___________________ THE LOVELY STORY _________________ that we must read It had been a normal day. Children were off at school. Adults headed off to work. Birds were singing, and things just seemed... so normal. But it didn't last for long. April 13th, 2009 at 11:46 a.m. To the exact minute, Patient Zero stumbled into the main hospital of Mercy, a town an hour away from the small town of Clover. He collapsed within the doors and was rushed to the ER. No one knows where he came from, or what had happened to the man. Patient Zero was covered from head to toe in odd looking bites. To big to belong to a cat or dog, but too small to belong to a bear. The bite marks looked... oddly human. The man's eyes had turned an odd milky white and his skin had already started to decompose. On April 13th, 2009 at 1:17 p.m. Patient Zero was pronounced dead. But he didn't stay that way for long. 2:20 p.m. Patient Zero began to move around the hospital. Despite the fact that an autopsy had already begun and his chest was cut wide open. Even though his bit a few people in the process, the staff managed to grab him and get him under control. They took him to a secluded room and began to watch him. At any loud noise, he would shriek and attempt to find the noise. Whenever someone approached him, he would howl and attempt to bite them. It was something the residents of the hospital never saw before in their lives. 3:47 p.m. All those that had been bitten by Patient Zero were pronounced dead. There was no explanation for it. At 4:26 those that were pronounced dead "reanimated". But this time, they all took on different forms. The undead took over the hospital and the town of Mercy. 7:17 p.m. the first of many of those reanimated showed up in Clover, biting and infecting new people. An announcement goes through the television and radio broadcasting system of an evacuation... The town of Clover slowly begins to to fall apart. Common Infected These Infected are fast, sensitive to loud noises and movement, and able to attack in ravenous waves. They might not notice the survivors right away, and are capable to ignoring pain. They mainly punch and hit survivors. Their strength lies in the fact that they attack in groups, more commonly referred to as the Horde, sometimes as large as several dozen. ( Hordes usually consists of 30 infected. ) They are as easy to kill as any normal human is and are capable of climbing ladders and scaling objects once they find a target, and will not stop until it is dead. They are distracted by pipe bombs and will go chasing after it. A Boomer`s bile will attract them along with the sound of an alarm. The Hunter Hunters are primarily identified by their distinctive growl, or the screams and snarls they emit upon sighting a survivor or pouncing or clawing. They often attack a survivor that has fallen behind or wandered off. It launches itself at survivors and pins them to the ground, biting and clawing away at them. Hunters can be pushed off a survivor, but will run away when it knows it can`t pounce. They are not distracted by pipe bombs or bile and will continue attacking it`s target until it`s dead. The Smoker The Smoker's tongue can be launched out of its mouth at high speeds, and when it reaches one of the survivors, it automatically wraps around the target's body and drags him/her back toward the Smoker, then it starts beating survivors with it`s two arms. Most often on rooftops or other high locations. You can easily recognized a nearby Smoker by it`s coughing and wheezing, along with green smoke coming from it. When a Smoker constricts a survivor, it doesn`t let go until the survivor suffocates, it`s tongue is shot, or it is. When the Smoker is shot, it leaves behind thick, dark green haze of smoke. It restricts the survivors vision and causes them to cough when they stand in it. The Boomer Its mutation has caused it to produce vast quantities of bile, which it uses as a projectile attack by vomiting. If it hits the survivors, the bile covers them, temporarily blinding them and attracting the Horde. You can recognize Boomers by their appearance and their gurgling noises. It is very easy to kill, though you have to be careful. Once killed, the Booker explodes and splashed bile onto nearby survivors. The best way to kill it is to hit it back a safe distance and kill. There are also female Boomers. The Witch The Witch makes loud and eerie noises which resemble sobbing when in her 'passive' state. The noise can be heard long before the Witch is ever seen, allowing the player a chance to prepare a plan to deal with her. In the night-time she crouches and slumps over, mostly immobile. During the daytime, she will sob standing up and will slowly wander, with her elongated fingers up to her face. Turn any flashlights off when around the Witch and make sure to maintain a good shooting distance as she is provoked by lights and gun fire. If you 'startle' the Witch, she will run after you and can take you down with just one slash. Though, you can kill her by shooting her directly in the head, this is not always successful to most. The Tank This monster is capable of punching large items such as cars into the air or throwing blocks of concrete it rips out of the ground at survivors, and bashing through otherwise impenetrable walls. The Tank keeps a high profile, able to be heard by the survivors from a great distance due to its loud growls and the shaking ground when its running close to you. The immense strength and incredible toughness of the Tank make it a terrible foe in combat. Once a Tank has downed a survivor, it will move on to the nearest healthy survivor. The Tank will not hesitate to kill or throw objects out of its path, even other Infected, in order to get to the survivors. It is not affected by minor distractions such as the flashing lights on pipe bombs, and does not appear to be attracted by things such as car alarms going off. The Charger The Charger