The Tower

[Simon Gideon]

More voices echoing in the tower helped bring his mind back to reality, and when he heard Engie stirring he moved immediately into the storage room.

Five other survivors besides himself and the girl crowded the small storage room, blankets and towels rolled out for use as pillows and bedding. The various dusty cardboard boxes had been hastily stacked to the side to provide room for the occupants but even then it was still too packed. Simon surveyed the room as he waited for Engie to fully wake up, noting each person's bent posture, the lines of wetness marring their dirty cheeks, and the persistant cough from the old man near the back. Edward something, Simon recalled. Hadn't had much time to speak with him or any of the other refugees, but he knew enough about people in general to make some assumptions.

Edward was broad and perhaps once powerfully built, but his hands were small and his clothes more along the lines of a manager or a teacher than some blue-collar worker. His face red and his lips turned into a scowl beneath his rusty mustache, he glared at Simon. Of course, the man was coughing because he was sick, likely even had lung cancer or some sort of lung condition thanks to his habit. Edward, when he had arrived, had started to pillage the place for more cigarettes. But when he had tried to smoke in the room, Engie reacted badly and Simon made it clear that there would be no smoking in the storage room. Indeed, Edward had been surprisingly violent over the proclaimation and tried to swing on him, but Simon had wrapped a hand around the older man's throat and the will to fight gave up. Even now, Simon could imagine that the man wanted him hurt or worse, but he was in such bad physical condition that he could do little more than stare daggers into him.

Besides the coughing fool sat Reg Walters, some sort of local country bumpkin. Wearing plaid and what had to be the most generic looking baseball cap, Reg had been able to find this place while hiking over ten miles in the dark. Soft-spoken and simple, Reg hadn't questioned the authority of the capable Harold or Eliska. A well-worn aluminium bat was leaned up against a box nearest him, and he listened intently for the voices downstairs. Bright eyed and clearly no older than 18 or 19, Simon had the feeling that Reg was someone he could trust, even if only because Reg was too simple to betray anyone.

Danny, another young kid, sat near Reg, equally intent on the conversations downstairs and scowling at the coughing old man from time to time. Danny, more of a city kid, had been surprisingly quiet since they'd pulled him into the tower. But he was a resourceful little kid, always managing to find stuff in the tower which they could use to tend the wounded, bar the doors, and even foods. His dark brown eyes were wide at the implication of newcomers, and Simon had a feeling that Danny didn't like the idea of more people inside. That makes two of us, he thought.

Then there were Bridgette and Michael. Bridgette, the latter's mother, was a wreck. It had been quite some time before she had stopped sobbing and bawling, and Simon wasn't sure how she ever made it here alive without someone physically carrying her. Even now, she sat clutching the little boy, rocking and staring ahead uselessly. The boy for his part was unnaturally quiet. Simon had seen that sort of detachment before. He would keep a watch on the boy when he could.

But his primary interest now -oddly- was the little girl, Engie. She sat up, her normally curly brown hair matted and damp with sweat. Her eyes looked miserable, little blue and white orbs tinged with red. When she saw Simon, she blinked a few times and rubbed at her eyes.

"What's goin' on?" She asked in a hoarse voice.

"People." He replied.

"More to fit in this cramped room." Edward growled. "Fucking ridiculous! We can't all squeeze in here as it is!" This ended by a series of coughing, of course. Simon glared at him, but otherwise made no move to indicate that he had heard.

"What kinda people?" Reg asked tenatively. Nearby, Danny was alert and listening now, but he spoke not a word.

"Probably a bunch of stupid kids, shitting their pants and hiding in here." Again the older man barked, but everone ignored him as they had learned to do thus far.

"Survivors. All adults." Simon omitted that he suspected one was wounded, but he was sure that Eliska or Harold would see to that. Neither of them had been disappointing when it came to enforcing the edict of survival around here, he thought. "Some have weapons."

"Weapons? Unless they have a fucking helicopter in their back pocket or a Sherman tank out front, I don't give a fuck what they have- " Simon rounded on the man, his normally cool visage transformed when his eyes narrowed, the intensity of the look being more than anyone had so far seen from the man.

There was a few heartbeats where the tension was incredibly thick. Everyone's breath hung in the air, and Simon thought for sure the fool would say something - anything- so that he had an excuse to kill him. But then Engie tugged on his pantleg, bringing him back to reality.

"Go find out who they are?" She asked, meekly. He could tell from her eyes that she was scared. So far, the girl had proven to be extremely shy and introverted. More strangers made her apprehensive. He nodded, and, casting another venomous look at Edward, strode from the room.

Making his way down the stairs, ever conscious of the weapons on his person should they come into play, Simon's eyes were ever roaming. Ahead, he saw the group, ragtag as they were, and saw Eliska approach the wounded one. He tensed, concerned that this one may be infected. It would be a shame to lose her, as she'd been an incredible asset so far. He noted Harold's ready pose, the older man still sizing up the party. Leaning back near the wall as he came near the bottom of the steps, he watched closely before proceeding, studying each person in turn.

[Catrux]

Loki had only been half paying attention to the drama unfolding in the tower. His pounding headache caused him to think better of getting involved in the conversations going on, even when Derek so blatantly treated him as an ignorant jock. When the man with the cigarette asked if he merely shook his head, which didn't do much for his headache. After another person asked what they were all packing, he replied "A couple semi auto .45's, a sawed off, and another shot gun."

The man who had previously been smoking and interrogating them, then flashed his badge. Loki hadn't been paying enough attention to know why the man flashed his badge but it didn't matter much, it would be comical no matter the reason. At this point Loki spoke up after laughing quite a bit to himself. "Do you honestly think that little scrap of metal carries any weight in this world at the moment? What are you gonna do arrest us 'cus we didn't pay for the gas that got us here?" Then he turned around and put his hands behind his back, he turned his head so that he could continue talking to the man. "Please officer arrest me, I destroyed some private property before. I blew up a gas station."

