The Tower

[The Joshness ™]

Vanman watched them move. They scurried like roaches under light over the movement in the woods. He could stand there and virtually feel himself making contact with the Zombies, like some kind of sick fucking understanding. It seems like Vanman was the only person looking at this situation the way it really was. This is always the way it is


“This I wrong, its all wrong. WRONG!”

He could almost be mistaken for insane, but it was obvious there was anger in his tone.

“Why did we do this? We’re caged in now! Ugh…how could I be so stupid?!”

At that he bolts from his current location and straight to his van all along saying to himself outside

“I cannot fucking I followed these fucking people out to the middle of nowhere to hide in a damn watch tower.”

After opening the read doors he climbs in and to the driver’s seat and start the van without any lights and slams it into reverse to back it up to the doors of the building as close as possible without having it blocking access by anything else.

“This has to be the dumbest thing I’ve ever done, if its not I’m not aware of what really was.”

After he was done e leaves the keys in and takes off out of the van climbing over everything in his way, leaving the gun inside the back and jumping out, slamming the doors behind him. He then looks to the approaching army, and Vanman takes a deep breath of anticipation, a breath that is long and quiet. He then turns to the Tower and immediately moves towards the door to get inside. Once he does make it through the doors he looks to the survivors, all of them, not sure who was already here and who it was he was following.

“Listen, done fire weapons! Turns off all the lights, everyone needs to be quiet! These things are stupid you guys know? They can hear us, see us, and obviously they can taste us, and they like it. They aren’t too close to try and tick them, you know. If we turned out all the lights and made this place look dead and empty, there’s nothing to bring them here…”

Vanman didn’t know if any of them would listen to him, but he was damn willing to try to tell them

“If we starting shooting at those corpses what do you think will happen? I KNOW what will happen, we’ll put a bullet in a couple hundred, we’ll kill even less than that. Of course, the gunshots will be heard from many miles around with no cars or city ambiance to muffle it. We’ll be broadcasting ourselves as the main course.”

After taking a moment to look them all down, event h ones who hadn’t taken arms yet

“Now we wouldn’t want these things to know that, would we?”

Raising his left brow slowly he shakes his head and moves inside with the rest.

“You can’t honestly expect to BEAT them, do you? Because that’s just stupid…”

and he disappears through the doors and into the building, immediately searching out Harley, and once he does he begins to apologize to her.

“Im so sorry, this was such a dumb move, we’ve not only managed to barricade ourselves in a tower out in the middle of BFE, but it we managed to do it with an Army of zombies after us. This week keeps getting better and fucking better, you know? “

He pushes his body against the nearest wall and slowly slides down it until he’s seated on the floor.

“There was a nun, on the corner of 5th and Robinson, with a HUGE sign that read “WWJD?” when all of this first started. I think of it now, and realize its irony. I mean, Jesus was basically the Ultimate Zombie, he came back from the dead and everything. WWJD? Well, according to the rules now, he’d be chilling with the rest of these undead fucks eating brains and trampling their fallen.”

Nodding slowly, he needed to vent. He was pretty bent out of shape over his decisions.

[Eliska Loxalyn]

(Couple of things, to clarify. All of the lights are off in the tower. I lit a microscopic Coleman lamp briefly to inspect Harvey, but it wasn't enough to illuminate the windows whatsoever. So far the only light, which is little, is the scraps of daylight coming in from the overcast outside. Chances are I've seen most, if not all, the zombie movies you have, so Have some faith in me, if only a bit. Also, Josh, could you strap a little something to the bottom of your post about whether or not you're going to be inspected or if your C will be choosing to remain in quarantine? I couldn't quite figure out the timing of your post...Is this as they bring in the guns that you're saying this? After? My previous post covers the inspection thing if you're confused. I know I'm a little bit confused at the moment...lol. I'm assuming it's just before I ordered the doors be closed and sealed as you moved the van up to them.

Important!: Boston and I are working out a posting schedule that will come in the form of a chat between us after everyone else has posted. Please be aware (most of you already are except any sneaky skimmers) that the information he posted above is going to happen after ALL other inspections! He is going to be the very last person I take, so unless you are quarantined yourself (0% chance of that since no one else here is bitten) or have a specific reason to hang back on the stairs, you're not going to hear and especially not going to see ANY of that. Please remember that when posting so there won't need to be any editing later. Thanks!)

[The Joshness ™]

((Yeah, just have someone confront him or whatever if you need, to search him and whatnot. Or i can alter my post, whichever you choose ))

[Leila Darkmoon]

*Despite the darkness and her inability to see anything other than the woman who was currently addressing the group, Leila’s eyes never stared in the one direction. She was constantly changing her focus from first the bitch in charge , the old man that stood behind her on the stairs, then to the sound of the hidden man further up the stairs, before her attention would turn to the small alcove that she had stumbled upon under the first arc of the spiral staircase within the Tower. A relatively small place, it was devoid of anything that her fumbling fingers could feel and nothing that her fading visibility revealed.

