The Tower

[Leila Darkmoon]

THE TOWER

Over twenty feet tall, the tower stands tall and narrow, its cylindric shape serving to deceive those outside as to its true girth. Made of various stones, rocks and bricks, the tower was originally built by prisoners on the chain gang when the Mayor of the city wanted a definite border between this state and the next. The tower, and consequent fifty foot wall had been built over two summers and at a great cost to the ratepayers. The wall had crumbled in some places, and had completely disappeared in others over the years, while most of the walls stood intact, complete with the razorwire that crisscrossed over the top of each peak. Although the surrounding land had been ravaged by time and nature, the Tower still stood, and for the most part had been fully manned by at least two armed guards. Although the new fiscal budget brought this tradition to an end in the winter of 99, the Tower was still fortunately rather well equipped.

A large door located at the base of the tower is the only way in and out of the Tower apart from the ten windows that are scattered up and down the side of the stony façade. Of these windows only one is close enough to the ground to be considered safe jumping distance, and the window is so small only a child or petite woman would fit through. A prickly, dark green ivy vine stretches up one side of the Tower, almost swallowing it whole in some parts. Inside, a winding staircase takes up most of the space inside the tower. After a steep flight of winding stairs, there are three levels of various look outs, each armed with high voltage search lights, and automatic rifles. The inner core of the top three levels serves as a kind of warehouse, a storage facility for the guards that used to use the tower.

There is so much debris and stuff stored here that it would take someone many months to take a full inventory. On first inspection, the following items are visible:



A large, working radio with rechargable batteries.

A (should be )working generator that is missing a sparkplug.

A ladder.

Several large coils of rope.

Five boxes of army rations (dehydrated foods and canned goods mainly).

A box of orange flares ( four missing from a dozen sized box)

Two large torches, with four batteries each.

One large half empty tin of Instant Coffee

A vending machine, fixed so that the coin button is stuck on refund. The vending machine is fully stocked with chips and chocolate bars. Only a few are missing.

Two boxes of stale crackers and a box of sardine tins (four missing from a box of ten).

A basketball hoop mounted on the wall and several small rubber basketballs nearby.

A dart board missing three darts.

A stainless steel kettle.

A small gas stove

One old hand gun with a half box of ammunition.

Four rolls of pale blue toilet paper.

A hand carved baseball bat, battered mitt and large wobbly baseball.

Several chipped coffee mugs

Four black metal bowls and four black metal plates.

A battered box of discarded walkie talkies

A fire extinguisher.

A pair of sharp scissors.

A first aid kit.

A box of mens boots sizes 9 and 13

Two pairs of dark green coveralls size Large.

Four grey blankets.




There is no telling what could be found if someone were to spend the time rummaging through the pile of junk littering the abandoned Tower.

[Boston]

“Too late!”

Bee~eep.

“I know you’re hangin’ tough, Melissa, and so am I. You know me, babe…”

[FADE IN]

Start with an overhead shot of the tower. The light of Boston’s motorcycle is seen approaching the front door.


Zoom in to ground-level in front of the tower. Boston passed through the opening in the tower’s wall at a swift coast, and came to a gradual stop just beside the main entrance. His boots dropped to the ground and skid along the dirt on either side of his bike as he came to stop, and he leaned back on his motorcycle, craning his neck, peering up at the building.

“This place…is a death trap…” He spoke quietly to himself as he pulled off his white ski mask and goggles, and shoved them into his satchel. He removed his gloves as well and then pulled a small black comb out of his inside jacket pocket, taking a moment to straighten and slick back his chin-length, rain-matted hair.

Pan up the building in rotation, showing each seemingly dead, dark window, then drop suddenly back to Boston. Anyone who may have been inside the tower surely would have seen Boston’s approach, or at least heard the rumble of his motorcycle’s engine. Just to be on the safe side, though, as he coasted his motorcycle a few yards away from the door, he revved the engine loudly a few times, in hopes that it would assure any humans left inside the building that this was indeed a fellow human entering their stronghold. As far as Boston had seen so far, zombies did not ride motorcycles – hopefully everyone else would have also realized this. He found a nice hiding place for his motorcycle, slightly obscured by some shrubbery, then shut the engine down and pocketed the key. He swapped it, and his comb, for an orange rattling pill bottle.