He personally found it comical that the man was that dedicated to his job that he would continue doing it even while the world was pretty much in chaos. "No? You're not going to cuff me? Then lets drop the macho shit, since we all know that your badge means nothing in this parade of chaos and what say we work on survival."

[Leila Darkmoon]

*While she waited impatiently for the smoking man beside her to grant her request, Leila noticed Harvey and Derek arrive out of the corner of one eye. Abira moved quickly to the door to usher the others inside while a man that introduced himself as “Vanman” entered with a woman who failed to offer anything useful apart from the information that she intended to stay with this man who seemed to be an ardent fan of zombie lore.

The chick that drove the van finally made her way inside also and Leila nodded slightly in her direction, the gesture probably fruitless in the dim light which was now beginning to grow slightly brighter as a woman came down the stairs with a lantern in hand. This light, combined with the smoking man’s torchlight, provided enough illumination for her to see the badge inside the smoking mans bag that showed he was a cop. Her left brow rose in shock as she accepted the two offered cigarettes with a shaking hand, trying her best to look as innocent as possible as he urged her to “keep it clean”. Mumbling her thanks under her breath, Leila moved as far away from the policeman as she could, bumping into Loki who had also apparently seen the badge. As he began his tirade about how pointless the badge was in this anarchical period of modern civilisation, Leila turned her attention back to the woman that stood at the foot of the staircase carrying the lantern that provided the only source of light other than the cops torch. After the woman asked everyone what weapons they were carrying, Leila listened to everyone’s answers before she offered her own.

~In all honesty, I don’t know what we have, but we do have a lot of it. Before we got your message, a group of us holed up in a place called “Gun World” and we managed to bring quite a lot of weapons and ammunition with us. The soldier that was with us.. he told us what to bring, so I think it should be good.. ~ she shifted her feet nervously as she tucked one cigarette behind her left ear before doing the same to her right one. ~We loaded up my Bug and the truck… they’re outside.. if you’ve got some people to help us.. we can unload it all and bring it inside.~ She eyed the old man that watched over proceedings from further up the staircase, and noticed the gun he carried. ~We are more than willing to donate whatever we have to your arsenal.. all we ask for in return is shelter from the storm and a chance to get some revenge on these un-dead fuckers!~

Her little speech all but exhausted her and she sagged visbily as she watched the woman move forward to examine Harvey. Answering her question, Leila shook her head.

~I wasn’t with him when it happened.. he crashed a car.. and then.. he was like this. I don’t know what’s wrong with him, but I’m sure he isn’t infected. Unless one of them bit him when I wasn’t watching but I don’t think so..~ she clamped down on her bottom lip to stop her babbling as she desperately fumbled at one of the cigarettes above her ear. Realising that she didn’t have a lighter and reminding herself that she didn’t want to approach the policeman for one, she reluctantly let go of the smoke and pushed it back up above her ear once more.

Moving towards the door, she stopped as she reached the threshold and peered outside. The sky rumbled ominously overhead, predicting its impending rupture and Leila shivered as she looked out at the barren wasteland that they had driven across a mere hour ago. In the distance, she saw what she thought at first to be a forest of trees, their mass large enough to form a black smudge against the horizon. But as she looked closer, she saw that the forest was moving. Swallowing quickly as she absent mindedly reached up to play with the cigarette above her left ear, Leila watched with wide eyes as the moving trees quickly took on the image of the rambling un -dead. Despite the rumbling thunder that reverberated in her ears, there was another sound that soon separated itself from the impending storm. The sound of hundreds of zombies groaning in an eerie show of solidarity as they approached the tower at a surpisingly hasty speed. Taking one trepidatious step outside, Leila called over her shoulder.

~Er.. I think Harvey will be okay for a few minutes.. we’ve kinda got… more.. pressing matters to attend to out here folks!~ *

[Boston]

Boston was very pleased and a little surprised that his plan had worked so well. Leila looked like she wouldn’t be bugging him over such trivial matters – imagine that, in a world where the dead roam the streets, this girl is worried about where she’ll get her next hit – so he grinned somewhat smugly, and began to relax against the wall. He glanced up at Simon when he walked down the steps. Now there’s a cool dude, Boston thought, estimating Simon’s survival rate, he must know what’s up. I bet he off’d a little girl’s parents to survive, he looks like the kinda fella who wouldn’t be shy about doing stuff like that. I’m gonna call you Wesker… His attention was ultimately pulled back to the group, though, when Loki started blabbering at him.

When Loki turned his back and told Boston to arrest him, Boston didn’t waste any time in obliging the young fellow. At about the time he was being instructed to “drop the macho shit”, he was slapping a pair of heavy handcuffs around Loki’s wrists and locking them uncomfortably into place. He grabbed the chain between the cuffs, made up of only two links, to try and hold Loki in place for him to hear at least a little of what he had to say next. “For your information,” Boston would grab a handful of Loki’s hair and pull his head back roughly if he didn’t want to wait and listen, to speak directly into his ear; his tone was barely a whisper so only Loki, or anyone just as close to Boston’s lips, would possibly be able to hear, “I’m not a cop. Picked the badge off one I killed.” Unfortunately, his well thought-out use of the word “killed” was wasted on the kid.

But you see, Boston believed you can’t kill a zombie, because it’s already dead.

Nevertheless, with Loki securely in handcuffs, Boston took a step back, and placed the sole of his boot against the kid’s back. “How’s this for macho shit,” he gave Loki a strong shove which would at least send him stumbling forward a few steps, if not knock him face first to the ground, “worry about your own freakin’ survival, I got more important things on my mind.”