While her attention appeared somewhat scattered, Leila listened carefully as the bitch leader started to explain the rules of admittance to the Tower. She knew that she should probably get the woman’s name, and at the very least, she should avoid calling her “the bitch leader” to her face, but for now it seemed the name had stuck. At first, she nodded in understanding as the rules for the Tower were pretty self explanatory. She had expected some kind of check to make sure no one was infected, and considering the inspection Harvey had received only moments before, she was not surprised by the news she would need to be checked herself. After deciding that she would get the old guy to check her rather than have the bitch leader in slapping distance, Leila’s attention shifted to the small alcove under the stairs. Slowly stepping sideways, she moved quietly in the dark as she slowly grew closer to her destination. The bitch leader was saying something about a bucket as Leila had one last look inside the alcove. The glance was futile, as the encroaching darkness had consumed any chance of seeing anything other than a large black void, but still she was hopeful as a sly grin slid across her lips.

Stepping back out into the foyer where her motley crew were assembled, Leila waited for the bitch leader to finish her spiel, before she held up her hand and pointed to the old man that was clearly serving the role of the bitch leaders back up.

~I get the need for a check.. But if its all the same to you, I’d like Pops there to do the honours..~

As the old guy nodded, Leila slipped out of her coat as she moved forward reluctantly and submitted to his hands upon her. He mainly checked her skin for any sign of bite marks or wounds, but finding none he soon stepped back. Grunting something to the bitch leader, he nodded at Leila and called out ~Next!~

Leila offered a lop sided grin to the bitch leader and mumbled

~I hope it was as good for him as it was for me.. ~before she winked and slunk back to the shadows. Waiting for the perfect opportunity, she fingered her pink and purple beads that hung around her neck nervously with her left hand, before her right hand reached into her pocket to lovingly stroke the cold metal of her tin. As soon as it seemed that everyone was busy either being inspected or talking about being inspected, Leila reached up and grabbed one of the cigarettes from behind her ear. Calling out softly to no one in particular, she sneered ~I always like a smoke after an orgasm..~ Before she placed the butt between her lips and struck a match. Only appearing to light the smoke to anyone that may happen to glance her way, Leila actually hid the match behind her hand as she stepped back into the small alcove. Using the small light provided by the burning match, Leila checked the interior of the alcove more closely. A coil of oily rope stood in the one and only corner, while a dark mould grew on the base of the curved wall that was the beginning of the stairwell. Biting her lip to stop herself from cursing as the match burned down to her fingers before burning out, Leila then stepped back out of the alcove. The faint light of the bitch leaders lantern and the cops torch light provided little illumination and she waited until she could not see anyone around her before she stepped back into the alcove. In the almost complete darkness, Leila relied on her skills as a long time smoker to retrieve her tin from her pocket, open it and balance it upon one knee while she knelt on the other one, open her baggy, shred the tobacco from her acquired cigarettes, mix the tobacco with the herb in her baggie, retrieve her small pipe from the tin, pack her cone, strike a match and proceed to have an extremely satisfying smoke. Sucking the pipe dry in only two tokes, Leila inhaled nearly all of the smoke, though she was aware that a small amount of smoke might reach those closest to her hidey hole. Deciding that she would savour the moment and keep her stash for future occasions, Leila then quickly emptied her pipe, stashed it and her baggie back into her tin, closed it and slipped it back into the pocket of her coat while rising to her feet.

Stepping back out of the alcove she was happy to see that no one was within smelling distance, and she stood there quietly, enjoying the buzz that soon consumed her while the others were examined. Waiting to see what would happen next, Leila finally admitted to herself that she was more than happy to relinquish to role of leader of her convoy. She had promised to get them to the Tower, and she had fulfilled her obligation. This bitch leader – no, this WOMAN (she corrected herself silently) was obviously more than capable of fulfilling the roles and responsibilities of their leader and Leila was happy to fade quietly into the background. She fixed a general contented smile upon her face and stood there, rocking on her heels while she waited for Round Two to begin. *

[Simon Gideon]

Chaos was the order of the day. With this many adults all in a paranoid fervor, it was only a matter of time before things exploded. Of course, Simon was perfectly aware of that, and it still did nothing to make his planning any easier. It would be one thing to tell the group to piss off and leave, but his ward, Engie, was absolutely not going to be able to hike out of here in the rainy night after the exhausting evening they had earlier. She was scared, tired, and had been through enough. Though he was never one to entertain personal attachments much in his past, even he recognized the tremendous effect her parents' deaths had on the girl's mind and will. As much as he hated the idea, it was time to sit tight and lay low. The question was, how would they weather the group of humans inside the tower until the time came for a good getaway?