is able to knocks down any survivors in its way. While he matches the survivors' pace, he speeds up considerably when charging them. However, this increase in speed leads to a slow stop and difficulty in turning. When the Charger charges at it`s target, it will knock down any survivor in it`s path. Once it`s got you in it`s grasp, the Charger will not let go, and continue pounding a survivor into the ground until it`s killed it`s target or it is killed itself. You can indicate when a Charger is nearby due to it`s low grunting, and when it charges at top speed, it makes a high screech. He is not as powerful as the Tank, but can still take a beating and do half of his damage by charging. The Jockey Jockeys jump onto the survivors and cling to their head and upper-back. From there, they can steer the survivor while clawing them. They often steer into Spitter`s acid or even nearby Witches and fire. When the Jockey lands on a survivor's head, he grabs onto them. When on a survivor, he claws at them with his free-hand while leaning in a direction to cause the Survivors to stumble, and won`t let go until it`s dead or is knocked off. Like, the Hunter, Jockey`s may flee when being shot at, but will return if not killed. A Jockey`s maniacal laughter is always a dead give away that there is one around. Shooting a Jockey can often be tricky, but it`s not impossible. The Spitter Ain`t she a doll? The Spitter's mutations enable her to spit out a ball of mutated stomach acid which, upon hitting the ground, spreads out into a large pool. Any survivors standing within the pool of acid are burned by it. Overall the Spitter's acid does the most damage of any Infected, but is also the least reliable as it only lasts for a short time, and once it pools out it is stationary and relatively easy to escape. When killed, the Spitter leaves a small pool of acid around her corpse. She can sometimes be a bit difficult to hear, making somewhat faint squealing noises, but the hacking noises she makes when she actually spits are relatively easy to hear. The Spitter runs away once she has successfully released a ball of acid, she`s fairly easy to track down by the acid dripping from her mouth, but it disappears shortly after the Spitter is gone. ___________________ THE LOVELY RULES ___________________ that we must follow I am writing the rules in paragraph form because I find it easier for others to read it and understand it. This is a literate role play, so I am at least requiring some effort into your posts. DO NOT POST YOUR FORMS IN HERE. POST IT IN THE OOC THREAD. No one liners, unless really neccesarry. This is also an zombie role play, so follow the storyline. Keep this role play clean. Simple as that, all I ask from you now is just, have fun. ___________________ THE LOVELY FORM ___________________ that we must fill-out
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Dark blue eyes stared down opaque white irises and pupil. A splatter of blood on his left cheek dared to slip down his sweaty chin. Panting deeply and heavily, Nick's lungs heaved to suck in enough oxygen to keep himself calm as he continued watching the lifeless corpse at his feet. In his right hand, he gripped a bloody frying pan until his knuckled were bleached white, still half-raised as if ready to strike again. Small pieces of gore dripped off of the improvised weapon and splatted onto the ground in tiny red ink blots. Adrenaline pumped through his veins, causing the diner around him to blur out and the evacuation broadcasting on the radio to become muddled in his ears. Nick didn't like how his day was going since his only other part-time job closed due to the “Green Flu”, but he didn't think he would end his shift early by smashing his boss' head open with a skillet. Alright, so he was dead to begin with but the technicalities wasn't something he could mentally process as he stood over the body of his broken, infected boss. A few minutes had already passed since he had swung the kitchen utensil, splatting congealed blood across his face, dark green apron and the floor. The twenty-four year old male was still locked in silence, his brain attempting to formulate coherent thoughts besides the words 'what the f-ck.' Boy, he wasn't sure if killing his infected boss would constitute as bad karma or not, but he hoped it wouldn't. Besides! His boss was a zombie. Holy sh-t, d-mn right it should be okay. Nick dropped his attention to his fallen cellphone swimming in the growing blood puddle seeping out of the infected's head. Wrinkling his nose in disgust and grumbling a quick swear, he plucked it off of the ground and glanced over the open address book on the screen. He had been in the middle of contacting his close friend when his boss crashed in through the door, trying to punch a hole through his neck. Nick swiped the gadget over his apron to clean it before swiftly before pressing the 'call' button for the mechanic shop. (Hell if he knew if Lane Twiss had a cellphone.) As the other line rang, Nick continued to take long breaths as he warily glanced around his surroundings. The infection had taken over the east-side and lucky him, he was right in the cusp of “still okay” and full blown “screwed to the high-heavens.” A quick glance at the wide, clear window from the other side of the diner told him the darkened streets were rather 'busy'. Infected ran around, mingled with the uninfected as they panicked to safety. Some were fighting back and winning while others were losing. It was a complete frenzy and from what he could tell, the infection was spreading fast. There were too many faces he recognized, just too many he knew he had only spoken to recently or done work for. It wasn't right to see people he knew die and succumb to the infection within minutes. Crouching low behind the counter, Nick kept his head ducked as he continued waiting for Lane to pick up. What the hell, it's been like eight cycles of ringing!