“Damn kids.” Impossibly calm, Boston lit another cigarette and mumbled to himself, “God damn terrorist, blowin’ shit up, I’ll send ya to Guantanamo, how’s that for macho. I’m gonna call you Steve Burnside.” He, a grown man, didn’t feel bad about bullying around a student, nah, not at all. He wasn’t worried about what the group might do to him, either, let ‘em throw him back out into the storm for all he cares, until he remembered priority one*. So he had better make nice.

So with a quick cough and a bit of a gag, he plucked the cigarette from his lips, and spit a handcuff key at Loki. Also, it was at that point which he decided not to turn his back to Loki for the rest of their stay in this tower. At least not until he thought the kid wouldn’t try to sucker punch him.

Then in further attempts to try and make nice, he found Leila. Stepping outside beside her, he reached towards her ear, as if intent on taking back one of the cigarettes she had placed there. Though instead he stopped short, and with a flick of his wrist, he presented her with a book of matches – a perfect execution of the “What’s this behind your ear?” trick. The front of the book was made to look like an ace of diamonds playing card, with the word “Boston” printed plainly across the front. On the back was the Vegas address of one of Trump’s casinos, and the slogan “Always double up on seven”.

“Here ya go, girly.” He placed his hands on his hips after she took the matchbook, and stared at her for a second, thinking. "...Anyone ever tell you..." he furrowed and brow and pointed, "you look a lot like Drew Barrymore..." Then he turned to notice the zombies marching towards them. “Wow! What’s goin’ on here!?” His tone was more light-hearted and genuinely curious than frightened, and perhaps therefore a bit unnerving.

He plucked the exhausted cigarette from his lips and ground it against the outside wall of the tower before dropping it into that side pocket of his jacket with the rest. He reached into an inside pocket then, and produced a cell phone, which he flipped open and used to take a picture of the approaching undead army. “I know someone who’d just love to see this…”

He snapped two pictures before the screen of his phone flashed “Incoming call”, and Boston went wide-eyed as he slapped it shut. He tucked the phone back into his jacket then turned his back to Leila, as well as anyone else who may have come to see the zombies, before slipping another pill into his mouth and swallowing it easily.

Finally he stepped back into the tower, drawing the 9mm he was originally holding from the side-holster under his jacket. As he did so, that holster became visible for a second; a green light on its side faded out, and the holster itself released what sounded like a quiet, pressurized hiss as the gun was lifted out. He didn’t cock the gun, he simply stood with it in his hand, waiting near the wall a few feet from the door, waiting for someone to come up with some sort of plan.

Though with all those zombies heading for the tower, he was wondering whether or not it would be a great idea to stay put…

_{*Priority one is impossible to achieve if you’re kicked out of the group.}

[Ninjz]

Derek looked out the door, and noticibly straightened when he saw the zombies.
"Ok, cut the shit all of you, there is some baddies coming, and most of our munitions are in the freaking cars. Lets move!:
He said all of this while leveling his Eagle at the zombies and moving to the door. They were just out of good range for his handgun, but he didnt care, the point was to get the really important stuff from the car. On his way out he smiled at Loki, and asked,
"Is the bet still on?"

[foxx]

Foxx marveled at how many conversations could take place simultaneously between such a small number of people, with some participating in several at a time. She’d been content to keep silent and watched Eliska’s examination of Harvey, who, for all the blood on him, looked as though he’d been the sole survivor of a slasher flick. She could actually claim to have seen the last half hour of one of those, whereas the concert had been a no-go. Unfortunately, the opportunity to relax passed them by when Leila spoke from the door and ruined all their chances of a quiet evening. Foxx joined the others outside to help with the gun load. She didn’t want to- oh God she really didn’t- but she did. It was near impossible not to look up from the task of unloading the guns to mark the zombies' progress on their new place of residence, which is why her eyes continually betrayed her stomach and lifted now and then to watch them with horror, sending waves of nausea over her so powerful she had to fight not to vomit. That ravioli was making one hell of a comeback. Scared of the guns, though more scared of being eaten alive, she scrambled to fill her arms completely from the Bug before heading back to the tower to dump them. At an awkward angle, the cold, dark barrel of one particularly large specimen rest against her cheek, sending goosebumps across pale skin and a desperate urge to drop them and hide. Even if she accidentally shot herself now it wouldn’t hurt as much as any number of future deaths might. This thought kept her calm throughout the trip back to the tower with a first load and return for a second. They would be safe locked inside. They had to be safe, didn’t they?

[Eliska Loxalyn]

|| Eliska did her very best to conduct the examination of the biggest threat in the group in the dark, crowded, all-too-hectic lobby of what had once been a peaceful, organized tower. The truth, even if she’d never share it with these or any other people, was that she had been far better at putting bullets between the eyes of humans at a distance than she ever had dealing with them socially in close quarters. Even her barracks, where she’d been surrounded by mostly like-minded individuals, had felt cramped and chaotic when her mind screamed for peace and solitude. It was undoubtedly harder to check for infection in this one when the rest of them were going through the hassle of explaining how unimportant the examination was to begin with and demanding to be let upstairs to the others. It was the ones with that ignorant opinion who had destroyed their chances of survival on the outside, become one of the undead themselves and then eaten their friends and family. No, of course they didn’t care if Harvey was infected, succumbed while they had their heads turned and attacked some of the defenseless women and children who'd arrived previously, thus creating a bigger problem and fewer survivors. Just so long as they got upstairs to chill immediately after their long day. No one already here could possibly have had such an awful day. Their day would get a hell of a lot longer if she suddenly opened fire on the lot of them to permanently end all chances of spreading this nightmarish virus, then went back upstairs and had a beer with Harold. She wouldn’t do that. It occurred to her from time to time, of course, when especially self-centered people opened their mouths to bitch about basic safety precautions that benefit everyone equally. They were safe until the time when those selfish complaints escalated to selfish actions and she could no longer ignore a threat to those already upstairs that she had guaranteed protection. Or the idea of protection, at least.