After checking his gun and glancing vainly around for a target to use his new weaponry on, Simon thought better of the role of stairway guardian and turned, making his way back up to the storage room. Inside, the group he had left was more or less the same: the two young boys keen-eyed with interest, the scared little girl with her matted hair, the disgruntled pig in the back and the catatonic mother clutching her Omen-esque child. Overall, this group was preferable, he thought. At the sight of him bearing his new rifles, everyone's eyes widened (Except for Bridgette, who was busily humming to herself like some sort of demented grandmother).

"Guns!" Reg said breathlessly. It was as if he had dared to believe in the possibility of strangers bringing weapons, but deep down never thought it possible. "I know how to fire, sir." He said as he stood up. "I can work a huntin' rifle. My pa told me how." The young man looked Simon in the eyes, as though simply taking the gun would make him safe from harm. Simon thought about it for a moment, and then did something he thought he'd never do- he gave Reg the carbine.

"Here." He also gave the boy some ammo boxes. "Be careful not to fire that in here. Safety's right here..." And he showed Reg the basic functions of the rifle.

"What? What the fuck are you doing? Giving guns to a child!?" Edward barked. He made like he was going to stand up, but a choking fit ruined the effort. Simon glared at him pitilessly as he hacked his last good lung up, but did not bother to reply. There was something simple about Reg which appealed to Simon greatly. The innocence, the eagerness to please, and the capableness with which he had made it here. These were admirable traits, wasted on a less than admirable world, Simon thought grimly.

He was suddenly aware of Engie hovering at his elbow. He looked down at her tear-streaked face, remembering the real reason why he was so easy to abandon the situation at the main chamber and come back here.

"What are they like?" She asked simply. Reg, holding his gun as if Simon had just handed him the key to the city, sat back down, studying it intently. At his side, Danny watched Simon with interest, but otherwise made no attempts to speak about the new developments.

"They are very scared." Simon said simply. They are very dangerous because of that, he felt like adding, but he had perhaps said too much. "Some of them may stay downstairs, but a few might come up here."

She seemed content with this answer, not really expecting too much from the distant Simon, and she pointed to Danny suddenly. "Why don't you give him a gun?"

The directness of the statement put him a bit off guard, but he had to admit that Danny seemed to be a very capable person to wield a gun. Not exactly a brother in arms or foxhole buddy, but the boy had proven himself an avid survivor and it didn't hurt to have the two most trusting people in the storage room armed in case shit hit the fan downstairs or the zombies breached the doorway. He nodded and leaned down at his ankle, procuring a small .22 pocket pistol. Danny came forward cautiously, looking at the weapon as though it were something from space.

"Have you ever fired a gun before?" Simon asked. Danny shook his head for a second, then said. "Well, I've fired paint ball guns before one weekend. That was easy."

Simon offered a grim smile. "They're nothing alike. Here." He held up the pistol, showing the boy the safety, the magazine release, and how the slide bit back when fired, making it a painful experience to actually have to use. He then made sure Danny could repeat the instructions. It simply wouldn't do to have a young boy running around with a weapon and no knowledge of what did what on it. Danny sat back down, studying his gun the same way Reg had. The latter even offered a smile and an elbow nudge. It was apparent that the two had bonded even in the small amount of time everyone had spent here. Turning back to the little girl, he suddenly noticed Michael standing up, eyes distant, hand outstretched.

"What is he doing?" Edward rasped, a thought echoed silently by everyone else in the room. The little boy hadn't done much since he arrived, and his actions now were odd to say the least. With his hand, Michael reached out as though to touch Engie, and Simon instinctively pulled the girl closer to him. The boy had been abnormally pale and quiet, and unresponsive all night. He stepped forward again, unsteady, and it was then that the others noticed the bruises on his skin when his tattered shirt moved aside. He seemed about to do something... cry, attack, fall, anything... When Engie went over and grabbed his hand. Such a simple act of reassurance and support that no one else in the room had thought of, and it brought a measure of life back into the boy. He turned and looked at her slowly, and then sighed, his exhaustion spilling forth like a dam. He then started to collapse, and she helped him to the ground. Of course, Bridgette, his basket-case mother, was oblivious to anything going on. Her glassy eyes stared at something not there as she rocked slowly and hummed what had to be children's songs; those kinds of wordless songs you hear in nurseries and kindergarten classes. Engie helped prop the child up and offered him some dried, stale crackers they had found in the store room. He nibbled on them hungrily, and she looked up at Simon and the others, her eyes pleading.

"He's starved..." Reg said simply, but everyone knew that Michael had been starved long before the events of tonight. The bruises along his ribs were far more telling than anything his mother had to shriek in her twisting nightmares. The country boy got a tarp and wrapped it up to use as a pillow. Danny, shoving his new-found weapon in his back pocket, found some more crackers in a box off to the side. Even Edward seemed concerned and watched the boy, forgetting his own worries. His coughing even ceased.