It had only been about a minute since Lane had sat down, and there was already another one of Clover's infected, running into his auto shop, stomping towards him. "Sorry, shops closed today man." Lane felt that comedy was the only thing that kept him sane now a days. The shell casing of a shotgun pinged onto the floor where as the bullet it was encasing, was now embedded deep inside one of Lane's neighbors. It was sad, the mechanic felt bad, blowing the brains out of his former customers, but that was they way it had to be, shoot or get your limbs ripped off. After reloading his shot-gun of love, as he called it, Lane kicked back in a chair behind his desk, and waited, he was sure some zombies would show up soon. It was almost like a sport for the Twiss boy, trying to challenge himself to make a certain shot from a certain angle. It sort of went back to how people would say he never took anything seriously, they usually said this when the guy was actually enjoying himself. This apocolypse certaintly gave him more to not take seriously. Three or four more infected came running towards the desk Lane was sitting at, he grabbed a silenced submachine gun. "Eh, this 'ill do." Mowing down the infected as soon as the stepped into his garage, Lane could only hope his family was okay. The kid hadn't seen them in a couple days, his brother Dave, who was only seventeen had come by the shop the day before yesterday, rumors of a new infection had their parents worried, so they sent Dave to have Lane come home. Lane lived at the auto shop you see, in the back room on a couch, but it was the type of life he wanted. Back to the matter at hand, Lane sent day back home, he felt he'd be fine at his autoshop, but he now wished he hadn't sent the boy home, he could have been here with him fighting the hoard. Lane just wish he knew if he was safe. Grabbing a towel covered in grease and blood, the Twiss boy wiped the sweat and red splatters from his face. Killing zombies was tiresome work, but it was always fun. Just waiting for the right moment, Lane figured that he'd leave his shop once he heard from Nick, his best friend, so he thought, and he'd go pick him up, along with any other survivors they found on the way, and head back to the shop. It was safe there, huge metal doors to keep the infected out, if Lane wanted them out and pretty much all the food and ammo they'd need until rescue came. Thinking about rescue was bitter sweet for Lane, wondering if he'd ever be able to come back to the town of Clover again. It was were he was born and raised and he couldn't leave it behind just out of the blue like that, it would be too hard, emotionally that is. Lane was in tip top shape, always trying to impress the ladies, and just for situations such as this one. Cardio was the most important thing after all, you couldn't run, you were the first to go. "Well howdy there! Come to check up on how I'm doing?" A tall man stumbled into the shop, falling face first onto the ground, scraping the floor to get back onto it's feet, the infected took a swing at the mechanic. Lane followed up with a smack to the side of the cranium with a very conveniently placed golf club. I hope that prissy boy is okay... With that, Lane could hear the phone in the back ringing, it was probably his friend Nick, finally calling for his help. As Lane started to walk to the wall which the phone was placed on, he heard a series of vicious screams and moans. Only Nick's plea for help would alert the hoard. Ignoring the phone, Lane sprinting towards his desk, throwing guns aside to find his favorite. Widening his stance, Lane let a round of bullets rip out of his fully-loaded AK-47, into a wall of zombies, falling onto each other as the bullets connected with their infected flesh.
When the other line finally went through, it wasn't to Lane but the answering machine he knew sat in the garage where cars would normally sit to be worked on. Nick listened to the recorded message, heavy accent drawl out the request to 'wait for tha` beep' and with every word the growing need to deck Lane became more apparent to him. A loud shrill sound prompted him to record his message and with a loud growl, he began the message by nearly yelling into it, “LANE! Lane, it's Nick! Pick up your phone! I know you can hear the answering machine from your hick truck. The infection—they're actual honest to f-cking god zombies, I swear. I'm still at the diner near the east-side of town so let's meet up on the way to The Grabbit---you are listening to the radio, right?” A long exhale, sounding a little strained with a hint of good ol` worry underlying it. Nick reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose and narrowed his eyes into a stern glare at a random spec on the wall. There wasn't even the promise of Lane being in the condition to haul to the store, but he pushed it out of his head. He trusted Lane to not be in too much trouble. After all, the guy was practically a red neck and he was more than certain he owned enough guns to get him through. Besides, if the infected had gotten into Lane's shop, the bastard was probably making a sport out of it without a thought of evacuating. Scowling, he continued speaking again. “Lane. Pack stuff we might need. I'll meet you up either there or on the way. Don't do anything stupid on the way there and don't get yourself infected---!” A loud chorus of howls interrupted him and through the broken, un-barricaded door, a handful of nearby infected swarmed toward him all alerted by his loud voice. Unprepared for the attack he received a punch to the arm holding the phone causing it to fly out of his hand. Quickly getting up to his feet, Nick pushed the offending enemy back. The ex-diner employee raised the skillet in his hand and pursed his lip tightly. This was it. The infected weren't people he knew anymore and as much as it bothered him he had to fight back or be killed. “Sorry `bout this.” Nick mumbled and swung the skillet an infected's head. It fell with a crack, just like the first one but when there was one, there was another dozen more coming through the door screeching. Throwing his hands into the air in pure frustration, he turned around and ran into the kitchen to exit through the backdoor. The cellphone was left abandoned, still recording for a few seconds longer before it turned into static and disconnected. Once outside, Nick weaved through the frenzy avoiding as many people as he could. In the craze, he couldn't tell who was still 'alive.' He didn't want to risk smashing someone who was normal and as much as he hated it, the less he saw of the dying faces around him the better he knew he would feel. Knowing everyone in the town only made the infection worse in his eyes and he sorely wished to help them all, but with the situation at hand he knew it would be impossible.