Jaw clenched and counting mentally to ten, she was relieved to see no open wounds on the shirtless one’s chest and arms. If they were lucky, his skin was fully intact and any infected blood on him was entirely external. If they weren’t, he’d ingested it orally and would change without notice, having enough time to bite at least one other. She couldn’t justify holding him any longer down here after his obviously rough day and “Me”, silhouetted in the doorway, was once again attempting to end her time with Harvey. It amused her that of all of them, the victim whined the least. Boston also seemed one of the few patient types among the newcomers. He was presently occupying his time by using his flashlight in a manner to share scary stories with the classic under the chin technique. Practical as the waste of batteries wasn’t, it was funny. The horror stories he could probably share by now were unlikely to be so funny.

Eli was making a real effort to catch what was being said around her- a male voice against the idea of a weapons check before resting and something about one woman “staying with him”- when she spotted movement in the blackness of the stairwell beyond Harold, who surprisingly had failed to notice it. She’d all but pulled her Colt on whatever it was when Simon stepped just far enough into a dim square of daylight to spare his life. He appeared to be alive still. It was a good thing her memory was what it was or else keeping up with the many names of this herd would be laughable. Because there was the pressing issue of just what had set off “Me”, a name she still hadn’t heard, she gave him a nod, excused Harvey to do whatever he felt up to, and passed the two-semi-auto-45’s-and-two-shotguns-man and Boston involved in their little random skirmish to find out what new crisis lay beyond the front doors. What she saw destroyed her mood, her day, and maybe even her life.

The sea- the literal sea- of zombies approaching on the horizon did not bode well for this tower. Had these been chasing the three vehicles now parked outside? Had they even bothered to consider mentioning this to her before the hordes of undead showed up to eat them? Rage, an emotion she’d long ago learned to focus and control, fought at the restraints she put on it and nearly broke free as another unnamed person, with a voice she recognized as the one unimpressed with her weapons check idea, spoke up. “Ok, cut the shit all of you, there is some baddies coming, and most of our munitions are in the freaking cars. Lets move!” found Eli at the exact wrong moment for her to forgive and forget or, at the very least, overlook. Okay, she never forgot anything but there had been a slim chance she could have forgiven or ignored that incredibly stupid remark. While she’d make her fury and frustration known to him in a less stressful moment later, she couldn’t contain the comments that slipped through gritted teeth. ||

I wonder how that happened. You might have mentioned you were bringing every zombie in the city along before they dropped in for dinner.

|| The time to be snide was later, however, and Eli wasted no more time on it. Addressing Simon and Harold on the stairs, and sliding casually back into the command role seamlessly, she directed them to help with the weapons and ammunition supposedly packed to bursting in the vehicles and then arm anyone experienced enough not to mistakenly blow away any survivors. A young girl in more layers than the balmy summer air required trudged by with an armful and turned to head out and fill up again. Eliska offered her the ghost of a smile, which was closer to that facial formation than she’d been in some time. At least a few of these newbs were helpful and quiet, clearly just pleased to have a place to hide. Maybe there was hope yet for the others. She strode from the tower, deliberately staring the enemy in their many grotesque faces, and began collecting everything she could stack on her open arms. Perhaps they did bring the problem, but at least they brought part of the solution, too. ||

[Talisen Phoenix]

Harvey Rockmore

Harvey was slightly taken back by the woman who had asked him all the questions, he followed her into the building and immediately began to shiver silently, he was freezing but even if he wasn’t he was pretty sure he’d have shook anyway, the dead eyes of the men and woman attacking him flashed behind his eyelids every time he dared close them, the only time he had had any peace lately was when he was fallen unconscious.

‘Some of it’s my blood, but only after the Zombies... if that makes sense...’

He whispered carefully, he was having trouble focusing his mind at the moment, even though he had slept he was exhausted, his body ached and his mind ran, luckily Leila was there to feel the woman in.

Harvey awkwardly pulled off his shirt, he was surprisingly well built considering what a nerd he was in university, but you’d be surprised how fit one becomes after years and years of running away and going for long walks every time your father was home. Harvey remembers the time he had run off when he was 13 after his father had beat him, he ran and didn’t stop for a good day and a half. Or at least that’s how long it felt at the time.

Eliska nodded her approval, Harvey quickly pulled on his shirt and adjusted his broken glasses on the bridge of his nose, he needed a shower and a new change of clothes, two things he doubted were possible, the others were running around and panicking but Harvey managed to be blissfully unaware, this ended however when he heard the groans coming from outside... they had followed them... Him...

He reached into the belt of his jeans and pulled out the last gun that remained it was a fully loaded hand gun that much he knew, what make and model he had no idea. He held onto the weapon tightly as his hands trembled ever so slightly. Harvey still wasn’t sure what was wrong with him, if he was infected he’d have turned already wouldn’t he? Maybe he was just sick, it was off for Harvey to comprehend, relieved that he may be epileptic.

As usual he found himself sticking close to Leila.

[† The Jaxness †]

As the zombies approached, a majority of the people in the tower jumped up to unload the ammo from the vehicles outside. Each of them hurried along, clutching at their arm full of guns as if they were the only way they’d survive this mess. Standing up from leaning against the wall, she decided to join them, making sure not to bump into anyone. That “army of one” bullshit hadn’t been ignored completely. She left Vanman’s side to help, picking up the biggest guns (since she figured they would do the most good), and tried her best to pick up the matching ammo without taking too long. It’d be stupid as shit to have a shit load of guns without the proper bullets.