Exhaustion seemed to take its toil on Simon at just that moment, when he was emotionally and physically at his weakest. He propped his sniper rifle up against the wall near the door and slide down the wall, his eyes barely more than half open. In any other circumstances, he wouldn't have allowed himself to become this tired and vulnerable. But now he could not help himself. His vision blurred into night, and after that he was aware of nothing.

[Eliska Loxalyn]

((In order to speed things along, you've been approved to go upstairs and should be doing so! Off you go. Boston and I will be doing our own little thing here instead. I'll be sure to respond to what you're facing upstairs as Harold and I'm sure Simon will be helping as well.))

|| Weary and fending off a mysterious yet growing sense of anxiety, Eliska watched as the line shifted and ever so slowly dwindled. Thankfully the crowd had split itself evenly- clearly as ready to be upstairs as she was to see them to go- and she and Harold were picking them off as swiftly as the dawdlers would allow. So far the inspections had turned up nothing to be depressed about and it was with further relief that she looked on Boston, the last of the group assembled before her. Though he had spent his time milling around the rear of the party, there was little suspicious about it given his obvious separation from the others. Harold, meanwhile, had finished his examinations, herded the new group of residents into an area just off the stairwell to redress and await Eliska’s approval, and was standing in characteristic silence as he glared down at them from the height of several steps up. Catching his eye, Eli gave a dismissive gesture to send them ahead to deal with later. Maybe food and a moment’s rest would improve their dispositions. Simon had since made himself scare. Harold took the initiative and barked orders gruffly, clutching his personal armory close and daring any and all to test him. Once he finished he’d be limping the way back up for them to follow at his pace. ||

Tha’s it then. If yer plannin’ to partake of our fine hospitality pack what yer packin’ and lets be off. Eli can fill yeh in shortly on what does an’ what doesn’t go on upstairs soon enough. Right now yer all about eating, no doubt. As fer the weapons…leave what yer not carryin’ now. The food can’t get any deader, so be keepin’ the bullets in their guns if you please. We’ll be movin’ ‘em upstairs soon enough I ‘spect. Come on then! Up we go!

|| Boston came promptly back into view as Harold hobbled off and he stepped up, fully clothed. She might have asked, as her mood was improving steadily, if he expected her to strip him had he not pulled back his coat when he did to reveal the wound instinct had been warning her of for the last fifteen minutes. Why was it the patient, funny ones like Boston came first up to be shot while the Leila’s of the world went on to irk her further. Couldn’t she be sporting a bite instead? Her initial dismay and resulting cringe were hampered by the healthy look of healing the injury possessed. Infection should have been present within hours, much less a week. Puzzled, Eliska listened to Boston’s whispered explanation though it was clear her attention was dedicated solely to his shoulder. Temporarily unaware that he might mind the intrusion, she couldn’t help but lean closer while her fingers moved to press gently around the scabbed punctures. The flesh was as warm and lively as her own. Mumbling incoherently under her breath, her head lifted for a better look at his eyes. The facts, what few there were, did not fit. She was still scowling thoughtfully when the subtle movement of his arm and attached gun brought her gaze down. It rested there for the length of his warning and it was only with effort that she brought it back to his face afterward. The pained look faded almost as quickly it appeared. Her hands remained well away from her weapon. ||

So you know: the only people I’ve “killed” were too dead to be pissed about it and, in all fairness, were trying to maul me long before I pulled a gun. If you were under the impression blowing people away is a hobby of mine, think again. I promise I’ll resist the temptation to shoot you until you’ve forgotten that vow to retaliate and are filled with a maddening hunger for human flesh, agreed? Onto more pressing matters…Are you certain the thing that bit you was infected and not just nuts? In my admittedly limited experience, what has happened to you is unheard of. Impossible, even. Maybe you were a victim of a lunatic, albeit a live one, instead of a...well…for lack of a better word, zombie?

[Boston]

Boston didn’t seem to mind when Eliska inspected the wound closer, and when she put her hands on him, he had to stifle some laughter – he seemed to have been bitten on a particularly ticklish spot. A broad grin spread across his face and he turned his head to cough, to hide the bout of laughter that had nearly escaped.

He managed to wipe that smile from his face when she began speaking, though, and his eyebrows knitted together as he listened. When Eliska had finally convinced him that she wouldn’t be shooting him, he decided to holster his gun before answering her questions; he slipped it back into the holster, and with another quiet, pressurized hiss, the red light on the holster’s side turned green.

“Sheesh, don’t be so grim.” He looked up and rubbed the back of his head thoughtfully, “A ‘maddening hunger for human flesh’? I didn’t know you were such a poet, it’s so depressing…” It truly seemed as though Boston was used to this sort of thing; there was definitely a truly frustrating child-like naivety to him, which made it easy for one to wonder how in the world he’s managed to survive for as long as he has.

