Venomarrah
Wise Woman
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Chapter IView attachment 11476
A loud roaring hum slowly approached the small colony. Men and women seemed to tense, watching the skies. The radio picked up a fuzzy reception of someone saying; "Just passing through, peacefully. Over."
Darren turned in his chair to the scout who had just removed his binoculars from his vision at the sky from the window, watching the helicopter fly only miles away. He nodded, seeming to find no guns pointed at the colony. There was no threat.
"Alright. Traveling to Fernreld?" The Indian questioned casually into the speaker, though the information could possibly be precious.
"Yep, got some survivors from the last scavenge. Passing by now. Over." The man replied quickly.
The Indian frowned to himself. What little information this man gave. Why?
After a heartbeats notice, a trembling explosion was heard. Not a moment later, the radio screamed; "Mayday! Mayday! I've been hit! I'm going down, and fast!"
Darren turned to the scout again, shock on his face as he looked into the distance. The radio rang true.
He turned back to the speaker, determination carved in his face. "Land a best as you can. We'll bring out some scouts. Just save what you c-"
"It's no good! I'm going to hit the trees!"
And just like that, the crash sounded. Darren sat there only a moment before the radio quipped again, but with another voice. The familiar authoritative voice he has grown to respect. "We can't risk going out there. The noise attracts them."
Darren's eyebrows furrowed. "But Mis-"
"The survivors can run from there. We can't risk this, Darren."
Darren scowled, thrusting himself from the radio table and up the tower. The recently hand-made steps seemed to squeak under his fast feet, and when he reached the top floor, the tower almost trembled, itself. The view was long, but there was no need, because a little over a mile away lay a metal hep. A small fire engulfing the crash. Darren took the binoculars from another scout, who stood frozen as he watched a hoard of zombies slowly limping toward the crash sight. Darren put the binoculars over his eyes, expecting the worst. What he saw, seemed to be just as bad, but still... good. He saw heads. But they were no zombies. They were survivors scattered among the ruins.
As if knowing exactly what Darren saw, the leader of the colony repeated on the radio, barely audible to Darren, a floor higher away.
"They must run."
Chapter IView attachment 11476
A loud roaring hum slowly approached the small colony. Men and women seemed to tense, watching the skies. The radio picked up a fuzzy reception of someone saying; "Just passing through, peacefully. Over."
Darren turned in his chair to the scout who had just removed his binoculars from his vision at the sky from the window, watching the helicopter fly only miles away. He nodded, seeming to find no guns pointed at the colony. There was no threat.
"Alright. Traveling to Fernreld?" The Indian questioned casually into the speaker, though the information could possibly be precious.
"Yep, got some survivors from the last scavenge. Passing by now. Over." The man replied quickly.
The Indian frowned to himself. What little information this man gave. Why?
After a heartbeats notice, a trembling explosion was heard. Not a moment later, the radio screamed; "Mayday! Mayday! I've been hit! I'm going down, and fast!"
Darren turned to the scout again, shock on his face as he looked into the distance. The radio rang true.
He turned back to the speaker, determination carved in his face. "Land a best as you can. We'll bring out some scouts. Just save what you c-"
"It's no good! I'm going to hit the trees!"
And just like that, the crash sounded. Darren sat there only a moment before the radio quipped again, but with another voice. The familiar authoritative voice he has grown to respect. "We can't risk going out there. The noise attracts them."
Darren's eyebrows furrowed. "But Mis-"
"The survivors can run from there. We can't risk this, Darren."
Darren scowled, thrusting himself from the radio table and up the tower. The recently hand-made steps seemed to squeak under his fast feet, and when he reached the top floor, the tower almost trembled, itself. The view was long, but there was no need, because a little over a mile away lay a metal hep. A small fire engulfing the crash. Darren took the binoculars from another scout, who stood frozen as he watched a hoard of zombies slowly limping toward the crash sight. Darren put the binoculars over his eyes, expecting the worst. What he saw, seemed to be just as bad, but still... good. He saw heads. But they were no zombies. They were survivors scattered among the ruins.
As if knowing exactly what Darren saw, the leader of the colony repeated on the radio, barely audible to Darren, a floor higher away.
"They must run."