Harley shoved handguns in her belt, magazines in the many pockets of her army pants, and stacked at least 4 rifles in her arms (including her own) before she returned to the tower. Not sure if these particular weapons had safety switches, she set them on the floor carefully next to a wall. It’d be a bitch to have another survivor rush and bust their ass on a misplaced gun. Going back to look out the door, it seemed as though that there were enough people outside to take care of the rest of the load. No need to evacuate outside to a soon-to-be death zone if there wasn’t a good reason.

She retreated farther into the tower, staying out of the way until the remaining survivors finished their chore. Picking up her rifle, she leaned against the wall and set it close to her leg, waiting to find out who was in charge of this ‘operation’, and what the fuck their plans were.

[Abira]

The flurry of activity and the various low-key spats had been enough to turn Abira on her head. She couldn't understand for the life of her how so many like-minded individuals (here she paused, reckoning that 'like-minded' was directly related to the subject of survival and all avoidance of infection by the mystery virus) could embroil themselves in such petty outbursts of bad temper. She'd put personal pride and any evidence of ego well out of the way after being rescued; in fact, in a flash of thought that very nearly froze her to the core, Abira realized that the events of those three days leading up to her rescue at the filling station had almost dimmed completely -- and it took some pointed concentration to remember a time when her life hadn't been peppered with groans of the undead, the smell of rotting flesh and left-behind garbage, or the suddenly-blooming fear of water. It seemed the entire world had condensed itself into a 100-mile block of terror and darkness, and Abira wasn't entirely sure now that coming to the Tower had been a stroke of genius. After all...their group seemed almost unwelcome -- and open hostility towards Leila, Harvey, Loki, Patrick, Vanman, and the others seemed a hair's breadth away.

Snorting in ill-concealed disgust, Abira simply followed the others, moving mechanically to fill her arms with guns and ammunition as the horizon darkened with a crawling, moaning mass of zombies. After being completely boxed in the by the dead for the better part of a week, the sounds did little to disturb her...but she avoided looking up as best as she could. The sightless, glassy eyes and the torn and battered bodies were something that could unhinge even the most trained man among them, and she was careful to keep her composure until the time came for her to really scream.

Shaking her head at Eliska's comment and mouthing to herself that no, sorry, they couldn't have mentioned they were bringing an army of the undead because they'd been focused on something wholly more important (survival and sound health, namely), she put the unfair barb out of her head and continued to cart in goods. Just like the others, she was waiting for an idea -- any idea -- that would ensure their safety...or further survival, at the very least...

[Leila Darkmoon]

*Leila flinched visibly and eyed the “cop” warily as he approached her and reached towards her. Fearing that he was going to “arrest” her in the same fashion as Loki, Leila took a large step backwards as the man produced what appeared to be a book of matches that had apparently previously lived behind her ear. Accepting them reluctantly, Leila only stared at the man and offered a fake laugh as he made reference to her resemblance to Drew Barrymore. She rolled her eyes at his sudden realisation of the approaching undead and muttered ~Bonus points for observation skills, buddy..~ before she moved to walk away. She eyed him dubiously as he took photos of the writhing mass of zombies that was walking towards them, her suspicion deepening as the phone in his hand started to flash the way her room mates’ had when she had an incoming call. Making a mental note to address the issue of a working cell phone later, Leila watched as this man, and then another guy from the van, both stepped outside with their guns trained on the zombies.

The woman whose voice they had heard on the radio let slip a rather snide comment regarding the approaching mass and the probability that they had followed her convoy. Taking immediate offence, Leila shot the woman a look as she spat ~If you didn’t want visitors m’dear, then why the hell did you put out the welcome mat by way of your little radio number.. hmm?~

Shaking her head in frustration, she bit back her next comment as she focused on the task at hand. The men had provided a clear gauntlet from the door to the Bug and the truck. This allowed her to run out to the Bug, yank both the front doors open, pull the seats forward and begin unloading the guns to anyone standing close enough to take them. Turning around, she saw the woman that had driven the truck in the convoy and Leila flashed her a grateful smile. Snagging a few others to help, Leila and the woman, who she soon found out went by the name of Foxx, soon had all the guns out of the back of the Bug. As everyone else moved on to unloading the truck, Leila stacked the last of the guns from the Bug against the far wall before she ran back to the Bug.

With the excuse of searching for more ammunition, Leila called out ~ I think there is some ammo in the glove box!~ to anyone close enough to listen, as she made her way to the front of the bug, yanked the door open and began rummaging through the glove box. Grinning her delight as she found her tin, Leilas fingers closed around the edges of the small tin box as she pulled it out and slid it into the pocket of her purple velvet coat. With one last glance at the familiar interior of her beloved Bug, Leila whispered ~ I love you old girl..~ as she reached over to reclaim the string of violet and pink beads that hung from the rear view mirror. Looping the beads over her neck, Leila climbed out and closed the door quietly. She didn’t know when she would see her car again, and the thought filled her with an overwhelming sense of sadness as she turned back to check the progress of the weapon run.

The Bug was completely cleared of weapons, as was the truck now, and Leila followed the others back inside the Tower. Her indigo hued eyes could not help but glance back over her shoulder at the mass of Zombies that had quickly grown closer. Waiting for anyone with a gun to start shooting at the zombies, Bianca shivered as she practically ran in through the door. Slowing to a halt, she noticed all the guns had been stacked fairly neatly against two walls. Knowing that they couldn’t stay there, she glanced around to make sure everyone was safely inside before she closed the door and barricaded it shut with the aid of some nearby crates and a broom handle. Glancing up at their self appointed leader, Leila asked where the guns should be kept until they were needed. There was easily over five hundred guns and approximately three to four hundred boxes of ammunition. Casey had guided them well with their choices, and Eliska would surely have to appreciate the haul that this group of apparently unwanted survivors had brought with them.