It worried Lane that after his friend ordered him to come find him or something that all he heard were screams and then static. Okay, that really worried him. "Looks like there's been a change of plans!" After the last of the infected stopped moving, Lane hurried, his hands shaking from the adrenaline surging through his veins, it wasn't that he had an adrenaline shot, but he was so worried about everything now, Nick, his parents, Dave. Throwing opens drawers and doors, he found four duffel bags, tossing them next to the desk. Quickly running to the metal garage door, he pulled on the chains and the door came flying down, crashing onto the floor, keeping the infected out and Lane safety inside. That's when he got to work, throwing every gun on the shops desk into the four bags, ammo getting tossed in as well. Once each gun was in a bag, the mechanic moved packing food, anything that was edible, he knew they would need it because at the local stores, the shelves would be bare. As he was running back to the duffel bags, Lane grabbed other things, bottles of alcohol he had around the shop, a first aid kit he had, and some of his tools. Feeling that it was better to over pack, rather then under pack, he was previsions he had prepared. He didn't want to not have something, and for Nick to think he was to stupid to pack for a survival trip. That really wasn't on his mind for that long, a mental picture of his younger brother kept flashing in his eyes, and each time he could hear his heartbeat in his ears. It was the first time that Lane felt scared, for he didn't know if he'd see his family again. One of the reasons Lane had sent his younger brother back home, was because he was working on his jeep, preparing it for the outside world, full of the virus that would tear the world apart. Mostly adding reinforcement beams and metal, he also surrounded his tires in chains to try and spot it from getting a flat. His now armored jeep was coated in camouflage styled paint, but with the colors red white and blue, and the back was fitted with a huge american flag, and two rows of flood lights had been added to the roof. To say the least, Lane was proud, really f`cking proud. Sure it was the ultimate redneck vehicle, but he knew it'd say him and a few of his other sorry neighbors from the hell on earth going on outside his shop. The back had enough room for the four duffel bags, and room to spare, he loaded them up and took one of the bags to the front and placed it between the two front seats. Strapping himself in, with the two extra seat belts he added to each seat, Lane laid the AK-47 over his lap and tried to pump himself up. "Come on man, you got this, you got this! You've gotta save that stupid gambler and Dave! Do it for Dave, Lane, come on, you're Lane, nothing can hurt you!" Starting his vehicle, if you could even call it one, it was more like a tank then anything, the rumble of the engine shook Lane all the way to his core. Taking a deep breath, Lane pressed a button on his console, the metal door to his shop lifted slowly, many infected running towards the sound of the metal scraping against the sides of the shop. I got this, I got this. Hmmm, I bet that prissy `ss will be on his hands and knees begging me to rescue him. Yeah! This will be awesome! The roar of the infected grew loader as Lane revved his truck a few times, a bead of sweat traced it's way down his temple as he clutch his steering wheel close, and his gun closer. "Time to nut up or shut up!" Lane floored the gas and moved right over the infected, clearing out a path and a huge smile spread across his face. As he hit the button again to close the door to his shop, he spotted a hoard, and the adrenaline pumped in his ears. Speeding towards it, he used the virus ridden bodies as a ramp, flying over more infected, going towards the dinner. "Yeehaww!" With the battle cry flying from his lips, Lane set out on his most dangerous adventure ever, hopefully he'd find his friends in time.