Zoom in on the label of the pill bottle, obscured by Boston’s hand. All we can see is the name “Boston” (his first name is covered), and the words “Take three tablet(s) daily with water”. Pull back. Boston twisted open the lid of the bottle and rattled the pills around, peering inside, trying to separate one from the rest. He stuck his thumb inside and pinned one down, then pointed the bottle at his open mouth and flicked that one pill. It soared from the bottle into his mouth, and right down his throat. He gulped it down as he pocketed the bottle, and surveyed the area.

“Guess I’m the first one here…” He thought for just a second about those other people on the highway he had cut off. He assumed they were heading to the tower as well, and wasn’t exactly looking forward to meeting them. He figured it was inevitable, though, that is, unless his suspicions were correct, and everyone inside this tower had already been converted to zombieism. Then he could just hightail it.

He grabbed the satchel from the front of his motorcycle and slung it securely over his shoulder bandolier-style, then systematically pulled the 9mm’s from his concealed side holsters as he approached the large front doors.

Zoom in on the guns as Boston checks them. He tugged the hammer of the first gun back, and a bullet which had already been in the chamber popped out. Boston caught it then slid the clip out and into his hand, checking the bullets.

“Lookin’ swell…” He muttered under his breath as he slipped that extra bullet back into the chamber, then popped the clip into the gun and re-holstered it.

The next 9mm, which he produced from the other holster, was a little different than the first. To the naked eye it looked like your standard handgun. When Boston flicked the release lever for the clip, though, it let out a minute hydraulic hiss, and what could have been steam shot from the handle around the clip. It was forced out, and Boston caught it. He held it up to the moonlight to examine it.

“Pressure at one-hundred percent…” He returned that clip to the gun and cocked the hammer back.

Pull back. Boston pulled a thick metal flashlight from the satchel then secured its flap, and finally, without an ounce of hesitation or fear evident in his demeanor, tugged open the tower’s door. As the door flew open Boston pressed his side against the wall outside and pointed his gun into the building. He crossed his wrists, the grip of his apparently pressurized gun clutched in his right fist, and his flashlight in his left, illuminating his targets.

Upon seeing no immediate threat, Boston spun to press against the wall on the other side of the door, and check out the rest of the room from the outside. It looked clear enough, so Boston stepped slowly and lightly into the tower, keeping his gun and flashlight aimed ahead of himself as he looked all around. After deeming the room “safe enough”, he shut the door behind him. His reasoning here was it looked like there was only one way for the zombies to come from: Above him, down those stairs. If they started coming down, he would be able to retreat and escape out that front door easily enough.

Enter first person, and follow the light from Boston’s flashlight. He could see the stairs spiraling all the way up, and it looked like there were a few different landings. It was easy to assume any survivors would be up on the highest level, so Boston started up those stairs – slowly, at first, testing their sturdiness, trying to determine whether or not he would be able to take them down, and just how much effort it would require if he were to do so.

Focus on Boston’s boots as he tests the sturdiness of the stairs, and as he slowly works his way up. Resume third person.

“Is anyone here?” He called out as he started up the stairs, speaking loudly but not shouting, “My name is Boston, I am not a zombie. I repeat, I am a meat Popsicle.”

Boston stepped quietly and cautiously up the stairs, keeping his light ahead of himself. He decided that his first order of business should be to find any other people, if only to let them know he was not a zombie. And so there Boston was, passing the different levels, working his way higher and higher until he found either a human or a zombie…

“…You know me, babe, I’m a trooper…Though ain’t it funny, girly? How quickly our lives went from domestic to video game…I’m sure I could use your help out here, I never could beat your record in Wesker’s time trial, and I never even unlocked Hunk…”

Click.

Call ended.

[Chelsea]

The road which had been left behind was a wreck. Streets which had been taken were trashed. Passages and alleyways had become dead ends, blocked off in the chaos. The subway was dead silent, brought to a standstill. Trains had grinded to a halt on their tracks, their service discontinued. One would wonder if the very planes had fallen out of the sky. It seemed that transport… no, freedom was being wiped out.

The buildings which lined the sidewalks were ruined. Commercial structures had been broken into, robbed for all they were worth. An entire skyscraper had toppled over, crushing anything and everything beneath its terrible reach. Houses of everyday people were burning away aflame, or reduced to empty, scattered rubble. It looked as if the luxury humanity adorned itself with was stripped away, leaving only what was deserved.