~You asked for survivors.. you asked for weapons. I’ve brought you both so how about you drop the ego bullshit and stop being such a bitch, eh? To answer your rather stupid and pointless question, NO, I didn’t think to mention the fact that we are suffering from an invasion of undead as I thought that considering you were holed up in this place, and as such must have experienced these fiends for yourself, you would already have knowledge of these events. The bastards didn’t “follow us”, they are everywhere, and this little group in particular came from the opposite direction as we did. So put that in your pipe and smoke it eh?~ Letting out a deep breath to calm herself, Leila held up her hands in resignation. ~Look, forgive the attitude.. I’m merely responding to the somewhat lukewarm reception we have received in what we had hoped would be our salvation. I’m Leila..~ she hooked her finger in Harvey’s direction. ~He’s Harvey, she’s Foxx.~ she said, pointing to the truck’s driver. ~I haven’t had the opportunity to have a meet and greet with the others yet..~ she looked around at them all expectantly, waiting for them to introduce themselves before she looked back to their leader.

[Eliska Loxalyn]

|| If Eliska believed her previous pain to be but a headache, what brewed wild and angry within her skull now was likely an aneurysm, sent by God perhaps to kill her and take her away from this madness. The weapons, carried inside by every able individual, were making excellent progress inside and she took a moment to roll her neck and shoulders gently in hopes of containing an escalating migraine. Eyes closed tightly, forefinger and thumb placed expertly on the bridge of her nose for therapeutic pressure at the source of her suffering, she caught one of the dreaded replies to her own comment and smiled bitterly at the irony of the situation. "If you didn’t want visitors m’dear, then why the hell did you put out the welcome mat by way of your little radio number.. hmm?" Sarcasm was abundant in the room, if nothing else. Under her breath, she was forced to wonder if the welcome mat was such a wise idea after all as her hand continued to massage an aching brow. ||

That right there is a really good question.

|| The time to discuss what would happen in their very near future was racing up on them in leaps and bounds, so Eliska took a moment to ponder her wording. This obviously- so very obviously- wasn't the military or even the county jail, where sensitivity and understanding were unheard of in passing out instructions and guidelines. Simple and reliable as that method was, middle ground was going to be useful up front with a ragtag band of survivors in Hell. A bad start could be corrected if caught early enough. Her mouth, deceptively small and soft, had opened to make that point as the tower doors closed with a intense sense of finality, when "Me", the head misfit of Group #2, made herself known fully.

Her answer to the weapon placement died in her throat as the woman switched smoothly from question to self-righteous rant. Unaware of her name and no longer interested to have it in the slightest, Eli stared at a spot on the wall just over her right shoulder and let it come with icy calm. In spite of the onslaught she managed to catch Harold's sharp intake of breath as he fired up in her defense, but raised a hand to stop it there before he got out any of what she could tell he was dying to. There was going to be no verbal war here; not on their side anyways. As much as she wanted to lash back nastily, tell "Leila", a name she had far too late to want, just what she thought of the group's own expectant, ungrateful behavior since its arrival, then push their little armory out the front door single handedly along with the pile of them and send them on their way, there was a better way. Sensitivity and understanding be damned. Any mushy, friendly, informal bullshit she might have spewed on their behalf to lighten the mood had seeped out of her in favor of order and peace. Friends she didn't need, but there would need to be humans left to repopulate the earth at the end of this crisis.

Eliska waited the length of Leila's spiel before unclenching her jaw to avoid having to do so any more than once. There was no point in trying to yell over her. If she'd paid any attention, she gave no further evidence for she turned to the crowd as though no one had spoken and took the plunge in a tone void of emotion. ||

Issues need to be addressed before we continue. This tower and its current population are functioning under safety precautions determined mandatory for survival of everyone by those of us who set this safe-house up. Anyone wishing to stay will follow them as well. To be permitted into our living quarters upstairs everyone is required to undergo bodily inspection for signs of infection. Anyone uncomfortable with me performing the inspection may be seen by Harold, who will be assisting. Any unwilling or possibly infected persons will remain in this area for 24 hours until the risk in over. I had the word of a man that he'd been nowhere near an infected and it meant little once he'd changed and mauled not only his new bride but a good friend of mine. I had the un-pleasure of shooting them all. This policy is not up for discussion.

People remaining down here for the night will be provided what we can spare from our rations and linen upstairs as well as a bucket for waste. A look out will be stationed round the clock by the doors in case of break in. If you've changed your mind about staying at least until this wave is over, leave now. Once they surround us the doors will be shut and locked permanently and the only means of exit will be through the upper windows by rope. In 24 hours, if there are no signs of infection and you are in agreement with the rules of the group, you will be given access to the upper levels. If you do not agree to the conditions you may remain in this area until it is safe for you to leave.

Attempts made by force to get upstairs without inspection and approval or to open the entrance during the attack will be responded to with restraint- if possible- and return force. I do not foresee a problem with this logic, but it will be dealt with if there is one. Personal issues and complaints about the management of the tower can either be dropped now or taken up later in private. Following inspection you will be given the guidelines for the upper levels and guard positions. If you intend to spend the night upstairs, remove unnecessary layers of clothing and gather near Harold or myself.

|| With that out of the way, Eliska and a cross-looking Harold awaited the crowd's decision. ||

[foxx]

Foxx hadn't realized she'd been holding her breath throughout Leila's blow up and hence only started up again when her lungs plead for merciful air. Whatever she'd been expecting in return, the distant, all business reply of the Tower's leader lady wasn't it. Impressed was all she could be at the woman's immense control under fire. It was because everything said seemed pretty standard and safelike that an exhausted Foxx conquered her long list of reasons to be embarrassed and began struggling out of the mountain of clothes she'd pulled on during a dressing spree in another girl's bedroom. Down to a red tank top and shiny, black Adidas gym shorts and praying like hell they didn't want to inspect her numerous pairs of panties in all shades and styles and lack of bra (cause the flat chested one she'd robbed lived in torturous sports type ones...), she maneuvered awkwardly towards Eliska through the stand of bodies. Rations and linen enjoyed upstairs were sounding real good. No religious beliefs, fear of mortification at the amount of clothes she'd climbed out of, or mangled sense of pride were keeping her down here with the "bucket". She supposed she could always lie and say in order to pack her entire wardrobe, which wouldn't fit in her enormous suitcase (she'd make up another lie for where the suitcase went) she had had to wear a lot of them if it came down to it. That could work.