The Grabbit shouldn't be too much of a problem to get to. If there weren't infected playing peek-a-boo everywhere. The roads were getting clogged by cars and people were hurrying toward the store for the evacuation. A wry smile spread across his face and he slowed in his steps. If everyone went toward The Grabbit, wouldn't that be bad idea? The more people, the more likely the infected would follow. It's like how in all those zombie survival guides, they recommended to not go to overpopulated areas. He wanted to turn back now and find a different place to go to but he had already told Lane where to meet up. Shaking his head, Nick snorted and the bitter smile turned into an excited grin. If things were going to hell, he might as well make it interesting while benefiting others. Climbing onto the nearest car he jumped onto the roof and waved his arms around. “HEY, INFECTED! I'm INTERESTING to look at!” It was a horrible plan, but he figured he could at least lure away some of the zombies from the fleeing citizens. Nervousness didn't quite register into his head until a crowd of them turned directions and began running toward him and only then, only then did Nick's cocky smile fall. “Oh. Well, sh-t.” CLANG! . . . CLANG! CLANGCLANGCLANG! “Excuse me, pardon me, sorry—move it, wanker!” In horror movies there were serial killers going after teenagers with an ax. In reality, there was a decent looking man, wearing a modest blue button shirt with a green apron and black slacks, perched on top of a car, armed with a frying pan and killing faster than Rambo ever could with a machine gun. Nick was a decent guy, rude with a sense of humor that even passed over to how he excused himself while he was smashing zombie-skulls in with a skillet. Shoving through the infected crowd, the twenty-four year old was determined as hell to get rid of as many as he could to survive. By now all the people he saw that were still uninfected had disappeared and it was now just him on the empty streets. When armed with just a kitchen utensil, a hoard of zombies appeared practically endless. Luckily he managed to knock out most of the infected with just one swing however his arm was starting to get ridiculously tired. As one ran toward him, Nick bared his teeth out of spite and swung hard, mimicking the stance of a pro baseball batter. And he connected the iron weapon to its face, over and over again until it groaned and fell with a splat of minced flesh. However while he was getting rid of that one, there was still a good number still surrounding the car and climbing on top. Suddenly to his horror, one of the infected was smart enough to just grab a hold on his leg and yank him down. “Sh-t...!” His killing-spree ended as he fell and landed hard on his side where he stood on the car. Pain erupted in his left arm from colliding first and he knew he would be screwed if he didn't get up now. The moment rendered him completely open, allowing zombies to get at him as they pleased. Nick raised his arms to protect himself, wrenching his eyes closed and preparing himself to have zombie-kamra-revenge bestowed upon him.
The last thing Lane wanted to do was to hurt a survivor, so he kept a close watch on the people getting crushed by the massive wheels of his jeep. All he really wanted to do was to help other people get to the Grabbit while he waited for Nick; he had to pass through this street to get there anyways. Besides this was a fun way to pass the time. Fun for Lane at least, this was because being able to run ramped through the streets; he got to mow down tons of infected. After clearing a small patch of infected, only about six or seven, Lane spotted what seemed to be a couple on their back trying to fight off a hoard with their last breathes. Letting off the gas, he reached out of his sun roof and pressed down the trigger on his air horn, letting the hoard know they had company. Once he had got the attention of the hoard he stood up out of his sun roof and picked off a few as they started running towards his jeep, sitting back down once they got close enough and let the tires of his jeep do the rest of the work. Once Lane was sure each of the infected had their skulls smashed in, he pulled up to where the couple had been lying, and who were now helping each other to their feet. Lane hopped up to his sun roof to get a better view. “Are ya’ll okay?” They didn’t respond, they just looked at him strangely and started to back away slowly into a patch of bushes behind them. Lane was awfully confused by this and leaning against the opening of his car and waited. Sure enough the couple came back out ten to twenty seconds later and made a running dash for the redneck vehicle in front of them. Surprised to say the least, Lane never thought they could change that quickly, he dropped back down and fumbled to unzip his duffle bag and pull out his shot gun. The couple was just starting to climb onto his jeep as he killed them both in that instant. "Man, when I finally was about to get some friends..” Putting his vehicle into reverse, he backed up over a stray infected and decided to go party it up by his shop. His auto shop was in the middle of town, and Lane had drove out towards the Grabbit, but after remembering Nick, he didn’t want him to have to walk as far, so he drove back some to where all the shops in town were, only about three minutes by foot away from his auto shop. Looking in the direction of his so called house, Lane could just barely see the flood lights that were on the top of his building. Flipping a switch on his dashboard, the three rows of flood lights on the top of his vehicle shot on slowly, one at a time. The streets in front of him were now illuminated, and it gave him a clearer idea of who was infected and who wasn’t. It seemed that the infected noticed his flood lights as well as he could hear a scream of terror and a few similar ones that followed right after. Lane revved his car and waited, he just waited, waiting for the first sight of infected, or a survivor for that matter. Unbuckling his three seat belts, Lane stood once again, leaning on the roof of his car, his shot gun in his left hand. This hoard was small, but it looked like three or four infected had been preoccupied with something other than Lane. The shadows cast by him and the infected, blocked the range of the flood lights, so the Twiss boy couldn’t really see what they were running slash limping after, but like the zombies, he was preoccupied with something that minute. Aiming for head shots, some missing, some hitting square on. Lane took out about seven infected before a few more came to take their place. It’s like they never end dammit. I didn’t know there were this many people in Clover…! He was taken back when he felt nails digging through his shoulder, one of them had got him. An infected had hit the invincible Lane. He was shocked, but that didn’t stop him from shoving the infected woman back with his shoulder and blowing her face off.