“And it wasn’t a ‘thing’ that bit me, it was my gal.” He returned his gaze to Eliska after another few moments of staring into the darkness above them, “But trust me, she’s never bitten me when I hadn’t been askin’ for it…” That grin returned to his face, though this time had a somewhat perverse undertone, “She ignored the safety word and everything…”

[FLASH TO HOME: PAST]

Boston and Melissa wrestled on the ground, Melissa’s teeth chomped securely around Boston’s shoulder. Boston shouted “Peanut Brittle” at her repeatedly, but Melissa refused to let go.

[FLASH TO TOWER: PRESENT]

“She had just stepped outside for a second, right after the first downpour began…” Boston explained, “Turned right around and chomped at me.”

[Eliska Loxalyn]

“Sheesh, don’t be so grim. I didn’t know you were such a poet, it’s so depressing…”

|| Awed by the apparent simplicity of Boston’s world, Eli studied him as if for the first time. Had she any less self-control her mouth may have descended into an all out gape; however, she managed to contain all expression save for the baffled shake of her head. It truly took all kinds. ||

Never used to be, but I guess it came with the grimness…

|| A sympathy pang for what he’d been through hit Eliska as Boston continued his story, although she had to admit- if only to herself- that he seemed to be taking the news of his mate’s infection better than most. He hid the horror he must feel as she did seemingly effortlessly. The ability to smile and jest casually after the fact made him something of an enigma. Assuming for sanity’s sake that this carefree face was a mask in the face of tragedy, or perhaps a bizarre result of traumatic shock, she chose to go along. It was that or drown in the consuming guilt of being tempted to laugh at his antics. Regrettably, she was facing her fair share already as it was given what must come next. ||

I’m sorry, Boston. That must have been horrible. It’s a mystery that you’ve made it this long without some sign of sickness and as for the healing….Hell. I admit I’m at a loss. I’d be interested to hear what you’ve been up to and any sign effects you’ve had in the past week if you’re up to it. Redundant as it is to quarantine you any longer, you already know I’ll have to for at least tonight. We’ll reevaluate the situation in the morning, but in the meantime we can make you comfortable. Well, as comfortable as a stone tower in a sea of zombies will allow anyways. I doubt that’s any consolation. So...hungry?

[Boston]

Boston shook his head and waved his hands a little to dismiss Eliska’s sympathy. As far as he was concerned, there really was nothing to be sorry about. He hasn’t admitted defeat just yet, and truly believed that he could save Melissa. “Nah, it’s been fine. Kinda like having a license to kill.” He smiled a little sadly then, “Though to tell ya the truth, it is a little sad she can’t be here, she’d have flipped over being in a real-life zombie flick…”

“As for what I’ve been up to…” He frowned thoughtfully as he pulled his baseball bat from the sheath on his back, and began prodding through some of the clutter in the shadows along the walls, not really sure what he was looking for. “Well, I waited around my home for a white after it all started, and then after hearing the transmission over the radio, decided to head here…” As if on the verge of finding what he had been looking for, he returned the bat to its sheath knelt, to sift through the clutter with his hands, “I hope nobody looted my house, I locked it up pretty tight…”

“Oh, sweet, a hamster ball.” He stood and faced Eliska then, and lifted a clear plastic hamster ball eye-level to stare at her through, “Top-notch…You don’t mind if I keep this, do you?” He tucked the ball into the satchel he kept slung over his shoulder, and secured its flap before leaning back against the wall.

His ears perked at her offer of food, and he suddenly realized just how hungry he actually was. He had been surviving on…well…he had actually been eating pretty well, not afraid to stop off at a convenient store for a half hour to find and cook some frozen meals…But it had been at least lunch time since he last ate. We’re talking, like…six and a half hours, at least… “Well, what’s on the menu? Aside from us, that is.” He grinned and lifted the cuff of his jacket to his mouth, for a few moments keeping his face hidden behind his hand; then when his arm dropped back to his side, a lit cigarette had apparently miraculously appeared between his lips, and he puffed at it casually.

“And as for side effects…” He folded his arms and leaned his head back, kicking one foot up against the wall as he spoke, “I suppose haven’t experienced anything outta the ordinary…” He smirked around that cigarette, and returned his gaze once again to Eliska, “Sorry I’m not more interesting of a test subject.”

[Eliska Loxalyn]

“Kinda like having a license to kill.”

|| Eliska’s expression darkened at Boston’s comment and she shifted her gaze down to study the weather worn leather of her hiking boots while reigning in the thoughts that threatened to run off with her. Everyone wanted a license to kill until they’d had one to use freely. It got old fast. Having been there, done that, and burned every last t-shirt from it in an oil drum the day of discharge, she could speak from experience. For love of country her ass. She had long since turned hers in and wouldn’t be getting another.