[Simon Gideon]

Not particularly thrilled with what this motley group had to offer, Simon remained on the stairs, hands easy at his sides though in reality he was searching for an infected or unruly individual on which to test his aim. The constant bickering with that fool Edward and the lack of sleep was making his normally cool demeanor on edge.

Of course, it never failed to amuse him how individuals in groups like this reacted. Though the apparent threat was outside, making its rotten shambling way here now, the real threat came from the flared tempers and ad hoc attempts at establishing order and dominance among the group. He could sort the sheep from the wolves because the wolves barked and tried to remain alpha while the sheep merely moved as the rest moved. The situation had gone from bad to worse as the old adage went, and Simon was seriously reconsidering his chances here until the dreaded news came that the living dead were indeed right at their doorsteps.

Damn it. Those assholes are going to get us killed. He narrowed his steel-colored eyes and searched the group again. Abruptly, Eliska had directed him to fetch the guns from this group's vehicles like he was some sort of downtown bellhop looking for an easy twenty. He had half a mind to ignore her and go back upstairs, but for whatever reason he hovered there, thinking. He thought it might be dangerous to leave Engie alone upstairs, but then he realized how simple and reliable the boys were; they would protect her if the need arose. And having ammunition and weapons about would be nice to have in case of an attack, though another firearm lying around would only make hostilities inside more violent and potentially deadly.

Eventually, he decided to be pragmatic and fetch some guns. Granted, he thought as he made his way down the stairs and out to the cars, they would be guns he picked: reliable and simple single-shot weapons. He made an attempt to grab at least a hunting rifle or scoped rifle if he could find it, since hunting rifles were so commonplace ammunition was bound to be in every town. Luckily, he found a nice FN SPR, no doubt highly illegal and not for use with civilians since it was a police sniper rifle. Robust and easy to use, it could be paired with .308 Winchester ammunition, which was an effective hunting round and could be found in some gun stores nationwide. Simon made sure he appropriated two boxes of the stuff.

And he squirreled away some nine mil boxes in his inner pockets for his sidearms as well as some .22 rimfire. Lastly, he procured a nice little M1 carbine some weapon buff had apparently had in stock; the M1 had been in production forever, and its lightweight and single-shot capacity made it an idea mid-range zombie killer.

He was pleased with the selection, to be sure.

Making his way back in, Simon deliberately avoided each individual, though he made sure he made eye contact with each; measuring their souls and their abilities by just a held momentary glance. Back inside, not much had changed. More disputes sprouted up from the wolves striving for dominance, and he kept to the wall, careful not to get too close to any of the others in case they should bite indiscriminately. He smirked momentarily as he thought of the double-meaning behind those very words.

He slipped past Eliska and made his way back up the stairs, only turning when he heard the woman list her demands for the newcomers. Sensible demands, and delivered with control and clarity. Most likely they would fall on deaf ears for some, but he was prepared for that. Moving his shoulder back with the slung FN SPR, he held easy his carbine, not exactly being threatening but making a show of checking the gun for damage or rounds. In reality, he was prepared to defend the stairs should any of the others make a break for it.

After all, Engie was up there.

[Boston]

“…Undergo bodily inspection for signs of infection…” Boston repeated the line to himself once under his breath, and smiled – not only because it rhymed.

How long had it been? How long had it been since the infection first broke out? “Since that rain, I guess…” Boston thought.

[FADE TO BLACK]

BOSTON (V.O) “She had just stepped outside for a second…”

FEMALE VOICE (V.O.) “I think I left it in the car…I don’t need an umbrella, I’ll just be a minute. When I get back we’ll have a wet T-shirt contest.”

[FADE IN: BOSTON'S HOME: PAST]

Suddenly back home, Boston found himself sitting on his over-stuffed sofa with his wife, Melissa. Tall and slender, her chestnut brown hair framed her face, and the ends touched her stomach. Emerald green eyes stared intently at the television screen in front of them. She sat with her back against Boston’s chest, her lithe fingers wrapped around a PlayStation 2 controller.

“Your futile clear time stands no chance of survival.” Melissa spoke through half a grin as she sliced through a Bandersnatch with Wesker’s survival knife.

“Talk is cheap, girly, ya still got three rooms to get through, and zero recovery items.”

“I’m a half hour ahead of you! Concede now, and – ugh,” Melissa paused her game and nearly dropped the controller, clenching her eyes shut tight and clutching a hand over her heart.

“You alright…?” Boston asked quietly, placing his hand over Melissa’s as he furrowed his brow and looked over her shoulder.

“Yeah, it’s just the medicine…” She took a few slow, deep breaths, and then held her controller up for Boston to take, “Here, you take over.”

“No way, you’re almost there.” He put his hands over Melissa’s, and guided her back to the controller, “I’ll help. You’re doing just fine.”

[FLASH TO TOWER: PRESENT]

Back in the tower, Boston shook his head to bring himself back, and ran his fingers through his hair. He turned his back to the group casually, now facing a wall, and pulled that pill bottle out of his pocket. He popped one into his mouth, then another, and one more for good measure. Pocketing the bottle and swallowing the pills, he turned back to the crowd, and tried to choose between Harold and Eliska. There didn’t seem any way around it, and he couldn’t leave without checking this place out – without checking the people out.

[FLASH TO HOME: PAST]

“I don’t need an umbrella, I’ll just be a minute.” Boston walked Melissa to the front door, “When I get back we’ll have a wet T-shirt contest.” Melissa smirked and stepped outside, into the downfall that had just begun.