His forearms were becoming bloody from all of the nails digging into his skin, his once white skin becoming red from his flesh turning raw. There would definitely be scars afterward but that was only if he got out of his situation alive. This was not the right moment to contemplate battle wounds, but the danger in the form of zombies. Out of all of the things he could die by, zombies were not in his top twenty possibilities – so this meant he would have a chance to live, right? A swift kick to his ribs brought him doubt as he then felt a hand reach down and grab fist fulls of his hair. The hand forcefully tugged him upwards while another hand grabbed his shirt to help in the process. Daring to peek through his squeezed shut eyes, he saw an impatient infected bringing him close in order to dig its yellow, decaying teeth into the warm pulse in his neck. More arms reached out and grabbed for his clothes, all awaiting to take a bite out of the downed civilian. Was this it? This was no way as elegant or fulfilling as he hoped he would die.
It distracted him a little, considering the woman that just tried to kill him was his neighbor Selena. She was such a sweet girl too, oh well, it was either her or him, and Lane’s ego was far too big to give his life for someone who would probably lose it in a matter of minutes anyways. In his mind, the only thing the mechanic could think about was how he just killed his friend, he tried to shake it off and think about how he had probably done it before without even knowing it. Sure that thought wasn’t soothing, but he had to get his mind out of the rut it was in considering there were infected all around him. “God, the first girl I let into my life, and she tries to eat me. Godd`mmit!” Lane took them out, but it was all in a haze, a sort of blank stare state of mind if you would say. The stench of rotting corpses pulled him out of his thoughts. After the zombies had been taken care of, Lane sat back down and drove away slowly, he was so hung up on the girl because it had been his first girlfriend, someone he loved and saw every day, and he just killed her. Thinking the thought he promised himself he would never think, Lane thought about what would happen if he saw Nick, and he was infected. Aw, man don’t go there, f`ck I promised myself I wouldn’t think about that… dammit man. His jeep was now parked on a small hill in the middle of Clover, he didn’t see any survivors, or any infected for that matter, he figured they were either running towards the Grabbit, or making their way towards his Jeep, so he’d have to move, and soon. The only mechanic of Clover drove through the streets, looking for something, anything, that wasn’t puking blood or someone who was trying to jam their blood covered fingers into his eye sockets. It's weird how this place can go from bad to total storm...man. Lane was resting, only because he had a feeling that there would be a ton of work ahead of him, but that didn’t really matter once he saw a hoard of zombies that seemed to be attacking someone, no they were just standing in a circle, no they were attacking someone on the ground, someone alive. Speeding up the Twiss boy stopped short and power-slided as you might say, next to the hoard, jumping out of the jeep as fast as he could. “Need a hand!?” Lane said after blowing the brains out of an infected. The man fell to the ground and the mechanic used the butt of his shotgun to beat some zombie skulls until he saw the face of the man on the ground. "Nick! Uh, hurry up! Get up!” The mechanic was over come with fear, excitement, and a slight head ache. Almost as if he took an adrenalin shot, Lane killed the small hoard around the man, shooting, smashing, pretty much doing anything to get these infected from ripping apart his best friend. Once said infected actually were dead, the Twiss boy helped up Nick, slowly but in a hurried manor. He really wanted them to get to the car, it was the only way to make sure they'd stay safe, well for awhile at least. "Man! I didn't know when I'd see you! Can you believe all this sh`t is happening! Okay, come on, I ain't gunna leave you, but you gotta hurry up!” Nick felt like dead weight to Lane as he pulled him to his jeep, feeling as though the apocalypse maybe got a little better.
Suddenly, the loud shriek of tires coming to a stop caught his attention. From the troughs of infected swarming him, bright lights from the jeep more or less shot him in the eye causing him to once again shut his eyes to numb the pain of having his retinas seared. At least he heard everything that was happening – and holy sh`t, was that Lane? That crazy redneck, he could have made it a bit sooner. BANG! Oh, and there goes his hearing in favor of loud, ringing. Disoriented, whatever Lane was shouting at him was muddled. Nick could barely register his friend grabbing him by the arm and dragging him to the jeep, shouting at him to hurry up. When Lane finally let go, the pieces of his senses were coming back and he was able to see again where he stumbled into the passenger seat with Lane joining him as the driver. Nick slammed the door shut and locked it, even going as far as checking the handle to make sure nothing would try ripping through it anytime soon. Breathless, Nick leaned back against the seat and took this moment of downtime to access the damage done to this arms. On top of the cuts, there was dirt and who knows what else smearing the red with speckles of dark colors. Shaking his head, he thumped the back of his head on the head rest and looked over at Lane. “Thanks, man. I would have died back there...” He glanced back at his mangled arms before turning back to his friend. Then promptly punched the Twiss boy as hard as he could on the arm. He was p`ssed. “Are you stupid? I told you to just meet me up at Wal-Mart. If you were going to save me, mind being a little faster?”
