and this corpse are connected? Is there somebody else in this junkyard besides him? Dave figured the only thing that would live out here are possibly dogs and vermin but another person? Dave wasn't so sure but maybe it's a wayward survivor trying to outrun the dead. Whoever it was perhaps it could be helpful if Dave were to find him and asking him some questions about the corpse. Maybe even possibly telling him the location of where the zombies are coming from. The one problem is if he does find him is he friendly?

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the man wasnt able to hear the whistle from the woman in the camp he was more focused on quickly hiding away his treasure in his bag, he was on his last legs with energy. metaphorically limping to stay awake the man slipped out a fresh stick of jerky, he started to drool, he had been living off that one stick of jerky for a week giving everything else he could find to his horse. "you take care of your horse before yourself, you loose your horse your as good as dead" his fathers voice echoed from the grave in the mans head as he ripped off half of the jerky stick and started to chew on it. the man reached back into the saddle bags bouncing wildly on Spiros hind end, he knew that Spiro had to be getting hungry all this action right after waking up. the horses ears would twitch slightly at the far off whistle from the viewing woman the large beast would shift its large head slightly trying to spot an opening but they where slowly being cut off from the camp.

the team switched direction quickly dissapearing from sight at least from the camp, the team had slipped into a burnt out school bus forcing the horde trailing behind them to funnel into a small place. the man smirked as the horde stumbled and tripped over each other with out warning Spiro darted from the buss almost throwing the man to the ground. something had gotten to the horse but the man didn't know what was going on and was too hungry to think it over. when they rounded a corner going full speed the horses actions became clear and the mans heart sank, the open gates of the camp where 3 blocks away but in that middle block, hell. i looked to be about 20 of them, the man reached for his guns doing the math in his head it was hopeless. he only had 12 shot with his hand guns his riffle had a high powered scope that would only get in the way and the shot gun would hurt his horses ears to much to use mounted. the mans hands fell to his side and he leaned forward and started to talk to his horse like they where friends his eyes looking to the ground as he talks to the horse.

"so close yet so far away, look its up to you, do we try for it or do we not, its your life on the line" the mans voice was soft and sweet like he was talking to a lover or a dieing friend. the mans eyes lit up as the horse slowly raised its head, Spiro was a very proud horse he never liked to be told what to do or where to go, you didnt ride on Spiro you rode with him. the man reached out slidding his hand up under the home made armor and leather straps on the horses large head softly scratching his nose. "then we are going, dont know why i even asked in the first place, lets go" the horses eyes shot open wide then closed almost completely, one could say the horse 'had his game face on'. it was a sight to behold, those watching would see the shiniest black horse rear up oh his hind legs as the man dawned in whit lifted his hat raising it high in the air and off they went. they cleared the first block in a flash meeting up with the first of the dead the man reached into his holsters and time seemed to stop only for a fractiong of a second. from his holsters he drew his linage lilli a blue steel 45 revolver with ornate stirling silver implants and Duke a solid steel gold plated 38 6 shot. the man brought up his guns cramming duke into the mouth of a zed about to take a chunk out of his leg and pulled the trigger, ringing the dinner bell for the rest. he was like lightning firing one round as he cocked the other gun every last round found its mark leaving 8 zed to the sides.

they cleared the remainders easly but the poo hit the fan, he gun shots called in a massive horde that cut off the camp, they where trapped between two hordes. the man slid his guns away pulled his hat off stuck it to his chest and looked down it looked like he was saying his good by's to the world befor he arched up and let loose with 4 words. the words he spoke would echo from building to building reaching over half of the dead city, carrying with them the purest hope and will to survive most people have heard in years. the words he spoke had the power behind them to bring a warrior to his knees and a wounded survivor to their feet, words so sad those weak of heart would cry. those 4 simple yet powerful words were simply "yeeeeeeehaaaaaaaaaaaaa lets ride spiro!" the man would set his hat inside his coat choke up on the reins and lean in to the horses neck. as soon as the horse heard those word something would trigger in his head, his blood would burn with the will of his family line. the horses eyes would flash open his pupils would grow in size as his nostrils would flare. the horses skin would tighten as his muscles flexed this was no longer a majestic beast carrying his friend this was now a war horse on a path of death and god forsake who ever got in his path.

the horse suddenly took off like a bullet tripling his speed in a very short distant, headed right for that impassable horde of dead, a sane man would tun and run but this horse would budge even if the man tried. the first impact with the horde was the worst a head on collision with a half eaten body builder. his rotting body laied down the path for the team, it was magical watching how well these two moved together the man following every last movement of the horse as they plowed through the dead. following the domino effect of the first strike the horse rounded out and started to run for the gait every now and then letting out a labored whinny from hard impacts to his body. it took less then a minuet for them to get through the horde but to those watching it would feel like hours and to the team it was a year of pain. the horse would launch over the small stone wall infront of the gate and slide to a grinding halt kicking up stone and chunks of rotten flesh his head low to the ground his large rib cade pulsating franticly for a few seconds then jusst like you would expect from a proud horse like Spiro he slowly lifted his head and looked out over the grouping people as the man slid his hat back on.

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Character Portrait: Isaac "big papa" ranch Character Portrait: Willow Sanders
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Willow watched as the horse and rider forced their way through a large horde, her heart pounded as she watched. She knew it was only a few seconds, but it felt like hours. When they made it to the gates, she forced her way to the front and smiled. "Hey and welcome to the safest place left on earth." She smiled, happy to see a new survivor and a horse, it made her feel a bit more at home, she approached it and went to stroke it's head.

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(ok where the crap is everyone....... im not responding to that small post>.<)

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As the undead walked the streets, Matt was on top a pile of trash and stuff knocked out, after a while of being knocked out he finally wakes up and quickly looks around. "Ugh... My head ...what the heck happend?..." he continued to look around for a bit before getting up and start walking over a gas station that was close , as soon he arrived the station he knocked on the door. "Hello?.... Anybody in here? ... Hello?". He turned around and started walking towards the street, as he walked he saw a man, who was just standing there looking at him. "Hey sir! Do you know what's going on here?..." the man slowly approach Matt. "um...sir?..." the man continues to walk towards Matt. "okay ... You're creeping me out sir... " matt steeped back and fell thanks to a pipe that was on the floor, the man also fell reaviling his rotten face, Matt quickly got up and ran away looking for the way to his house.