What a mess…

A police paddy wagon strained its way up the rise of a hill. As it reached the top its velocity increased dramatically, rushing down the other side. The vehicle had seen better days, to say the least. It could hardly be called a paddy wagon anymore; the rear half used to transport prisoners had been totalled. One would first presume that meant someone had busted out, but… these were immense inward dents.

With both headlights broken, driving through the downpour of the storm was easier said than done, not to mention potentially deadly. At a time such as this, however, not driving was difficult and deadly. The lesser of the evils was easy to perceive, and the risks were gladly chanced. The driver was practised at this kind of thing. It could be said that she lived for this. Not something as simple as dangerous driving, but the adrenaline rush that followed through – the experiences themselves, and the feel she embodied.

This experience was of particular interest. At any other time, she would have been interested in it. One minor piece of information was that… she wasn’t a police officer. In actuality, she wasn’t any kind of law enforcer at all, and she had ‘borrowed’ a police paddy wagon. There was a lot of irony to this situation… Not so long ago, when she climbed into the back of one of these, she lost her freedom. Now that she had climbed into the front, there was a chance of keeping it.

Brake!

Wheels screeched and slipped on the wet road - the wagon was sliding sideways but soon came to an abrupt stop. For a moment there was only her heavy breathing and the drone of the still running engine. The driver’s side of the vehicle had come within a metre of a street light, a street light which had collapsed across the road on a diagonal slant.

Oh, for crying out loud…

Shifting the gear stick back into second gear, taking her foot off the clutch and revving the engine, she set to taking her frustration out on something. Ploughing through a mailbox helped, as the renegade motorist tore along the pavement, clearing a way past the obstacles. There had been more than enough setbacks today, and this was not amusing, forced to deal with even more. Getting back onto the bitumen, and working her way back up to fifth gear, she sped toward her destination.

Where was her destination? Where indeed… for that had not yet been decided entirely. All she knew for certain was now in shambles. Despite her considerable intelligence, the thought of the radio had not crossed her mind. She didn’t have the knowledge of the recent goings-on… of human survivors gathering together at select locations. She remained unaware of the lethal danger, pattering upon the windscreen, right before her eyes.

Instinct told her to run. Instinct told her to get away from it all. To that, she listened. Anywhere was better than here right now, so through the heavy rain she drove, heading for the nearest border. As the paddy wagon brought her further and further from her beginnings, the realization sunk in, of how widespread this catastrophe really was… how far she may need to run, to be free of its clutches. Fear had come knocking, and even her will was… shaken.

~~ Hours pass. ~~

There was a problem. The sound of the engine had turned from a steady drone to a struggling groan. Every so often, it was like a heartbeat was skipped; the speed and flow of the paddy wagon slowed, and changing down to third gear was worrying. Once enough speed had been lost, the engine seemingly returned to normal… but this was happening every twenty seconds or so, more and more frequently as time went by.

Until the vehicle whined its way down to zero miles per hour and died altogether. Hissing violently, steam began billowing out from beneath the hood, even before it was lifted. This was not right… This was not right at all. Something; a lot of things more probably, were fried. This entire piece of shit was falling (or had fallen) apart around her, and now it wouldn’t even GO.

Why me?

Still, survival instinct had not left her. Whether it was a good day or a bad day… and this was a very bad day… she would do what had to be done. That was one of her most significant aspects; her guiding principle. The rain seemed to be much lighter here; it rhythmically pattered on the glass nonetheless, yet the brunt of the storm must have been elsewhere. Scanning the new surrounds for any sign of danger, the undead in particular, she found nothing… until she spotted a tower in the distance.

Thinking on it, her clouded understanding gradually cleared. Having headed to the border, and confident the right direction was taken… considering the time she had spent on the road… it all made sense. Deciding it was time to get a bit wet, the door opened and she climbed out, hurrying through the drizzling rain. Her boots drummed upon the tarmac, and while on the move she untied the turtleneck from around her waist, holding it over her head as a sort of makeshift umbrella.

The tower was about two minutes away.