Lane locked the doors and immediately placed his weapon down before anything else had happened. When a sharp pain shot up his arm, he jerked away and allowed his body to hug the glass window, his eyebrows raising at the man beside him. "Youch! Man, I just saved yer life! Ya should thank me, not punch me." he cried, rubbing his arm. Lane was trying his best to calm now, only because he had a feeling that there would be a ton of work ahead of him, but that didn’t really matter once he knew Nick was with him. Oh, how he loved his best friend, despite him being a big `sshole sometimes, it was much better than being alone. "You okay?” Lane said with a huge smile, he had always liked mister richy rich, but nothing would ever come of it, he knew the man hated him. Grabbing the duffle bag that was in between them, he placed it between the two back seats and leaned over. “Man, look at yer arms, why ya carrying 'round jus a fryin' pan anyway?” After finishing, he did something he always made sure to do any time a door was open, he checked the back seat. Nothing there but the other duffel bags he packed. “Well Nick, ah, I've got food an probably all the ammo ya need. But just so ya know, I aint heading out right away, I'm sure we could find some other survivors or two to pick up.” It was weird all his sentences were coming out with a sort of smiley twist to them, almost as if he was happy. That’s only because he was, Nick was the first sign of life he’d seen in about two days, so why would someone not be happy? Re-buckling his seatbelts and locking the doors once Nick was inside, he began to explain his situation to him. “Okay, so, um, there are three seatbelts I’d recommend ya put on, I installed them for the very reason of this trip. I aint want us to fly outta the windshield, now do I? Um, what else.. Oh! And if ya need a gun, probably after what ya just been through, the bag here ya can just take what ya need from and such. I think there’s food in two of the bags in the back, couple cans of vegtables and what not, I never liked spinach anyway so I didn't botha to grab any of that, or those little bean things, but, uh, the third one has more ammo, things like painkillers, and alcohol.” He smiled after his rambling, he was happy how well he packed and noticed Nick's clothes, tattered up, but nice and shady like the con-man he was, he knew the man all too well. He should've remembered to grab some clothes. Oh well. Nick was a really patient man, so he seemed like, coming into the shop because of his car accidents, nothing too serious, just lots, and lots of fender benders. Seemed like the man didn't like Lane, but that didn't stop the redneck- Lane was an all around nice guy. Everybody liked him! “Well let’s get this show on the road!” Lane smiled and took his vehicle out of the area and revved the engine, almost trying to alert the hoard. Making up in his mind, that he shouldn’t stay in one place, it’d probably get boring, he started slowly, but began speeding up towards where he knew where people would be coming from, either he’d see someone, or someone would see him, either way, Lane was determined to find more people.
"I'm fine." Nick snorted in annoyance and started climbing over the arm rest/gear stick/chair to get to the back where he knew Lane had thrown a whole lot of weapons and ammunition in. To top it all off, he made sure to use Lane's shoulder as leverage and purposely put most of his weight on it as he stepped by carefully. If his arms were anymore bloody, he would have been able to leave a more prominent bloody hand print on Lane's shoulder but oh well, can't have everything, now can he? Digging through the duffel bags, Nick spotted guns upon guns. Pistols, shotgun, rifles, machine gun.. and sh-t tons of ammo. It must be nice being a redneck. “Okay, okay,” he sighed, Lane was always the one for rambling. He never shut up- especially with the millions of stories he would always tell about the shenanigans him and Dave would get into, "I'm pretty sure there aren't many people left, Lane." If he were back home in Canada, no one would have a gun besides the ones in tuned with their hunting side. Pursing his lips, and scrunching his forehead, he let his mind wander off how his family was doing. It's been a good 8 or 9 years since he's spoken or seen any of them. Would the infection reach all the way North? Speaking of family.. Nick looked over his shoulder to the back of the driver's head. “Lane, isn't your kid-brother somewhere in town? If he's here, we should find him. He might be at the evac center if he couldn't find you.” Unsure what to take, Nick scooped up a magnum pistol and set it aside along with a shot gun and went to look for some kind of bandages or first aid kit. “By the way, do you have something for my arm? It hurts like hell. They got me pretty good. We better get the hell out of here before there's a sh-t storm.” Which he was right, just because things were quiet now, didn't mean it was all fine and dandy. But, by the grin on Lane's face and the happy tone of his voice, apparently this boy thought things were wonderful. Lane was always cheerful, Nick never understood why. He was just some grease monkey redneck who didn't do anything but work on cars all day- hell, Nick wouldn't be smiling at all if he had a job like that.