From what she’d heard of Melissa and seen of Boston, the two made a fascinating pair. Why anyone would want to exist in a world of zombies was beyond her. Eli’s attention drifted to Boston’s antics as he hunted curiously through the piles of supplies deemed useless and tossed aside. That he could carry on normal conversation while poking through junk with a baseball bat in a tower surrounded on all sides by the undead was a wonder. He was going to make, at the very least, an interesting addition to the team. A dark, slanted brow arched as he came to his feet with his prize. That it was a hamster ball shouldn’t surprise her. She didn’t care to know where he was keeping the hamster… ||

Not at all. Never even seen it before. As for food, the menu is standard survival fare. Trail mix, jerky, dry tuna, granola bars, crackers, canned fruits and vegetables of every kind, powdered milk for the cereal, soft drinks, and endless candy and junk food gathered by someone with one hell of a sweet tooth. We have your Devil Dogs, Twinkies, every other form of sugar produced by Little Debbie and all her friends. Anything jump out at you?

|| She watched the tip of his lit cigarette while he explained his side effects. Even if he had had side effects, what that meant for his overall health was a mystery. Were there others like him? If one exception to the rule could find his way here, maybe others would follow. This could mean a cure. With a stern, mental reprimand Eliska caught herself before such baseless hopes rose to a height in which they would be difficult to crush when the time came. One step at a time. ||

You’re pretty interesting without the side effects, Boston. We’ll just take you still being alive as a good sign and see where that goes. How about that food? What’ll it be?

[Leila Darkmoon]

*Leila offered a spaced out smile to anyone who happened to look her way as she joined the others with making their way upstairs. Floating up the stairs, she had a strange sense of descending into a fiery pit, despite the fact that she was indeed ascending into the only haven that had presented itself in her current hell hole. Her recent smoke, combined with the darkness of the poorly lit Tower and subsequent staircase, resulted in Leila being considerably more clumsy as she stumbled her way upstairs.

Passing at least three doors that appeared locked and forgotten, she was finally stopped by what appeared to be a young girl in the shadows. The girl did not say or do anything to her, it was simply the look upon her face that stopped Leila dead in her tracks.

Standing still and silently, Leila waited for the shadows to consume her as she stood at what appeared to be the top of the stairs. Although she could probably have paid closer attention to her new surroundings, Leila could not take her eyes off the girl and her sad expression that was etched all over her young face.

With no further instructions presenting themselves to her, Leila stayed where she was as she tried to ignore her rumbling stomach.*

[Boston]

As Eliska rattled off the list of food available in the tower, Boston suddenly started becoming rather uneasy, and for at least a few moments it was visibly apparent. He shifted from foot to foot for a moment, then took a step off the wall and began to rummage through his satchel once more. “Well that’s quite the full menu, you didn’t have to break out the gourmet feasts just for me…” He mumbled as he searched his bag with both hands, his lips quivering around the cigarette.

After another few moments he had puffed that cigarette down to the butt, then plucked it from his lips and dropped it into a buttoned jacket pocket. His other hand produced a half eaten Zagnut Bar (really? A Zagnut Bar?) from the satchel, folded neatly in the torn remains of its original wrapping.

“Got any root beer?” He asked as his gaze shifted from the candy bar to Eliska, focusing on maintaining eye contact with hopes of keeping her eyes off his hands. Keeping eyes distracted was one of the tricks of his trade, after all – however, without an attractive young assistant flaunting two fine scoops of vanilla to keep the audience distracted, that may prove particularly difficult…

The narrated innuendo somehow gave Boston a sudden craving, “Oh, got any ice cream? No, of course not, how would you keep it cool in this place…I wonder if that assistant’s okay, she was always so professional…” Boston thought aloud to himself, now mumbling under his breath as a set of jittering fingers struggled to undo the candy bar’s wrapping. They worked carefully, so as to not tear any of it any more than necessary – it looked more like he was peeling a banana than he was opening a candy bar… “I guess it all depends on how far this infection has spread, something tells me she ain’t the survival horror type, maybe I should give her a ring, see if she’s alright…Carrier pigeon…”

By the time he had finished talking about the assistant, he had taken a bite of the candy, and any jittering came to a sudden end. His thought process shifted from diversion to serious as he continued munching on his candy, waving the bar around a little in his casual hand gestures as he spoke, “Although, I don’t think I should stick around for too long…I mean, my whole reason for even venturing outside in this zombie-storm was to find a cure for someone, and if that ain’t here, I can’t go and get myself trapped in this little building with one way out while that horde is making its way here.” He finished off the candy bar, folded the wrapper, and tucked it neatly into a pocket of his satchel, “Seems somewhat counter-productive, ya know?”

[Simon Gideon]

Engie had crept out into the hallway near the staircase, listening intently to the adults downstairs. She heard bickering and banter, but nothing she could readily distinguish. Simon had been far too exhausted, losing the fight against consciousness as he lay against the wall. The fright with young Michael's coming to life, and the discovery of his previous abuse had the entire storage room up in arms. Even Edward, the pessimistic ass that he was, had barked at Bridgette furiously. The insane woman ignored him, humming tunelessly and bobbing her head, her eyes distant and unfocused. Reg and Danny had been busy fussing over the ailing boy, and so Engie was determined to see what's going on.