[burn4me]

Jason back peddled after the initial wave of zombie-like humaniod's began to over run their position. His eyes swept back forth as he fired off shots to another head, dropping the rotten corpse instantly. His breathing started to become irregular, and he could feel his heart trying to punch his way out of his chest. He was already one man down, and the other three were not as experienced as he would have liked them to be. The chopper over head swayed back forth as the the ran and wind began to increase.

"Crypkeeper, be advised we are running low on fuel. We will not make it back unless we leave now. Another bird is enroute."

"Fuck.." Jason's rifle acted on its own again placing another bullet into the forehead of a nearby zombie. He was running out of options and needed to act fast. The distant headlights he had seen moments ago were no more. Nothing was comming there way.

"Sargeant! I think----ARGH!!" A blood curling scream rang out as Jason turned his head to see one of his men getting piled on by zombies.

After spraying another burt into the pile, Jason began portray a face of worry. "PULL BACK!" He tried to scream but his other two men screamed in horror when they tripped and were taken by the mob as well. Jason gritted his teeth and hopped backwards, having no choice but to leave his dead men behind. He would have to break the honor of the Marines to save his own ass. Fair enough to him.

His legs pumped violently as he reached up and removed his kevlar, throwing it aside. There were no bullets flying his way, so there was no need to hinder his head movements with it. The rain was starting to poor down even harder. From his previous training, he was taught to never allow any rain drops in your mouth or nose. He carefully controlled his breathing ensuring that he did not consume any of the liquid.

Through the haze of rain, he noticed a tower. He turned back to the now distant mobs of undead, then back to the tower. He would have a better advantage at the high ground, and he had hoped for better COMM postioning. As he continued forward however, his alerted eyes caught the movement of another individual. Instinctivly his rifle was raised. "Halt!"

The wind was sharp so he thought maybe the person could not hear him. "Stop now motherfucker or i'm putting one into your brain!!!"

[Chelsea]

A commanding shout boomed from behind, over her right shoulder. Regardless of the distracting wind and rain, she had heard it. Despite the fact that the civilian’s mind was placed firmly on the tower in sight, her ears were paying attention. Halt; it sounded like an order, and one that left little room for manoeuvring. No room at all, if this person had their way. The whole incident caught her more than a little off guard and for a moment she didn’t know… didn’t know what to do.

The authority figure immediately decided to emphasise their point, with a similar command - that part was understandable. The other half of their words were lost on the wind, unfortunately, but the temper… the feel of it was plain as day. The woman guessed it was a threat of some kind that followed through. Suddenly she knew again, or… that’s what was thought. Her mind clicked, in a way that it probably shouldn’t have. Familiarity seeped into the consciousness; a memory filled her head.

The pace of her jog slowed, until it stopped altogether. She was elsewhere, in the memory.

~~ Flashback starts. ~~

“FREEZE!” demanded a pistol pointing cop, while rushing out of his police car.

“You are surrounded,” informed another voice from a megaphone. “Give yourself up.”

A recognizable face approached, his brown trench coat partially concealing his steps. It was night. The darkness obscured many things, plenty of strange faces had gathered, and there were flashing lights everywhere, but… this man was known. The narrow of his eyes, that slight tilt to his head, the usual cigar extending from the edge of his lips… All of these details had been seen many times over. However, the past couldn’t and wouldn’t help now. She had gone too far.

“I’m sorry Chelsea. I can’t let you slide out of this one… not this time.”

“It’s alright, Bruno… just do what you have to do,” was all the young adult could really manage.

With a regretful sigh, Bruno did just that. “Step out of the car, and put your hands behind your back.”

Chelsea opened the door and turned in the driver’s seat, reluctantly climbing out. She slowly spun around, gazing up into the starry sky as she drew her hands behind her. Why? The sky was a seemingly limitless place, and she wanted to take as much of it with her as she could remember, before her limits became very real and restrictive. It only took seconds for the handcuffs to click tightly into place.

“You have the right to remain silent…” Bruno murmured in a way that spoke volumes about his thoughts on the situation. “Anything you say can and will be used against you in the court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford one, an attorney will be provided to you…” He understood that Chelsea wasn’t listening, and he spoke quietly so as not to disturb her last moment of freedom. The only reason he spoke at all was because it was his job.

~~ Flashback ends. ~~

The pigs have arrived… I won’t let them lock me away again.