Lane kept his eyes on the road, watching out for any people he could pick up. The redneck was a nice guy, unlike Nick. The man was shady, that was for sure, and he never liked to be around many people. He complained all the time. But the funny thing is, he worked at a diner. Lane chucked to himself when he sunk into his own thoughts for that one moment, shaking his head. Nick must hate his job, serving people food and sh`t.. woo-wee. Heh, he must be glad now there's zombies, ain't gon' have to worry about that job ever again.. well, who knows really. Glancing off to the side, Lane took a double take to witness the gambler stepping into the back seat, usually his shoulder for assistance. "Hey, ya'll be careful now," he said, scrunching his nose in disgust at the blood now on his shoulder. "Ya son of a- now that's just plain nasty, I ain't want no zombie guts on my clothes- it stains ya see! And how ya know that ya ain't gon' get infected? They say in those movies ya see in Hollywood, well, ya know those movies ya watch in those theaters, that zombie liquids an' stuff, one drop of that sh`t in a cut or somethin' you is a goner!" Lane shivered at this thought, he didn't want Nick to become infected. That was the very last thing that he wanted to happen. He sure shouldn't have the guts to shoot him, and he's pretty sure losing a best friend would just kill him eventually. "Now, I grabbed as many weapons as I could fit in those two little bags there, tried my best to throw some ammo in there as well," he said aloud, turning his head to see what Nick was doing again. Golly, his arms did look horrible, he did have to admit, those definitely are going to leave some scars. But, if they both could get out of this mess together, hell, that would a great thing to look back on! "Uh, yeah- but.. ya really think so? Dave wouldn't go to no evac center!" Lane grinned widely and laughed to himself, he knew Dave like the back of his hand, the two of them had been through so much sh`t, it wasn't even funny. "That kid wouldn't go there, ain't no zombies gon' stop him! You remember those stories I told you a few times when I met ya?" he paused, awaiting for an answer before he started to tell one. "Well, Dave and I, we lived by this swamp ya see, and a-" Lane brought his head back and motioned toward one of the bags when being cut off about Nick's arms. Now, that was something important. "Ya see that one right on there, yeah, dig through it, uh, I'm pretty sure there's some first aid non-sense in there. I'm pretty sure I grabbed it.. well, I hope at least."
"It's not going to get infected, calm down, this isn't like in the movies." Nick grumbled, digging through the bag Lane had told him the first-aid kit was in. Once found, the carefully took out the alcohol and tape and began to work his magic on both of his arms. "Hey, stop the car." As if to dot his sentence, there was a huge lurch as if something had landed on the roof of the jeep. Eyes widening, Nick picked up the magnum and checked to see if all eight bullets were there. Edging over to the window, he rolled it down and stuck his torso out to see what had happened. Scowling deeply, he reached over to grip the top of the jeep and pulled himself up to see what was there. He barely ducked his head in time when a hooded figure lunged toward him with claws. “*swears removed -
rules” And for the record, yes. His English was very elegant. He scrambled to get himself back into the car where he quickly pulled the windows back up, just in time for the thing to lunge once more and into the glass. Luckily, Lane's jeep was very well made to last and the windows must have been enforced because that baby didn't even crack from the impact. Nick eyed the thing circling the car, a look of disgust and unadulterated, strong dislike on his face. “Lane, you better drive over that thing. Whatever the hell that is. Hurry up and start the car and let's get out of here.”
"Well, ya never know until it hits ya," Lane muttered in a fearful voice whilst gripping the steering wheel, "Nick, I don't want ya going all zombie on me, don't think I'll have the guts to shoot ya, ya know?" Now, this was the honest truth. Lane had the biggest heart a man could ever have, and even the littlest things could crush it the slightest bit. Though he was a typical southern man, had the ability to use any firearm like a pro and easily could survive this mess, but being alone, that was another thing. Every human needed love to survive and grow, to be able to go on another day, that's what he thought at least. Love is all you really need. Jolting back into reality, Lane stepped on the brake as hard as he could, but soft enough to the point where his body didn't have to pull forward against the seat-belts. "Huh?" he squinted his eyes and peered out the window, "Nick, uh, what's the problem? I ain't see nothin' wrong-" cut off once more, his body tensed up at the very moment, tan colored pools locking onto the ceiling of the car when feeling what landed on the roof. "Nick! Hey!" he whispered when watching the grown man climb out the window, "That's not a good idea, don't!" *swears removed -
rules "NICK!" Lane screamed, frightened just as bad even when being the one seated safely in the car. The redneck didn't care for himself as much as he did for Nick, that was obvious. "Godd`mmit Nickolas, what the hell is wrong witchu! When ya feel something on the roof of the car, you just don't stick yer head outta the car and see what it is!" he hissed, "Ya'll almost made yourself that thing's dinner!" That thing didn't look like no ordinary zombie, Lane knew that, it was dressed in a hoodie, it's eyes clearly not shown; but boy, did it make noise. Growling and snarling were coming right from it, blood dropping from the corners of it's mouth which you could barely see. Lane couldn't help but shiver. "Ugly little thing, huh.."