Sounds. Footsteps. Someone was coming!

She melted into the wall, pressing her small frame against the old stone. Children are fortunate at her age, when they are below eye level and tiny enough to escape notice. They also possess superior night vision compared to adults, or so the story goes. She saw Leila ascend, and watched her intently, feeling her heart beat quickly with uncertainty.

Leila moved oddly, as though wounded or exhausted, and Engie started to wonder if she might be one of those things or maybe becoming one, like... like mommy and daddy had. But as she came closer, it turns out she looked alright. No bites or anything. She didn't smell like one of them either, though a scent wafted off that she didn't recognize. She relaxed a bit, but she felt a great weight on her. She felt overwhelmed with the situation, and she had only just woken up ten minutes ago. As the lady came closer, it was apparent that her cover was blown. She froze, not quite sure of what to make of it, and then decided to be strong. Simon would approve of that.

"Who're you?" She asked in that tone children get when they somewhat think they know what they're doing. As if she was some sort of hall guard to the second floor. Her arms crossed defensively, and she screwed up her features as if she was ultra serious and tough. Menacing, to be sure.

[Eliska Loxalyn]

“Well that’s quite the full menu, you didn’t have to break out the gourmet feasts just for me…”

Don’t feel special. We go gourmet for all of our guests. All part of our commitment to hospitality and other such crap. Must have heard that in a hotel at some point.

|| Eliska studied Boston with baffled interest that grew each and every single time he did anything. Regardless of what the action was, somehow it was different when he did it. Although she had no idea what to make of him or his oddness, she found it strangely comforting. Even in this horrible reality there were still genuinely strange people to be enjoyed for their entertainment value. Maybe all wasn’t lost. She eyed the candy bar as it appeared out of the satchel and did another mental inventory of the available foods. How, she wondered, could it all have sounded so bad that he was reduced to scrounging for his own, who-knows-how-old, half eaten candy bar? As he couldn’t survive on that scrap of chocolate for the expected length of his stay, she let it go for now knowing Little Debbie and trail mix were looming in his near future. The way he fidgeted, she suspected low blood sugar. It wouldn’t be long. She met his direct gaze with one of her own and nodded at the request. ||

I don’t see why not. We have every other form of carbonated sugar up there. We have too many addicts here to be short on Root Beer. I’ll take a look.

|| Because he wasn’t finished, the “look” was postponed briefly as she continued to listen politely. He came to his own conclusion about the ice cream even before she could shake her head regrettably. Ice cream would really be something to have on hand and it seemed almost un-American to be in crisis without any. At least someone else felt the same way. At that point, he plunged into a discussion she could only partially make out about some assistant and lost her completely. She kept the placid expression of someone listening intently even as her thoughts drifted to guard duty schedules, supply checks and the uncertain future of all of them. Multi-tasking was what Eli did best- after shooting, that is. The look faltered as he brought a carrier pigeon into it, but was back in place moments later. ||

Yes, well…sure. Do what you have to do…

“I can’t go and get myself trapped in this little building with one way out while that horde is making its way here.”

|| Unable to help herself, she found her eyes moving over him in search of the aforementioned pigeon. If he had a bird in that sack Eli knew she’d have seen everything. No movement from the satchel just yet. The jittering came to an end following the candy and curbed the growing fear that it was a lingering symptom of his bite. The hopeless picture he painted of their situation next made her cringe, but she fought off any defensive urges before they could form into words. It was what it was. He wasn’t wearing his rose tinted shades and having blown away a cannibalistic little girl only days ago, neither was she. ||

I do. I’m also 100% behind you on that cure and will help you on your way when the time comes, but I don’t think we’re there yet. There’s less chance you’ll save anyone with your miracle blood if you jump ship now and get eaten. Again… Let’s handle the incoming, clear a path for the escape and go from there. Sound good? I never intended to retire here either. If you promise not to throw open the door and heave yourself into the gathering crowd of undead, I’ll go track you down a Root beer. Can’t leave before that.

|| It was a chance leaving him to search for soda and though that gnawed on her insides something fierce, she was about to take it anyways. It wasn’t like her generally; however, flexibility was key to survival. He seemed reasonable enough not to do anything they’d all pay for and even if it was in her nature to trust no one, ever, he had a long night ahead of him down here away from the others. If she could, she wanted to help. She took the stairs two and occasionally three at a time and dashed past one of the little one’s whose name she knew, but whose face she couldn’t bear to look into yet. Strangely enough, she and “Me”, one of the names she’d “accidentally” forgotten in the minutes since she learned it, were involved in a conversation that didn’t involve Engie’s overprotective guardian, Simon. She’d have to ask about it later, but called over her shoulder as she flew past. ||