Judging by the way the criminal had come to a gradual stop, it would have given the impression that she was giving up. As though her doc martins had run out of gas, the steps she took seemingly puttered out into nothing. There she stood silently in the rain, the turtleneck still spread overhead… until she discarded it upon the road aside her, like she was throwing down a weapon. Raindrops finally began to speckle her face, and bead down her grimacing cheeks.

Nothing was certain in this moment, not to the criminal, and probably not to the aggressor either. With her back turned, there would be little he could gather from her outward appearance. There was some distance between them yet, and with the rain as it was, details were not easy to see. He had no chance in hell of perceiving how she felt; he could never notice her scowling expression, or the devious glint in her eye. Likewise, the same was true in reverse; she had never laid eyes on him.

Wiping all emotion from her face, the criminal dared a glance over her right shoulder. With peripheral vision, she focused only on the business end of a rifle. That was all she needed to know.

Screw this.

Bursting into full sprint, the element of surprise was now on her side. A moving target was much harder to hit, and this girl could seriously move. Solid ground or puddle of water, it mattered not to her stride. If she didn’t have the speed of a cheetah, she certainly had the determination, as the tower rapidly pulled toward her. It would take an expertly trained marine to make a shot at these odds - not some worthless city cop, like the one she had imagined to be in his place.

If he was going to shoot, he had a ten second window before losing comfortable range.

[burn4me]

His eyes narrowed the instant the figure bolted off, nearly parting his vision of the outline. His legs suddenly pumped in a rapid movement on their own. He was trained to run....trained to run all day long if need be. He was still looking through his scope. The outline became more clear, but his accuracy had dropped nearly 40% at his current rate of movement. He could have shot the person from where he had been standing, but it was obvious that they could move faster than whatever took out his men. Jason suddenly pulled the trigger when his sights centered.

The bullet sliced through the air, right past the figure's head and eat its way into one of the undead creatures aimlessly wandering outside of the tower's yard. A screaming moan filled the condensed air and the hard pitter patter of rain followed its silence. Immediatly the barrel of the rifle lowered and Jason quickened his pace, nearly catching up the figure who had just attempted to run from him. He was so close now he could reach out and grab her shoulder, sending her forward momentum to a sudden and abrupt stop.

Instead, he followed her, feeling it was safer to take a higher and drier ground than what he was currently in. He followed the person until they finally reached a over hang provided by the towers grace over head, allowing Jason to get a clearer sight on who he had just pursued. He took a final glance back to ensure noone had followed, or none of the rotten ass zombies had neared before spinning head back, spraying a little bit of water around as he stared through soaked hair and a drenched face.

"You ran instead..." He quietly muttered, admiring this girl's bravery.

[Chelsea]

Bang…

The reverberation of the gunshot echoed in her ears, echoed in her head. It was deafening, crippling. She had never expected him to fire, to pull the trigger with the intent of taking her life. For that reason it had been so easy to run, but now that he had shot her, suddenly she wanted to change her mind… She wanted to undo the mistake that was made, but she knew it to be too late for that. One day her brain would take precedence over her instincts… but no, too late for that too.

She could still hear it. That sound was traumatizing. A police officer should have only used a weapon as a last resort - why did they shoot her so soon? They already had what they wanted, didn’t they? Their paddy wagon was parked right in front of them; admittedly it would require a tow truck, but their property had been secured… Why did they need to shoot her down? Why couldn’t they let her run away, let her go? The law had taken so much, and now… it had taken everything.

Death… she waited for it. Every inhale and exhale tasted sweeter, every tread and step burned warmer. The swing of her arms and the strides of her legs ached so much more than they had only a moment ago. The thoughts and questions raced through her mind, faster and clearer. The fragility of her own mortality had been realized, again, for too often she had lapsed into taking it for granted. Oh, how she appreciated it now, now that it was too late… now that she was about to die.

…

Was I shot?

Whatever the case, she kept on running. Where was the pain, the pain she had felt before? The searing, the ripping, the burning… the excruciating agony as your torn insides rubbed against each other? The weakening as your blood ebbed and poured out from the wound, making you fainter, and bringing you to your knees. The paling of your face and the dimming of your eyes… you try so hard to stay conscious… knowing if you fall asleep… it’s over.

Am I dead?

