(Dotley & woegman) Zombie Apocalypse

[Dotley]

They'd said stay in your homes. The voices on the radio and the spokespersons on the television, they'd announced with calm voices and solemn looks for all civilians to lock their doors. Close the blinds. Draw the curtains. They'd said, don't panic. They'd said, the situation was under control. And before all that, the newspapers had just said it was just an illness. A small epidemic, nothing to be concerned about.

Thinking back on it, she wasn't sure if the media had been lying, or if they'd been lied to.

She'd stayed in her apartment building at first, had stayed home like a lot of people had. At first, it'd been like a vacation. Lay around on the couch, drink some orange juice from the carton, play a couple hundred games of solitaire. Gossip with the neighbors about what the hell the military was up to this time around. But that'd changed quick after the power went out, and then those...those sick people started running around. Started jumping people, biting and chasing. She'd stayed in her apartment for only a week until the clawing at the walls had gotten to her; she'd kicked down the fire escape and headed towards her workplace, ducking behind cars and jumping into trash cans whenever she heard someone, more like something, stumble by to close.

No one was there, not even looters. It'd been locked up tight, the sign in the window sill with its yellow smiley face still claiming it was closed. She'd went around back, moving quickly into the alleyway and opening the door that she had a key too, slipping into the restaurant.

[woegman]

He had never been a Boy Scout.  He remembered that their motto was something like, "Always be prepared" or some such, but that had not been him.  Hell, he was lucky his head was attached, because if it wasn't, he'd leave it behind when he went out...

The thought sickened him, silly as it was.  He was lucky his head was attached - he'd passed a gent this morning who had not been so lucky.  His own luck probably wouldn't last too long, either; he knew he should have stayed at home, but again, he had never been a boy scout.  When the authorities said to lock all doors and stay inside, he did that...he didn't deliberately try to break the rules.  But his cupboards were bare, and the only things in his fridge were the remains of a leftover pizza, now growing their own ecosystem, and quarter carton of chunky milk.  This...this...hell, what would he call it?  War? Plague?  He wasn't sure, but whatever it was, he was most assuredly not prepared for it.  He lasted as long as he could, but hunger finally won out. 

Two days ago, he's broken into a neighbors house - they hadn't answered the door, and gorged himself on some dry cereal and a couple cans of Coke.  He'd been mid-feast when his neighbor came stumbling into the room.  Something was clearly wrong with her...her head was kinked at an inhuman angle, and her left arm bent in ways no arm should bend, bones protruding from her flesh.  She gazed towards him with strange, glassy, blank eyes...and then she vaulted forward, moaning with a strange gurgling sound, trying to reach him.  He panicked...he had no idea what she meant to do, but she terrified him.  He reached back and grabbed the first thing that came to hand, a rolling pin, and swung out to ward her off...but she hadn't slowed.  She rushed forward, and the pin came down upon her head.  The sound, the cracking of her skull...

His stomach revolted at the memory, and emptied itself.  He put the thoughts of his neighbor behind him.  Didn't matter anymore.  He grasped the crowbar he had taken from her garage, and looked around, finally trying to figure out where his feet had taken him today.  He saw the restaurant up ahead, and his stomach, now empty, once again began to rumble.  He made his way to the building, tried to peek inside, but the blinds were drawn.  He looked about, then moved to the back, looking for a door.  Finding one, he thrust his crowbar into the frame by the latch, and began to lever the door open.

[Dotley]

Desserts had been the restaurants specialty when it had been open. Though by now the ice cream would have no doubt melted, and the pies, all lined neatly behind the glass counter by the register had spoiled. Their pies were seasonal, the summer fruits (blackberry, blueberry, strawberry, peaches) had gone rotten days ago, giving the restaurant a bitter and pungent smell.

She'd been staring at the pies, considering the possibility of meeting their same fate, when she heard the first clash and creak of metal - someone was trying to get inside. She stilled for a moment, before the thought starting rolling around in her head.

Someone was trying to get inside, someone was trying to get inside.

Stepping forward quickly she moved into the kitchen, the door lazily swinging back and forth from her rush. Her brown eyes searched wildly for anything, and finally landed on a metal muffin sheet hanging on the wall. She grabbed it, holding it against her chest as she ducked from view behind one of the kitchen counters, hearing the door finally give way and open.  What if it was, what if it was one of the sick people?

She licked her lips, weighing her options. If it was one of them, she might be able to slip out unnoticed if she kept quiet. But what if it was someone like her? Someone who felt just as jittery and nervous and hungry as she was? She bit down on her lip, before she called out warily from her hiding place. "Whose there?"

[woegman]

The voice, meager as it was, made him drop his crowbar.  He jumped back, smacking into the door, closing it behind him.  His mind boggled at how strange it was to hear another voice...it had only been, what, a week or so?  And yet the words were already foreign to him, his mind having accepted that he would likely never hear human speech again.