Getting soda if you’re interested. Just yell!

|| Fishing a handful of cans from the melted pool of ice that had once, though no longer, kept them cold, she stuffed them into every available pocket she could spare in order to fill her freed up hands with snacks. That this would soak her pants only occurred to her after the deed was done and she was shivering. Oh well, they’d dry. Perhaps Boston was cool with his two and a half bites of candy, but Eliska was toughing it out down there with him and would not do so hungry…just damp. Weighted down by the snacks, she hurried past Harold, who eyed her curiously from his place in the doorway of their base camp, and retraced her steps towards Boston. She took a minute to inspect the Engie-“Me” situation and shifted her left hip and the Coke strapped to it at the child. With Simon elsewhere, she felt better knowing what the girl was up to and who she was up to it with. This “Me” woman seemed a little shifty. ||

Thirsty? That Coke or any of the drinks on me have your name on them, if so. There’s more and snacks too if you- either of you- are hungry. Just poke Harold and he’ll get you something. He looks like he bites, but it’s all an act. I doubt he even has his teeth in.

|| Free to take the soda or not, Eli gave her another second to consider and a quick wink before hurrying back down the steps. ||

Your Root Beer is served.

((Note: You're all free to speak with Harold, who is lurking up there, to keep things moving. I'll post for him and once everyone is accounted for will have him direct the upstairs events.))

[Leila Darkmoon]

*The air that swirled around the tower was stale and oppressive, though it contained an odd chill that caused Leila to wrap her purple velvet coat tighter around her lithe frame as she smiled down at the girl who was now doing her best impression of a serious tower guard. In answer to the girls’ question, Leila crouched down beside her so that she could look the girl straight in the eye as she smiled again.

~Name is Leila, though don’t hold it against me. My parents liked some guy with a guitar, and as a result.. I’m Leila, just spelt different.~

She was babbling and she knew it, though she didn’t particularly care enough to stop. Grinning at the girl, she asked ~What’s your name? How did you end up here kiddo? Are your folks with you?~

She was interrupted by the arrival of their self appointed leader, yelling something about getting a soda and their need to yell if they wanted one. She yelled out ~I’d kill for a Coke!~ but her request apparently fell on deaf ears, as the woman returned a few minutes later with a soda for the young girl and nothing for Leila. Slightly miffed, Leila stood up to her full height, about to say something when the woman told them that drinks and snacks were available, and that Harold would accommodate them. After the woman had left, Leila looked around before glancing back down at the kid.

~Who’s this Harold then?~ Glancing around the darkened floor on which she stood, Leila noticed for the first time that there were quite a few people scattered around this area. Trying not to make eye contact with any of them, she finally laid eyes upon an old crusty looking guy that appeared to fit the description of “Harold”. He was the same guy that had given her the inspection only moments before. As if to confirm her suspicions, the girl nodded and pointed to Harold.

~That’s him. I’m Engie.. and no.. my parents …they..~ she choked back a sob and struggled to be brave. ~ My parents are dead.~ This statement caused Leilas’ heart to break a little bit more, and she reached down to grasp Engies’ hand. Kneeling beside her once more, she looked into her sad eyes.

~Well Engie, its nice to meetcha! Wanna know a secret?~ she glanced around, and moved her head closer to Engie, whispering in her ear. ~ My parents were killed a long time ago.. so I know how it feels to be an orphan. You got someone here looking after you?~

Engie nodded and pointed to the sleeping Simon. Leila regarded him for a few moments and then looked back to Engie, a soft smile on her lips.

~Well, he seems like a fine substitute. But, if you need anything else.. anything at all, you come and see your buddy Leila okay?~

Engie nodded and smiled softly, squeezing Leila’s hand in a way that made a lump form in her throat. Blinking back sudden and unexpected tears, Leila cleared her throat as she climbed to her feet, wincing as her knees screamed in protest.

~Now, I don’t know about you kiddo, but I’m starved. I know you got your nice soda there, but my throat feels like it’s on fire. How about you introduce me to Harold over there, and lets get some food to feed the machine, eh?~

Engie nodded and pulled on Leila’s hand, guiding her over to Harold who mumbled something in response to Leila’s greeting/request and shuffled off to a nearby metal cabinet. Returning with a can of diet coke and a packet of cheese crackers, he held them out to Leila and mumbled something inaudible to Leila. She laughed and practically ran to him.

~Oh Harold, I could kiss you!~ refraining from doing so however, she was content with taking the offered crackers and Coke before looking around for a quiet corner. Spotting one as far away from the others as she could find, Leila settled down to drink her coke and munch on her crackers, “the munchies” quickly settling in. Within a few minutes, she was joined by Engie who sat quietly, sipping on her soda and scoffing the occasional cracker. The two sat in silence, munching crackers and sipping sodas while the agonized moaning of the zombies outside seemed to grow louder. *