The girl hit the double doorway at full pelt. Her instincts had taken complete control of her body, causing a sidelong leap into the obstacle, a kind of spontaneous shoulder barge. Good news was she had something in control, because her mind was lost in itself, its questions. Bad news was her feminine frame wasn’t built for these kinds of things. She would really feel the impact of the doors, not to mention the floor, when she hit them. Yes, there would be pain.

The doors broke open inwardly, slamming loudly against the solid stone walls behind them. She passed through the entrance… still in mid air… and hit the ground with a sickening smack. A slight bounce and the momentum ushered her off to one side, rolling her feeble body straight into a dusty collection of boxes and barrels. If the slam of the doors weren’t enough, the splintering racket of wood breaking and barrels toppling over would be. Anyone inside or out would have heard the noise.

A half hearted whimper came from beneath the splinters and fragments.

[burn4me]

Jason walked in after the girl had crashed through the doors, his rifle up and his eyes alert for anything that may have been lurking inside. The girl was on the ground after blasting over numerous objects and causing mass amounts of noise in the process. He entered slowly and peered around, assesing the area as safe before giving another glance behind him. He shut the door and jammed a block in between the hinges, ensuring that the door could only be opened from the inside.

He set his rifle against the wall and gave the girl on the floor a concerned glance before finally making his way too her. He bent down and extended his hand. "Are you alright?" He asked, hoping that she would not see him as the enemy.

[Boston]

Boston hadn’t even gotten halfway up that staircase when a girl hurled herself through the doorway. He spun on his heels just as suddenly as she had arrived, and just in time to barely catch a glimpse of her before she disappeared under the rubble she created. He shined his light on the doorway, tracing a quick path from it to her mess.

Follow the light’s focus as it comes to settle on the girl, then back to the doorway. Boston started back down the stairs in a hurry, intent on closing that door. The girl certainly didn’t look like she would be getting up to shut it any time soon. He grew quiet and clicked off his flashlight a second later, though, when she was followed by a man, and Boston remained silent in the dark for several moments, his gun trained on him. He took a moment to determine whether or not the girl was a damsel in distress.

“How many are chasin’ ya?” Boston asked after finally determining that neither person would be trying to eat him, at least any time soon. He clicked his flashlight back on and started down the stairs.

It was a safe enough assumption, Boston figured, that they were being chased. Some girl comes barging through the door in such a hurry, there must be at least a dozen of them right on her tail. But then again, the man was considerably calmer. Although, he did bar the door.

“Otherwise, ya might not wanna plug the door shut just yet, there could be other survivors headin’ for this tower…” He seemed less concerned with the arrival of these two than he did the door situation. He remembered the people he had cut off on the highway, and figured they were probably headed for the tower, too. He stood with his back to them for a moment, testing the door’s sturdiness, before finally turning and shining his light on the two.

He holstered his gun and swapped it for a cigarette, which he took his time bringing to his lips and lighting with that silver Zippo engraved with the name “Melissa”. He did so all with one hand, so that they might all partake in the light from his flashlight. It wasn’t exactly bright, otherwise, inside.

With the arrival of these two, he figured he could take a moment for himself. He let these two stare at him, or ask him questions which he did not answer, or stare at each other and ignore him, until he finished off that cigarette. He breathed the last drag out in a slow sigh, then extinguished the butt against the door and flicked it across the room.

By now it was apparent, through either one of their responses or the fact zombies weren’t busting the door down, that none were in immediate pursuit. Also, he had yet to receive a response from the tower above, so decided to take his time.

“So…” Boston finally spoke again, taking a moment to comb his hair back with that small comb as it began to dry, “What’s up?” He pocketed the comb and swapped it for the same gun as before, which he held casually at his side as he leaned against the door. He kicked one foot up against it, and arched his back slightly to ease the uncomfortable pressure of the baseball bat in the case on his back. He kept his light focused on these two, so he could see them both.

[Boston]

After another few moments, and once he could hear people on the other side of the door, talking, not screaming and groaning, Boston pushed himself off the door and used one hand to pull the blocks out.

He tossed them aside and retrieved his flashlight, then moved towards that stairwell. He stood with his back to its base and his wrists crossed, his flashlight and gun both pointed at the door as he waited for whomever to enter. One foot crept onto the first step as Boston prepared to retreat higher into the tower, just in case he was wrong, and a mass of undead was waiting to enter with whoever he heard speaking.