Focus on Melissa through the door’s windows. Boston watched as she took two steps out from under the awning and turned right around. He opened the door for her, “I told ya you’d need an umbrella.”

A brief shot of Melissa’s face and her recently turned yellow eyes, as she lunges forward without warning. Melissa threw herself at Boston with a fierce, almost feral growl, forcing the door completely open and nearly off the hinges.

[FLASH TO TOWER: PRESENT]

When he found himself back in the tower, Boston popped one more pill. He wasn’t nervous, he didn’t feel a need to be. Everyone who Boston had seen in the initial rain turned nearly instantly, and it was the same for everyone bitten by a “first generation zombie”, as Boston had been calling them – in his own mind, anyway, he has yet to speak to anyone in length about this silly zombie situation.

Finally he came to decide that he would receive the same response from both Eliska and Harold. They seemed levelheaded and like they would listen to reason, but for everyone else’s sake, Boston hung out towards the back of the line to be inspected by Eliska.

When it was finally his turn, he made sure Eliska and perhaps Harold were the only two paying him any attention – shouldn’t be too hard, since everyone else had either just been cleared and should now be ecstatic to get upstairs and get some food, or they were too busy worrying about being quarantined to pay Boston any attention.

Boston hadn’t removed any articles of clothing, and had no intentions of doing so. Instead, ever so coolly, he grabbed the right collar of his leather jacket and shirt, and tugged them down for Eliska to see.

[FLASH TO HOME: PAST]

Back in his home a few days in the past, Melissa lunged snarling at Boston, and chomped her teeth around his right shoulder.

Zoom in on Boston’s shoulder as Melissa chomps down, and the white fabric quickly turns from white to red. Boston grunted and gritted his teeth as blood stained his shirt, spreading quickly and dripping down his arm. For a moment he grappled with his wife as they fell to the floor.

In another instant he grabbed Melissa’s wrists, and lifted her arms above her head. He forced his knee up and against her stomach, and with a single strong motion, flipped both their bodies so he now straddled her.

Focus on Melissa’s wrists as Boston lets go of them, and flash a shot of her hair, which almost seems to be sliding off in one piece, as if a wig. When he let go of her wrists a few seconds later they were handcuffed, and there was a second pair connected to the short chain between her wrists.

[FLASH TO TOWER: PRESENT]

Focus on Boston’s newly exposed spot of skin, and the bite mark on his shoulder. He stood with his shirt and jacket tugged aside, showing off the mark to Eliska. A perfect little ring of obviously human teeth marks, which looked as though it must have been a nasty bite at one point, but by now, was mostly healed. Anyone who’s ever seen a wound could tell it had happened some good time ago.

“It happened just a few minutes after the initial rainstorm…Been a week since then, yeah? Just about…” Boston spoke to Eliska in a hushed tone, in an attempt to keep anyone else from hearing and jumping at him, “And as you can clearly see, I’m perfectly living. Average turning time for a bite this bad has been a couple minutes from being bitten at most, as I’m sure you’re aware.”

[FLASH TO HOME: PAST]

Boston had dragged Melissa kicking and groaning to a closet, and managed to get her inside without being bitten a second time. He handcuffed her to the hanger bar and apologized before shutting the door and locking it.

Focus on Melissa’s eyes, which seem to very gradually be recovering their white color. The shadow of the closet door falls over her face.

After that, Boston cleaned and dressed his wound, which had been bleeding profusely up until he bandaged it, and he geared up his satchel and weapons.

He waited on the sofa for a few hours after that, watching the news reports and listening to the radio, waiting to experience what it felt like to turn into one of the undead himself. He had turned up the volume to max to block out Melissa’s screams and groans, and every now and then he swore he heard her shout his name. He waited until all communications had been cut off.

Then finally his stomach churned, and gurgled with hunger. Melissa had been silent for hours now. He lifted his own hand and stared at his fingers, focusing on the skin, trying to remember when he last ate.

The day before, around lunch time.

A sandwich satiated Boston’s hunger, and he let out a sigh of relief.

“So I wonder what that’s about…” Boston spoke to himself, wiping his mouth with a napkin.

Zoom in on a thick line painted on the kitchen floor at Boston’s feet, and then a trash can across the kitchen. Boston tossed the napkin into the trash can from the foul line Melissa had painted on the kitchen floor.

[SWISH; NOTHING BUT NET]

Finally he heard the communication from the tower, and decided to leave. He decided to take it upon himself to find a way to get Melissa back.

“I’ll come back for you, Melissa, I promise. I’ll find a way to save you…” He spoke as he barricaded all the entrances to his home from the inside, to offer Melissa some protection against anyone looking for shelter, and also other zombies – he had come to the conclusion that these were zombies rather quickly and without trouble, despite the fact he had not yet turned. The news reports of others being eaten and turning were proof enough.

With bookshelves and couches blocking all the major entrances entirely, he mounted his motorcycle in the garage.

Focus on Boston’s boot as he kicks the motorcycle’s engine to life.

[FADE TO BLACK]

BOSTON (V.O) “I’m sorry you can’t come with me, babe, though ain’t it ironic? The one thing you wanted to do before ya bit it was be in a real-life zombie flick. But instead you bit me, and now I’m the leading man…” He shouldn’t joke, that’s his wife! “I’ll come back for ya, girly, I promise.”

[FADE IN: TOWER]

Once again in front of Eliska, he covered up his bite mark.

Focus on the pressurized gun at Boston’s side, held tight in his hand. He casually tapped the handgun held in his left hand against his thigh – not threateningly so, mind you, as if simply reminding Eliska that he was indeed armed. “I’ll let you quarantine me, but if you decide to kill me, I must warn you, I will retaliate…”