"He...hello?" his replied, cautiously.  He had a sudden realization that he *was* breaking and entering, and that whoever had called out might do him harm because of it.  His hand fumbled for his crowbar, and closing on it, he spoke, "Look, I'm sorry about your door.  I'm just hungry, and it's not like anyone else..."

He paused, realizing how ridiculous he sounded, and for a moment, he wondered if he had imagined the voice.

"There is somebody here, isn't there?" he asked nervously.

[Dotley]

The loud bang of the door closing had her cringe, nearly regretting voicing her presence - but when an equally frightened voice called out and began apologizing, she felt a wave of relief wash over her. Almost enough to sigh, but she was still mindful of the situation.

He had the same idea as she had, hoping the restaurant would still have some food, even if it was only canned. For a moment, she wondered if she should have kept quiet - maybe hid in a cupboard or locked herself in the refrigerator. Near all of the drawers and such were locked, and only she had the key. It might have been best to keep quiet until he had gotten frustrated and moved on, and then kept whatever food was available to herself. It would have been the smart thing to do - but she'd never been too smart anyways.

"Hey, yeah," She called out, standing slowly and moving to peek her head out from the low window that looked out into the front of the restaurant. It was strange, seeing it from this side. Now she saw what the chefs no doubt say every time they had handed her an order - she faintly wondered if any of them were okay.

"Uh, you-" She could have ended that sentence in a lot of ways, her brown eyes looking at him warily. "You aren't sick, are ya?"

[woegman]

The relief on his face was culpable.  He exhaled the breath that he hadn't even realized he was holding, and realizing that he was still holding the crowbar defensively, he placed it clumsily on a counter.

"Oh, thank God," he sighed, a hint of hysterical laughter fighting for release, causing his voice to waver, "For a moment there I thought I was going mad!"

He ran his hand through his hair and took a deep breath, then realized she had asked him a question.

"Oh, um, sick?  No...I'm not sick...wait, you mean like those...those things out there?" he asked, jerking his thumb towards the door, "No, definitely not like them.  I've been avoiding them for days, but their numbers are growing."

He looked back at the door, nervously.  Turning back, he extended his hand cautiously in greeting.

"I'm Jake, by the way.  Sorry again about your door."

[Dotley]

Mirroring his movement, she discreetly placed her muffin tray down. She gave a weak smile to his expression and voice of relief, feeling both eased yet still wary at her new found companion. Who knew what he'd lived through or experienced while she'd shut herself away in her apartment? He certainly was well versed in using that crowbar.

"Yeah, yeah. Like...them." She agreed, eyes following his hand. Their numbers were growing? That was, that sucked. But, on the bright side at least Jake wasn't sick.

"Sophie," She exchanged names and also cautiously extended her hand as well through the window, giving a brief but firm shake.

"I work here, well, worked I guess." Sophie frowned, leaning over to look at the door he'd pried open. "I don't really think the manager is going to mind anymore."

[woegman]

"Sophie...pretty name," Jake said, smiling slightly.  He hoped that his face hid the incredible joy his heart felt at the touch of her hand.  Its warmth, its...liveliness.  He admitted inwardly that he hadn't expected to ever see another living person again.

"So, ummm....what have you got to eat in here?  I, uhhh....well, my stomach's been pretty empty and I -"

The sound of breaking glass from the back of the restaurant interrupted his sentence...

((Sorry for the short post - got back late last night from a trip and was too tired to post - my next one will be longer, promise! :D ))

[Dotley]

"Oh, thanks." Sophie replied, raising an eyebrow at the overjoyed look in his eye. Guy must have seen a lot of shit in the past few days no one should ever have to see in an entire lifetime.

"Jake's cool, too." She said shortly after, not wanting to offend. Who knew if she'd find anyone else who wasn't...well, dead or acting like a raving lunatic. But she wasn't lying, Jake was a nice name. Her best guy friend in high school had been a Jacob, but he went by Jake. They had homeroom together. He was a sweet guy. Or maybe that should be had been a sweet guy. Who knew?

She jumped at the harsh sound of glass breaking from the back of them, followed by a long and terrible moan. Sophie eagerly looked towards Jake and gestured towards the crowbar. "You're good with that thing, right?"

[No worries!]

[woegman]

Jake's eyes went wide, and he snatched up the crowbar.

"I manage," he said, his demeanor changing from hesitant and nervous to one of resolution and readiness.  He had truly been surprised by how easily it had come to him, after that first time.  Somehow, his brain found a way to disconnect from humanity, however briefly, whenever these...these things showed up.  Maybe it was the adrenaline, maybe it was pure instinct...he didn't know.  With ease, he hopped over the counter and stepped into the back with Sophie.

It came then, stumbling into the room.  A week of decay marked the body...what had he been?  A security guard, a cop perhaps?  The uniform was ripped and tattered, the badge missing, the weapons belt stripped away.  The thing looked up with its dead gaze, and as it caught sight of the two living beings, it moaned a throaty, carrying moan before lurching forward in their direction.

"Shit!" Jake spat, "That moan...I don't know how, but it...it calls more of them.  We've got to get out of here..."