[Catrux]

Loki had meant to reply to those that spoke, he could have sworn he replied, but the urge to sleep over took his battered body. Some how in his tangled position, Loki was able to sleep. His dreams were of playing football for the college again, his life was normal. The opposing team was on the goal line, it was his time to step up and stop them. It was fourth down, the quarterback barked out audibles as the defense shifted around. The air was heavy with humidity, giving warning that rain was on its way. Never did Loki take his eyes off those of the quarterback, through his years of playing he had learned that they tended to tell where the ball would be going.

He and his defense were anticipating a quarterback sneak, it was mere inches from the end zone. They knew the best way to prevent a touchdown at this point would be to close quickly with an emphasis around the center. Quarterback sneaks usually came from either side of the center, the defense was going to hedge their bets and close on both sides. After the line was to collapse to prevent anything from going through it was his time to plug any other gaps that may have been created.

The muscles in Loki's legs were ready to fire the moment the ball moved signifying the snap, and that they did. The ball snapped and Loki was racing to the line when he saw the quarterback open up and hand the ball to the tailback. Shit, he's gonna jump for it. The quarterback had audibled to a hand off, obviously expecting them to be looking for the sneak. They were going to have the tail back jump over the pile and into the end zone, Loki's assignment changed as soon as he recognized it. He cut towards the path the tail back was taking to try and reach him, the only way he would be able to stop them from scoring would be to collide with him in the air.

When Loki saw the tail back slow his pace, signifying he was preparing to jump, Loki did the same. With the sound of two rams butting heads, the two of them met and this was where the dream went wrong. The two rams fell to the ground, neither one was in the end zone. Loki had secured the win for his team, or so he thought. When he stood up to celebrate, he looked down at the player he tackled, his hands were missing and so was the ball. Turning around to look toward the end zone, Loki saw were the missing items lay, in the end zone. However that was not the disturbing part, he now noticed that the other team was comprised of Zombies.

That was when Abira's sudden movement caused Loki to snap out of his zombie infested dream and back into his zombie infested reality. With great effort Loki was able to lift his battered body and make it out of the truck to gaze at their new surroundings. The air was much like the air in his dream, hinting at rain. He was just about to ask how they all proposed getting into the tower, when it sounded like the door was being opened. Quickly, Loki's mind began to process the situation. There could be zombies on the other side, this could be a trap, but they also had very little time for caution, they had to take the risk.

He knew that in his battered state, he would be little use for aiding in the survival of the others so without a word Loki approached the door. The way in which he moved showed a settled demeanor, instead of the pained forced way he had been moving previously. If one cared to analyze the entire situation they would probably be able to deduce what was on Loki's mind. He was currently the weak link, his state would only hinder the others. If there was a threat on the other side of the door, his life would be the least vital to spare. Loki placed his hand on the door and took a deep breath in case it was to be his last, and opened the door.

[Talisen Phoenix]

Harvey Rockmore

The Truck jerked suddenly, either they had blown a tire or stopped. Harvey kept falling in and out of consciousness; he couldn’t for the life of him understand why he was so tired. He had suffered a seizure? Was he sick? On the other hand, infected? He put the thought out of his head immediately, he wasn’t a zombie….

He suddenly became aware of the small pistol strapped to his calf, he had almost forgotten about it, he knew what he had to do if he felt another seizure come on, maybe he was turning. Harvey pulled his aching body up and craned his neck down so he could move through the back of the truck; he unfastened the door handle and stepped out with a grunt. He felt a cool breeze on his skin and for the first time in what seemed years, he smiled softly. His gaze shifted to the tower, it was in impressive structure hard to miss.

"What is it?"

He asked his companions around him, he didn't even know they're names.

"Before we all die horribly, I'm Harvey by the way"

He said with a weak smile, his glasses were broken and still smeared with dried blood, he made out a flash of blonde hair and continued to smile, he rushed towards her and squeezed her in an uncharacteristic hug, She was the only familiar thing In a twisted new world, he leaned forward and whispered in her ear.

"I need you to watch me closely… shoot me if I start to… you know… zombify"

He said sternly but pulled away and squeezed her shoulder gently

"I need a damn doctor…"

He muttered more to himself as he followed Leila.

[Ninjz]

Derek had glanced aside for one second, to see that Loki was asleep and not just ignoring him, and when he turned back the guy from the black car was sitting up and telling someone to shoot him. Man, this was why Derek hated doing any doctor work, humans are so damn annoying. Anyways, as his razor sharp mind snapped back to reality with a near-audible whoosh, he reached over to the now named Harvey.

"Calm down, I'm Derek, i gave you a mild sedative to calm you and keep you from hurting yourself or anyone with the seizures. Please, do you have a history of seizures? Maybe a certain prescription to help?"

Regardless of his response, when Derek noticed Loki entering the now unlocked door, Derek's Desert Eagle seemed to appear in his hand like magic. Flicking the safety and hitting the laser sight button, he put his free hand out.

"Stay here, we'll call out if it's safe, and please keep the engine running."

Moving with trained grace, offset by fatigue, Derek slid out of the truck at a crouch, he advanced at a hunched over jog, getting to the door as it swung open.

"Hey Loki, we don't need anyone else dead, so keep quiet."

[Boston]

When one of them finally opened the tower’s door, Boston clicked off his flashlight. He squinted slightly into the darkness, and was surprised to see such a young fellow coming in.

Although Loki might not yet see it, Boston kept his gun trained on his head. “Are you infected? Be straight with me, now, kid…” He asked once Loki stepped inside, just a voice coming through the darkness until Loki’s eyes adjusted, “How many are with you?” He asked after seeing the vehicles through the door.

Boston’s worse nightmare…Zombies weren’t that bad, he could deal with zombies…

[Leila Darkmoon]

*Leila watched with a slightly bemused expression as Loki approached the Tower, his hand reaching out to open the door. She was about to yell out for him to be careful when she was surprised by a suddenly awake and lively Harvey as he wrapped his arms around her and squeezed her until she thought she would burst.

~Woah..go easy there little buddy… glad to see ya feelin’ better.~ she leant back slightly, purely by instinct alone as he leant over and whispered in her ear that she was to shoot him if he should happen to “zombify”. Wrinkling her nose, she laughed slightly, a deep husky chuckle as she shook her head and smiled at him.

~You already look like the walking dead though babe, so how the hell would I know if you started to turn?~ winking, she laughed again and draped an arm around his shoulder as she watched Derek draw his gun and join Loki by the door.

A deep voice boomed out at them from the darkness of the Tower, asking how many of them there were and Leila shivered slightly as she glanced up at the sky above them. The clouds now hung dangerously heavy and low, seeming to suck any light from the landscape below. Darkness crept around the edges of the Bug and the truck and Leila shivered again as she heard that loud and low rumble of thunder that told her rain was imminent.

~Uh guys…~ she called out, her eyes still trained on the sky above her.~While its nice to exchange social pleasantries, I hardly think now’s the time… ~. She didn't understand why they didnt just walk in. They had afterall, been told to come here by the message on the radio.

Although she was alerted by neither sound or scent, she suddenly became aware of Caseys presence behind her. Turning around to meet his gaze, she saw the determination in his eyes before his lips spoke the words she had expected without realising.

~I’m going to check the perimeter. Get the others locked up inside and then keep an eye out for my return.~ Without waiting for an answer, he shouldered his rifle and took off running into the approaching darkness.

Sighing deeply, she turned around to give Harvey a worried look before her gaze turned back to Loki and Derek. They were still standing outside the door while the owner of the voice from inside was still presumably within, and Leila took a deep breath before she grabbed Harvey by the hand and attempted to drag him along with her.

Reaching the two men, she muttered ~We aint got all night boys! ~ before she pushed Derek aside slightly as she brushed past him and walked through the door, her eyes immediately squinting against the darkness. Completely blinded to all around her, she stood completely still, her ears craning to hear any sound to alert her where walls or doors might be.

~Eh.. I don’t know how many of us there is exactly… I totally suck at Math… but there’s a few of us and its about to start raining again outside..~ she absently twirled a long strand of her wild blonde hair around her forefinger of her left hand while she bounced on her heels. ~We came here because of the message on the radio, so can you turn the lights on so we can let the others in? In case you haven’t noticed, we are currently experiencing one hell of a zombie problem.. and I for one will feel a lot safer once this door is locked up and we are all inside. ~ *